Chapter Five
Given his choice, Trampas would have been a lot easier in his mind if he were bulldogging a three-horned steer instead of following Holly Grainger so sedately up the grand staircase of the Farrell mansion. He was angry and aggrieved and he wished with all his being for something tangible to fight. What awaited him was just the opposite, he knew that, and he wasn't fool enough to think the simple sight of him standing in the doorway would suddenly make everything right as rain.
In his years at Shiloh, he'd gradually put a curb on a fair amount of his more reckless tendencies, having had more than a few good examples to follow - the Judge, the Grainger men - and the Virginian, him most of all. Not that he was always so pleased to admit it, even now, but there were times when restraint did hold the advantage over rashness. Which wasn't to say that he didn't tend to get his back - and his fists - up from time to time, generally from some last ditch necessity, but sometimes because, well because there was something about a head-on healthy brawl that just cleared the air for him. He'd learned to pick his battles, though, with a good deal more discretion.
Still, he'd be a gold-plated liar if he didn't admit, at least to himself, how much he wanted to bolt up those thickly-carpeted stairs two at a time and push his way past anything blocking the path to Elizabeth. Anyone who'd ever stood with - or against - him in a fight, could have pointed out the deceptively loose set of his arms and shoulders, the tight curl of his fingers, the way he rolled through each footfall with a light and wary balance.
Holly Grainger knew all those signs, too. Stopping just outside a set of intricate Eastlake doors, she took a seat on one of the flanking settees and motioned him to sit beside her. With one freckled finger, she tapped the cover of the book she'd retrieved from a side table.
"It's my habit these days to spend time reading to Elizabeth before we go down for supper. That's exactly what I intend tonight and I'd very much like you to be there. The doctors encourage us to keep Elizabeth's life full of what's familiar and you're certainly that. Now, Trampas, I know you'd take on the devil and all of his brothers if you thought it would help Elizabeth but you mustn't charge in on her like you're turning a stampede. You do realize that, don't you?"
With a sheepish grin, he raked his fingers through his thatch of thick wheaten hair, leaving it to fall in disheveled curls over his brow. Holly smiled to herself, assessing the faint lines just beginning to etch his face, thinking how much like a wayward boy he still looked when his emotions were unguarded.
"I'll go easy," he answered, "but it sure won't seem right not to have Liz callin' me out for something or other, not after so long not seeing each other. First time I ever laid eyes on her, she was pointin' a rifle at me, mad as a bobcat, thinkin' I was there to cause trouble. I just stood there like a hobbled horse, tellin' her not to shoot me." His smile faded as he stood. "She's never let me get away with much of my own nonsense - knew just when to make me laugh and when to put me straight. Always gave me a good run for my money with a horse or a dance, and every time, too. That's a friend, and a true one. So, yes, I'll go as easy as it takes for as long as it takes, but eventually I'm bound to call her out about this something of hers. Just so you know…"
Laughing outright and tearing up at the same time, Holly stood and threw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely.
"Trampas, you dear man, you're like a prairie wind blowing through this fine house and I'm so glad for it. It's been far too quiet and careful for the last month, all of us treating Elizabeth like a china doll. She's a Wyoming woman, isn't she?" Retrieving her book, she linked her arm through his. "So, Mr. 'Just So You Know', shall we go see our girl?"
Pulling Holly's arm closer to him, he leaned down to lightly kiss the top of her head while pushing open the door.
"Yo."