A Hopeful Heart (25 page)

Aunt Hattie stepped past Tressa, key in hand, and pulled the lace curtain aside. “It’s Abel Samms.” She raised one brow and quirked her lips into a wry grin. “Guess that confirms our suspicions about who ran off with Sallie.” Aunt Hattie twisted the key in the lock.

Abel stepped over the threshold, swept his hat from his head, and offered a quick nod. “Aunt Hattie, sorry to bother you at this hour, but I’m missin’ me a ranch hand. Cole Jacobs.” Abel’s puzzled gaze flicked across the gathered people before returning to Aunt Hattie. “Was plenty worried, too, seein’ as how he didn’t come back after checkin’ on the herd in the middle of that storm. But now I’m just all-fired mad.”

Aunt Hattie touched Abel’s arm. “You want some coffee, Abel? An’ a biscuit with bacon?” She turned and spotted the girls on the stairs. “Well, since you’re all up, make yourselves useful. Mabelle, get the biscuits out o’ the oven; Paralee, turn them biscuits and bacon into sandwiches for the men. An’ Luella, perk us a fresh pot o’ coffee.”

The girls scrambled to obey.

“I don’t want nothin’.” Abel crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his brows low. “I was hopin’ I could maybe talk one or two of your men into helpin’ me search for Jacobs. I’ve got Vince and Ethan out fixin’ my fence.” The muscles in his jaws bulged as he clenched his teeth. “Near as we can tell, Cole must’ve cut through it an’ took a good three dozen of my cattle when he headed out.”

Aunt Hattie reared back in surprise. “But then how could he’ve—?” She shook her head and drew in a deep breath. “Abel, the reason my men’re in here rarin’ to go is ’cause Sallie sneaked down a ladder in the middle o’ the night. She’s gone. I figured Cole put that ladder up an’ she took off with him, but I don’t see how he could’ve done that if he was herdin’ a bunch o’ cattle. You sure them beefs didn’t knock the fence down an’ take off outta fear durin’ the storm?”

“The fence was
cut
.” Abel’s formidable expression made the fine hairs on the back of Tressa’s neck prickle. “I don’t see how my cattle an’ my ranch hand could turn up missin’ at the same time unless Cole cut that fence an’ stole from me.” His tone changed to a growl as he added, “We don’t find those cattle by mornin’, I’ll go see the sheriff an’ have a warrant put out for Cole’s arrest.”

Tressa’s heart pounded as a conversation she’d had with Sallie flooded back. She touched Aunt Hattie’s arm. “Aunt Hattie, Sallie told me Cole had a plan to get money so he could buy a small ranch and win the right to court her. Do you think . . .” She flicked a glance at Abel’s stony face. “Do you think his plan was to steal Abel’s cattle?”

Aunt Hattie stared at Tressa for several silent seconds, her brow crinkled into lines of worry. Then her expression cleared, and she whirled on her men. “Bob, go check if we’re missin’ a horse. If Sallie went with Cole, chances are she’s ridin’. Frank, you take a lantern an’ see if you can read how many feet were wanderin’ around out there.”

Turning to Abel, she gave his shoulder a pat. “Don’t you worry now, Abel. We’ll get to the bottom o’ this. I guarantee you that.”

25

Sheriff Tate hitched his waistband higher. The pants drooped back below his round belly as soon as he let go. “We been searchin’ for three days, Abel. That’s more’n enough. Way that ground was stirred up, those cows could’ve been sent in any direction. No way of knowin’ where Cole took’em, an’ that’s that.” The portly man pooched his lips. “He planned good, takin’ off in the middle of a rainstorm.”

Abel gritted his teeth. “You could send wires to cattle buyers— let ’em know what my brand looks like an’ have ’em be watchin’ for a man matchin’ Jacobs’ description.” It irked Abel to no end to have to do the sheriff ’s investigation for him. But the man was too lazy to lift a hand. If Abel hadn’t threatened to wire the state’s marshal, Tate wouldn’t have even saddled a horse and gone tracking.

“Now, Abel, you know Jacobs’ll be wantin’ to unload them critters to somebody who won’t be askin’ questions. So he ain’t gonna go somewhere he’ll need to prove ownership. He’ll likely take ’em to Indian Territory an’ sell ’em to the army for Injun food. They’ll buy most anything to feed the Injuns livin’ on the reservations.” The sheriff worked his whiskered jaw back and forth, his watery eyes narrowed to slits. “Them cows’re gone, Abel. Accept it an’ move on.”

Abel slammed his hat onto his head and stormed out of the sheriff ’s office.
Accept it an’ move on
. The words taunted him. How could he just accept it? Those cattle represented a loss Abel couldn’t afford.

His boots stuck in the mud, slowing his progress toward his wagon.

He scraped off as much of the muck as possible on the wagon wheel spokes before climbing onto the seat. As he released the brake and plucked up the reins, Brewster Hammond clopped down the boardwalk toward him.

“Hold up there, Samms.”

Abel held to the reins and waited for Brewster to reach the wagon.

The man curled his hands over the wagon’s side rails. “Any luck in locatin’ those cattle?”

A bitter taste filled Abel’s mouth. “No. An’ that lazy coot of a sheriff isn’t doin’ nothin’ to try.”

Brewster gave a derisive snort. “Wouldn’t expect anything less. That man’ll be voted out next election.” He twisted his face into a grimace. “I reckon it’ll be harder to keep your place goin’ without proceeds from the sale of those head.”

Abel didn’t bother to reply. Brewster, as well as everyone else in town, was aware of Abel’s precarious situation.

“Keep in mind, I’m still interested in buyin’ your spread. ’Specially now with Gage fixin’ to take a wife.”

“Gage is courtin’?” Abel was surprised the town’s grapevine hadn’t reached him with that piece of news. Usually anything about the Hammond family spread quicker than honey on a hot biscuit. Abel knew Aunt Hattie had agreed to Brewster courting her, and even though he wouldn’t have put the two of them together, he figured she was old enough to make up her own mind.

“Yep. Gage has set his sights on Miss Tressa Neill, an’ I’m inclined to support him. She’s a sweet little gal with a pretty face, an’ seems to be right smart to boot—a good match for Gage.”

Abel’s stomach clenched. Tressa and Gage? After being forced into a compromising position by the man, she’d agreed to his courting? It didn’t make sense. Then his thoughts turned cynical. Maybe Gage’s wealth had turned her head. Living on the Hammond ranch would put her in a prominent position in Barnett.

Brewster grinned. “Who knows? Maybe in another year I’ll be bouncin’ a grandson on my knee. All the more reason to add to my land holdin’s. Gimme somethin’ to hand ’im when he’s full grown.”

The thought of Tressa bearing Gage’s children made Abel squirm. He set his jaw. “Sorry, Brewster, but as I told you before, my place isn’t for sale. You’ll have to look elsewhere to find land for your future grandson.”

“All right, Abel.” Brewster slapped the wagon side and stepped back. “But remember the offer’s still open. You let me know if you change your mind.”

Abel smacked the reins down, urging the horses out of town. He felt sick to his stomach. He’d promised his pa he’d hang on to the ranch, but this latest loss crushed all hope of keeping that vow. It took money to run a ranch—to buy feed, to pay ranch hands, and to keep Uncle Sam satisfied. He might be forced to sell. But not to Brewster Hammond.

“You must be the stupidest girl ever born.” Luella ran a squeaky wooden rolling pin over a lump of dough on Saturday afternoon, working it thinner and thinner. The contemptuous remark stung, but Tressa continued plucking wet feathers from the dead chicken and refused to rise to Luella’s bait.

“When are you going to give up your snooty ways and allow Gage Hammond to court you? It’s not likely you’ll find a better match.” Luella’s caustic tone carried a hint of melancholy.

Tressa glanced toward the work table, and despite Luella’s mistreatment, compassion stirred in her breast when she glimpsed the girl’s sad face. Mabelle and Paralee had gone to town with their beaus for dinner at the café. Although Fred Pennington had committed to courting Luella, the man’s efforts to woo a woman were sorely feeble. He arrived at the Flying W each evening and spent a few minutes with Luella, but he never brought her gifts like Mabelle’s and Paralee’s beaus, and he had yet to take her to town for dinner or out for an evening drive.

“You ought to be thankful Gage Hammond shows even a trace of interest in you.” Luella clacked the rolling pin to the side, picked up a sharp knife, and ran it across the sheet of dough, creating long, skinny noodles.

Tressa carried the freshly plucked chicken to the dry sink and began cutting it into pieces with a butcher knife. “I’m not ungrateful, Luella. I know Gage is paying me a compliment by wanting to court me.” Her nightly prayers hadn’t awakened fond feelings for the young man. Instead, images of Abel Samms always interfered with her focus. Her heart ached each time she thought of how Cole Jacobs had stolen from him. The anger Abel displayed no doubt masked his deeper feelings of betrayal.

Luella lifted a string of dough and placed it over the wooden drying rack. “A man like Gage Hammond won’t wait forever.”

Tressa bit down on the end of her tongue to still any further argument. Luella would continue haranguing her no matter how she responded. Silence was often her best defense. She layered the chicken pieces in a pot and ladled in water—“enough to drown the bird,” as Aunt Hattie had taught her. Grunting a bit with the pot’s weight, she carried it to the stove. Remembering Aunt Hattie’s recipe, she added salt, pepper, and a bay leaf, and then placed the lid on the pot.

She crossed to the table and helped Luella lay the remaining noodles over the wooden rack, thankful that the girl had ceased her diatribe. She hummed as she worked. In a few hours, the noodles would be dry enough to break into pieces and add to the soup. Her mouth watered. They would have a fine supper.

The moment Luella draped the last noodle over the rack, she put her hands on her hips and scowled at Tressa. “So are you going to finally let Gage Hammond start courting you or not?”

Tressa sighed. She couldn’t imagine why Luella was so eager to have her matched with Gage Hammond after going to such lengths to secure him for herself, but she found the girl’s endless badgering tiresome. “Luella, it wouldn’t it be fair to accept Gage’s attention when I don’t love him.”

“Love,” Luella snorted. “We have to be practical, Tressa, and take whatever chance we’re offered.”

“You mean like Evelyn, who returned to New York to marry a man older than her own father?” Tressa caught Luella’s dress sleeve, her desire for answers overpowering her determination to avoid further animosity. “Do you really believe Evelyn is happy in a loveless marriage even though she has lots of money? And think of Sallie—she risked everything to be with Cole, not because he’s wealthy, but because she loves him. Who do you think is happier right now, Luella—Evelyn or Sallie?”

For a moment, Luella gazed out the window, her expression wistful. Then, with a huff of breath, she wrenched her arm free and pasted on a scornful look. “We weren’t talking about Evelyn and Sallie. We were talking about you. You’re going to lose your chance for a husband and a family if you don’t set aside your romantic ideas and accept Gage Hammond’s offer. And if you refuse him, Tressa, you really are a fool.” She turned and flounced out of the kitchen.

Tressa sank onto a kitchen chair and rested her chin in her hand. Was is it a foolish, romantic idea to wait for love? Although she’d been young when her mother died, she remembered the tender looks her parents shared across the dinner table. She also remembered the sense of security that surrounded her when she glimpsed their devotion to each other. How could she forget her father’s impenetrable sadness after Mama’s death? Sadness so deep could come only from the loss of something infinitely precious. Perhaps her parents hadn’t shared many years together, but they had shared love. And their lives—including Tressa’s—were richer because of it.

Each time Aunt Hattie spoke of her Jed, a special look came into her eyes. What was that, if not love? Tressa was certain Aunt Hattie would not marry Brewster Hammond—no matter how wealthy and powerful the man—unless she loved him.

Her thoughts skipped backward to the evening when Aunt Hattie told her God had used her aunt and uncle to bring her to this place for a God-planned purpose. Tressa wanted desperately to believe that God had someone special waiting for her—someone who would love and cherish her as deeply as her father had cherished her mother. Could that person possibly be Gage? And how could she know for sure?

Jumping up from the table, Tressa hurried to the garden, where Aunt Hattie was snipping green beans from their vines. She smiled when she spotted Tressa stepping over the low fence.

“Ah, you got that chicken simmerin’ already? Then you can help me pick beans. Can’t hardly keep up with ’em. Fool plants grow new beans every night.”

The word “fool” propelled Tressa forward. She knelt and buried her hands in the sticky leaves of a plant, searching for beans. “Aunt Hattie, how can one know if love is growing in her heart for a man?”

The older woman shot Tressa a speculative look. “Well, Tressa-darlin’, I reckon it’s different for every woman, but I can tell you how I knew I was fallin’ in love with Jed.”

Tressa sat on her haunches and listened intently, the green beans forgotten.

“Got to be where my ears hungered for the sound of his voice. Day just wasn’t complete if we didn’t have a few minutes o’ time together. I wanted to
give
to him—not just things, mind you, but pieces o’ myself. My thoughts, my dreams, my feelin’s . . . and I trusted him to keep those things safe.” Aunt Hattie stared across the garden patch, her lips curved into a sweet smile. Tressa wondered what the older woman was envisioning in those moments of silent reflection. “The day he said ‘I love you’ to me, why, my heart nearly took wing an’ flew right out o’ my chest, it made me so joyful inside. An’ I knew. I just knew I loved him.”

“How long did it take?”

Aunt Hattie’s head jerked, her surprised expression meeting –Tressa’s. “How long? Well now, missy, I’m not sure a person can know how long it takes love to grow. Kind o’ like these bean plants. You put a whole passel of seeds in the ground, but they pop up one by one—on their own time, y’see. But with sunlight an’ water, eventually they all sprout.” She chuckled. “That’s probably not a good example, but you see what I mean. Love needs nurturin’ an’ attention to grow.”

Nurturing and attention . . .
Tressa flung her arms around Aunt Hattie’s neck and squeezed. “Thank you, Aunt Hattie!”

“Gracious, girl, you’re welcome.” Aunt Hattie patted Tressa’s back. “But let loose o’ me now before we tumble into these plants an’ squash ’em flat!”

With a laugh, Tressa released her hold. “Aunt Hattie, is Mr. Hammond coming for supper tonight?”

“He sure is. I told him we was havin’ chicken an’ noodles, an’ he said wild horses wouldn’t keep him away.”

“Do you suppose I could ride to the Double H and . . .” She lowered her head.

Aunt Hattie lifted Tressa’s chin. “An’ what, Tressa?”

Tressa drew in a fortifying breath. “Gage wants to court me, but I’ve resisted him because I don’t love him. You said God has plans for me here. How can I know for sure those plans don’t include Gage if I never spend time with him?”

Aunt Hattie grimaced. “Oh now, Tressa—”

“But you just said love takes nurturing and attention. I haven’t even given Gage a chance. Shouldn’t I at least allow time to see if a seed of love will sprout between us?”

For several seconds, Aunt Hattie peered uncertainly into Tressa’s face. Finally she sighed. “I reckon it wouldn’t hurt. You wantin’ to see if he’ll come with his pa to supper tonight?”

Tressa nodded eagerly.

“All right, then.” She waved a dirty hand toward the barn. “Saddle up Spotty an’ ride on over there.”

Tressa jumped up and started across the garden.

“But mind how you ask him. You’re just wantin’ some time to get to know him a bit better. Careful you don’t give him the idea you’re ready to start courtin’, or you might get stuck with somethin’ bigger’n you can handle.”