Bridal Veil Page 4

  He’d startled her this morning. She’d been so intent on her sketch that his voice scared her. Luckily, she’d dropped her charcoal pencil instead of making an unsightly streak across her piece. It would have been a shame. She wanted to finish that drawing, add a touch of pastel color to it, and give it to Daddy as a gift.

  But Mr. Rutlidge. He scared her in a thrilling way. Oh, men back home thronged around her. She knew they all wanted a pretty woman to squire about. Mama and Daddy never minced words—they told her she was lovely to look at, but beauty was fleeting and proved no accomplishment. God created her as one of His works of art, but it was her responsibility to do all she could to become beautiful on the inside. Any man who wanted her only as a decoration probably wouldn’t look for, let alone appreciate, the inward beauty her parents urged her to cultivate. She’d been interested in a few young men from neighboring spreads in a fleeting fashion, but when they treated her like a stupid, helpless woman, her interest waned.

  Only Mr. Rutlidge didn’t fawn after her; he almost ignored her! He’d sounded outraged that she’d been by the creek. He didn’t want her around. In fact, he’d made his opinion of women being a bother quite clear. Then why had he been so polite to the girls? Why had he made a point of including their desires while helping the boys plot out their plan? The man qualified as a bundle of contradictions.

  Laurel bit into her sandwich and tried to make sense of it, but she couldn’t.

  “That there’s one fine buck,” Johnna whispered.

  Brows lifted, Laurel asked, “Which one?”

  April tossed an apple into Laurel’s lap and giggled. “Ours are all good, but only one of those men over at the table is. . . dreamy.”

  “Oh, no, April.” Laurel shook her forefinger at her cousin. “You did this same thing when Eric arrived in Reliable Township. You mooned over him, and all we heard was ‘Dr. Walcott this’ and ‘Dr. Walcott that.’ I’m saying here and now, you’re not going to make a ninny of yourself just because a handsome man stumbled into our camp.”

  “So you think he’s handsome, do you?” Kate gave Laurel a triumphant look.

  “The real beauty of a person is on the inside. We know nothing about him,” Laurel said primly, then quickly took another bite so she wouldn’t be expected to say anything more.

  “I cain tell plenty about him.” Johnna settled into a more comfortable spot on the grass. “He talks like a man who’s had plenty of book learning. His manners are refined. Niver heared a man say thankee as much as he’s done.”

  “He’s a good listener. Attentive,” April tacked on.

  “But he’s just wandering around Yosemite—and for a good long while. What kind of man doesn’t have a job?” Kate polished her apple on her sleeve.

  “None of this matters one whit,” Laurel announced. “He’s going his way, and we’re going ours.”

  “More’s the pity,” April sighed.

  Laurel shot her a behave-yourself look, then glanced at Johnna. Johnna had a sound head on her shoulders. She could be counted on to say something to bring April to her senses.

  Johnna smiled at Laurel. Laurel felt a burst of relief.

  “April, ain’t nuthin’ wrong with settin’ yore heart on a buck. Jest be sure he’s not all antlers and no muscle.”

  April’s face scrunched up in confusion. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Laurel resisted the urge to bob her head. I wondered the same thing.

  “Well, he might be real showy, but that don’t get no work done.” Johnna bobbed her head as if to put exclamation marks after her sage comment.

  Laurel wasn’t quite sure exactly how much wisdom was behind those words, but she shifted her sandwich to her other hand and patted April. “She’s right. We’ve had plenty of saddle tramps come through Chance Ranch. Some of the best workers have been the homeliest or the scrawniest. You can’t make snap judgments.”

  “I’m not going to have an opportunity to find out, either,” April pouted. “He’s not going to join us.”

  “Well, if you ask me, it’s just as well,” Kate declared. “A man who wears expensive gear like that and doesn’t have a job gives me the willies.”

  He gives me the willies, too—but for entirely different reasons, Laurel thought.

  Five

  “One last thing before I go.” Gabe looked at the men still milling about him. “Tell your women to stop wearing perfume.”

  “Hadn’t noticed that they did.” Paxton scratched his side.

  “They do. All of them.” Especially Laurel. He’d not been around women for months, and the slightest hint of cologne struck him full force. The other three women wore fragrances that were light and pleasant; Laurel favored something outrageously feminine that left a tempting sweetness in its wake something akin to a luscious, ripe berry. “Wasps and bees are more likely to sting a woman if she’s wearing a scent.”

  “They packed half the world to come on the trip,” Tanner groused. “We shouldn’t be surprised they brought perfume.”

  “Tell them to leave it in the bottle.” Gabe pretended not to notice how abrupt he sounded. “It’s for their own good.”

  “Rather you told ’em,” Tobias said. “My sister’s far more likely to listen to you than to me.”

  A rumble of agreements filled the air.

  Gabe crooked his brow in disbelief.

  “You don’t have a sister, do you?” Paxton asked.

  “No.”

  “They have a habit of digging in their heels at the dumbest times,” Paxton explained. “Our folks drilled manners into those girls. They’ll listen to you far better than they will to us. It’s for their own good.”

  Gabe let out a bark of a laugh and shouldered his way through the men. He walked past a string of some of the finest horseflesh he’d ever seen and paused. “Nice horses.”

  “Chance horses. Family business.” Caleb’s chest swelled. “Any time you need a mount, we’re the ones to see.”

  “If these are any sample, I’d agree.” Gabe strode on over to the knot of women. They’d cleaned up the lunch gear and were huddled around something. “Ladies.”

  They all straightened up. Laurel slammed her sketchbook shut. “Hello.”

  Gabe wanted to know what she’d been drawing, but it would be rude to ask. What was it about this woman that drove him nuts? He wanted to grab her book and flip through it, to have her tell him about what she’d sketched and why. He felt absurd just standing there, so he cleared his throat and resorted to the social conventions that never failed to rescue a man from uncomfortable situations. “I wanted to thank you again for the meals. They were quite tasty.”

  “You’re welcome.” April grinned at him.

  His gaze swept over them all, then settled back on Laurel. “One other thing. Bees and wasps abound here. They’re attracted to scent. Your perfumes are quite appealing, but I’m afraid the only things you’ll attract are stings. I suggest you forego wearing those scents while you’re in Yosemite.”

  “It’s not perfume,” Laurel informed him in her melodious voice. “Polly, our cousin, specially makes each of us our own shampoo and soap.”

  “Use it, and suffer the consequences.”

  The other girls nodded. Laurel paled. Her reaction disappointed Gabe. Were the little luxuries so essential to her? Just like Arabella, the trappings were all-important to her. He’d pegged Miss Laurel Chance correctly. She acted like a little princess.

  “Have an enjoyable stay in Yosemite.” He turned and left. The walk back to his own site took no time at all. In a matter of minutes, Gabe rolled up his wool blanket, secured it behind the saddle, and broke camp.

  Just as he swung up into his saddle, Paxton rode over. He tossed a bundle into Gabe’s lap. “The girls thought you might want supper since you’re traveling today.”

  Whatever rested inside the bundle smelled outstanding. Gabe couldn’t imagine that strangers treated him with such hospitality—especially since he’d been so rude to L
aurel this morning. “One whiff of this, and I’m ready to eat it now.”

  Pax chuckled. “They were right—you’ve been without decent cooking for a while. You know where we’re going and about how long we’ll be at each spot. You’re always welcome to join up with us. Meals are included.”

  “It’s tempting, but I’ll pass it up.”

  “God go with you.” Paxton reached over to shake hands.

  “How about if He stays with you.”

  ❧

  “It’s not safe for you to be off on your own like this.”

  Laurel wheeled around. “Mr. Rutlidge!” He’d ridden away over more than two weeks ago, and she’d resigned herself to the fact that they’d never meet again. “What a pleasant surprise. I heard you coming, but I thought it was one of the men. They’re around the bend, swimming and fishing.”

  His eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise as he stepped closer and studied the watercolor.

  Laurel shuffled to the side so he could see the rest of the painting she’d been doing. She hadn’t allowed herself much space, but this was the vantage point she wanted. The easel barely fit between her and the tree.

  The moment she saw this spot, Laurel had known she had to paint it. Sunlight filtered through a variety of trees, setting a thousand hues of green alight, then glittered on the ripples of the stream. A solitary tree had fallen across the stream at its narrowest point. Roots long since gone, that tree formed a bridge of sorts that promised adventures to places unseen.

  After a short while, Gabe’s silence unnerved her. Laurel reached out to fuss with a brush, but his big hand manacled her wrist. “Don’t touch it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s perfect just as it is. I want it. How much?”

  Laurel looked from his suntanned face to the painting. “Thank you for the compliment, but it’s not for sale.”

  “Everything has a price.” His hold on her wrist loosened. “It’s a wonderful piece, Laurel.”

  Laurel twisted free of his hold. “My mother is a professional artist. I just dabble. I—”

  “Dabble? Woman, this is awe-inspiring. You captured the very essence of this spot.”

  “It’s kind of you to say so, but I already have plans for this. It’s for my Aunt Lovejoy.”

  “Paint her another.”

  “It doesn’t work that way.” Laurel gave him an exasperated look. “I could copy this, but it wouldn’t be an exact duplicate. The shades and shadows will be different because my lighting will change. I’d be happy to paint you something else if you’d like.”

  “I’m willing to pay top dollar for this one.”

  Laurel frowned. “It’s not for sale. Contrary to your assertion, everything doesn’t have a price.”

  Gabe folded his arms across his chest. “Then what else do you have? I want to see what you’ve been painting and drawing—everything you’ve done since you arrived.”

  “Everything?” She gave him a shocked look. The man didn’t understand how she either had a needle, a pencil, or a paintbrush in her hand all of her waking hours.

  The breeze lifted the edge of her painting. He gently smoothed the corner back down and moved to serve as a windbreak. “Is this dry now?”

  “Watercolors dry almost instantly.”

  “Good. I’ll carry your easel.” He started to bend forward to collapse the legs.

  Laurel planned to stay here for some time yet. She’d brought all she needed to paint a few pictures. Then again, Gabe Rutlidge didn’t exactly leave room for dissent. The man knew what he wanted and plowed toward it with a single-mindedness she’d not seen in any of the men who came courting.

  Not that he’s courting me, she quickly reminded herself.

  “I don’t think you know what you’re asking. I’ve been quite busy with my artwork since we’ve arrived.”

  “Then I’m in for a pleasant surprise.”

  “You flatter me.”

  He lifted the easel. “Miss Chance, if even one of your other pieces comes close to the beauty of this watercolor, I’ll be a happy man.”

  “Then let’s see if you can find something that’ll please you.” She walked along beside him carrying her brushes in a jar as well as her paint box. “My brothers and cousins have enjoyed your advice regarding rock climbing.”

  “Good. Did you have a good time at Tuolumne Meadows?”

  “Oh, the meadows are magnificent! I could have stayed there forever.” She paused a moment as he cupped her elbow to help her over a branch that lay in their path, then murmured, “Thank you. And thank you, too, for talking the boys into going to the meadows. Left to their own devices, we’d probably camp in the shadow of the gigantic rocks and never move!”

  “There are always bigger, more interesting rocks. Their collective sense of adventure would drive them to move on.” He gave her a boyish grin. “I know whereof I speak.”

  “How long have you been wandering through Yosemite?”

  “Since early spring.”

  Laurel shook her head. “I can’t imagine how lonely that must be. I love my family. It’s huge, and I’m always surrounded by noise. There are times when I wish I could have a little time alone, some peace and quiet—but more than a day or two, and I’d be forlorn.”

  “How many children are in your family?”

  “Do you mean, how many children do my parents have, or how many children are on the ranch?”

  “You all live together?” He halted and gave her a startled look.

  “Daddy and four of his brothers all live on the ranch—each has his own home. The older boys live together in a separate cabin, and we girls have a cabin of our own, too.”

  “The place must be massive.”

  “We have plenty of room.” She didn’t specify the acreage. It seemed boastful. Then again, when they’d gone to Reliable to settle, all six of the brothers and their mother had a right to claim land. Farsighted, they’d grabbed as much as they could and worked hard to improve it. The only one who had moved away was her uncle Logan, but enough land and work remained for all of them. God had blessed their efforts.

  “So Paxton and Packard are your brothers. How many more do you have?”

  “Three more.” She laughed. “We girls have a cabin of our own because we’re abysmally outnumbered. Altogether, there are fourteen boys and three of us girls living on Chance Ranch.”

  He whistled under his breath.

  “How many children in your family, Mr. Rutlidge?”

  “Just two. I have a younger brother.” They arrived back at the campsite. “Where shall I set your easel?”

  “Over by the tent, please.” Laurel heard voices. “Johnna? April? Are you in the tent?”

  “Yes.” April stuck her head out of the flap. “We were—oh! Hello, Mr. Rutlidge! Johnna, guess who’s here?”

  “You just said his name, you silly goose.” Johnna exited the tent. “Fancy seein’ you again, Mr. Rutlidge. Did we catch up with you, or did you catch up with us?”

  He chuckled. “I think we met in the middle.”

  “April and me—we were just deciding whether to take a hike or fix something special for supper. Kate’s fishin’ with the boys, and we’d have to drag someone away from his fishin’ pole if we want to wander.”

  “After Laurel shows me her art, I’d be honored to escort you ladies on a walk.”

  “Oh, mercy.” April laughed. “We won’t have that walk for three days. Has she told you how much she’s been doing?”

  Gabe slanted a smile at Laurel. It made her heart skip a beat, then speed up. “I’m glad to hear it wasn’t an exaggeration. The piece she did this morning is stupendous.”

  “Ain’t fittin’ for you to go in the tent. Me and April’ll drag out the chest for you.” Johnna nodded. “Laurel, the both of you go move the chairs to the shade. Sun’s moved, and you’ll burn worse’n a side of bacon on a griddle iff’n you sit in the bright of the day.”

  The girls ducked back into th
e tent, and Laurel busied herself by laying the paint box and brushes on the table. Being compared to a side of bacon somehow made her want to giggle, but she didn’t dare. It would be rude.

  Gabe leaned a little closer. “I could listen to that gal talk all day. She’s as colorful as your painting.” He waggled his brows. “It might not have seemed complimentary to you, but men happen to love the smell of bacon.”

  That did it. Laurel burst out laughing. Gabe’s deep laughter mingled with hers as he moved the chairs into a patch of shade.

  Laurel noticed he didn’t just move two chairs—he moved all four so April and Johnna could join them. Gabe proved himself to be just as thoughtful the second they cleared the tent with her crate of art. He strode over, immediately hefted it away from them, and brought it to the shade. Standing in front of Laurel, he glanced down at the crate, then back at her. “I can see I’m in for a treat.”

  “The watercolors are in the two tablets on the right.”

  “And what’s in the other tablets?” He set down the crate and surveyed the contents.

  “Sketches. Pastels. Oils take too long to dry. I tried one, but it got bugs in it and smeared.”

  “The bugs were attracted to the scent you’re wearing.” He gave her a stern look.

  Unwilling to tell him she’d broken out in a terrible rash from the lye soap, Laurel changed the subject. “Perhaps I’ll make lunch while you leaf through—”

  “No.” He sat down and gently tugged her wrist to get her to sit beside him.

  “Show him your meadows first,” April urged.

  “No, the one of the butterfly. ’Tis the one I favor most.” Johnna settled in next to Laurel.

  “I’ll see them all.” Gabe reached into the box and took out the first tablet. He handled it deftly, but with care. Opening the cover, he stated, “I’ve always admired folks who could draw. I don’t have in it me.”

  A charcoal pencil sketch of Tuolumne was the first piece. A sea of grass and wildflowers waved across the page, swept by the breeze. Gabe didn’t tear his gaze from it as he said in a low tone, “But you certainly have the talent, Miss Laurel. This is wondrous. I can see the blades bending in the wind. That’s just how it looks, too.”