Emmy's Equal (13 page)

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Authors: Marcia Gruver

Tags: #Fiction, #Christian, #Romance, #Fiction/Romance Western

BOOK: Emmy's Equal
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“Sir, I—”

The man took a ragged breath. “Don’t say a word. It’s not your fault, son.” The chewing on his cheek intensified, and he blinked away sudden brightness from his eyes. “I guess that’s it, then. I had hoped to die with some assurance the Twisted-R was in capable hands. Instead, I’ll die disappointed.” He turned on his heel and left the barn with sagging shoulders.

Diego followed and stood watching his back. He opened his mouth to call out, prepared to assure Mr. Rawson he’d marry Greta, give him grandchildren, tend the ranch the rest of his days. He longed to tell the man whatever it took to remove the hopelessness from his eyes, but the words wouldn’t crowd past the lump in Diego’s throat.

Feeling eyes on the back of his head, he spun.

Emmy stared at him in shocked silence.

Cuddy’s vacant eyes were fixed on the ground. He seemed smaller, as if the pain etched on his face had caused him to shrivel. His trembling hand groped for a fistful of hair and gripped until the knuckles turned white.

Diego took a step toward him. “Cuddy?”

Cuddy whirled away from them and disappeared behind the barn.

Tears sprang to Emmy’s eyes. Without a word, she tore out after him.

CHAPTER 16

Head drooping, Cuddy sat on the sun-dried bank of the Nueces with his arms resting on his knees, his hands dangling from his wrists like dead fish.

Emmy had found him in the same posture outside his room, only this time the pain shining from his eyes wasn’t self-inflicted. She eased onto the ground beside him.

A ragged release of air was the only acknowledgment he gave that he noticed her there.

Miserable for him, she reached for his hand, but he shrugged her away. She decided not to push, but not to leave either.

They sat together, Emmy watching the wind rippling across the water, Cuddy staring at the ground between his knees.

She jumped when he snatched something from his shirt pocket and sailed it across the river. It hit the far bank then tumbled down the slope and into the water with a splash. Emmy caught the glint of sunlight on metal just before the flask settled to the murky depths.

She touched his arm. “Bravo, Cuddy. Now you’re thinking, and that was the smartest decision yet. You don’t need that foul stuff, and you know it. You’re much better off without it.”

His head still sagged, but the corners of his mouth tipped slightly. “It was empty.”

She withdrew her hand. “Oh.”

Glancing at her at last, the hint of a smile bloomed to an outright grin. “You’re something else, you know that?”

She squeezed his fingers. “You are, too, Cuddy. I just hope you know it.”

He sneered. “You and I know exactly what I am, honey. A fatal disappointment. You heard it straight from the one who decides such things, the great John Rawson.”

Emmy leaned against his shoulder. Her next words spilled unplanned from her mouth. “It’s not your father’s right to decide such things, Cuddy. We’re judged by God and no other.” Shocked by her own words, she sat quietly, waiting for him to respond.

He didn’t tense beside her, or laugh with scorn, or seem offended in any way. Instead he continued pulling up bright green blades of grass and tossing them into the water. “If that’s the case, my goose is cooked.” He sighed. “I’m told God knows more about me than my father does.”

Emmy sat up and looked him over. Cuddy appeared to feel as worthless as she had felt before God showed up and changed everything in her life. Since the day she blundered into the sheltering arms of grace, she hadn’t feared Papa’s opinion so much. The only thing left was living with the pain of his rejection.

She tried to picture hearing Papa use the term “disappointment” to describe her. He could rant and rave, shake his head, glare at her with scorn, but until he actually said the word aloud, she could pretend he didn’t consider her a failure.

Cuddy twisted his head to peer at her. “Why so quiet? Have I depressed you?”

“No. Just trying to imagine how you feel.”

“I could describe it to you, but you’d be shocked at the language.”

She laughed. “Oh, Cuddy! What am I to do with you?”

Mischief danced in his eyes. “You could kiss me.”

She swatted his arm. “I believe praying for you would serve you best.”

He seemed surprised. “You really believe all that God stuff, don’t you?”

Scooting around to face him, she pinned him with her eyes. “I didn’t used to. I found the whole thing a frightful bother. I watched people herd through the door of the church like sheep because it was expected of them, not because they found anything valuable on the other side. Most of them came out the same way they went in, miserable through and through. The man singing “Amazing Grace” the loudest kept a girl named Grace on the side. It left a bitter taste in my mouth, and the things of God seemed hardly worth my time.”

Cuddy slapped his leg. “I never figured you for a cynic! So what changed?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Me.”

He tucked his cheek between his teeth and seemed to ponder her answer, until finally, as though he found it too simple, he shook his head. “No, I mean what changed
you.

“God changed me, but not until I let Him. Once I allowed Him close to me, I saw the truth of who He is.” She grasped Cuddy’s hands. “You see, the same things bother God about the church. He wants my devotion, not merely my attendance. Does that make sense?”

Cuddy gazed at her, unflinching. “Well, I’ll be. Forgive me for saying this, but you’re not the sort of girl I expected to be saying such things.”

She laughed. “I wasn’t for many years. Now, knowing Him is the dearest thing in my life.”

His eyes widened in amazement. “Girl, you’re lit up like a candle. You’re pretty serious about this God of yours.”

She cocked her head. “Why does that surprise you? Papa said your parents are Christians. And your best friend—”

He yanked a weed and snapped it in half. “No, sweetie. Diego’s not a Christian. He’s more like a saint.”

***

Diego bit back a curse, shocked it had entered his mind. He’d left everything—work that Cuddy had been ordered to do—and searched the whole ranch, exhausting the last ounce of his energy praying for Cuddy’s safekeeping and Emmy’s comfort. Only to find them whispering together, their heads close and bobbing like a pair of silly lovebirds.

He had feared finding Cuddy wearing a noose, poised to kick the chair from under his legs. To find him cooing with Emmy instead was an insult. To hear their laughter stretched the boundaries of Diego’s understanding. Madder than he’d been in his life, he gritted his teeth and rode toward them.

Watching Emmy snuggle with Cuddy, a sweet smile on her face, went a long way toward helping Diego understand the man’s rapid recovery. Having a woman like her so near would comfort a dying man.

For her his anger blazed. She had deliberately strung him along with her dimples and sultry voice, her teasing laughter and meaningful glances, until he came to believe there was something between them. The glow of adoration on her face as she leaned close to Cuddy told Diego just what he needed to know. She’d have no more trouble from Diego Marcelo.

Engrossed in each other’s company, they didn’t notice Diego until he was practically on top of them. Emmy saw him first and nudged Cuddy. Something flashed across her face when she saw him riding toward her, a tenderness that started in the softness of her mouth then spread and settled in her eyes, somehow different from her earlier expression.

He jerked his gaze from hers and pronounced himself a desperate fool. He had read too much into something that was obviously his imagination.

Cuddy stood and helped Emmy to her feet. With his hand at her back, they walked to meet him. Cuddy’s jaw hardened. “If he sent you after me, I won’t go.”

Diego dismounted. “Your father doesn’t know you overheard.”

Cuddy angled his face from sight, but not before Diego glimpsed the raw pain that twisted his features. A vein bulged in his neck, and a scarlet flush crept up from his collar. The man was fighting tears.

Diego’s affection for Cuddy rose to the surface, displacing his ire. “I’m glad to see you’re all right.”

Cuddy leaned against the horse, fiddling with the saddle. “Oh, you know me ... indestructible.”

Still watching Diego’s face, Emmy patted Cuddy on the shoulder. “I’ll leave you to talk.”

Cuddy latched onto her arm. “Remember to be careful.”

Emmy nodded. “Snakes. And scorpions.” She smiled. “How could I forget?”

She strolled to the water’s edge, just out of earshot.

Diego placed a hand on Cuddy’s arm. “It wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Your father spoke out of pain.”

Cuddy lifted flashing eyes. “Pain?” He spat on the ground. “You must be joking.”

“He feels rejected by you. If you’d listened to his reason, you’d understand.”

Visibly trembling, Cuddy gripped the saddle horn. “I listened plenty good. He said I’m the biggest disappointment in his life and he’ll take that to the grave. What’s there to understand about that? John Rawson doesn’t feel rejection. He gives it. Defend him all you like, I’ll never see things any other way.”

Diego ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m telling you, Cuddy, you’d feel differently if you’d listened to everything he said.”

“I wasn’t invited to hear all he said, brother, but I noticed you were.” He lifted his chin. “Come to think of it, I did hear something I won’t soon forget.”

Diego ducked his head and asked what he already knew. “What was that?”

“You’re prepared to toss my little sister aside because you’ve set your sights on Emmy.”

“I didn’t—”

Cuddy held up his hand. “You didn’t have to say it aloud. The old man’s disappointment said it for you.”

“So Emmy ... did she...?”

“You already have my father, Diego. Now you want my girl?” He swelled his chest and took a step closer. “I love you like a brother, amigo, but you stay away from Emily or you’ll answer to me. Understood?”

Diego swallowed against his suddenly tight collar. “You’re my best friend, Cuddy, but threatening me is uncalled for.” He brushed the blustering burro aside and swung into the saddle. “And dangerous.” He laid his spurs to the horse’s flank, needing to get as far from them as possible. Away from Cuddy before he had to hurt him. Away from Emmy before she caused him more pain.

She called out to him as he rode over the rise.

He didn’t look back.

CHAPTER 17

Magda eyed the mountain of supplies Bertha had piled on the counter of McCaleb’s Mercantile Store. Since John Rawson had decided they would travel to Catarina by wagon after all, they had room to carry more supplies. He never should’ve said such a thing to Bertha. After twiddling and touching every item for sale, she bought three times the amount John suggested they needed for the trip.

Once her business was settled, Bertha was ready to leave, so the wait made her fidgety. John finished his conversation with the clerk of the impressively large store then led the way outside. After enduring a half hour of Bertha twitching and sighing, Magda was relieved to step onto the sun-drenched porch.

John had mentioned at breakfast that they’d been his guests for a full week but hadn’t yet been to town. As soon as they laid aside their forks, he loaded Magda, Willem, Bertha, and Kate into his wagon and proceeded to usher them through Carrizo Springs, giving the grand tour.

Holding the door of the mercantile, John smiled at each of them as they filed out. “Have I mentioned the name of our newspaper? It’s called
The Javelin.
After the animal.”

He pointed inside the store. “Got its start right in there, owned and edited by J. L. McCaleb. That little paper saved our town during the drought of ’86 and ’87. A gentleman sent McCaleb an ad stating he’d pay good money for javelina hides.” He chuckled. “Well, there was no shortage of javelinas around these parts. McCaleb made a deal with a fellow in San Antonio who traded cash and groceries for hides. It’s the only way these people survived.”

“That’s quite a story, John,” Willem said.

John gazed across a nearby field, his mind clearly in the past. “The drought lasted so long that the cattle overgrazed the natural grassland. It never returned to what it was before. Thousands of cattle died of starvation. It almost meant the end of ranching in these parts. Ranchers took to burning the stickers from prickly pear to feed their stock.” He shook his head. “A hard time indeed for Dimmit County.”

In a brighter mood, John gripped his chin. “Now then, I’ve shown you the churches and the school.” He turned to help Kate onto the wagon then offered his hand to Bertha. “Next we’ll see the courthouse, an imposing structure built in ’85. The new bank sits across from it, established just last year.”

Bertha groaned. “If it’s all the same to you, John, I’m up for missing some of that.”

Magda gasped. “Bertha Maye Bloom! The very idea...”

She scowled right back. “My feet hurt. I told you I didn’t want to wear these shoes.”

Kate Rawson covered her mouth with her gloved hands and had herself a good laugh. When she recovered, she twisted on the seat to smile at them. “That’s all right, dears. I’m a little tired myself.” She patted her husband’s shoulder. “This man is as proud of Carrizo Springs as he is our children. If I don’t stop him occasionally, he talks my ear off.”

John glanced back, looking sheepish. “Sorry, folks. I get carried away sometimes.”

Furious, Magda buried her elbow in Bertha’s side.

Pouting, Bertha scooted as far as her little body could fit into the corner of the seat.

Beaming at Bertha, John cleared his throat. “I see you’re a woman of action. How about we dispense with all this nonsense and start making plans for our cattle drive? I say we leave first thing in the morning.”

Bertha shot forward and pounded him on the back. “Now you’re talking straight, John. Put the whip to that horse’s behind and let’s see how fast we can get to the house. We’ve got some packing to do.”

***

With a creature as proud as Faron, Diego had to let the horse think breaking him was his idea. Every small accomplishment, each tiny step forward had gained Diego progress.

First, the reins of braided horsehair draped gently on Faron’s neck. Then the snaffle bit, which he took to surprisingly well, considering it took a week for him to accept a blanket resting on his back. When he tolerated the saddle, tears stung Diego’s eyes. That fateful day Faron allowed him to mount, Diego had cried unashamedly.

He thought he’d burst waiting for the right moment to show John Rawson, and now the wait was over. Today marked the fifth ride. Usually skittish when Diego entered the barn, Faron’s head had bobbed over the front of the stall, nickering his impatience. He stood trembling with anticipation while Diego hitched up his saddle, and Diego’s boot hardly touched the stirrups before Faron trotted from the barn. The time had come to reveal his big surprise.

“Well, well.”

Diego pulled on the reins and shifted his weight to look behind him.

Cuddy lounged next to the barn door with crossed arms. Not a word had passed between them for the last four days, not since Cuddy’s threat beside the Nueces.

It didn’t surprise Diego how simple it was to avoid him. Seeking out the hardest work on the ranch made it easy to bypass Cuddy Rawson.

He’d avoided Emmy, too. Much harder to do since she appeared at every turn. At first, she responded to his aloofness with flashing, angry eyes. The expression in their shaded blue depths soon changed to sadness and confusion.

“You have something to say, Rawson?”

One eyebrow raised, Cuddy’s gaze wandered over Faron from hoof to mane and finally settled on Diego. “I didn’t think anyone could tame that devil.”

“It wasn’t easy.”

Cuddy laughed bitterly. “What won’t you do to garner that old man’s favor?”

Diego closed his eyes to steady his temper. “What won’t you do to hurt him?” he asked without a backward glance. Taking up the slack in the reins, he steeled himself and tapped Faron’s sides with his heels.

Blood surged through Diego’s veins as the horse leaped into a run. The wind whistled in his ears as they flew down the long drive in front of the house. Faron jumped the gate, hardly breaking his stride, and hit the road with lightning flashing from his hooves.

No wonder no fence could hold him. Faron needed to run, lived to stretch his body to its limits with the earth flying past beneath him. For weeks, no matter how tired, no matter how hungry, Diego had spent his free time working with Faron. The thrill of this ride proved to be worth every second.

He spotted a cloud of dust ahead and followed it with his eyes. Faron cut the distance between them so fast, Diego hardly blinked before he recognized it to be the Rawsons’ rig. A thrill shot through him. He wished somehow to be in the saddle surprising Mr. Rawson, yet at the same time be in the wagon watching his face light up when he figured it out.

Diego decided to breeze right by him then circle back to get his reaction. As Faron passed in a blur, John Rawson let out a howl. Diego’s grin was so wide he collected sand on his teeth. He slowed and turned the horse.

Mr. Rawson stood in the two-seater watching, though dancing in the two-seater seemed closer to the facts. As Diego approached, he shouted again, so loudly the horse jumped.

Diego steadied Faron and reined him in beside the cluster of astonished faces.

“Whooeeee! Son, my old eyes must be deceiving me. What’s that thing you’re riding?”

Diego’s cheeks had found their limits. “Only the fastest beast in South Texas, sir.”

Mr. Rawson clambered to the ground, his eyes aglow with excitement. “Can I ride him?”

Diego swung down. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Wringing her hands, Mrs. Rawson scooted to the driver’s seat. “Oh, John, no.”

He raised one beefy hand. “Now, Kate...” Running his fingers along Faron’s glistening neck, he crooned to him. “Easy boy. That’s it, now.”

She stood up. “John Rawson, you promised you wouldn’t let that animal hurt anyone.”

“And I aim to keep my promise.”

Mr. Dane leaned out of the rig. “Maybe she’s right, John.”

With eyes only for the horse now, John didn’t seem to hear his friend’s suggestion. He put his boot in the stirrup, and Mrs. Rawson squealed and stamped her foot. “I won’t see you do this.”

He swung into the saddle. “Then close your eyes.”

She had time to gasp and he was gone, barreling down the road toward the house as if borne on angels’ wings. As horse and rider dashed around a curve and disappeared, one more gleeful shout rang out.

Mrs. Rawson sat heavily on the seat. “Oh, Diego. What have you done?”

Wincing, he came alongside her and peered into her dismal face. “It was bound to happen, ma’am. Your husband was determined to ride that horse. Wouldn’t you rather it be after I calmed him down some?”

She reached to pat his hand. “I know you’re right, but I’ve dreaded this day.”

Diego chuckled. “He’ll be fine. He’s an expert horseman.”

She squeezed his fingers. “I know that, too. They’re likely in the barn by now, Faron getting a rubdown while John congratulates himself on your accomplishment.” She smiled and squirmed into her place. “The least you can do is drive me home.”

Diego climbed aboard and untied the reins. “It won’t be possible to get you there quite as fast as Mr. Rawson, but I’ll get you there in one piece.”

She gave him a look from under her lashes. “Very good, assuming John made it home in one piece.”

Mrs. Bloom leaned in between them. “He’s in one piece or hundreds. As fast as that horse was moving, there wouldn’t be nothing left to sweep into a dustpan.”

“Bertha!” Mrs. Dane bawled at her.

“Well...”

***

Emmy slammed down her hairbrush and slumped on the bed. “It’s not right. Why can’t I go with you?”

Mama shot her a warning look. “Keep your voice down. I’ve told you why.” She took Emmy’s wrist and pulled her up. “I’ve also told you not to loll about on this bed, haven’t I?”

Emmy had to admit the Redwork quilt was lovely. Blocks of embroidered flowers, animals, and children were set against a white background, each square outlined in red and white sashing. The quilter, evidently a young Katherine Colbeck, had stitched the initials K.C. and the year 1878 inside a wreath in the last square a few years before she became Kate Rawson.

Mama smoothed the rumpled spread and shook her head. “I don’t know why Kate has all the beds spruced up like this. I’m not sure I’d want such lovely bedcovers for everyday. Makes you scared to move in here.”

Emmy groaned. “Stick to the point, please. You know Papa’s notion is ridiculous. I have to stay behind because of bandits that may never appear? Mama, listen to me. I will not stay without one of you here with me. I hardly know these people.”

Mama shot her a dubious glance. “Don’t twist the facts to suit you. You seem to know Cuddy well enough to add a few gray strands to your papa’s head.” She stood up from straightening the spread and frowned. “Don’t think he hasn’t mentioned his concerns about you two to Kate Rawson. If not for her offer to stay behind and chaperone, you’d have your papa in your lap until I got back.”

Emmy bristled. “He spoke to her?” Burning with shame, she spun away from her mama and gripped the edge of the dresser. “How humiliating! What did he say?”

“I wasn’t privy to the conversation.” She held up her finger. “But I know this ... you have Cuddy to blame. He shouldn’t have opposed your papa like he did. So if you’re entertaining thoughts about Cuddy, forget them. Papa would never give his blessing.”

Emmy pushed off the dresser. “For pity’s sake, Mama. Cuddy’s just a friend.”

Mama looked doubtful. “Friend or suitor, Willem will never accept Cuddy now.”

Squealing her frustration, Emmy swept from the room. She’d done nothing all day but listen to plans she wouldn’t be part of and helped everyone pack to leave her behind. She had to get out of the house or bust.

Mama jerked open the door and stuck her head out. “Where are you going?”

“No farther than the veranda, so don’t call out the dogs.”

“Emily!”

Emmy flounced down the stairs and out the back door, feeling like a spoiled child but too angry to care. She stared at the cloudless blue sky butting into the distant line of trees along the banks of the river, her thoughts as murky as the muddy bottom.

Mama and Papa didn’t want her spending time with Cuddy. The others, including Cuddy, seemed to like it just fine. Emmy felt a bond of kinship with the troubled young man, even held affection for the tenderhearted, quick-to-smile rascal. But no matter how charming Cuddy Rawson might be, in matters of the heart, Emmy’s interests lay elsewhere.

The heat of the midday sun on her bare head reminded her of two things. One, she’d left her hair unpinned, and two, it was August in what had to be the hottest place in the world.

Ducking into the shade of the covered patio, she perched on the wall of her haven to pout. Self-conscious, she gathered her thick mane over one shoulder and began to wind it into a braid.

“Leave it loose, Emmy.”

She spun. “Diego! I didn’t see you there.”

He closed the distance between them and reached for her hair, wonder in his voice. “These curls are like twisted bands of sunshine.”

Trembling inside, she let him twirl a blond ringlet around his finger. “Where have you been?”

He sobered and released her hair.

Horrified at her boldness, she tried to fix her blunder. Brightening her mood, she smiled. “It’s been days since we’ve had a chance to talk. I guess you’ve been busy with the ranch.” She ducked her head. “Unless...”

Diego touched her shoulder. “Unless?”

She lifted her eyes to his. “Have I offended you in some way?”

He turned aside and buried his fingers in his hair. “Emmy...” His jaw muscles worked and his gaze lost focus. “I owe you an apology. I’ve been blaming you for something that’s not your fault. You can’t help how you feel.”

Jumping to her feet, she grasped his hands. “Exactly! I’m so glad you said that. I was just thinking the same—”

He withdrew from her touch. “Then you’ll forgive me if I continue to keep my distance. It will make things easier.”

She flashed him a startled look. “Pardon?”

Cuddy breezed around the corner of the house whistling a tune Emmy didn’t recognize. Strolling lazily toward his father’s rig with a packed crate in his hands, his head came up as if he’d sensed their presence. He paused and stared. The sight of him irked Emmy. His deliberate gaze bore the arrogance of a man who felt entitled to look.

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