Chapter 23.
She could not remember how long she stood still in the parlor after Nick left and she could not fully remember even getting her bonnet and coat and leaving the house. What she did remember was the echoing vibration of the door's slam. And her desperate need to escape, her need to be in her own home.
She also remembered every word he said to her because they repeated in her mind like the chorus of a sad song.
Alone on the bridle path, with no one to see, she cried. She cried out of hurt and frustration and loss. She cried out of her own bruised pride. He had called her a coward for being afraid of change and maybe he was right in a way. Perhaps she was too protective of her past and trying too hard to keep Sam's memory alive in her heart.
She still thought about Sam daily but over the past months those thoughts had occupied less time with each passing day. She also found herself struggling to remember the smaller details about him that had so pained her in that first year of mourning. And now when she was able to remember the details, the pain was not so acute anymore.
And then she realized that, while she had truly loved Sam and had mourned his death, she was no longer living in his memory. Nick said he couldn't fight a ghost and her heart filled with a fierce pain because she now understood that that was exactly what she had been making him do.
She wondered if she would ever have the chance to tell Nick he was right and that she was ready now to face the world without Sam.
For a fleeting moment, she thought she heard hoof beats but when she listened closely all she heard was the sound of the wind howling through the trees.
Emily guessed she had been walking for about an hour, maybe hour and a half, and she yearned to be home. She was tired and her feet were cold and they hurt. Even her bonnet had soaked through and she could feel the cold rain on her head. The rain and mud had wicked up her skirt and petticoats, weighing them down, gluing them together, and making each step difficult. She hoped to be home soon.
Nick had left the house and went straight to Coco, saddled up, and rode away from the ranch at a full gallop to match his fury. He rode till he got to the far reaches of the west pasture and rode the fences there to distract himself. He knew he had acted harshly, said some hurtful things, and yelling at Emily had certainly not helped. But he considered her steadfast position to his anger and wanted to believe it was an indication that, despite the quarrel, she might still be willing to discuss the matter again. Later, maybe in a few days, they would both be calm and rational and maybe she might agree to a commitment short of an engagement.
He was angry with himself. He had been impatient and prone to angry outbursts all his life and now, when it mattered the most to him, he had allowed that part of him to hurt someone he really cared about, someone who could vanish from his life because of it.
He would make it up to her, he decided, if she would let him.
He returned to the ranch after an hour or so and when he entered the house, he called her name with as much tenderness as he could contain within his usual shout. There was no response. He called her name up the stairs and waited and there was no responding sound except from Silas who had just entered from the back hallway.
"Silas! Have you seen Emily?" he asked.
Silas said the last time he'd seen her, "Miz Emily was with you," but Nick was bounding up the stairs before Silas finished his sentence.
Thinking Emily had decided to lie down – that's what women do when they're upset – he knocked softly on the door to the guest room, opened it, and found the room empty. He checked Audra's room, his mother's room, he even checked his own room, knowing propriety would prevent her from entering, never mind lying on his bed.
He was out of ideas and started down the stairs, puzzled and worried, when his thoughts were interrupted by Silas's observation.
"Mr. Nick, her coat and bonnet are gone," and he pointed at the coat rack by the grandfather clock.
"WELL, WHERE IN THE BLAZES DID SHE GO?" he demanded loudly of no one and headed out the door for the stables again.
The rain was falling diagonally and there was sleet mixed in with the torrents. Nick found Blackie warm and resting snug in her stall.
Out of ideas as to where Emily had vanished, he leaned against the frame of an open stable door and stared out at the rain.
A few ranch hands passed by him, scurrying to get out of the weather, and greeted Nick who barely acknowledged them. One of them said something about the new foal. Another said, "Say, Nick, Mrs. Powell must be having a hell of a time walking back to town in this downpour," and nodded his head towards the road that led away from the ranch.
Poor Coco hardly had a chance to settle in before he was saddled up to carry Nick away again.
The bridle path splintered off from the main road some distance from the entrance to the ranch and Nick was pleased with himself for knowing this would be the route Emily would take. He didn't know why or how he knew, he just did, and he spurred Coco into a fast trot, keeping his eyes focused ahead.
The path was by now very muddy, littered with leaves and branches, and there were large, deep puddles everywhere. The wind continued to blow debris onto the path, though the rain had started to let up some.
Nick rode on for twenty, maybe thirty, minutes and he began to wonder if perhaps she had taken the main road into town, after all. He thought he would have seen her by now. But he remained on the path and, coming to a rise in the path that offered a good view of the terrain ahead, he stopped.
Some distance before him he saw the slight figure of the woman, blue bonnet, gray coat, walking with purpose, the vision of her softened by the thousand rain drops between them. He watched as a gust of wind pitched her sideways making her stumble slightly and he remembered the day he met her and his thought that a strong wind could probably knock her to the ground.
Then he spurred Coco to his fastest gallop.