Bridal Veil Read online

  His eyes twinkled. “I’m wounded that you’d ask such a thing.”

  “He might be wounded, Sis,” Pax said wryly, “but he’s not denying it.”

  “I thought we were friends. Friends don’t keep secrets.”

  Laurel couldn’t hold back her giggles anymore. “Shame on you, Gabriel Rutlidge!”

  “I’m shameless when it comes to good food. You have to take pity on me and all of these other men. We’ve been subsisting on our own cooking for so long, our taste buds went into hibernation. A grand meal like this jolted them awake.”

  April lifted both hands in surrender. “I can’t stand it anymore. It’s cobbler.”

  “Arghhh!” Johnna let her head drop back.

  Kate clapped with glee. “I knew it!” She turned to Johnna. “Told you!”

  Johnna nodded. “I’ll do the dishes tonight.”

  “No, you won’t.” Gabe hefted another large bite. “You gals cooked up a feast. I’m willing to wash. Which of you men’ll dry?”

  “You’re offering to wash dishes?” Laurel blinked in surprise.

  “Sure. Why not?” He filled his mouth.

  They managed to demolish all of supper and both apple cobblers. Laurel didn’t know what to do with herself as men did the dishes. What was happening? Back home, the men never did dishes. For that matter, neither did the boys.

  “Livin’ on their own, I s’pose these men’re used to takin’ care of thangs,” Johnna mused. “Shore is odd, seein’ ’em do women’s work.”

  Laurel nodded. “It makes me sad to think of them serving our country and eating so poorly. Let’s plan a special breakfast.”

  Peter brought out his fiddle. One of the soldiers wheeled around. “A dance!”

  Laurel and Johnna exchanged surprised looks. Before either could respond, Gabe barked, “No.”

  Ten

  Paxton, Caleb, and Peter were only a breath behind in the denial.

  Gabe cleared his throat. “These ladies don’t dance, but they sing like angels. Perhaps you could ask them for a song.”

  “We’ll have a sing around the campfire,” Caleb announced.

  At suppertime, the soldiers had all vied to sit beside the women. Laurel noticed how her brothers and cousins managed to elbow their ways into sitting next to their sisters now. She wished Gabe could sit beside her again, but she said nothing.

  After the second song, he sauntered over. Though a large man, his gait was nearly silent—yet she sensed his presence. He slapped Packard on the shoulder.

  Pack twisted around. “Done with the dishes?”

  “Yep.”

  Pack stood up and wandered over to the other side of the fire. Gabe took his place. He looked over her head at Paxton and held his gaze for a long moment, then glanced down at her and smiled.

  She stumbled over the lyrics of the song and recovered, but for the rest of the evening, Laurel could barely contain her elation. Because her uncle Titus loved to play guitar so much, they often sang in the evening back home—but with her mother and five aunts as well as the younger boy’s high voices, the harmony stayed balanced. With twenty-odd men and only four girls, the air vibrated with deep notes. Gabe’s voice carried a rich timbre that warmed her clear down to her toes.

  They sang “Oh! Susannah!” and “I Dream of Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair,” then “Laura Lee.” Kate tossed a little chip of wood into the fire and said, “You can tell the girls are outnumbered here. The men all keep suggesting songs with girl’s names. Let’s sing a hymn.”

  Gabe winked at Laurel and cleared his throat. She got the feeling he was up to some kind of prank. “What about ‘Beautiful Valley of Eden’?”

  “Oh, I like that one.” Kate beamed. “It’s more than fitting for where we are, too.”

  One of the soldiers chuckled. “I have a sister named Eden.”

  “My aunt’s name is Eden, too,” Gabe confessed.

  “You’re a rascal.” Laurel ruined her scold by laughing.

  “We should make him pay a forfeit,” April declared.

  “I concur,” Captain Wood said. “Discipline is vital. The punishment should fit the crime. I recommend he sing that hymn solo.”

  Gabe rose. Folding his arms across his chest, he widened his stance. “Laurel shares the guilt. She knew I was up to something.”

  Her jaw dropped at his audacity.

  “Then they’ll sing a duet,” the captain declared.

  Extending his hand to her, Gabe invited, “M’lady.”

  Paxton nudged her. “Get going, Sis.”

  “I’m protesting my innocence.” She took Gabe’s hand and stood.

  “Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Ulysses called from the other side of the fire.

  “Oh, you and your Shakespeare,” she said back.

  “Beautiful valley of Eden!” Gabe began singing. He squeezed her hand.

  She joined in, “Sweet is thy noontide calm. . .”

  Peter didn’t accompany them; they sang the hymn a cappella. Gabe didn’t turn loose of her hand, and Laurel didn’t pull away. Somehow, it just felt right for her hand to be enclosed in his strong, warm grasp. The unity she felt with him went beyond the blending of their voices—they were sharing the love of God and His wondrous creation. So much else felt topsy-turvy in her world, but this felt as solid and secure as anything she’d ever known.

  ❧

  Gabe woke to the smells of fresh coffee and wood smoke and the hushed whispers of women’s voices and swishing skirts. He lay in his bedroll and relished those simple things. All around him, the Chance men and the cavalry formed blanket-covered lumps on the ground. The warm summer night hadn’t required a fire, so they’d scattered about and bedded down after last night’s music.

  Gabe noted the Chance men had all managed to plop down closer to the tent than they had in the past. To his knowledge, there hadn’t been any discussion about it—but there hadn’t been any last night, either, when the horseman suggested a dance. These men showed a protectiveness that pleased Gabe. He didn’t want Laurel or her cousins to be in any danger.

  Not that the soldiers were dangerous. It had been an innocent suggestion last night—but Gabe didn’t want those men spinning the women around and wearing them out. Back home, plenty of churches frowned upon dancing. Gabe wasn’t sure where the Chances stood on that issue. Even if they considered it harmless, he figured a woman ought to be well acquainted with a man before he took her in his arms. He’d not even taken Laurel’s hand into his until last evening. There was no way he’d allow any other buck to sweep her around to music.

  The Chance men aren’t the only ones being protective. He lay there and identified his Laurel’s sweet voice as she and April discussed the breakfast menu. My Laurel? Mine? He heaved a sigh. Who am I kidding? I’m not just being protective; I’m being possessive. That gal hasn’t tried a single coy move, yet she’s beguiled me.

  But I don’t want to get roped into any woman’s world. Yosemite is my refuge. I need to back off and let this be a friendship. I can appreciate her company and artwork. When she leaves, she’ll go back to her well-ordered world, and I’ll still be free to roam at will. It’s for the best.

  He rolled over onto his side and opened his eyes. Peter MacPherson lay on his side, facing him. He inhaled deeply and rasped, “Ain’t nuthin’ better’n the smell of coffee in the mornin’.”

  “I agree.”

  “Ma always wakes Pa up with a cup. One of these days, I’m gonna find me a good woman who’ll do the same for me.”

  Gabe crooked a brow. “That’s pretty specific. Do you have a mere mortal in mind?”

  Peter chortled and sat up. “I might, but I’m not sayin’. In my family, a man learns to keep a few things to himself. If he don’t, he’ll niver live past the teasin’.”

  Gabe sat up, shook out his boots, and yanked them on. “To my way of thinking, I’m better off to wake up and make my own coffee.”

  “Good Book says ’tisn’t good for
man to be alone.” Peter stomped his foot to make it fit into the boot.

  “Yes, but then God made Eve for Adam—a perfect fit. Adam didn’t hold a question in his mind that they were intended for one another. The rest of us men—we have lots of women to choose from, and we don’t have that same assurance of finding the perfect fit.”

  Peter shrugged. “I reckon no couple is a perfect fit at the start—it takes years of bumpin’ along to rub each other smooth.”

  Gabe rose and folded his bedroll. All around him, men were waking and rising. All of them offered an opinion on marriage—all but Caleb seemed to think it was something far off in the future.

  “Shore, some of you bucks are too wet ’hind the ears to do any courtin’,” Johnna said. “And you soldjer boys ain’t home, so no gal’s gonna want a man who’s married to his saddle. Others of you—well, I’m thinkin’ God’ll have His way sooner’n you expect. I’m gonna have me a good laugh when you get moon-eyed over some purdy l’il gal and change yore tune.”

  “She’s saying that because she has Trevor wrapped around her little finger,” Peter said.

  “Watch what yore sayin’,” Johnna said. “Trevor’s goin’ o’er to our place and holpin’ with some of yore chores so’s you could come on this trip.”

  “She’s got you there,” Pax teased.

  Ulysses snapped Peter with his blanket. “Face it: Trevor’s doing it so your ma and pa’ll find favor with him. He’s buildin’ up the nerve to ask for Johnna’s hand and figures it’s smart to get on their good side.”

  “Ma and Pa only have a good side.” Johnna shook a long spoon at them. “And Trevor’s got a helpful spirit. Hit ain’t worthy of you to fix motives to him.”

  Peter brushed by Gabe and muttered, “See? Toldja in my family, a smart man keeps his mouth closed.”

  “It’s not just in your family—it’s a sound rule for any man.”

  Gabe’s resolve to keep his mouth full of food and empty of words lasted only until breakfast was ready. Plate heaping with flapjacks and bacon, he sat in the same place he’d occupied last night. When one of the cavalrymen came over to take the seat beside him, Gabe clipped out, “Miss Laurel will be sitting there.”

  “Then I’ll sit on her other side.”

  Gabe nodded curtly and shoveled a bite in his mouth.

  Five minutes later, Laurel walked away from the serving table with a plate of flapjacks. The cavalryman called out, “Miss Laurel, we’ve been saving a place for you over here.”

  Gabe couldn’t decide whether to be embarrassed or grateful for that outburst.

  Laurel smiled as she sauntered over. “I thank you, but I’m not ready to eat yet. We made plenty of the flapjacks. Would you care for more?”

  “Don’t have to ask me twice.” The man’s plate shot out, and Laurel expertly flipped two sizable flapjacks onto it.

  She looked at Gabe.

  “They’re great. Thanks.” He held out his plate and accepted a pair. “But I don’t feel right about eating when you haven’t yet.”

  Laurel smiled. “I’m rarely hungry in the morning. I often skip breakfast and stay out sketching or painting.” She wended her way past a few more men and soon emptied that plate. After refilling the plate, she continued to serve seconds.

  Kate wandered along in her wake with a jug of maple syrup and poured it for whoever wanted more, and Johnna did the same with coffee. April stayed by the fire, continuing to cook.

  Caleb strode over and straddled a log by Gabe. He bent over and seemingly checked out the frayed hem of his britches as he asked in a low tone, “Do you think the captain would be offended if we offered some of our provender? We have plenty to spare.”

  “I’m sure he’d be grateful.”

  “You going to travel with us awhile, or do the girls need to set aside some grub for you, too?”

  I’ll be leaving as soon as breakfast is over. The words were right on the tip of his tongue. Gabe couldn’t make any other decision. Only the syrup made the answer stick to the roof of his mouth, and once he washed it down with a gulp of coffee, he heard himself said, “Where are you going next?”

  ❧

  “What do you have there?”

  Laurel didn’t turn at the sound of Gabe’s voice. She’d sensed his presence a few minutes ago. In the past week while he’d been camping with them, he always showed his thoughtfulness for her work by waiting silently until her brush or charcoal lifted from the paper. As she dabbed a tiny splotch of dark green on a tree, she said, “Another landscape. I must have painted hundreds of them since I’ve been here.”

  “Every one of them is beautiful in its own way.” He moved to stand beside her.

  “Thank you. As the weeks have gone by, I’m noticing the colors I use are changing. I’m using more dark green instead of the lighter tones. It’s been a subtle shift, but the difference is still there.”

  “I don’t doubt it. Springtime green is more yellowy.” He looked into the distance, then back at her picture. “It’s the same, but it’s not. How do you decide when to leave out a clump of trees like you did right there?”

  Tilting her head to the side, she thought for a moment. “I knew I was doing it, but I didn’t give much thought as to why. Now that you ask, it’s because the picture would feel lopsided with more over here.” She indicated where the trees belonged with the wooden tip of her brush.

  “So you balanced it out.”

  She nodded. A slight breeze lifted the edge of the paper.

  Gabe reached over and whistled under his breath. “When did you do this?”

  “First thing this morning.” She waited a second for the watercolor to finish drying, then leafed back for him to see the whole piece. “They were so beautiful.”

  “So the doe had twins. From what I’ve seen, that’s quite common.”

  “I was afraid they’d move before I could capture them.” Laurel looked at the sketch. “I’d like to paint them when I get home.”

  “It’ll make a stunning picture.”

  She touched up one spot on the sketch. “I didn’t know twins were common in deer. They don’t happen much with the horses on our ranch, and when they do, the men practically pull their hair out.”

  “The foals don’t survive?” Gabe asked softly.

  “Daddy counts it a blessing when the mare and one of the foals survive. I can only think of three sets of twins that made it through.”

  “That’s a pity.”

  “Kate’s mare was a twin. Neither the mare nor the other foal survived. Our neighbor brought her over in hopes that my father and uncles might be able to get another mare to accept her. None of them would, but Kate handfed that foal and pulled her through. The only time I’ve ever seen Kate cry was that Christmas when her mother and father told her they’d bought the horse so she could keep it.”

  “That must have been when she was twelve.”

  Laurel gave him a surprised look. “How did you guess?”

  “You mentioned once that the kids in your family receive a horse when they’re twelve.”

  “You have a good memory. They’re breaking the rule this summer. Cole, my youngest brother, is eleven. He and three of the others who are ten and eleven are all getting a horse. The plan is for them to master their animal so they can ride them here to Yosemite next summer.”

  Gabe straightened up. “So you’ll be returning next year?”

  “No.” She sighed. “I’d love to, but we made a deal. The group that came this year will stay home and run the ranch next year while our parents and the younger kids come.”

  “That’s some arrangement. Do you think you’ll all be capable of keeping the place going?”

  “I’ve thought about that.” She flipped the tablet to a new sheet. “Grandma and her sons started that ranch when the boys were our ages. If they could do it, we can. We also have the MacPhersons next door, and they’ll bail us out if we run into anything we can’t handle.”

  “You’re not afraid of hard
work.”

  “Why should I be? God’s blessed us with health and meets our needs. My aunt Lovejoy says it’s only right that we meet Him halfway by baking that daily bread.”

  Gabe shifted his stance and looked away for a moment. “I wondered how you’re set for supplies. I’m thinking of riding to Wawona to send off mail.”

  “April’s the one to ask. She’s kept track of the food.”

  “I meant art supplies, Laurel.”

  “Oh.”

  “I can’t have you run out. Bridal Veil is next.”

  Mixing water in with the paint to lighten the tone of blue for the sky, she frowned. “I looked all through that store and don’t recall seeing any tablets or pencils.”

  “I called that to Hutchings’s attention the last time I was there. It never occurred to him to keep them in stock, but once I mentioned it, he promised to get some in. So—what do you need, and do you have any mail you’d like to send out?”

  “Would you mind waiting while I write a quick letter? I’m sure others would love to send word home, too.”

  “That all depends.”

  She started to swirl her brush in water to rinse it out. “On what?”

  “Your definition of quick.” He plucked the glass from the easel and handed it to her. “My mother’s idea of a short letter is ten pages.” Collapsing the easel, he tacked on, “If that’s your plan, I’ll already be halfway to Wawona.”

  “I thought your horse was named Nessie. To make that kind of distance, you’d have to be on Pegasus.”

  “You’ve never seen her in a full-out run.”

  “Who’s running?” Tobias asked.

  “I am.” Gabe started back to camp. “I aim to go to Wawona today.”

  “Any special reason why?”

  Laurel gawked at her cousin. “Tobias, don’t pry.”

  “I don’t mind.” Gabe shrugged. “They have a telephone there. It’s my mother’s birthday. I thought I’d give her a call.”

  “They have a telephone here?” Tobias marveled.

  Unable to contain her amazement, Laurel asked, “Your mother owns a telephone?”

  Gabe hitched a shoulder as if it were nothing.