Chapter 9

© Copyright 2008 by Elizabeth Delayne



He’d gone to church, forced himself to talk, to smile, to share Christmas Eve dinner with the people of Lenox. He’d tucked his son into bed, talked him through the Christ’s birth that they’d already heard at the church service, but thankfully, Matthew had not tired of it. He wanted to hear it again. He peppered James with questions.

Then he asked about his mother. Was his mother celebrating Christmas?

It took a breath, a maybe a second, deeper one, but James opened his heart to talk about Anna. He needed to share her with Matt.

Your Ma, he’d said over the lump in his throat, gets to celebrate Christmas every day. And he told Matt of how Anna had loved Christmas, how much joy she found in the season of her Savior’s birth. He told of her religious traditions, and her heart that had never seemed too full of joy.

And even then, in his thoughts, was Rachel. She was just there. The candle light in her hair. The laughter ringing out through the night as she talked and laughed with the children. The way her eyes seemed to sparkle. The way she moved through the room.

Even with Matt in between them, she had seemed so close during the service. Her voice almost took his breath away. He hadn’t felt like singing, but something opened his heart, opened him just enough that though the lump in his throat kept the words in, the words in his soul took a moment to rejoice.

He’d eaten with others, forced himself not to watch her across the room, and tried to focus on Anna. He’d counted on leaving the thoughts of her in town.

Now, she had invaded his home. The spirit of Rachel, he thought with more than a little bitterness.

James shut the door behind him as he left his son’s room, then walked to through the kitchen, to the mud room, and took his coat from the peg.

“James?” Gregory said as he looked up from one of his old books.

James pulled on his coat, his scarf, then ventured a look back at his father. “I need ...”

He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t finish the sentence.

But he escaped into the cold night.

He headed into the barn. Nuisance peeked out of the stall and watched him. James stopped, stared. Anna hadn’t known the ornery horse. He’d been born not long after her death. It had been hard to focus on the colt for awhile, to train him. James had little patience, had let his emotions rule.

Which might have been why the horse had taken so long to train.

So, even though they battled wills ... even now, more often then not, there was a bond there. Such a bond.

He walked over, put his hand on the warm mane in greeting, then just dropped his forehead there.

He had his son. He had his horses and his land.

He didn’t need ...

Rachel.

* * *

Christmas passed and classes resumed. They had a hard snowfall that kept the children away for a little over a week. Rachel built snowmen with the children that lived in town, made snow angels after school, and helped Millie out at the store. Her free time moved from the sullenness of November and December to the joy of the New Year.

School started back, but was interrupted by two long and hard blizzards. The children on farms further from town, including Matthew Forester, came when they can. In fact, Rachel wondered if James wasn’t keeping him from school at times, on sunnier days when it seemed most of the children had returned.

But Matt was a growing boy, too young for the school, really. And after their talk, it seemed that James planned to open himself up more to his son.

So maybe Matt just needed her less and less. It caused a deep pain in her heart.

Then Matt would come to school, and he would seem just as happy to see her as she was to see him.

Winter slowly moved toward spring. The short days began to get a little longer, bringing much needed sunlight. People were outside in the sunshine. All down the street there was talking and laughing, the sound so welcoming it was almost like Christmas bells itself.

For a moment, Rachel stopped on the planked sidewalk and watched. It was different in Charleston, she thought, where people lived closer together and saw each other even in winter.

Here, spring came like the welcoming rain after a long drout.

“Miss. Lynne.”

Rachel turned toward the call that came from across the street. It was Mr. Shatler, the tall rugged mountain man. She hadn’t seen him since the day she’d bought her coat. She greeted him as he walked across the street toward her.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it, Miss. Lynne?”

It was. The skies were blue, the air warm enough that she was able to walk around town without a coat.

“In town for supplies?” she asked.

“Among other things,” he said. “Gets lonely up there in the mountains.”

“Most miners came down for the winter. You seem to be very much the opposite.”

“I pride myself in not being most.”

“You’re just live all alone up there?”

“I’m not alone, Miss. Lynne. But the company of men in the mountains is far from the companionship of a lovely woman.”

“Ah–no family then?”

“I have family. A younger brother. Lives with my sister east of here. She won’t let him come to stay with me. Not until he’s a bit older and he can ...” he sighed. “Take care of himself. And another brother. Roams around a bit.”

“A little like you?”

He frowned—or frowned more, she thought, as he’d not yet really smiled.

“Nothing like me.”

“You should come down more often, bring some of your friends. We usually have town activities planned, even during the winter. Its not much, but most people can get in.”

He laughed, a cold—almost dark laugh.

“Yes, I know. I know what the Reverend plans. He always has big ideas. A school. A store,” he shot a look, down the street, toward the parsonage. “Always talkin’ bout how things are going to be. Thinks he knows. Thinks he can figure it all out. I travel quite a bit. Lenox isn’t the only town around, you know.”

“I suppose not,” she said, and continued on toward the store as he fell into step beside her.

“But I have missed a pretty little school teacher I met recently.”

Rachel offered him a small, she hoped polite smile, but didn’t exactly know what to say. She had not thought of him beyond ... well, just that he was one of the people—interesting people, no less—that she had met out west. Interesting because he was elusive, and there was that scar that ran down the right side of his face, from temple to cheek. It gave him a dangerous quality, a certain odd appeal, she thought.

They’d reached Barton’s store. He looked as if he would say something else. Ask something else.

But then he tipped his hat and walked on down the planked sidewalk.

Rachel breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

Soon it was April. While she had just begun to meet people in the fall, now she knew them, and some of them well. Three new families had moved into the area, and with them came seven school age children.

With the coming of spring came the need to talk, to be around other people, as if the doors had been flung open to let in a breeze on a hot and humid day.

The social gatherings breathed life into the town. The town was abuzz with real news for the first time in months. From the upcoming elections outside the territory, to the a recent train robbery, the new security measures on the line that ran through Cartersville, and ... most importantly, the news that they were getting a doctor.

Their very own doctor.

Rachel had been asked to move back into the Peterson’s home so that her little house could be used for the doctor. She had done so, gratefully. It was definitely an answer to prayer as she had sought peace in her fear from God, but had not confided in Millie. She hadn’t wanted to worry her.

Rachel had begun to feel a little edgy living there, out near the church building, alone.

Or maybe it was just the fact that she would be leaving soon, and being away from her new family just didn’t appeal.

Restless, she took to taking long walks, but roamed no further than just beyond the edges of town. She wanted to take in every detail so that she would have it with her when she was back in Charleston.

Back ... but not home.

She thought about that as she stood one evening looking over the plains toward the mountains. This was home now. She would visit her family, she would take every moment she had with them as a gift, but she would come back here.

There was just something about the people, the town, the land around her, that drew her to stay.

“Miss. Lynne.”

She turned, surprised to see that the rider who approached was James Forester. He had avoided her for months–though for awhile, he was trapped like so many others out on his farm. Still, it was James’ father who brought Matthew into town and picked him up. He still stayed only half days, and seemed to come less and less.

Rachel told herself not to worry. Matthew was still too young for school. He needed room to play, to learn his chores ... to do those things that a four year old was supposed to do.

She saw James, of course, across the church building on Sundays, when he and his family were able to make it into town.

But they had not spoken, not since Christmas Eve.

Not ... Rachel thought, that they had ever really spoken, talked, carried on a conversation like she had with everyone in town.

Only that one time. That one afternoon, when he’d opened up his heart.

She watched as James Forester swung down off his horse. He was so tall, she thought. He had the healthy tan of someone who worked out doors. Big, hardworking hands, and hair that was always just a little too long.

“Mr. Forester.”

He stepped beside her, looked out over the land as she had been doing.



“Our ranch is out that way, between the town and the mountains,” he said at last.

Rachel frowned. “I didn’t come this way to look for you.”

“No—I did.”

She looked over at him in surprise—half afraid he was there to chastise her.

“I’m here to invite you to a birthday party.”

She smiled as the news dawned. “For Matthew.”

“Yes.”

“Five years old. He knows that’s the town age for getting into school. He’s so excited.” Rachel said, having talked with Matthew for weeks about his coming birthday. “He hadn’t said anything about a party.”

“I haven’t said anything to him. I wasn’t sure ... never was much for those kind of to do things. Pa thought we’d invite his friends–closest friends. You and the Barton’s. Jeff. Millie.”

“And Millie’s going to take care of it.”

James let out a breath. “Just the dinner. The eight of us. I know Matt wants you to come.”

“I’ll be there.”

He nodded, somewhat stiffly. “Good. The Barton’s ...”

“I’ll ride with them?”

He nodded, seemed to make an effort to say something more, but he obviously couldn’t think of anything. It would be an effort, Rachel knew, to be in the same room ... the same area together.

Even with six other people as a buffer.

He didn’t like her. He didn’t want her there.

But he loved his son. And knowing that was his reason even for lowering the wall between them to speak to her somehow softened the offense Rachel might have felt against him.

With the details taken care of, James turned on his heal, swung into his saddle, and rode away without another word.

But even after he was gone, Rachel stood there, no longer facing west. She was now turned to where she had watched him get into his saddle.

Such a big, strong man.

And he’d done it with such ease.



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