Savage Land (5 page)

Coley stepped into the oppressive study. The maroon drapes were closed, shutting out the morning light while the dark panelled wails added to the gloom. She glanced at the grey-haired man behind the desk. He didn't look very sick.

'Would you like me to turn on a light?’ Coley asked timidly.

'What's the matter? Can't you see?’ he growled.

'It is a little dark in here.'

'It's foolish to have the electricity on during the day. A waste of money! The sun's plenty of light,’ his tone reproached her sharply.

Coley glanced over at the closed curtains, wondering if she should say anything more. ‘Perhaps I could open the curtains?’ she suggested hesitantly.

'Persistent little snip, aren't you?’ Coley swallowed nervously waiting for him to speak again, not trusting her voice not to tremble. ‘Think it'll improve my sunny disposition, do you?’ His eyes squinted threateningly at her, a glint of humour lurking at the corners. ‘Very well, open them, if it pleases you.'

Gratefully Coley walked over to the window and pulled the cord to the maroon curtains, allowing the sunlight to tumble in.

'Satisfied?’ he snorted. He waved a bony hand towards the chair in front of his desk. ‘Come over here and sit down, now that I can see you.'

Coley did as she was directed and managed to sit quietly under his disconcerting stare. She rather liked his sarcastic humour. It made him a little more human and gave her a little more courage.

'There's not much to you,’ he said disparagingly. ‘Can't you do anything with that hair of yours? It looks like you forgot to brush it.'

His blue-grey eyes saw her look at his own bushy hair. ‘I don't like backtalk, so you might remember that,’ he said severely. ‘Now, let's get down to business. There's no such thing as a freeloader on this ranch. Everybody pulls his weight or leaves.’ He paused to allow his words to sink in. ‘What are you good for?'

'I can cook and clean,’ Coley answered, ‘and I took typing in school, but I'm not very good.'

'We got a housekeeper and the house isn't big enough for two. Don't need any typing done. What else?'

'I nursed my mother for several years.'

'I don't need any nursemaid!’ he bellowed, raising himself in the wheelchair.

'No, I didn't mean ... I mean...’ Coley stammered. She leaned forward, her smooth forehead drawn together in an anxious frown.

'Get out of here! Go on!’ Ben shouted, running a gnarled hand through his grizzled hair.

'I'm sorry.’ Coley's round eyes began to mist with tears. ‘I just don't know how to do many things.'

'I'll find something for you to do,’ he growled. ‘Now, get out of here. I've heard enough of your prattle. Your aunt will be wanting you anyway.'

Coley rose numbly from the chair. Through the shimmer of tears, she saw Ben's hand plucking nervously at the chair handle. She ruined everything. She should have known how sensitive the poor old man would be about his incapacity. Why couldn't she have been more tactful? Twice now since coming here, she had referred to two people's afflictions, first Jason's and now Uncle Ben's. When would she learn to keep her big mouth shut?

When she reached the study door, Coley turned back towards her uncle seeking the words to undo the damage. The forlorn picture of the invalid staring blankly out of the sun-filled window hushed her words, and she silently dosed the door behind her.

An hour later she wandered out into the shaded backyard where her aunt was busily at work among her roses. Coley watched indifferently the sure clipping of the scissors in the gloved hands. The floppy straw hat picturesquely framed the silver-white hair while protecting the face from the steady rays of the sun. Coley approached her aunt slowly, trying to phrase the words that would explain her unsuccessful meeting with Uncle Ben.

'Colleen dear, I wondered where you were,’ her aunt's voice sang out. ‘I was dusting my roses. Don't you just love roses? They have such a classical but intricate design to them that they never cease to delight me. The buds are so fragile and delicate, and the full blooms are so rich and velvety. But the fragrance is like a heady wine, sweet and tantalizing.’ Fervidly she turned, expecting Coley's affirmation. But Coley hadn't been following her aunt's words. She was wrapped up in her worries about Ben Savage. ‘What's the matter, dear? Didn't your talk with Benjamin go well?'

Coley shook her head glumly.

'Let's go over here and sit down,’ Aunt Wilhelmina said, pulling off a glove and placing the varnished-nailed hand on Coley's shoulder. She guided her towards a group of lawn furniture under a spreading oak. ‘You can tell me all about it.'

Slowly Coley began her story, stuttering for the words, then rushing incoherently when she couldn't find them. She ended in a burst of tears.

'There, there’ comforted her aunt. ‘I probably should have mentioned to you how touchy he is about his paralysis. He didn't mean anything by it. I'm sure he was sorry for his temper afterwards. He likes to think of himself as so independent of anyone else that the least reference to the fact that there's something he can't do for himself sends him into a rage. He knows you aren't the kind of person to mean anything by it.'

'I hope so, Aunt Willy,’ sobbed Coley, twisting her hands nervously in her lap. She looked earnestly in her aunt's face. ‘I tried to tell him I was sorry.'

'It's best not to say anything. Pretend that everything went well and forget that burst of temper of his.'

'But it happened!'

'Of course, but bringing it up won't make you or Benjamin feel any better about it, now will it?’ reasoned Aunt Willy.

'No,’ Coley agreed, wiping the tears from her cheeks and smiling into the jewelled eyeglasses.

'I have an idea. Benjamin always likes some tea before dinner. Why don't you go to the kitchen and have Maggie fix a pot? Then you can take it to him as a sort of peace-offering.'

'All right.'

'Put a cold cloth on those eyes of yours first,’ instructed Aunt Willy, rising as Coley did. ‘Otherwise he'll recognize those red eyes and swollen lids as the result of a good bout of tears and will feel twice as guilty.'

'Yes, Aunt Willy,’ Coley called back, already hurrying back towards the white house.

Entering the back door into the kitchen, she spied the housekeeper cleaning some vegetables over the sink. Quickly she walked over to stand beside the thin, middle-aged woman.

'Aunt Willy suggested I see if you could fix a pot of tea for Uncle Ben.'

'I've already got it brewin’ on the stove and the tray is sittin’ on the table,’ the woman answered tersely, the rhythmic strokes of the brush unbroken by the conversation. ‘T'will be ready in a jiffy.'

'I'll take it in to him as soon as I clean up,’ Coley replied, a little awed by the businesslike housekeeper.

The cold of the washcloth felt good against her face. After a few applications, the redness left and the swelling was down. Coley's cheeks looked quite pale, so she pinched them tightly to bring the blood to the surface. She really felt much better. Quickly she hung the towel and washcloth on the rack and hurried back to the kitchen. The flowered teapot was now sitting on the tray with the cup and saucer.

'If you'd like me to come back and help you, I will,’ she offered as she picked up the tray.

'I've been doin’ everything by myself for eight years, I guess I can do it for eight more,’ Maggie retorted, her back to Coley.

Feeling she had already put her foot in her mouth once today, Coley left without saying anything else. She hummed happily as she walked down the hallway towards her uncle's study. At least she could let Ben know that she held no hard feelings towards him. A few steps from the open door she heard someone talking.

'We only lost four head to the flood.’ It was Jase with Ben.

'You could have sent out one of the hands to find that out,’ Ben said irritably.

'I needed the air.'

Coley stopped short of the doorway, sensing a hostility in the conversation.

'Oh, you did, did you! Here I thought maybe you'd left for good.’ There was a trace of sarcasm in the invalid's words.

'You should have learned by now I'll never leave,’ Jase's voice raised to emphasize the last word. ‘As long as there's an inch of land left that's Savage land, I'll be here. You might as well get used to that fact.'

Curiosity drove Coley to the doorway to view the tail, broad-shouldered man leaning on the desk towards the old man in the wheelchair. The bitterness and hatred etched on their faces stunned her.

'You should have left! No murderer will ever get one grain of dirt on this ranch!’ Ben cried.

'Then you'd better throw me off.’ Coley watched horrified as anger twisted Ben's face at Jase's words. ‘But you can't, can you! And furthermore, you wouldn't if you could,’ Jase went on sarcastically. ‘Because you need me. Your precious Tony would destroy everything you've worked for in a week. You need me!'

In a fit of frustration, Ben wheeled his chair away from Jase to stop with his eyes on Coley. At Ben's startled expression, Jase turned, too. It took but an instant for him to assess the horrified and incredulous expression on her face before he turned away towards the window.

'I brought your tea, Uncle Ben.’ Coley's small voice was followed by a heavy silence.

'Bring it in, girl,’ he instructed gruffly.

She practically ran into the room, the tea cup rattling in its saucer in protest. All the while her mind raced. Was Jase going to speak to her? Would he tell Uncle Ben they'd spent the night together during the storm? What would she say if Uncle Ben introduced them? But Ben had no such intention.

'Thank you,’ he said as she set the tray down on his desk. ‘You can go now.'

She nodded and turned towards Jase. He still hadn't shaved, though now the beard almost covered the scar, but nothing covered the ice-blue eyes that challenged her. She hesitated only momentarily in front of him, drawn to him in spite of her fear, just as she had been that night, before she rushed out of the room.

Chapter Three

COLEY stared out her bedroom window nibbling unconsciously the nail on her forefinger. She had come upstairs to dress for dinner. Aunt Willy told her it had been the custom for many years to dress for the evening meal. It was exceedingly easy, Aunt Willy said, to sit down in workclothes, bolt your food and finish the evening in a state of apathy, but dressing up made you feel like a new person; a leisurely meal gives an atmosphere of congeniality; and the evening takes on a refreshing air. It all sounded very grand to Coley if she could just shake off the uneasy feeling she had.

On the surface everything was just the way she had always dreamed a home would be. The house was roomy and comfortable. Aunt Willy was sweet and caring. Even Ben was likeable in spite of his gruffness. But underneath was a foreboding of the hidden things she didn't know; things that could destroy her precarious sense of security. And Jase was the key to it all, the man who had rescued her in the storm, who, even though he frightened her a little, had made her feel safe and protected.

She stared down at the bold flowers splashed on the synthetic material of her dress. The mud stains were all gone now, thanks to Maggie. It was her best dress, but Coley knew it didn't measure up to Aunt Willy's sophisticated tastes. It was just a cheap dress different from her others only because she bought it and it wasn't someone's hand-me-down. She glanced out the window again. Her morose expression lifted as she recognized her brother walking through the yard gate. She rushed quickly out of the room and down the stairs to be at the door when her brother entered.

'Danny!’ she cried gaily. ‘I've been watching for you to come.'

'Hi!’ He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and continued towards the stairs. ‘What have you been doing all day?'

'What have you been doing all day?’ Coley countered. ‘You were gone before I got up and I missed you for lunch.'

'Can't you tell what I've been doing?’ he smiled. ‘Smell.'

'Whew!’ she exclaimed, inhaling deeply next to his shoulder.

'I had the glamorous job of cleaning the barns.’ He grimaced playfully at her before scooting her on ahead of him up the last step.

'Oh, poor Danny,’ Coley laughed. She swung his hand happily as they walked down the hall to his bedroom. ‘Thank heaven, we're supposed to dress for dinner or Aunt Willy would never allow you at the table. Did you know about that—dressing for dinner, I mean?'

'Yeah, Tony told me about it.’ He unbuttoned his shirt to take it off. ‘Now tell me, what have you been doing.'

'Nothing.'

'Nothing? Did you go in and talk to the old man?’ His brown eyes watched her reaction carefully.

'Yes, I did,’ Coley answered, seating herself on his bed. But her thoughts weren't on her meeting with him, but on the conversation she had overheard between Ben and Jase.

'How did it go?'

'All right, except he doesn't know what to do with me.'

She plucked nervously at the chenille bedspread.

'Don't worry about it. I told him I'd take care of paying for your keep.’ He rolled his shirt into a ball and tossed it in the hamper. He smiled over at her. ‘Of course, he assured me that I would.'