Breathe: A Novel of Colorado (45 page)

They entered a new road through two lonely posts with the Circle
M brand on either one, and moved northwest as the sun set
behind the Sangre de Cristos. A half hour later, they crossed a
hill and she could see it, the outline of their new home, nestled
among the trees, near a small but tidy cabin, smoke curling from
its chimney. Over the hill, she spotted the raw lumber of the twostory house, almost completed, and a white barn a short distance
from it. Beyond that, among the fenced fields, was a long line of
wall and shallow roofing, perhaps a windbreak or snowbreak for
the horses.

"Good man, Tabito," Bryce murmured. "Either he's in that
cabin, forgetting we're coming, or he's gotten it all ready for us."

Odessa smiled, but inwardly wondered where they'd all sleep in
a cabin so small.

"Don't worry," Bryce said. "He'll join the men in the barn.
There's a room in there that isn't half-bad. Once we move into the
big house, we'll build a proper bunkhouse for the men, and Tabito
will take the cabin as his own."

"How come you never built him a place before?"

Bryce shrugged. "No need. You come in after a day on the range,
all you want is a basin of water, a mug of coffee, some meat in the
belly, and then a good straw tick. You're out in seconds."

"But now..." Odessa led.

"With a woman on the premises, we all have to behave more like
gentlemen."

"Do they know I'm coming?"

"I sent word a couple weeks ago. `Bringing a bride home, finish
the house. And don't forget the horses,"' he said with a smile, then
pulled the wagon to a stop outside the cabin.

Bryce called out and the small cabin door opened. A short man,
powerfully built, emerged. He reminded Odessa of Nic in stature.

"Tabito," Bryce greeted him. "Meet the new mistress of the
ranch, Odessa."

"Mrs. Odessa," he said. He smiled at her with warm brown eyes.
His face was like tanned leather, deep with wrinkles, although he didn't
seem more than sixty years old. His hair was jet black. She offered her
hand and he took it in both of his, bowing. "You're cold. Come inside."

"Thank you." She followed him, ducking a little to enter through
the doorway.

Bryce had to duck even lower. "Keeps the wind out," he
explained.

"I have some venison stew on," Tabito said.

He had a curious way of speaking, as if he didn't want his lips to
move that much.

"It smells good," she said, leaning over the fireplace and lifting
her hands toward the flames to warm them. Never had she been this
close to an Indian before. But it didn't seem foreign, not like she
thought it would. She sensed his stare and glanced at him.

He hmphed under his breath.

"Something wrong?"

"You are pretty. Too pretty to marry that ugly one."

She smiled. "I don't know. I think he's pretty handsome."

Tabito hmphed again. "Love. It makes the mind useless." But he
gave her a smile that let her know he was joking. "Now, eat. You are
too skinny. How will two skinny people fill that big new house with
babies?"

She blushed at such intimacies, especially from a stranger. The
door closed and she looked up to see that only Bryce was left.

"He never says good-bye. Just up and leaves."

"Ahh. Is that a Ute custom?"

Bryce shrugged and pulled up a stool to join her by the fire. "It's
that Ute's custom."

She dished him some of the stew. "How long has he been with
you?"

"He's been with me ever since I came to the ranch. He was a
trusted hand on my uncle's ranch, the first spread that abutted my
homestead."

"How big was that spread?"

"Two thousand acres. The people who owned it had been here
for ten years. But smallpox killed most of the family. Only a couple
of the children left, barely able to look after themselves, let alone a
ranch. Tabito, he loved those children. But he wanted to stay with
the land. He says it's something deep within him-the Indian in
him-needs room to roam. Land and animals to care for. We still get
a letter now and then from the children."

Outside, they could hear him unloading the trunks beside the
front door, then speaking lowly to the horse. Eventually, the wagon
creaked away, presumably en route to the barn.

"That's so sad! Where did the children go?"

"To an aunt in Boston. They're all right. And we paid them well
for the land. It will see them into adulthood and beyond." He reached
out to caress her shoulder. "What do you think of the cabin?"

"It's snug, warm, comforting." She looked about. Shelves with
canned goods and sacks of coffee, sugar, and flour lined the wall
near the fireplace, along with a few other blackened pots of various
sizes. On the other side was a rocking chair, and behind them, two
beds, with a curtain strung between them, but pushed back. Both
were neatly made. She rose and reached out to touch the one nearest
them. "Is that a bear skin?"

"Grizzly," he said, suddenly beside her. "My father shot it in the
Sangres a few years ago."

"It's massive."

"Grizzlies are about the biggest bear out there." He set down
his bowl and took hers from her hands. His eyes were warm, full of
passion, desire. His hands moved to her hair and began pulling the
pins from it, letting one coil drop and then the next. He was terribly,
wonderfully close to her, and yet not touching anything but her hair.
He moved slowly, clearly appreciating the moment as much as she,
dragging out his seduction. Odessa closed her eyes. The cabin smelled
of wood smoke and cedar and must and coffee ... and her husband.

Backstage, after Moira changed back into her own clothes again, she
rushed to the door, intent on getting back before she was missed,
but then paused. No, she couldn't ignore the pull of the theater,
and finally turned and went down one hallway and then the next until she emerged into what would soon be the completed lobby.
Metalsmiths were fitting the ceiling with copper tiles while a host of
painters lacquered the raw wood in a rich obsidian black. A team of
seamstresses moved among three rows of chairs, installing cushions.
The opera house was taking shape nicely; this would soon be a grand
room, a lovely room where people like the Palmers and the Brennans,
among others, would see and be seen.

General Palmer had told her that there would be fine people
from as far away as Denver and even Santa Fe to take part in the
opening-night ceremonies. Reporters, dignitaries, politicians ... it
was perfect, simply perfect!

She moved through the big room, past the workers, the acrid
smell of paint hanging in the air. In the back, she pretended to stop
and speak with one imaginary couple and then another, gracious,
holding herself just so.... She held out her hand, as if accepting
a gentleman's kiss, and then she heard it. A real man clearing his
throat. Moira whirled.

"I believed rehearsal was over, but here you are, still preparing
for the big night."

It was Jesse McCourt, tall and slender, with that lovely mustache
and deep sideburns that accentuated his handsome face. And when
the man sang ... when the man sang, all Moira wanted to do was
close her eyes and listen for hours to the notes that left his mouth.
It was enough to make her want to ask the director to double the
length of their rehearsals.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Jesse," Moira said. "It is never
proper to spy upon a woman without announcing your presence first."

"I beg your pardon," he said regally, bowing low at the hip. He rose. "I intended to announce my presence, but I was captivated by
your performance."

"Jesse, really," she said dismissively. She well knew that he was
laughing at her expense. "Have you no shame?"

"Little, if any," he said dryly.

"Well, I really must be off now."

"Good day, Miss Moira," he said, tipping his head a bit toward
her. "I shall very much look forward to your performances tomorrow, be they on or off the stage."

She tried to come up with a retort, failed, and whirled, rushing
off. Behind her, she heard his deep, baritone laugh filling the room.

Odessa awakened beneath a bear skin, her nose nearly frozen, but the
rest of her body warm and relaxed. She squinted and opened one eye,
took in a swift look about the cabin, and closed her eye again. It was
all real. She was Mrs. McAllan. She lived on a ranch. And for now in
a snug little cabin that her husband apparently liked to keep at Arctic
temperatures. He was over by the stove.

"If it's this cold now, what are the winters like?" she asked.

He laughed, a warm and welcoming sound. "Good mornin',
Wife. We'll find a way to fend off the cold."

She smiled and watched him take a pot from the stove and pour.
She sniffed. Coffee. She squirmed with pleasure.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "It will go best for us if we
play by the sanatorium's rules. Lots of fresh air."

"Absence of dust?" she teased. In the light of morning, she could
see a thin layer covered every surface.

"That's a battle out here on the range. But in the new house, it
will be a bit easier. I'm building with dust and wind in mind."

"Lots of physical exertion ... that won't be difficult here, I'd
wager.

"No." He reached out and touched her cheek. "I have to go out
with Tabito. But I'll be back in a few hours and we can look at the
house together and have some lunch. Will you be all right here, making yourself at home?"

"I'll be fine." She sat up.

He paused, staring at her. "You are a vision, Odessa. God has
blessed me."

"And me as well."

They smiled into each other's eyes for a long moment. "Hate
to leave you, but I must," he said with chagrin as he rose. "Rifle is
locked and loaded, right above the door there. I want you to lock
the door behind me. Two of the boys will be nearby and on alert."

Odessa frowned. "Bryce, don't you think it's a bit much? As you
said, we'd see anyone coming for miles."

"They'd have to be pretty dedicated to come this way. Chances
are, they'll move on to other ... opportunities now that we're out
from under their noses. But as you said, they knew Sam lived just
down this valley."

"I don't want to live in fear."

"Nor do I. It'll be just for a time, Odessa. Until we're sure."

"Until we're sure? How long will that be?"

"We'll know it when the time comes." He put on his hat and
pulled on a coat.

She reached for an overdress and pulled it over her shoulders, then rose from bed and padded to stand before him. "This is our new
home, Bryce. I'm sure all that is behind us."

"I hope so," he said, stroking her face. "But for today?"

She sighed and then lifted up on tiptoe to kiss him. "For today."

He smiled at her and then was off. She peeked around the door,
watched as he met Tabito and two ranch hands. Then she shut the
door and placed a worn board over it so it could not be opened from
without.

She turned and looked about the room, wondering what to do
with herself for the morning. Bread, she decided, and as she waited
for the dough to rise, she'd heat water to clean. Tabito had done a
good job getting the cabin ready for them, but it needed a woman's
touch. She wanted the windows to sparkle and to know that she had
washed every surface with her rag, even if it ended up with a layer of
dust again by day's end. It would make it hers, somehow. Home.

She smiled.

She was a wife.

She lived on a grand, sprawling ranch beneath picture-perfect
mountains.

And she was making her husband something to eat.

If only her parents could know.... Never had she felt this happy
in all her days.