A Life Restored (19 page)

She dropped the potatoes into a pot of boiling water on the stove.

He was a handsome man.
 
Sandy brown hair.
 
Blue eyes.
 
He didn’t laugh often, but sometimes she thought she saw a hint of it in his eyes—especially when he was being contrary.
 
Though he was barely taller than her, she didn’t mind.
 
His arms felt strong when he pulled her to him.
 
She felt safe there, even if she had been upset by his reason for his kiss.

Will entered the ranch house.
 
“I’ve invited Robert Garrett to join us for supper.
 
He should still have enough daylight to make it back to Prescott if he leaves right after.”

Hannah stretched up on her tippy toes to place a kiss on his cheek before chasing him from her kitchen.
 
As he left, Rosa entered.

Caroline suddenly felt the small kitchen area became too crowded.
 
She wiped her hands on a towel and excused herself, feeling awkward again.
 
She just didn’t know what to do with herself.
 
It seemed there was more than enough help at Colter Ranch to see to all the cooking and cleaning.

Stepping outside, she took a deep breath, letting the light fragrance of pine and juniper ease some of her tension.
 
She moved toward the lake, deciding a walk would suit her mood just fine.
 
As she reached the nearest shore, she heard her name being called.

“Care for some company?” Thomas asked.

She nodded and he fell into step beside her.

“I don’t fit in here,” she confessed, preferring to talk out her problems.

“Didn’t you grow up on a ranch?
 
I would think this would be second nature.”

Gazing out on the shimmering blue water, she squinted against the harsh reflection of the late afternoon sun.

“True, I grew up on the ranch.
 
But, Will seems to have more than enough help.
 
He doesn’t need another woman under foot.
 
Besides, when Julia and Adam get married in a few weeks, I’m not going to have a place to stay.
 
I just don’t know what I’m going to do with myself.”

“You could always move in with Betty Lancaster.
 
Maybe she could use some help at the boardinghouse.”

“I guess.
 
I had been thinking about trying to get a job in town.
 
I mean, I’d still be close enough to visit Julia and Adam often.
 
And I wouldn’t be nearly so bored if I had a job.”

They were almost around the lake when the supper bell rang.
 
She quickened her pace so as not to keep the Colters waiting.
 
Thomas easily matched her stride.

When they arrived at the house, she paused, catching her breath before entering the room.
 
Will, Hannah, Julia, Adam, and Robert Garrett were already seated.

“Sorry,” she apologized under her breath.

Will quickly introduced her and Thomas to Robert Garrett.
 
Something seemed familiar about him—though nothing like Reuben.
 
No, it was something else—like she had met him before, here in the Arizona Territory.

She took her seat across from Thomas and bowed her head as Will said grace.

When she looked up she noticed Julia’s pale face.
 
She stared at her plate of food, avoiding any eye contact with Robert.

Caroline studied him as the conversation floated around her.
 
He looked older than Will.
 
He had dark brown eyes and light, almost blonde, hair.
 
His posture was rigid like someone more refined.
 
His skin was tanned from much time in the sun.
 
His voice was deep and flowed with a definite Northern accent.
 
There was no doubt in Caroline’s mind that he was from the North.

Yet, his tone sounded familiar to her.

She shook her head slightly, not able to determine how or where she had met him.

The meal ended rather quickly and Robert thanked the Colters for their hospitality before he left, indicating he would send some men to retrieve the horses he purchased within the month.

Thomas also took his leave, heading to the bunkhouse, probably eager for the company of other men.

She stifled her sigh as Julia stood and made some excuse to walk with Adam.
 
They were so enamored with each other.
 
She supposed that was what love was like.

Things really had worked out much, much differently than she expected when she left Texas.
 
Maybe she wouldn’t feel so out of sorts once she settled on where she would live and what she would do.

Robert smiled to himself as he headed back to town.
 
The trip to Colter Ranch had been extremely productive.
 
First, he learned that no one recognized him—his real identity.
 
Caroline had not seemed to recognize him from the stagecoach robbery either.
 
That was good.

He purchased the horses he needed for his ranch, ironically with the money he made from the sale of the stagecoach horses—horses that had been trained by Larson.

Another key piece of information he picked up tonight was the Thomas Anderson connection.
 
The express rider was the one who rescued Caroline—the one she seemed to be smitten with.
 
He also had some sort of connection to Will’s wife, though Robert didn’t completely understand what it was.
 
He would keep an eye on Anderson.
 
See if things went anywhere with Caroline.
 
Who knows, he might be able to provide some leverage for inflicting pain on Caroline or Adam—perhaps even the Colters.

Best of all, he learned that Colter had a son.
 
There was no better way to destroy a man’s life than to strike at his son.
 
It would require extreme patience on his part, but the plan forming in his mind would eventually yield the most painful blow to Colter.

Chapter 21

Ben Shepherd climbed into his bunk as the rest of the men settled down for the night after a long day working the cattle.
 
It was quieter than normal, with a good number of the men gone to drive part of the herd to California.
 
For the first time in twenty-five years, Ben was not on that drive.
 
Instead, he stayed behind at Will’s request while Warren Cahill acted as trail boss.

He felt strange on the morning the boys pulled out with one thousand head.
 
Usually it was his job to make sure they kept out of trouble on the drive.
 
Now, that part of his job seemed to be parceled out to the younger Cahill.
 
Will hadn’t really explained his reasoning for the change.
 
He just asked Ben to stay, leaving no room for arguments.

He shouldn’t be too surprised.
 
Will knew about the stiffness in his leg.
 
Even gave him a funny look or two as Ben tried to awkwardly mount his horse.
 
Face it, Ben.
 
Ya ain’t getting any younger.
 
Boss knows it.

Young or not, he worked twice as hard today since they only kept a few men at the ranch to manage the two thousand head left.
 
With the contracts Will secured in town and at the fort, there was a good chance they would all stay at the ranch next year.
 
He hadn’t worked that hard in a long time and he was weary.

Rolling onto his side, Ben closed his heavy eyes and drifted off to sleep.

“Benjamin,” Sheila greeted him with a kiss on his cheek as he stepped into the small one room shack after a long day plowing the field in the sweltering heat.
 
“Supper is almost ready.”

He nodded, taking his seat at the head of the table.
 
A gurgling cry came from the bed in the corner.
 
Ben stood and scooped his son, Elijah, into his arms, a smile unconsciously gracing his lips.

“He’s been fussy all day,” Sheila said.
 
“Think he’s coming down with something.”

Ben bounced his son up and down on his knee trying to comfort him.
 
That familiar sense of overwhelming love flooded his heart—the same way it did every time he held Elijah in his arms.
 
As his son quieted, he returned him to the bassinette so he could eat the meal his wife prepared.

As he looked at the simple bland fare before him, he felt a pang of guilt.
 
As a poor tenement farmer, he couldn’t afford better food.
 
He was lucky to be able to provide enough for two meals a day—not providing any better than his father had—though he worked twice as hard and with immeasurably more integrity.

When Sheila took her seat across from him, he bowed his head.
 
“Thank you, Lord for this food before us and for the strength it provides.
 
Amen.”

After the meal was finished, Ben started to stand.
 
Sheila stopped him.
 
“I have something special for you.”

A smile lit his face as she set a small cake in front of him.

“What’s this for?”

“To celebrate.”

He searched his mind for a minute.
 
It wasn’t his birthday.
 
Nor was it hers.
 
They already celebrated their fourth anniversary a few months ago.
 
The memory of that celebration widened his smile and warmed his heart.

“I have some news,” she said, partially answering his question.
 
“Elijah is going to have a brother or sister soon.”

Ben shook his head trying to understand what she was telling him.
 
Then it settled into his heart.
 
He was going to be a father again.

Abundant love filled his soul.
 
He stood and moved to where his wife sat, pulling her to her feet.
 
Pressing his lips against hers, he kissed her deeply as he held her tight.
 
Her lips eagerly drank in his caresses for several minutes until she leaned back in his embrace, gazing into his eyes with abiding love.

“Another child,” he whispered in disbelief.
 
“When?”

“I’m about three months along now, so in another six months.”

He held her close for a minute, joy filling his heart.
 
She finally broke the embrace.

“Eat your cake, Benjamin,” she said, lightly pushing him towards his seat with a playful smile lighting her face.

Before he got the first bite to his mouth a knock sounded at the door.
 
Laying the fork down, he squeezed Sheila’s shoulder before seeing who was there.

It was one of the house slaves from the plantation house.

“Massah be callin’ for ya,” he said.

“Tell him I’ll see him first thing in the morning,” Ben replied.

“He say you come now.”

The oddity of the request concerned Ben.
 
Usually the plantation owner conducted his affairs with the tenement farmers in the morning.
 
Strange that he would request Ben’s presence tonight, with little notice.

When he turned to look at Sheila, her nutmeg brown eyes widened in fear.
 
“Don’t go.”

He understood where that fear came from.
 
A few weeks ago, they had been visited in the middle of the night.
 
Ben had heard nothing, but it was obvious by the state of things in the house that someone had broken in.
 
Since then, he took extra precautions at night—securing the house, not leaving Sheila and Elijah alone.

But the master gave him little choice tonight.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised, before following the slave up to the big house.

The meeting was bizarre.
 
First, it was held in the library and not the master’s study.
 
Ben had never been in this room before.
 
Then, as the master conversed, he seemed nervous and chatty, not really discussing anything of significance related to the crops or to Ben’s farm.
 
It made no sense.
 
He didn’t appear to be getting to the urgent matter—whatever it was—anytime quickly.
 
After an hour, Ben tried to excuse himself, but the master kept him there.

Until one of the house servants burst through the door.

“Fire!”

Ben bolted to his feet as the hair rose on the back of his neck.
 
Something seemed wrong.
 
The strange meeting with the master.
 
Now a fire.

As he scrambled out the front door, he scanned the horizon.
 
Smoke floated thick on the breeze.
 
Fire blazed in the night sky.
 
Shouts came from the slave quarters as men and women rushed to find the source of the fire.

He spotted it.
 
Just to the right of a large tree.
 
His stomach lurched as he realized he was staring at his own house.
 
Heart pounding loudly in his ears, he took off running towards home.

 
“Sheila!” he screamed breathlessly as he got closer.

The small shack that had been his home burned with a fierce heat.
 
The walls and roof were on fire.
 
Angry red flames licked thirstily for more fuel.

His feet beat out a frantic rhythm.

“Sheila!”

As he neared, he scanned the area.
 
Panic constricted his throat.
 
She was not outside.
 
Nor was his son.

“Sheila!
 
Elijah!” his shouts sounded above the deafening flames.

Arriving at the door, he saw it was bolted tightly shut—from the outside.
 
Panic turned to rage.
 
He charged the door with his broad shoulder.
 
It barely moved.
 
Again, and again he hit the door, blinded with fear.
 
His wife and child were inside.
 
He had to free them.

Blood tricked down his shoulder from a cut.
 
Still he tried one more time.
 
The door came loose.
 
Sheila lay on the floor, not moving.
 
His son clutched closely to her chest.

He stepped a foot over the threshold as the loud splintering of the roof echoed in his ears.
 
Then he watched, stunned, when it collapsed onto his family.
 
The force of the impact knocked him back on the ground.

When he looked up, several men stood around him with large sticks in their hands.
 
One held a torch.

“Should never have married a darkie.
 
Ain’t right, mixing white blood with hers.”

A sharp blow struck him in the head and everything went black.

Ben woke, drenched in sweat.
 
It had been years since he dreamed about the night he lost everything.
 
The night Sheila died.
 
The night his heart died.

His chest heaved as he tried to take a steady breath.

Rolling off his bunk, he stood and quietly left the stifling bunkhouse.
 
Standing on the porch, he looked out into the darkness of night.

Oh how he missed her.
 
Her soft ebony skin.
 
Her tightly curled coarse black hair.
 
Her dark nutmeg eyes.
 
Her bright white teeth framed with plump dark lips as she smiled at him.
 
Her alluring hips.
 
Her gentle touch.
 
Her sweet spirit.

Tears formed rivers down the side of his face.
 
She had been gone so long.
 
He couldn’t remember what it was like to hold her in his arms.
 
He couldn’t remember the feel of her body next to his at night.
 
Her face was growing elusive, her voice distant.
 
The memories faded—almost nothing was left.

“I don’t want to let ya go,” he whispered to the night.
 
“I love you.
 
Still.”

His son would have been twenty-six today.
 
His unborn child would be just two years younger.

Ben pounded his fist down on the porch railing as the utter loneliness ripped through his heart.
 
He held back the angry wail threatening to explode from his mouth.

It hurt so much.

Gripping the railing, he bowed his head.
 
If he had never married her, she would not have died.
 
It was his fault.
 
He knew better than to marry her.
 
He was white.
 
She was not.
 
That should have meant she was off limits.

As many times as he tried to reason with his heart, it just wouldn’t listen.
 
He loved her.
 
He loved Sheila for who she was.
 
Funny, happy, loving, kind.
 
She had a calming effect on him.
 
He always felt at ease and secure around her.
 
She helped heal the wounds inflicted by his drunken father, both emotional and physical.
 
She was his life.