Corral Nocturne (10 page)

“Well,” said Cole, turning back to Ellie
again, “there’s midnight. And now, I’d better get you home.”

He stood up, and bent and swung her up
lightly from the bars of the old corral into his arms. This time
Ellie protested: “You don’t really have to carry me. I’m not hurt,
Cole; I can walk.”

“Sure you can. But I’m not about to let go of
you so easily, now I’ve got you! And you like this better anyway,
don’t you?”

Ellie was forced to laugh and blush a little,
and own that she did. She put her head against his shoulder,
thinking how short the miles to home looked now, when every moment
with him was joy. She could hardly credit the way she had felt just
a little while before.

“What was it, really, that made you run away
tonight?” Cole said to her after a little while.

“Well—you’ll think I’m awfully silly,” said
Ellie, her face growing warm again at the recollection.

“No, I won’t—promise. What was it?”

Ellie squirmed a little, but the first flush
of affection and confidence impelled her to confession. “I heard
some of the girls talking. They said that—that I was setting my cap
for you, and that you could see it. And I thought you must have
been laughing in your sleeve at me the whole time—”

Cole’s hearty laugh interrupted her,
effectively scattering her last doubts. “
You
setting your
cap at anyone? Ellie, you might be the only girl I’ve ever met
who’d never have the thought cross her mind. No, you silly
sweetheart, I wasn’t laughing at you.”

“You promised you wouldn’t call me
silly!”

“All right, I take it back. But why’d you run
away?”

“Because I
was
silly, and I felt so
ashamed! The way I acted tonight—the way I kept looking at
you—”

“I was looking at you the same way. That’s
probably why neither of us noticed.”

Ellie nestled contentedly against his
shoulder again, smiling a little in recollection. The discontented,
jealous words of the other girl no longer had the power to hurt
her. She could think of them with amusement, almost, and even a
tiny, warm touch of pride, that the man who had chosen
her
was so sought-after by other girls. They had known what it was they
were losing. And she could still hardly believe it was true—that he
had chosen her. The feel of his strong arms holding her was real,
but still incredible.

“If you’re really sure it’s me you want to
marry, Cole—”

“As sure as I possibly can be—Isabella. You
don’t want me to call you that, do you?”

And they laughed together again—how
everything seemed to come back to laughter on this wonderful,
magical night.

So at last, long past midnight, they came to
the sleeping Strickland place, silent and dark with the stars
standing out bright above it. Their voices still held laughter, and
they had quite forgotten that anybody else might be wondering where
they were. Cole was still carrying Ellie—she had indeed persuaded
him to put her down on the road and let her walk for a while, but
before very long the pinching left shoe had reduced her to hobbling
again, and he had picked her up and carried her the rest of the
way.

They were talking still as they crossed the
yard, and their voices woke the echoes. Fortunately for Cole, who
would painfully acknowledge the next morning that the boots one
wears to a roundup or dance are not best suited to carrying one’s
lady-love a mile or two across the prairie, the dark shapes of a
buggy and team were visible over in a corner, but this they did not
immediately notice. They hardly noticed anything, in fact, until
the screen door creaked in front of them and Ed Strickland’s voice
came from somewhere in its vicinity. “Who’s that? What’s going
on?”

Ellie was going to answer, but Cole’s voice
rang out cheerfully. “Evening, Ed. Just getting in a little late.
Did we wake you?”

“Oh, it’s you,” said Ed, not very
flatteringly. “No, you didn’t wake me. Ma made me sit up. And a
nice, long wait I’ve had, too! What the deuce have you been up to,
Ellie?”

“Oh—nothing,” began Ellie somewhat
confusedly, trying to reconcile her evening with something that
could be explained to Ed. But once again Cole answered easily.
“She’s all right. No harm done, except throwing a shoe.”

“Oh, shut up, will you?” said Ed, losing his
temper somewhat, for late hours did not agree with him. “I dunno
but what I ought to give you something to think about! I’d like to
know what you mean, keeping my sister out till all hours like
this!”

“When you figure out how to catch a team of
runaway horses on foot, you let me know,” said Cole.

“Oh, that’s an old excuse!” jeered Ed.

There was a pause. “What was that?” said
Cole. (He had seen the buggy in the corner by now.)

“You heard what I said all right,” said
Ed.

Cole set Ellie lightly on her feet, near the
steps. “Just a minute,” he said to her. He advanced a little nearer
to the steps and beckoned to Ed. “You. Come down here.”

Ed came, unsuspecting. Cole took him by the
front of his shirt and delivered a neat uppercut to his chin which
sent him over backwards into a pile of milk pails beside the steps,
with a crash that woke every echo on that side of the neighboring
hills and set the chickens in the henhouse to squawking. A light
went on in the house. Ellie clapped both hands to her mouth,
regardless of the shoe she still held.

“I’d give some thought to how you talk to
your sister after this,” said Cole pleasantly, “because you answer
to me from now on. Just think a little—all right? It’s not too
hard.”

Ed was sitting up, outraged, startled, but
not at all inclined to argue. He put out an uncertain hand to help
himself up, but only succeeded in disturbing more pails. It was a
much larger pile than it had seemed in daylight.

Cole left him to it and turned toward the
house, where Ellie had mounted the steps and was waiting for him,
one hand on the door-handle, the other clasping her errant
shoe.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said. “I want to
talk to your mother. And I want you to meet my people soon too.
You’re going to like them, I know.”

“Do you think they’ll like me?” said Ellie, a
little timidly.

“I know they will,” he said. There was a
pause. “You’d better get some sleep now.”

“I will. Good night—Cole.”

“Good night, my sweetheart.

Elisabeth Grace Foley is a historical
fiction author, avid reader and lifelong history buff. Her first
published story, “Disturbing the Peace,” was an honorable mention
in the first annual
Rope and Wire
Western short story
competition, and is now collected with six others in her debut
short story collection,
The Ranch Next Door and Other
Stories
. Her other works include a series of short historical
mysteries, the Mrs. Meade Mysteries; and short fiction set during
the American Civil War and the Great Depression. A homeschool
graduate, she chose not to attend college in order to pursue
self-education and her writing career.

Elisabeth’s Blog:
www.thesecondsentence.blogspot.com

Twitter:
www.twitter.com/ElisabethGFoley

More books by this author:

The Ranch Next Door
and Other Stories

War Memorial: A
Short Story

Some Christmas
Camouflage: A Short Story

The Silver Shawl: A
Mrs. Meade Mystery

The Parting Glass: A
Mrs. Meade Mystery

The Oldest Flame: A
Mrs. Meade Mystery