Brighter Tomorrows (4 page)

“You’re welcome to it. Have a seat if you want. Name’s John Tate.”

“Why thanks, Tate, that’s mighty obligin,” he tipped his head in greeting. “Henry Boll. Don’t mind joinin’ ya. Been travelin’ all day, and need to sit my sorry ass.” Henry set his glass down, pulled out a chair across from him and plunked into it.

They lowered their voices as Henry talked in coded language that only Chase would how to interpret. When Henry finished, Chase stood and slapped Henry on the back

“I’ll do that and buy you a whiskey to celebrate,
ol’ man
.” Chase nodded, then sauntered out of the saloon one happy man. Let the fireworks begin. And he wasn’t thinking about the Fourth, but the day before—or, more likely, the day after—depending on tomorrow’s ride. 

Henry had let him know the  gang en route consisted of four, and would arrive to camp outside Hallings in one day; two, at the most.  Not only did he ascertain he would be available for the duration, but when the time came, there would also be six more armed lawmen dressed as women. Three would hover in or by the bank while three would mill around town. Others would stand by.

If the gang made good time, they’d arrive tomorrow; but more than likely, they’d arrive on the fourth and attack on the fifth. With their very own fireworks—far more deadly.

Chapter Six

Sunday morning arrived with Callie dressed and ready to attend church. Chase bowed out, stating he preferred not being cornered when everyone lingered afterward. He expected the gang to be camped right outside the town by tomorrow night—or, if running ahead of schedule, by nightfall; he needed to do some more checking.

When she asked why he didn’t attack them at their camp instead of having them come into town, he explained three previous attempts to do exactly that had resulted in them hightailing away. Two of their members had been killed, but the other four scurried away like a pack of rats. Their plan involved having them away from their horses. And this time, they wouldn’t fail.

♥ ♥ ♥

“That was one of the best ham dinners I’ve ever had, Callie,” Chase said, carrying a stack of dishes into the kitchen. “Since I’ve stuffed myself on applesauce and you’ve told me how neglected the orchard had become, I’d love to see it. If I help you finish up here, would you have time for a tour before dark?”

Callie poured hot water from the kettle into the dish pan. “I’m glad you enjoyed the meal. I thought maybe I bored you with all the details of the orchard. When I get started about pruning, protecting against diseases, bugs, and simply maintaining them, I guess my mouth runs away with itself.”

He took the washed plate from her and rinsed it in the rinse basin. “You could never bore me. Will you walk with me?” Standing so close, her scent of lavender tantalized him until he thought he would go mad. He longed to lean down and kiss the tempting curve of her neck.

“I’d love to. They’re not only pretty trees that bear the sweetest apples, but when you’re in the orchard it’s like another world; peaceful, pleasant, pure nature.”

♥ ♥ ♥

She led him through the small back mud room, passed a wall of shelves lined with canned goods, boxes and sacks of dry goods. Along the other wall sat two wash tubs, a laundry basket and a long, flat table. Everything was neat and orderly; especially her narrow waist and obviously nubile fine hips that gently swayed under her gingham dress. He pictured those long legs, shapely and taut as they wrapped…
Whoa boy. Down, down.
 

As they exited the back door, he pulled his gaze from the sweet temptation to suppress his rising desire and his breath hitched at viewing such a picturesque sight. Four straight rows of apple trees, a twelve-foot wide grassy path between each, seemed to go on forever and mirrored an artist’s exquisite creation.

Standing twenty-some feet tall, their crooked branches resembled twisted, outstretched arms, lush with rich green leaves glistening under the descending sun. Sheltered by those leaves were an amazing abundance of small developing fruits, each splashed with various shades of green, yellow and rose. Down the length of the middle path, four black wrought-iron garden benches had been strategically placed. He pictured Callie relaxing on one in any given evening.

“You were right, it’s fantastic. From what you described when you bought the place, I applaud you on the remarkable revival to such a healthy and productive state,” he said, as he eyed her with a calculating expression. Callie felt as though she had missed something.

He held out his right hand. “Let’s take a stroll down that middle path so I can see more.”

She stared at the hand, longing to take it; every fiber in her body warned her against it. It had been too long.  “Take my hand, Callie. I told you, I don’t bite. Whoever hurt you, I can go after him when I finish here.”

She glanced up wanting to laugh, yet too distrustful of him and afraid of her own fortitude. Their gazes locked, the blue depths questioning and full of concern. Her heart raced.

“I’m going to take your hand. No more than that…at least, for now,” he reassured. “I’d never hurt you, Callie.” Instead of cupping her palm, he laced his fingers through hers and gently pressed palms together. The potent intimacy fired through her like a flash of lightning. Her breath caught. For sure, he had to have felt her quake and probably believed it from fright.

“Let’s walk,” he said as he guided her across the small lawn and casually down the middle pathway. As they past each tree, he seemed to marvel at it.

“How do you pick all these before they rot?”

“Reverend Fields and his two teenage sons help during picking time. Actually, they prune, care for the trees, anything that needs to be done throughout the year. I could never do it without them. The reverend doesn’t make much from donations, so they benefit, quite well.”

They passed the first bench on the left.  “Can you sell all of them?” he asked, sounding incredulous.

She relaxed and realized she enjoyed holding hands, of breathing in the scent of his light, spicy aftershave, horse and his own masculinity. Her pulse danced.

“I sell quite a bit to Harper’s as well to two stores in two towns close by. Laura buys for pies and breads. Marianne buys some for candles, potions and lotions. Three families, each with a passel of children that live quite a ways out north, barely have enough to survive. Periodically, I send a bushel to each. As an added payment, the reverend and his family have all they can eat. Then there’s me. I love eating apples and I can put up apple butter, applesauce, and slices for desserts. There’s a large underground fruit cellar built into the side of a knoll by the barn.”

“The two business are a little goldmine,” he said, passing the second bench.

“It’s not just the income, but the challenge and the enjoyment from both. Oh, I almost forgot,” she added, content to have his warm hand linked with hers, “there are the badly bruised apples. The grass around the trees and on the pathways is to soften their fall, but half the time they fall hard. A good heavy wind or rainstorm takes more down. If I can’t cut the bruises out, I put them aside for Freedom or take them to the livery.”

“Lucky horses,” he winked, and he surprised her as his expressive face changed and became almost somber. “Why’d you name her Freedom?”

He caught her off guard with the change of subject, and she halted. He followed suit and their gazes met. She had never been much for lying.

“Mr. Talley said it nearly drove him crazy to see her so neglected and beaten by her drunken owner. So he bought her and nursed her back to good health as well as restoring her spirit. He had her for sale when I arrived. Since I was starting a new life— a freedom of sorts—I figured she was, too.”

She should not have included herself in that story. She read his multitude of questions as well as genuine concern in his now-cobalt eyes. Her skin heated and tingled as he gently rubbed his thumb back and forth across her hand.

“He really hurt you.”

She realized when he spoke those words that she had to disclose more truthful facts so he would understand nothing could ever develop between them. That thought ripped through her heart until she thought she might scream.

She felt the need to move, and started to walk. “Yes, he hurt me, but not physically. Without going into nasty details, I never want another man in my life. He took my heart and threw it in the dirt like garbage, then stomped on my soul until it was battered beyond repair.” Regret swamped her. She had not cried in five years, she would not start now.

“Give me his name.” His grip tightened. “You can’t judge others by what he did. Don’t throw your life away just because of one horse’s ass.”

At the third bench, he stirred her toward it. “Let’s sit.” When he released her hand, she sat, peering at the ground. He joined her

His thumb and forefinger cupped her chin and raised it. She trembled, thrilled by his mere touch. When their gazes locked, despair washed over her at seeing his smolder. “Callie, I’ve only known you five days, and it might be because we’ve spent hours together every day, but I’ve come to care very much for you.”

Her voice quivered. “I vowed to never trust another man with my heart. And I most certainly would never,
ever again
, pin my hopes on a man who pined for another woman.”

“You think I’m still in love with my wife?” His baritone raised an octave as his fingers pulled away. His eyes drilled hers. “I loved Bethany with all my heart. I regret our life together was cut short. And I’ll treasure what we had and her memory forever. But I do not pine for her. I carry tremendous guilt because I failed to protect her. For three years, I’ve avoided any relationship with any woman because I feared I’d somehow fail to protect her. Until now. I want to look forward to brighter tomorrows. Maybe we could have them if you would trust me…if you’d give us a chance.”

The air hung silent. She longed to trust him, yet she instinctively fought to keep under stern restraint. If she lost at love a second time, she would lose her mind, certainly. His blue eyes softened to match a quiet lake warmed by the sun, offering soothing caresses if one dared venture into the waiting water. Reading the sincerity, the honesty that drew her in like a magnet, she longed to surrender. If he knew her shameful story, he would walk away. She had sinned. Now, she would pay the price. Oh, yes, fear was a potent force for both of them, but withholding the truthful entirety would rock any foundation they might try to build together.

Glancing down, she studied the ground and found courage. “He didn’t simply walk away and break my heart. You’re a good man, and you need to know the truth so you can find someone worthy of you. After I explain, if you would not say anything and just go inside, it will be easier for both of us. Tomorrow, we can pretend tonight never happen. You’ll do your job, leave, and I’ll continue—as always.”

A slight breeze chilled her, and she realized perspiration coated her skin. Her heart beat a tattoo on her rib cage. She could do this…

♥ ♥ ♥

Chase caught her bitterness and hurt, understood her distrust and fear to give her heart again. But there could only be one reason she would feel unworthy. He ached for her. It took all his willpower not to drag her into his arms. She needed to share the pain, vent her woes—or she would never be able to accept what he wanted to offer. She needed to resurrect her trust, rebuild her self-esteem—if he’d guessed his cards correctly—and open her heart to a new beginning. He avoided agreeing to her terms.

She leaned back against the bench as dusk settled in and the orange glow off in the distance fell to just above those tree tops.

“Robert courted me for almost two years. I knew he carried a flame for another. We even discussed someday having a family. I thought he’d get over Linda’s rebuff and I believed he loved me, though he never said the words. Over the next six months, we…we became intimate.”  She clutched her hands together.

“One night, he’d had a few drinks and we were…together. He called me Linda. I convinced myself I heard wrong.” She swallowed. “The next week, when the same thing happened more clearly, I became angry, but thought he’d finally realize he wanted me—not her.”

She focused on the trees ahead. “Several weeks went by and…again, in a heated moment, he finally said he loved me.” She made a fist and rubbed it with her other hand. “I knew joy as never before...until he followed it with ‘Linda’.” She bowed her head.

“I felt as if my heart had been savagely ripped out of my chest. What I had believed as being in love, making love that was gratifying and meaningful, turned into nothing more than sex—dirty and vulgar. Then, realization hit me. For two years, he had used me…used me as a substitute. Every time he kissed me, held my hand, made love…he had been thinking of her.

“So, now I’m distrustful and have chosen the life I’ve accepted. I’m used merchandise. I refused to be walked on, lied to, and hurt like that ever again. For two years, I contended with scorn from those who believed me a fallen woman, or pitying glances from others. Ashamed, I sold my father’s business and moved here. I hate my own name—Calinda.”

Silence hung heavy as wet snow.  He felt the leashed tension build inside her. She would shatter into a hundred broken pieces if he allowed her to continue on this dangerous course. 

She ran her palms up and down her forearms, trembling as if she were ice cold. “Please go in, I’d like to sit out here for awhile. Tomorrow, we’ll go on as before.”

She tried to be tough.  But she wasn’t, not deep down. She wore a smiling face every day for others; yet inside, deep down, she continued to shed tears. And he loved her all the more.

He took her two hands within his, brought them to his lips and kissed them. She gasped, and quaked. She looked like a frightened rabbit staring an eagle in the eye. Releasing her hands in one deft motion, he pulled her into his embrace, and cradled the back of her head against his chest.

“Now, you’ll hear me out.”

She stiffened within his embrace.

“I’m sorry he used you, wronged you, and hurt you. But his selfish thoughtlessness in no way reflects on you. He may have taken your innocence, but you are the same caring, ambitious, talented woman you’ve always been. You made a mistake; we all have. We’re human. You gave him your love, every way you knew how. Most men would be honored by such a show of love.”

She leaned back, peering up at him. “Not many could overlook I’m not a…virgin.”

“If you were a widow, it wouldn’t be an issue. It’s not as if you slept around. You gave your innocence in good faith. That’s the difference. Besides, I’m not any man. And what I see, I like…inside, even more.” He brushed back a strand of hair from her forehead.