Page 5 of Beyond Montana's Sky
So Cai knew all too well what Ahab was experiencing—the loss of a dear sister and only living relative—the sadness and sharp anger at a bright light snuffed from the earth, the stark realization that he was alone in the world.Well, as much as one could be alone when surrounded by a passel of Andersons.The extensive family who’d worked the ranch with his parents and grandparents loved Aurie almost as much as he had and also grieved her loss.A gray miasma of sadness hovers like low clouds over my land.
Truth be told, he’d thought of reaching for the bottle a time or two or more, needing the escape. But even in the depths of his pain, Cai knew a few hours of oblivion would only be followed by the same aching sense of loss and loneliness, topped with a monster hangover. From a few times in his youth, he’d discovered hangovers didn’t mix well with managing horses and cattle.
But now, even the reminder of his grief, of Ahab’s loss, didn’t lessen the humor he felt about teasing the beautiful and oh-so-proper Edith Grayson. He’d seen the woman a time or two before on the rare occasions he came to town but never up close.
In the last years whenever in Sweetwater Springs, his mind remained on the ranch, calculating the long list of chores he and his hands needed to do and trying to be both mother and father to a sickly and far-too-smart-and-stubborn-for-her-britches girl child. Most times he didn’t even bother coming to town, preferring to send one of the Andersons.
A special memory of his sister surfaced. One of the pigs had gotten out, and he and Aurie had to chase the creature down, her squeals of laughter pealing out as loud as the darn hog’s. At the time, with both of them ending up muddy from head to toe, Cai had not been amused. But today, he couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle.
“Aurie, Aurie, Aurie,” he said aloud. Wasn’t the first time he’d conversed with his deceased sister, wouldn’t be the last.
Aurie used to trail after him, worse than any shadow, wearing an oversized flannel shirt and a pair of his boyhood pants, the hems rolled up. She’d been a feisty little thing for all that she was prone to breathing attacks that scared the bejesus out of him. He’d come close to losing her half a dozen times, but God and Doc Cameron pulled her through.
In his heart, Cai had known he only had borrowed time with Aurie, but he’d fought for her to live, and she’d matched him month-by-month, year-by-year, until her frail body could no longer contain her brave spirit. Aurie’s passing left a huge hole in his heart and an emptiness at the ranch that couldn’t be filled.
Somehow the delight gifted him by his run-in with Edith—he couldn’t think of her as Mrs. Grayson—loosened the tight control he’d worn around his emotions for months.
Then, the laughter ebbed, and tears threatened.
No one was around to see or hear his grief. He had no one to be strong for. He wouldn’t arrive at the ranch and his responsibilities for another hour.
For the first time in the two months since Aurelia Cassandra Driscoll’s death, Cal wept.
CHAPTER TWO
Later that afternoon, Edith sat at her desk, the extensive list of wedding guests in front of her and a pen in hand. A cup of tea cooled near a plate of three, fresh-baked sugar cookies, one with a bite out of it.
Instead of duly making check marks next to the people who’d responded to the invitations, she kept remembering today’s encounter with the infuriating Cai Driscoll. As much as she tried to put him from her thoughts, the irritating man continued to pop back in, the teasing look in his eyes causing little flutters in her stomach.
Opening a drawer in the desk, she pulled out an envelope and extracted a letter written in formal stationery, which she’d received five months ago, and reread the contents.
Dear Edith,
It is with deep sadness that we regret to inform you that our son George was killed in a riding accident. As you know, he leaves behind a wife and three daughters. With Julia’s latest pregnancy, we had hopes she’d finally deliver a son, but the stress of George’s death was too much. She miscarried the baby, which turned out to be a boy.
Our granddaughters will receive generous dowries. But, as our only grandson, Benjamin now stands as the heir to the family business.
Mildred and I know we were not as accepting of you as we should have been. We were stubborn and tried to force Nathaniel down a path of our choosing, and so we lost him long before he passed away. We were wrong and paid the worst possible price for our decisions. Thus, we must ask your forgiveness for our treatment of you.
Over the years we have suffered from not seeing Nathaniel’s son and watching him grow up. But we were too stiff-necked to bend. Unfortunately, we did not heal the breach we had caused and were punished for our own pride.
We appreciate that your letters have kept us informed of Benjamin’s progress. Thank you for writing, even though you received no response. Benjamin sounds like a fine young man. I’m sure his father would have been proud. You and his uncle have surely done a good job in raising him.
The passing of George has humbled us. We are brokenhearted by the loss of our two beloved sons. Thus, we come, hat in hand, to beg for you and Benjamin to return to live in Boston. You and he will be most welcome.
Sincerely,
Henry Grayson
The contriteness of Henry’s letter was part of what had swayed Edith’s decision. But she couldn’t help having doubts about how Nathaniel’s parents would treat her in the future.
Two pairs of footsteps sounded on the hall outside her open door, bringing her attention to the present and abruptly ending her latest reverie. She set down the letter on the desk.
Ben entered the parlor, his best friend Matthew Salter on his heels. Both boys carried stacks of schoolbooks secured by leather straps.
Flame-haired Matthew had recently experienced a growth spurt. He’d almost reached her tall son’s height, and his shoulders had filled out. Long-time poverty and almost starving had taken a toll. Even now with food more abundant, the boy labored hard at home and the hotel, keeping him thin. He still wasn’t as sturdy as Edith would have liked.
Hoping her cheeks weren’t pink, betraying her straying thoughts, Edith placed her pen on the inkstand, smiled, and greeted them.
