The day passed at a snail's pace. I couldn't focus on my sewing, the pieces of fabric resting in my lap more often than being worked in my hands. However, when I opened a book, the words failed to hold my attention.
Had the man been found and locked up? Was the posse still searching for him?
Simon remained on the porch with me, though I know there were several times Cordelia suggested he do something else. Remy returned to his work with the horse in the corral, but every time I glanced up, he was watching me.
It was clear the attack in town had unsettled the men in my life, perhaps more than it had frightened me.
As I shifted on the porch step, trying to get comfortable on the hardwood, I felt something in pocket. Reaching down, I pulled out my letter to my friend Nora. The whole point in my going to town had been to send it, and I hadn't done it!
Maybe it was just my nerves being high strung, but it struck me as the most hilarious thing I had ever done. At the same time, though, it was a sober reminder and any urge to laugh vanished.
Slowly, the sun began to sink below the horizon. Though a part of me knew I ought to have gone inside to help prepare the evening meal, but I didn't make a move. My book rested on my lap as I stared at the road.
When Susan came out to tell us supper was ready, Father still hadn't returned from town and I had managed to work myself into a nervous state of worry. Where was Father? He hadn't run into trouble on the way home, had he? What if the robber was still out there?
Water dripping from his face and neck where he'd washed and hadn't dried completely, Remy came from the barn. He held his hand out to me, and then waited for me to put my hand in his. Once I did, he helped me up from where I had been sitting on the porch step.
I didn't miss the way Simon rolled his eyes as he holstered his gun and stood up. My brother went in ahead of us.
Remy rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb as he guided me to the front door. The meal was on the table, but there was no stream rising from any of the dishes. How long had Cordelia and Susan had the meal ready?
On the floor, Sam's little face was bright red and tears were running down his face. I could only guess that he was the reason we had been gathered to eat.
Taking Father's place at the head of the table, Simon offered a prayer before reaching for the first dish. His face gave nothing away as he passed it to Susan on his right. Everyone seemed subdued as they put food on their plates.
Cordelia, especially, kept glancing at the door as though she expected to see my father come through it at any moment. It was, to be honest, the first shred of concern I'd ever seen her have for Father. Did she have some kind of affection for him, then?
Of us all, Remy, Simon, and the children were the only ones who ate without pause. I could only manage a few bites of the cold, glue-like mashed potatoes. My stomach was twisting inside me.
Because of where I was sitting, I saw the front door open first. Father, exhaustion hanging on him like a coat, entered. It was only when Anna, who was right behind him, pushed the door closed that Cordelia twisted around.
Pushing her chair back, Cordelia rose with surprising swiftness and she rushed to Father. She grabbed his arm, and because her back was to me, I didn't know what she was saying. When I glanced at Susan, though, the girl was rolling her eyes in a way that made me guess my stepmother was being just as overdramatic.
Remy reached over and squeezed my hand, almost as though he wished to reassure me. What was being said that he felt it necessary to do so? Or was I simply over thinking the matter?
Father pulled himself away from Cordelia and came to the table. Simon pushed back his chair and rose, ready to allow our father to be at the head of the table as was his right. His face lined with exhaustion and concern, Father dropped into the chair.
Anna refused to look at anyone, even Remy. She didn't pause to eat anything. Up the ladder she went, and I suspected that she would not come back down.
In a sudden burst of activity, Cordelia hurried to the table and collected the cold dishes of food. She carried them to the stove and began to dump the food into various pans, presumably to warm everything up. Ducking her head with a suddenly guilty expression, Susan slipped from her chair and hurried around the table. Her mother must have scolded her for not jumping to help right away. Poor girl.
Knowing I would only get in the way, I decided to remain where I was. I focused on Father and studied his expression. I'd thought him changed when I first arrived in Montana. Now, with the dark shadows under his eyes, he appeared to have aged ten more years in the span of a day.
Leaning forward, I disentangled my fingers from Remy's and patted the oak wood to get my father's attention. "What happened?" I signed and mouthed.
My father's shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. He shook his head. Did he mean to indicate that nothing had happened, or that he didn't want to explain whatever had happened?
Father didn't say anything else, though I kept my eyes on him so that I wouldn't miss a single word. Simon sat down in a vacant seat, the younger two having abandoned the table for their toys in the other room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my brother ask, "Did...posse return?"
Again, Father shook his head. Fear made my heart skip a beat. Did that mean the posse was still searching? Had they run into trouble? What if they'd been led into an ambush? That was something that happened, right?
Remy's hand closed around mine again. His thumb rubbed the back of my hand, distracting me from the questions in my mind. Though I knew I might miss something important, I dragged my gaze to him. He wasn't even looking at me. Did he realize what he was doing?
Cordelia came over, a plate of steaming food in her hand. I breathed in the delectable scent of fried ham and potatoes. For a brief moment, my appetite returned, but when I glanced at my plate, my stomach turned.
Susan returned only to start clearing the table. Father didn't say anything as he ate his supper. Cordelia stood behind him, her hand resting on the back of his chair. I'd never seen her appear so anxious before. As Father continued silent, I wondered why the woman did not go to her daughter.
Of course, it was not the first time I'd seen a lack of affection from her. Did she know how to show love? Was she capable of the feeling? Or had she been so hurt by the world, by the war, that she refused to allow such vulnerability, even where her own children were concerned?
Astounded by the idea, I stared at my stepmother. Was that the case? Why hadn't I thought of that before?
There was a gentle tug on my hand. Remy gave me a warning look. Right. Staring was rude and Cordelia would only create a scene if she saw me.
Breathing out, I determined to be kinder to Cordelia no matter what she did to me. It would make life easier for Father, even if she did not accept the olive branch of peace.
Fatigue washed over me as I sat back. I didn't want to leave the table if there was chance Father would say something, anything that would help me work out what had happened. There was also the fact that Anna was already in the attic. I had no doubt she knew I had told about her being in a man's arms.
I was not about to allow an opportunity where she could vent her fury on me.
So, I remained in my seat and watched my family. Simon drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes flicking toward the door. I could guess at his uncertainty. How safe would it be for him to ride to wherever it was he'd been living in the past few weeks?
Father stood abruptly. He took one step away from the table and then paused. "Please stay," was all he said. There was no mistaking the concern written on his face, the way his brow furrowed.
For a moment, I held my breath and prayed Simon was not clinging to his anger. Simon's shoulders rose and fell as though he sighed. He gave a brief nod.
A few of the lines on Father's face eased ever so slightly. He nodded in return and then reached down to pick up Sam. Father carried his youngest child into the bedroom. Little Katie, her eyes drooping with sleep, toddled after them. I winced as she dragged the doll I'd given her. Each step seemed to bring the porcelain face closer to harm.
What could I have expected giving it to a girl of no more than four years of age?
Pale faced, Cordelia walked to her own bedroom and closed the door once she was inside. It was obvious she did not like to see Father anxious. Did that mean she had some feeling for her husband, or was it all because it upset her own routine?
Curse Anna for putting doubts in my head! It was exhausting to question everything and being suspicious about every little action.
Remy stood up, his fingers squeezing mine one last time before he let of my hand. He gave a respectful nod toward Simon, of all people, and then left the house.
Simon focused on me, his expression grave. "..will keep...watch. Then, I will."
Anxiety that I hadn't realized I'd been feeling vanished. Nothing could possibly happen with Simon and Remy to keep watch.
¤¤¤¤
When I woke up the next morning after a restless night, Anna and Susan were already gone. I took a deep breath and smelled the coffee brewing downstairs. As I sat up, I noticed the quilt that had given Simon some privacy was slightly askew. Forcing myself to my feet, I dressed quickly and tiptoed over.
I peered around the quilt and saw my brother sprawled on top of the bed. He was still dressed from the day before and his boots were still on his feet.
The smile that came to my face made my cheeks sting with pain. I hadn't dared to look in the mirror before I went to bed, knowing I must look a mess. There was nothing I could do but let time do its healing.
Steeling myself to face the day, I climbed down to the main level of the house. Cordelia was not in the kitchen, but the coffee pot was on the stove. The back door was wide open, a clue that my stepsisters were out doing chores.
As I went out, I grabbed the milk pail. I'd become more comfortable with the task of milking, and had come to an understanding with the cow. I never would have imagined that being a part of my life, but here we were.
From the chicken coop, Susan gave a slight wave. The egg basket was at her feet and she was tossed grain to the fowl birds. The alarmed expression on the girl's face was the only warning I had before two hands were on my back.
I was shoved off balance and though I tried, I couldn't recover. The milk pail tumbled from my hand as I collided with the ground. Without even looking, I knew who my attacker was and I was amazed she would take a violent course knowing how my father had reacted the last time she'd tried to provoke a fight.
When I twisted around, Anna loomed over me, fury flashing in her eyes. If looks could kill, I would have been dead a hundred different ways.
"This...you...fault!" She stepped forward, her right foot going back.
She was going to kick me? Of all she had done, that had to be the lowest of them all. I rolled to the left, desperate to get far enough away that I could get back on my feet. Before I could go more than a foot or two, Susan skidded to a stop in between me and her sister.
To my shock, Anna wasn't deterred and simply shoved her sister aside. Susan hit the ground.
"Stop!" I exclaimed. No anger was worth hurting someone younger like that. "Anna, stop it!"
Anna seemed too angry to listen to reason. I grabbed her ankle and pulled as hard as I could. Arms flailing, she tried to kick at me but only ended up falling on her back. What a sight the three of us on the ground must have been. If I hadn't been so afraid of my stepsister, I might have laughed.
Still, Anna didn't stop now that she was done. She grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it in my face.
"Anna! Enough!" I sputtered, swiping at my face. It couldn't have taken more than a few seconds to clear my eyes. My clearly insane stepsister had taken advantage and was coming at me again.
This time, she was stopped by a hand closing around her wrist. It wasn't Remy or Simon who had come to my rescue.
It was Father.
His face was filled with a multitude of emotions: disappointment, sadness, and anger. His thrust sent Anna back onto her back. "Enough," I saw him say.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Remy come running. He went down on one knee beside me. "I'm sorry," was the first thing he said. His hands reached toward me, paused, and then touched my shoulder. "I'm sorry...in the barn."
He'd been in the barn and hadn't seen what was happening. It touched my heart that he would apologize for something that wasn't his fault. I let him help me up. "Susan," I signed and then gestured.
With a nod, Remy went to the younger girl and helped her up. Susan was clutching her right wrist, tears running down her cheeks. She rushed to me and wrapped her left arm around my waist, hiding her face against me.
It always startled me when someone turned to me for comfort as I felt ill-equipped to give it. This time, though, she had been hurt trying to help me. I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tightly.
My gaze shifted to Anna. She was sitting up now, her hands gesturing. I couldn't see what she was saying clearly. I caught a few words, though, "...meddlesome...harmless...her part....more right..."
Movement caught my eye beyond her and Father. Cordelia stood in the doorway, holding Sam in her arms. I was too far away to see her reaction to the scene. Looking half awake and rumpled in his slept-in clothes, Simon pushed past her. He came across the yard, his hands balled into fists. When Father held up his hand, though, my brother came to a stop.
What was being said?
Remy put his hand on my shoulder. In front of me, Anna's jaw dropped. She shook her head, her shoulders bouncing with laughter. When her gaze returned to Father, who stood with his back to me, all amusement vanished.
"You...serious? Because of her?"
Father pointed at the house. Slowly, Anna climbed to her feet. Her skirt was streaked with dirt, though I was certain mine was in worse condition. With her nose in the air, Anna faced the cabin. For the first time, she seemed to realize that her mother had been watching.
For a moment, Cordelia stared at her oldest child and then, with an air of finality and dismissal, she turned her back on Anna and went back inside.
Anna, it would seem, was on her own.
We'd been separated, but how long before Anna's temper snapped again? I knew without a doubt that I couldn't take much more from her, not without being tempted to retaliate. As much as I knew it would hurt Father, I would to Simon, wherever he'd moved to, just to get away from my stepsister.
Susan let go of me and hurried to Father. She held out her wrist for him to examine. Remy stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the younger girl. "Are you alright?" he asked, a frown creasing his forehead.
"What did Father say?" I asked. Never mind how I was—nothing a little water and soap would not fix—I wanted to know what Father had said to Anna.
"Anna is leaving," Remy said, his eyebrow going up.
"What? Where?" Where would she go? Just into town to stay with one of her friends? Somewhere else? How long would she be gone?
"Far from here," was all Remy said.
I considered that for a moment. Far from the ranch would have to be good enough. My only hope was that she would stay there.
¤¤¤¤
Breakfast was a tense affair and no one spoke. Anna did not come down to eat. Immediately after the meal, Father went out and brought the wagon around to the front of the cabin. He remained on the wagon, waiting for Anna to come down with her belongings.
So, of course, that was when Sheriff Worth arrived.
The sheriff was covered with dirt from his travels. Though he rode straight and tall, there was a weariness about him that set me on edge.
What had happened on the search?
It was frustrating, at times, to have only questions, but often that was the case. I could only guess and wonder at things, especially when a good seventy-five percent of conversations occurred out of my sight.
Sheriff Worth dismounted as Father climbed down from the wagon seat. They shook hands and spoke together, though I was unable to make out a word of what they said. I remained on the porch, anxious to know what news had been brought and more than a little afraid at the same time.
After several minutes and just when I believed I would go mad with curiosity, they faced me. They both had grave expressions on their face, though Father appeared to be relieved as well. I clasped my hands together, wishing for the support of a certain person. But Remy had gone to tend to his work and I needed to stand on my own two feet.
"Ivy," I saw Father say. "It's over."
That was all. "It's over." What, exactly, was over? What did he mean? I didn't even try to hide my confusion.
The sheriff pulled a folded paper from his pocket and held it out to me. When I unfolded it, I recognized it as one of the many he'd shown me earlier in the summer. The face in the drawing was of the young man who had shot at me. What did the sheriff mean by handing the poster to me? I knew who the man was.
He reached over and tapped his finger against one word on the poster: dead. Understanding flooded through me. The criminal—Jake West, if the name on the poster was correct—was now dead.
A part of me wanted to know how it had come about, but it was enough to know I was safe from him
Only...I sent a glance toward the house. Anny had been in the man's company. Did she have feelings for him? How would she react when she learned he was dead? Out of pity for her, would Father allow her to stay?
Breathing out, I handed the poster back to Sheriff Worth. "Thank you," I signed and mouthed so that he understood.
At that moment, Anna came out, a carpet bag in her hand. She was dressed in her Sunday best, the calico blue skirt sweeping the logs of the porch. As if to make it clear that she had not forgiven me, Anna slammed her shoulder against me as she went past.
Father's lips thinned into a straight line, his disapproval obvious. He took the bag from her and tossed it in back. Anna climbed onto the wagon without his help.
Sheriff Worth tipped his hat to me and then rode out ahead of the wagon. I watched them leave the yard. Then, I spun around. The rest of the family needed to know the news.
¤¤¤¤
The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon when I left the house. I saw on the porch steps and watched everything start to dim. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Remy sit down beside me.
For several moments, we just sat with our shoulders touching. Then, to my surprise, Remy reached over and took my hand in his. His pointer finger began to tap against the back of my hand.
Puzzled, I glanced over at him. There was a pattern to the taps, but I couldn't work out what it meant. Sometimes his finger rested a little longer than other times.
What was he doing?
There was a smile on Remy's face. With his right hand, he brought up a piece of paper and held it out to me. He didn't release my right hand, so I reached over with my left to take it. In the fading light, I peered at the unfamiliar writing. Across the top was written: Morse Code. Beneath was each letter of the alphabet followed by a dash, a dot, or a combination of both.
I'd read about Morse Code before. Telegraph operators used it to send messages, and in the war, it had been used in different ways.
Still confused, I lifted my gaze. Remy's smile had widened into a full fledged grin. In fact, I would have said he appeared to be satisfied with himself. His eyes, which were so much darker in the dim light, had a glint of excitement in them.
"So we...need light to talk," he said.
Need light? Of course we needed light so that I could read his lips or see his hands. Or...did he mean so we wouldn't need light to be able to communicate? The implication of the last made my cheeks burn with embarrassment.
At the same time, though, tears welled up in my eyes. For the first time, someone was trying to find ways to communicate with me.
Setting the paper on my lap, I used my left hand to sign, "Teach me,"
Even with the light against us, Remy pointed to the first letter: A. His finger tapped once and then again, for longer: a dot and a dash.
I couldn't resist the opportunity, and I waved my hand to get his attention. When I was sure he was watching, I held my hand up in a fist with my thumb free of my fingers. "A", I mouthed.
Comprehension dawned on Remy's face and he nodded. He made the same shape with his hand and raised his eyebrows. I nodded, delighted he'd caught on. Though I had shown him several signs for things, I hadn't thought to teach him the alphabet.
Now we could teach each other at the same time.
To be honest, I couldn't think of anything I would enjoy more.
A/N: So, would you guys like to see the adorable epilogue I wrote before I decided this was going to get a sequel? It has a SUPER happy ending! If not, thanks for coming along on this journey. I'm looking forward to more Ivy and Remy in the future!