Bridal Veil Page 3

“What’re you doing here?” Gabe demanded.

  “Oh!” She twisted about and dropped whatever she’d been holding. The parasol tumbled behind her, revealing abundant black hair all twisted up into some fancy arrangement. Her golden eyes stayed wide with fright as she stared at him.

  He tamped back a groan. The princess! In the back wilderness? I don’t believe it.

  She blinked and found her voice. “I’m camping. What are you doing here?”

  It didn’t escape Gabe’s notice that she’d raised her volume a slight bit with each word so the last one came out at respectable volume. Clever little minx hadn’t shouted for help, but she’d made certain whomever she was with would hear her. He didn’t respond to her question. Instead, he waited in silence for her rescuer.

  “Laurel!” Two young men dashed around a stand of trees and skidded to a halt beside her. The taller studied Gabe with no small measure of ire. “Breakfast is ready, Sis. You go on back. You,” he ordered, nodding toward Gabe, “leave her be.”

  “Don’t be rude, Pax.” The young woman stooped to pick up a sketch pad and charcoal sketch pencil. “Invite the gentleman to join us at the table since you made mention of breakfast.”

  “Wouldn’t do any harm, I suppose,” the other young man said.

  Pax shifted his weight and moved his right hand in such a way that Gabe could clearly see he wore a sidearm. “We don’t want any trouble. You’re welcome to eat, but afterward, you leave our gals alone.”

  Gabe rested his hands on his hips and tilted his head back as he let out a bellow of a laugh. “Believe me, women are a complication I don’t want in my life.”

  “We didn’t, either,” the shorter man muttered. “But we brought ’em along for cooking and so we could keep arms.”

  “Well, thank you so much for your complimentary opinions of our companionship,” the woman simpered. She turned in a swirl of ruffles and headed away.

  “Betcha we pay for that tonight, Ulysses,” the one named Pax said with a crooked grin. “Laurel’s supposed to make supper.”

  “What can she do to fish?” Ulysses folded his arms across his broad chest. “I think we’re safe.”

  “You’ll go hungry if you plan to fish here,” Gabe informed them. “Nothing bites for a good ways up or downstream from this spot.”

  “You know a good fishin’ spot?” Ulysses perked up.

  “He can tell us about it over breakfast. If we don’t get there, everything’ll be gone.” Pax tilted his head toward their camp.

  Gabe felt torn for a second. He could refuse, go on his way, and be free—or he could eat some of that tempting food, be minimally sociable for half an hour, and then decamp. His stomach growled. “Give me a second.”

  Ulysses gave him a baffled look.

  Having grown up in high society ingrained certain expectations. Gabe shed most of them while alone in the wilderness, but he’d be in the company of ladies. Decency demanded he not appear at their table in his current state. Dipping the end of his towel into the cold stream, he muttered, “I’m wearing half the park.”

  Pax chortled. “The rest of us are wearing the other half.”

  By the time they made it to the camp, Gabe had swiped himself fairly clean and combed his wild hair. In retrospect, it amazed him Miss Laurel hadn’t taken one look at him and screamed herself hoarse.

  Comprised of four wagons and two tents, the campsite looked surprisingly simple—even minimalistic. Surprised at the lack of so-called civilized trappings, Gabe looked around. “Is this everything you brought?”

  Ulysses pointed up to several bundles hanging by ropes from high tree limbs. “We’ve hung the vittles. Bears won’t get into it thataway.”

  “The girls are sleeping in a tent,” Pax scoffed.

  “Are you going to introduce us to our guest?” a redheaded girl called over to them. Gabe recognized her as the one who’d been trying on boots at the store in Wawona.

  “Gabe Rutlidge.” Gabe looked at the heavily laden breakfast table and felt his mouth water. “Thank you for inviting me to your meal.”

  “Grab a plate and have a seat,” Pax said. Most of the men already sat around on the ground in clumps with heaps of flapjacks and several rashers of bacon on graniteware plates.

  “We already asked a blessing,” someone stated.

  Pax thumped his chest. “You’ve gathered I’m Pax. Paxton Chance. That there’s Ulysses MacPherson. Peter MacPherson’s to your left. He’s Ulysses’s cousin. Any other P name, that’ll be one of my brothers. The T’s are all brothers, and so are the C’s. I won’t bother you with callin’ them out. The food’ll go cold, and no sane man would remember ten names all at once.”

  “Obliged.” Gabe found himself liking this crew. They bedrolled under the stars, sat on the ground instead of hauling up all sorts of furniture, and showed a practicality sadly lacking in most other groups who came to camp out. He nodded toward the small knot of women. “Breakfast smells wonderful. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Three voices blended like a small chorus in unison. The fourth, Miss Laurel’s, waited a beat. “I cannot take any credit for my cousins’ cooking, but you’re still welcome.”

  “Laurel uses the early morning light to draw. She makes up for it by cooking supper most often,” Pax said as he shoved a plate at Gabe.

  Gabe accepted the plate and followed Ulysses down the table. Ulysses forked no less than a half-dozen flapjacks onto his plate, drowned them with syrup, and piled several rashers of bacon atop the meal. Gabe took three of the huge flapjacks, but by the time he lifted the jug of syrup, Pax had dumped two more on his plate.

  “No use goin’ hungry. We have plenty.”

  Sitting on the ground with the men, Gabe wolfed down his meal. Every bite tasted as delicious as the first.

  “What’re you doing here?” someone asked him.

  “Exploring. Appreciating.”

  “Your accent is eastern. Not New York. Boston? Chicago?” Ulysses asked.

  Gabe nodded. He didn’t want to be specific. Most folks on this coast didn’t know of the Boston Rutlidges, but those who did immediately treated him differently. Greed shone in their eyes, and Gabe didn’t want money to be an issue when he dealt with others. Part of traveling away from Boston was to know no one pursued him for his money. He’d learned that bitter lesson a million times, but Arabella’s scheme was the final straw. And to think he’d been ready to propose to her!

  Well, I don’t need a woman. I don’t need anybody. Sure, he thought as he swallowed the last bite of bacon, food’s much better and companionship is good, but I’m doing fine without those a good portion of the time. I’m better off on my own.

  Then again, watching the brothers and cousins teasing one another hit a soft spot. Gabe missed Stanford. His younger brother viewed their privileged world with a great deal of humor and managed to get along swimmingly. He’d been the voice of sanity on several occasions, and to his credit, when things went wrong with Arabella, Stanford wholeheartedly supported Gabe’s decision to get away. Gabe held no doubts whatsoever that Stanford was running the business without a single hitch and actually enjoyed the daily grind. He’d been born and bred to do just that—and Gabe, though capable, never once enjoyed any of it.

  A nominal believer in something nebulous called Fate, Gabe figured Stanford was where he belonged—in control of the family fortune. Then, too, Gabe knew he’d landed just where he belonged—free of such encumbrances and alone where he could live without the burdens of society and appreciate nature.

  Gabe wondered about this Chance family. Someone said they’d asked a blessing on the food. That meant at least some of them probably trusted in God. Having grown up in a home where grace was said and everyone attended church, Gabe didn’t exactly disbelieve; he just wasn’t sure he really did believe. How many of the young people around him still questioned all they’d been told?

  His musings left Gabe unsettled. A void opened inside him. It’s just that I’m missing S
tanford—that’s all.

  “So you were gonna tell us about a good fishin’ spot,” Ulysses poked at him with a fork.

  “Fishin’? Nah. I wanna climb that monstrous rock.” Someone else pointed straight ahead.

  “Half Dome,” Gabe provided the name of the formation. “It’s a healthy climb. Great view.”

  “You’ve been up there?” Laurel asked. She set down her half-full plate and gave him an enthused look. Intelligence glittered in her golden eyes. “What is the view like? How far can you see, and what details stay in focus?”

  “She sounds more like a camera than a girl,” Paxton muttered.

  Gabe ignored that comment and answered, “The view is stupendous. Close up, massive formations of granite lie all around you. As you look down and out, the stream looks like a silvery blue thread. Trees are blended splotches of green. People are tiny specks, if you see them at all.”

  “What’re we waiting for?” someone across from him said. “Let’s go!”

  The reaction felt like an interruption. Always deeply moved by the views from the elevated vistas in Yosemite, Gabe enjoyed sharing his observations. He could have gone on to explain so much more, include the interesting details he’d seen. From the eager way Miss Laurel leaned forward, she wanted to hear more, but it wasn’t to be. These young men would see it for themselves, and in their zeal, they’d not considered the women wouldn’t have that opportunity.

  “Best ask what we need to take, Packard,” Paxton said.

  Packard. He’s P, so he’s Paxton’s brother. Paxton called Laurel Sis. Gabe forgave them their youthful impetuousness and tried to put the pieces together.

  “Well, what do you recommend, Gabe?” Packard leaned forward.

  Gabe didn’t tell the young man his shirt was sopping up syrup from his plate. No use embarrassing the kid. “It’s too late to go up today. In fact, we’re too far away. Distances are deceiving here. You need to have everything gathered and at the base first thing in the morning. Someone built a wooden ladder to get you to the first level, but from there, you’ll require rope—lots of it.”

  “How much?”

  “I recommend fifty yards per man. You’re all wearing sensible clothing and boots, so that’s good. You’ll each need a hat to keep away the glare, and you should take water and nutritious, easy-to-carry food.”

  “I’ll have the food all packed,” one of the gals promised.

  “You’re not going. None of you girls is.” One of the black-haired men rose and dumped his plate into a bucket of suds.

  “Who’s staying behind with them?” another asked.

  “Not me,” the men all proclaimed at once, then looked around at each other.

  “This is why we didn’t want girls along,” someone said from behind Gabe.

  “Tanner Chance, you just said you were glad we came along when you heaped all that food on your plate,” a young blond in a blue calico dress insisted.

  “How long will you be here?” Gabe asked.

  “Six weeks.” A redhead with a rowdy-looking beard shook Gabe’s hand. “I’m Peter MacPherson. I reckon that’s plenty of time. We men can break into teams. One’ll explore whilst the other fishes and guards the women.”

  Gabe nodded.

  “You think I’m going to spend half of my trip babysitting the girls?” One of the men smacked his hat against his thigh in disgust.

  “What makes you think we want to sit at the campground all the time?” Laurel asked.

  “Yeah. We want to go on hikes,” said the blond. She flashed Gabe a smile. “And I’m Kate. This is April, and Johnna’s standing by Laurel.”

  “Miss.” Gabe nodded in a mannerly fashion as he made a mental note that each had different colored hair: Laurel was raven-haired, Kate was the blond, April had brunette hair, and Johnna unmistakably belonged to the red-haired MacPhersons. “There are pleasant meadows you ladies could walk through.”

  “I want to climb up to a waterfall and stand in the spray,” April confessed as she leaned across the table.

  Gabe shook his head. “The waterfalls are at extreme elevations. You’ll see them but not stand in one.” Seeing the sparkle in her eyes dim, he added on, “Bridal Veil Falls flows into Bridal Veil Creek. You could wade in it. That’s all west of here.”

  “I saw that on the map!” April perked up.

  “Perhaps Mr. Rutlidge has some recommendations as to where we ought to go or what we should see,” Laurel suggested. “He seems to know the preserve quite well.”

  “You don’t mind, do you?” Paxton yanked a map from his pocket and started unfolding it without waiting for an answer. From the rumpled, much-folded appearance of that map, Gabe surmised the young man had studied it several times.

  “Put it on the table so we can all gather ’round and see,” Peter demanded.

  In a few moments, the nearly empty platters on the table were divested of whatever food remained and tossed into the wash bucket. Paxton spread the map out on the table, and coffee mugs soon held the ends down.

  Gabe glanced at the map. He’d seen several—most were poorly drawn. “You have a decent map. The distances on it look to be fairly accurate.”

  “Tobias and I looked at half a dozen before we settled on this one,” Pax said as he poked his forefinger at a spot. “To my reckoning, we’re about here.”

  “Yes. Half Dome is straight ahead. Bridal Veil Falls is here, and the creek flows. . .” Gabe trailed his finger along the path. “Fishing in it is only so-so. The fishing in the Merced River’s better.”

  “Good to know,” someone said.

  Gabe scanned the intent faces around him. “Fishing is permitted, but this is a preserve. You only catch what you’ll eat. No dragging fish out just for the sport of it.”

  Peter gave him an outraged look. “We ain’t stupid. Who kills jest for the sake of it? Then there won’t be ’nuff fish for the next year.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Gabe said. “Men come here for the adventure and lose all common sense. None of the streams down here have been supplemented. Three of the lakes northwest of here have additional trout, thanks to Mr. Kibbie.”

  “Are there plans for stocking the rivers?”

  “No. The cavalry is here just for safety and preservation—they’re spread mighty thin. No one’s available to do it.”

  A flash of pale pink made Gabe turn. Laurel stood a foot away, holding a huge coffeepot. “Anyone want more coffee?”

  Five mugs in heavily callused fists shot toward her. Not a single man said a word. Gabe waited until she filled them all, then extended his mug. “Thank you, I’d appreciate more.”

  She gave him a stunned look, then smiled. “You’re welcome, Mr. Rutlidge.”

  “The girls wanted to go to Tuolumne Meadows.”

  “Forget it, Tanner,” Paxton growled. “They can see meadows anywhere. We can’t waste time on that.”

  Laurel’s lashes dropped, and the corners of her mouth tightened.

  Gabe cleared his throat. “Actually, the meadows are worth seeing. They spread out for miles, and wildlife abounds. Take a look at your map. If you start out at the meadows, then travel southwest from there, you’ll hit the sites most visitors come for—Clouds Rest, Half Dome—”

  “We already saw Sentinel Dome and Glacier Point on the way here,” Tobias said.

  “So what if we cross the creek and go to North Dome?” Enthusiasm colored Ulysses’s voice.

  “Hold on. Miss April wanted to see falls. I recommend you spend time seeing Vernal Falls and Nevada Falls. They’re on this side and basically on your way. Your map doesn’t remark on them, but they’re breathtaking. Then you can cross the creek and see North Dome.”

  “From there,” Caleb decided, “we’ll hit Yosemite Falls. See, Sis? I’m making sure you’ll get your fill of falls. And then us guys’ll climb El Capitan. We can cross back over the river someplace.”

  “Go farther west,” Gabe advised, “then double back so you see Bridal Veil Falls. Yo
u can trace it through the creek on your way back out.”

  “You all rushed me through them great big trees on the way in,” Johnna said from the washtub. “I want a day to wander ’round them on our way home.”

  “We got water and trees back home,” one of the younger men scoffed. “The rocks are what make this place.”

  “We’ve got rocks back home, too—just nowhere near this size,” Caleb said. “If we go by Gabe’s plan, everyone ought to see something to please them.”

  “Now about that fishin’.” Ulysses jabbed Gabe with his elbow and bent over the map. “How’s about you showin’ us where a feller cain hope to land him a big old trout?”

  Gabe stood in the huddle of men and pored over the map. They asked question after question, and he patiently answered them as he started to pair faces and names.

  A platter of sandwiches landed on the table. Gabe’s head shot up. He gave Laurel a startled look. “I lost track of time.”

  She nodded. “I think the time’s well spent. You’re probably saving us days of backtracking by helping our men figure out where to go.”

  “Eat up.” Calvin shoved a sandwich into Gabe’s hand.

  Gabe chuckled. He’d never had anyone offer him a meal in such a straightforward way. Back home, there would have been a formal invitation, a well-set table, and servants. Even when his family dined casually, they passed platters. When he ate with the cavalrymen, the cook slopped food onto the plates. Something about the simple slapping of a sandwich into his hand, of skipping plates and diving in appealed to Gabe. “Thanks.”

  “If you’re just ambling along, you’re welcome to join us,” Paxton said.

  Gabe swallowed his bite. The food tempted him. The male companionship appealed to him. But he didn’t want women around any more than these men did. Especially not Princess Laurel, who listened to him so intently. The woman was far too easy on the eye, and Gabe refused to stumble into that pitfall again. He shrugged. “The offer’s nice, but I prefer to be on my own.”

  ❧

  Laurel didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until Gabe turned down the invitation. Then she couldn’t decide whether to be glad or disappointed by his refusal.