California Romance (47 page)

Ellie never asked, but she suspected Matt had paid Gus for her and Timmy. The important thing was they’d been set free. Tears gushed. The first time Matt introduced her as Ellie Sterling, she’d nearly burst with pride. She still did. As the adopted children of one of the richest ranchers in the valley, she and Timmy could “walk tall,” as Matt said, and hold their heads high.

Calico shoved her nose against Ellie’s shoulder, obviously wanting attention. Ellie patted the mare’s neck and obliged. “That’s just what I’m going to do when I sing in church tomorrow,” she told her faithful horse. “Hold my head high, even though I’m scared out of my wits.” Calico whinnied and tossed her mane. “I just hope I don’t faint and disgrace the family.” Ellie grimaced. “Now where did that horrid thought come from? I’ve sung in church before.” She grimaced. “Just not when a new preacher will be here. Maybe I should tell Matt to get someone else.”

God gave me a voice and expects me to use it. Am I going to let the minister of some fancy church keep me from glorifying God with my talent?

Ellie felt a wave of shame crawl up from the bandana around her neck. “No, but I’d better practice.” She snatched up her sombrero, jammed it onto her head, and swung into the saddle. A quick touch of her heels to Calico’s sides sent the two of them on their way. Ellie opened her mouth and sang the song she had made her own, each note crystal clear:

It is well
, echoed back from the wooded hills.

With my soul…The
echo came again, and Ellie’s voice soared in triumph. “It is well, it is well with my soul!”

Filled with the joy of living, Ellie sang the second and third verses then poured her heart into the final stanza:

The final note shimmered in the still air. Ellie leaned forward and called in Calico’s ear, “Run!” The mare leaped forward. Ellie bent low, exulting in the feel of wind whipping against her face. A glance at the sky showed she had stayed far too long on the promontory. If she didn’t get home and into the lovely yellow dress and white mantilla Sarah had bought her, the fiesta would start without the guest of honor!

Ellie reached the ranch house, skidded to a stop by the corral, and dismounted. Then she tossed Calico’s reins to one of the hands lounging against the rail. “Take care of her, will you, please?”

He doffed his Stetson and gave her a wide grin. “Sí, senorita.”

A small tornado in a cowboy suit raced toward her. “Hey Aunt Ellie,” Caleb shouted, “where’ve you been? Folks are comin’, and everybody’s ready but you. Even Uncle Tim.” He pointed toward a group of men standing nearby.

“Oh dear! If Tim’s ready, then I really am late!” Ellie started toward the house at a dead run, then glanced back at the sturdy boy trying to keep up with her. “Thanks, partner.” She started to whip around but her momentum carried her forward. She lurched for a few more steps and tried to ignore the muffled laughter she suspected was incited by the spectacle she was providing.

Tim confirmed her suspicions by hollering, “Hey Ellie, looks like you have two left feet. Don’t ask me to square dance with you!”

She ground her teeth, wanting to throttle her brother. Wasn’t it humiliating enough to stagger like a newborn calf or a rowdy cowboy on a Saturday night spree? The last thing she needed was for Tim to call more attention to her plight!

Ellie made a final desperate effort to regain her footing. Just when she thought she’d make it, disaster struck again. One foot slipped. She lost her balance and pitched forward. Her arms flailed but could not stop her from falling. A heartbeat later, she crashed smack-dab into a large, immovable object. Ellie hit so hard she reeled backward.

Strong arms closed around her.

Furious at her clumsiness and even more with Tim, Ellie jerked free. She looked up.

And up.

A stranger towered over her. A stranger wearing a broad grin, whose gray eyes were alight with amusement.

E
llie gaped at the man looming over her. Her hands clenched. How dare he look as if he was ready to join in the raucous laughter coming from behind her? She reared back to escape the stranger’s amused gaze—and ran head-on into Caleb.

He clutched at her and let out a warning yelp, but it was too late.
Thud
. They landed on the hard ground in an ignominious heap.

“Ow! Get off, Aunt Ellie. You’re breaking me!”

Embarrassment gave way to concern. Ellie rolled over and sat up. “I am so sorry,” she told her nephew. “Are you hurt?”

“Naw.” Caleb scrambled to his feet. He frowned and flexed his arm. “Uh, not bad.”

“Let me look.” She rolled up his plaid sleeve and inspected his elbow, but after a quick glance, Caleb squirmed and protested.

“Let me go, Ellie. I ain’t bleeding. Solita says if you’re hurt much, you bleed.” He tugged his shirtsleeve back down and grinned at her.

Relief flowed through her. “Thank goodness you’re all right.”

Caleb gave her a gap-toothed grin and announced with childish candor, “You better get cleaned up. You’re a mess.” He brushed dust off his shirt and trotted away, leaving her sitting on the ground.

Caleb’s comment on Ellie’s appearance brought a fresh surge of humiliation, interrupted by a deep voice from which all trace of merriment had fled.

“May I help you?”

Viewed from her lowly position, the tall stranger who blocked the summer sky took on mountainous proportions. The words
you’ve done quite enough
trembled on Ellie’s tongue. She bit them back. The man was in no way to blame for her mowing down Caleb. Ellie wordlessly took the hand he offered, noting its strength in spite of her agitation. “Th–thank you,” she stammered.

When she managed to get back on her feet, Tim’s laughter-choked voice tightened her lips into a straight line. Ellie freed her hand and whirled, intending to get even with her brother if it was the last thing she did. He forestalled her—and made matters worse.

“You probably haven’t been properly introduced, even though I see you’ve already run into our visiting minister.” Mischief danced in Tim’s brown eyes. “Reverend Stanhope, meet my sister, Ellie Sterling.”

Minister? Reverend?
Ellie shut her eyes, wishing the hard-packed earth would open and swallow her.

The stranger laughed. “Make that Pastor. Better yet, Joshua or Josh. I’m not much on formality.” A puzzled expression crept into his gray eyes. “Are you the Miss Sterling who will be singing in church tomorrow?”

Ellie couldn’t have answered if her life depended on it.

Not so Tim. “Yup.” He smirked. “We’re all mighty proud of our Ellie’s singing.”

Why must he babble like the brooks that tumbled down the mountainside to the rivers below?
Ellie wondered, wishing her brother were in China or Timbuktu—anywhere far enough from the Diamond S to keep him from adding to her misery.

“Then we’ll be in for a treat,” Josh said. “What will you be singing, Miss Sterling?”

Her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth.

“Call her Ellie,” Tim urged, “although folks around here call her the Sierra Songbird.”

Ellie had never been more embarrassed. Why did Tim have to brag on her? Now she’d be more nervous than ever, singing in front of the visiting minister. Josh’s understanding look helped. His expression plainly showed he knew all about younger brothers. It helped to restore a tiny bit of her dignity.

“I’ll settle for ‘Miss Ellie,’ if that’s all right with her,” Joshua said.

“Sure it is.” Tim patted Ellie’s shoulder. “Caleb’s right. You’re a mess. Get a move on if you’re gonna put on some fancy duds before the fiesta starts.”

Ellie shot Tim a fiery glance, turned her back on him, and summoned a smile for Josh. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll do just that. Oh, I plan to sing ‘It Is Well with My Soul.’” She started to pass Josh, but his deep voice stopped her.

“Although that’s one of my favorite hymns, would you mind saving it?”

Humiliation engulfed her. “You don’t want me to sing tomorrow?”

“Oh no! I’m looking forward to hearing you,” he quickly assured. “It’s just that a different song will fit my sermon better. Do you know ‘The Ninety and Nine’?”

“Sure she does,” Tim blared. He began to sing. “ ‘There were ninety and nine…’ ”

A twinkle leaped into Josh’s eyes before he said, “Begging your pardon, Tim, but I think we’d best let your sister sing tomorrow.”

Tim stuck his nose in the air. “Well! Some folks don’t recognize good music when they hear it. I’ll save my singing for the horses and cattle. They don’t seem to mind when I bed them down for the night.” His cheerful grin spoiled his false indignation.

Ellie felt her face scorch. Was there no end to Tim’s shenanigans? “I know the song and will be glad to sing it.” She climbed the steps to the veranda, snatching at the reins of her temper. A minute more, and she’d be screeching at Tim. But her rage weakened when he said, “Wait till you hear her, Josh. Ellie can beat a western meadowlark all hollow when it comes to singing.” Pride rang in every word.

Josh’s quick “I’ll bet she can” sent tingles through Ellie. She raced inside, through the great hall, and up the broad staircase to her room.

Heedless of her dusty riding skirt and the need to bathe and change clothes, Ellie dropped to her bed. She idly fingered the rich tapestry of the handwoven Mexican spread: red, emerald green, and white—the national colors of Mexico. Matching draperies hung at the large casement windows set deep into the thick adobe walls.

Ellie only covered the windows while dressing. She loved watching the moon and stars from her bed on nice nights and the rain sluicing down the windowpanes in stormy weather. She thrilled to jagged lightning bolts and even the boom of thunder.

“Well, Lord, I feel like I just came through a thunderstorm,” she said. “My nerves are twanging like the strings of my guitar when it’s out of tune.” She paused. “Joshua Stanhope sure is polite. Outside of Matt and Seth, he seems to be the nicest man I’ve ever met. I can hardly wait to hear him preach tomorrow.” Ellie screwed up her face. “Wish I could say the same for wanting to sing. At least I won’t have to face him during my solo. I do not need a reminder of how we met.” She felt a reluctant smile curve her lips. “Lord, I know it will be well with my soul, but I’m going to need Your help to settle the rest of me down.”

For the first time since she’d crashed into Josh, Ellie had wits enough to remember more than how tall Josh was and the way he’d looked at her. At first, laughter had lurked in his eyes, as if held back by sheer willpower. She’d seen it replaced with compassion. And after Tim prattled on about her singing, genuine interest and admiration flickered in the gray depths. Now Ellie pictured his short, well-brushed light hair and his honest countenance.

“It’s like goodness shines through him,” she whispered. “Is it because he’s a minister?” She shook her head. No. She’d met many ministers—godly men who gave their lives to the service of the Master. Yet never had she seen one whose presence affected her so deeply as Joshua Stanhope had done during their brief encounter. She’d always been too practical to believe in love at first sight, but now she wondered….

A knock brought Ellie out of her reflections. “Are you about ready?” a woman’s voice demanded. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” Ellie clambered off the bed and opened the door. Sarah stepped inside, lovely in a light blue, tiered fiesta dress that matched her eyes. “Sorry, but I had a little accident and—”

“And landed at a certain handsome stranger’s feet,” Sarah finished with a trill of laughter.

“You heard?” Ellie’s heart sank.

“Everyone heard, thanks to that rascally Tim.” Mischief sparkled in Sarah’s eyes, and she cocked her head to one side. “Just remember. God brings good from everything that affects His children.”

Ellie grunted. “I made a fool of myself in front of a visiting minister, Sarah!”

Sarah donned an innocent expression. She cocked her head to one side and placed her hands on her hips the way Solita did when about to deliver a lecture. She even sounded like Solita when she said, “Land sakes, child. Every single girl, young woman, and eligible widow in Madera will be doing somersaults up and down Main Street to attract Joshua Stanhope’s attention if he becomes our minister. Especially Amy Talbot. You have to admit, Ellie, you have a running start.” Sarah giggled but didn’t look at all repentant. “Sorry. You probably don’t care for the word
running
right now.”

Ellie laughed in spite of herself, but annoyance swept through her at thought of the petite and predatory Amy, with her oh-so-perfect blond curls and fluttering eyelashes.

“You’re right.
Running
isn’t my favorite word at the moment. As for Amy being a minister’s wife…”

“My sentiments exactly.” Sarah’s eyes twinkled. “So how about getting you into your fiesta dress so you can do something to help prevent such a catastrophe?”

Ellie felt as if she’d been struck. She sank back down on her bed. “I can’t. I’m no more fit to be a minister’s wife than Amy is.”

“Why not?” Sarah sounded genuinely astonished. “You aren’t still holding on to the past, are you?” She sat down next to Ellie. Sympathy filled her face.

Ellie twisted her hands. How could she confess that the little girl who cowered before Gus Stoddard still lurked inside, coloring her attitude toward love and marriage? It wasn’t right to open old wounds by reminding Sarah that she’d once felt unworthy to marry Matt. The subject had remained closed ever since they talked about it years earlier, at the time of Ellie and Tim’s adoption. Yet in spite of all the love that surrounded Ellie, childhood scars had not completely healed over. She hadn’t realized how raw they still were until Sarah teased her.