Lady of Light (16 page)

“Aye, that we do,” Claire agreed with a firm resolve, totally certain her and Evan’s love was, and would always be, strong enough to weather any storm.

All they had to do now was prove it to everyone else.

9

Hate stirreth up strifes: but love covereth all sins.

Proverbs 10:12

“So, Pa,” Evan said as he guided the team down the road behind the buggy, “what’s happened at Culdee Creek since I left last August?”

Conor sent his son a slanting look. “A lot’s happened. Anything specific you’d like to hear about first?”

Evan hesitated, then cast a glance behind him. Ian sat at the back of the long buckboard, one hand on the steamer trunk to steady it, the other on the tailgate, gazing out at the scenery with avid interest. There was little chance, what with the creaking and groaning of the wooden wagon and pounding of horses’ hooves, that he’d be able to overhear their conversation.

With a sigh, Evan turned back to stare at his father. “Might as well just get it over with, I reckon.” He looked down. “What happened between Hannah and Devlin? Did they end up getting married?”

It took several seconds for Conor to answer. “Yeah, they got married—at Thanksgiving—and are very happy. How do you feel about that?”

Evan wasn’t sure how he felt about that bit of news, but he also wasn’t fool enough to admit it. Besides, it didn’t matter anymore anyway. Hannah was married. So was he. And he loved Claire. That was all that counted.

“I figured as much,” he admitted finally, glancing up at his father. “I only hope they’re as happy as Claire and I.”

“She seems like a lovely girl. Claire, I mean. You’re both so young, though.”

“Ma was fifteen when she married you. Claire’s eighteen.” Evan’s mouth tightened with passing irritation. “How old were you when you wed Ma? Seventeen? Eighteen?”

“I was seventeen.”

“Well, I’m twenty-one. That makes both Claire and I older than you and Ma were when you got hitched.”

“True enough,” his father admitted. “And you can see how well our marriage worked out, too.”

He had known this issue would eventually come up, but Evan was surprised it had been broached so soon. “So what are you trying to say, Pa? That we made a mistake? That we were too young to get married?”

“How long have you known Claire, Evan? You didn’t leave for England until January. That was the last letter I got anyway, postmarked in the United States. Then, the end of April, we got your letter telling us you were headed to Culdee.”

“I met Claire the beginning of May,” Evan muttered.

“So you knew Claire how many months? Two, three?”

“Two.” There was an edge of rising anger in Evan’s voice now, and he couldn’t quite hide it. But then, why should he? He had been home less than an hour, and already his pa was lecturing him like some school kid. “I don’t think this is such a good subject, though, to be discussing right now. I can’t—I won’t—undo what I did. I love Claire, and you need to respect us and our marriage.”

“Yeah, I reckon I do.” Conor scratched his jaw. “It’s just with you leaving here, all upset about losing Hannah, and then suddenly showing up again with a wife on your arm … well, I’m concerned. You two have a lot of adjustments ahead of you. Never too soon to recognize the potential pitfalls.”

“I know we’ll have to work at our marriage.” Evan sighed. “And I’m well aware both Claire and Ian might have a hard time learning to adapt to our way of life. Still, love should be enough to get us past all the rough spots.”

“Yes, it should,” his father said. “But sometimes, no matter how hard you try or how badly you want it, it just plain isn’t.”

As they topped one last hill, Culdee Creek at last came into view. A long road led down to the ranch from a tall, log gate. Atop the gate was a wooden sign etched with the ranch’s name, and the wagon-wheel-rutted path was a dusty, brown rift cleaving acres of green grass and wildflowers. As Abby expertly directed the horses to turn into the open gate, Claire leaned forward with interest.

Culdee Creek Ranch was nestled in a small valley flanked on the north by a pine-tree-studded hillside. To the south and east, some sort of deciduous trees lined a creek flowing down to a large pond. Up ahead was an impressive, two-story wooden house painted white and trimmed with dark green. Behind that building, Claire could barely make out another, smaller house set off in the trees.

They passed two, tall, dark green barns built on high, rock and mortar foundations; several corrals, a pigpen, and a storage cellar of some sort attached to one of the barns. An additional long building—also another dwelling place, if the smokestack sticking out of the roof on one end was any indication—completed the ranch structures. Ranging in every direction as far as Claire could see, were barbed-wire-enclosed pastures wherein grazed fat, brown-and-white Herefords.

“So, what do you think of Culdee Creek?” Abby asked, shooting her an inquiring glance. “Does it measure up to what Evan may have told you about it?”

“It’s quite large, isn’t it?” Claire observed, turning in her seat to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. “Evan said it was a big ranch, but I had no idea …” She scooted back around. “Does your husband truly own all this land?”

“Yes, he does. It
is
quite impressive, isn’t it? There are ranchers in these parts who own even more land than Conor, though. Most years Colorado’s grasslands aren’t particularly lush, and cattle need a lot of grazing land to fatten for market.”

Up ahead a slender, blonde woman, a toddler in her arms and two small children clutching her skirts, walked onto the front porch of the big house. As the buggy drew near, Claire could see she was young—most likely only a year or two older than herself—and very beautiful. The woman smiled and waved, then walked down the front porch steps to meet them.

Abby reined in the horses, tied the lines to the brake arm, and jumped down. Claire and Beth followed.

“Well, how has my big man been?” Abby asked, walking up to the blonde woman and holding out her arms for the little boy. “Mama has missed you.”

Black-haired and blue-eyed, the toddler looked close to two years old. With a wide grin, he reached for her. “Mama. Mama!”

Abby took him and hugged him close. “Was Sean any trouble, Hannah?”

The woman called Hannah shook her head. “He was just fine. Jackson and Bonnie and Sean all played together.” Her gaze drifted to Claire. “My name’s Hannah MacKay,” she said, offering her hand in greeting. “I’m Devlin’s wife.”

“Devlin?” Claire took her hand and shook it. “Let me see if I can recall correctly. He’s Evan’s … second cousin?”

“Yes,” Abby cut in. “Devlin and Conor are first cousins. Their fathers were brothers, the sons of Sean MacKay. Sean emigrated from Culdee.”

“Och, that’s right,” Claire laughed. “You’ll have to excuse me if I take some time to properly sort out all the kinfolk.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation”—Abby, her son snugly on her hip, turned to Claire—“aside from a few more assorted children and Devlin, you’ve just about met all the kinfolk.” She gestured to the two children still standing beside Hannah. “The little boy there is Jackson, and the little girl Bonnie. They’re Devlin and Hannah’s children … as are two more children I don’t see right now. Devlin Jr.’s the oldest and is eight, and Mary is the next oldest at age five.”

“You all seem a verra fruitful family,” Claire observed with a smile.

The buckboard pulled up just then. Evan leaped down and strode to his wife’s side. He slipped an arm about her waist and gave her a quick kiss.

“I see you’re already busy meeting more of the family.”

“Aye,” Claire nodded. “I’ve met Hannah, Sean, Jackson, and Bonnie. Aside from a few others, I believe I’ve met everyone.”

For some reason Claire couldn’t quite fathom, an uncomfortable silence seemed to settle over them then. She glanced up at Evan. A strange expression on his face, he was staring at Hannah.

Claire looked to Hannah. She smiled back at Evan, her serene gaze warm and welcoming. An uneasy feeling twined in Claire’s gut. There was something amiss here, she realized, but it was something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“You look well, Evan,” the blonde woman finally said. “And it seems your journeys were very productive this time. Not only did you return with a lovely wife, but a handsome young man, too.”

Evan turned to Ian, who had halted at his side. “This is Ian, Claire’s brother. Ian, I’d like you to meet Hannah, my cousin Devlin’s wife.”

Ian rendered her a half bow. “I’m verra pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am.” He straightened and grinned. “Truly, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Hannah flushed. “Why, thank you, Ian. I don’t know when I’ve received a more gallant compliment.”

Evan shot Ian a skeptical look. “You’re becoming quite the charmer, aren’t you? It won’t be long, I’m afraid, before we’ll have to be warning Grand View’s fathers to lock up their daughters when you come to town.”

For an instant, Claire could’ve almost sworn she heard a tinge of irritation in her husband’s voice. She shook it off. No purpose was served imagining things, she scolded herself, especially when she was so tired.

“Well, shall we all go inside?” Abby asked as her husband walked up. “It looks like the hands will take care of the trunk, and after such a hot, dusty trip, I thought we all might enjoy tall glasses of cold lemonade.”

“Yes, let’s do that,” Conor said, taking his wife by the arm. “I’m sure Claire and Ian are most likely parched by now. I know I am.”

Hannah turned and, with Jackson and Bonnie, reentered the house. Abby and Conor, followed by Beth and Ian, brought up the rear. Evan, however, remained standing beside Claire, his head turned to the right, staring toward one of the barns. Puzzled, Claire glanced in the direction of his gaze.

There, partly shadowed by the barn doorway, stood a tall, dark-haired man watching them.

The small bunkhouse behind the main house had been hastily prepared for Claire, Evan, and Ian. The building consisted of a parlor room in front, replete with a cast iron potbellied stove, a long table and four chairs, and two rocking chairs set near the stove. Bright, red-and-white gingham curtains fluttered at the two open windows, a red, hooked rug graced the floor, and several colorful, floral prints hung on the walls. Off the parlor were two bedrooms, one with a white-painted, full-sized iron bed, and the other with a single bed.

Claire scanned the little house. “It’s more than adequate,” she pronounced at last. “In fact, it’s wonderful!”

Joining Evan at the steamer trunk he had just opened, she next began pulling out the meager linens she had brought with her. Buried beneath the linens was the MacKay family clarsach, and beneath that were her and Ian’s clothes. At the bottom of the trunk lay a few books, some cooking items, and a carved, wooden box containing Claire’s hair combs, ribbons, and some special mementos.