Carla Kelly Read Online Free PDF Page A

and certainly the elegant length of their fingers. She had first noticed Paul's hands back when he was still Mr. Otto. Each man was tall and lean, as well.
    She spoke up during a lull in the conversation. “Uncle Al, do you have a picture or maybe a tintype of Mary Anne?”
    If she had known the old man's blue eyes would suddenly tear up, she never would have said anything. “Sir, I'm sorry to mention her.”
    “No, no, my dear,” he was quick to say. “I've been doing the same thing: looking for a resemblance to my sister. I have a daguerreotype taken before we left Plymouth. We were from Devonshire. Such a lovely place.” His voice turned wistful. “So green. And here we are in a desert. Ah, well.” He made a visible effort. “May I call you Julia?”
    “Certainly.”
    “Julia, I'll have my daughter in Koosharem send the image to me here, and you can see for yourself.” He looked at his nephew. “Paul, you can see it when you return.” He bowed his head. “I have so many regrets…”
    Paul took his hand. “Discard this regret, Uncle: your older sister had a very good life in Wyoming. We all wish it had been longer, but she and my father were happy. You'll have to meet her Shoshone family some day. You'll like them. I know I do.”
    After a long pause, Uncle Al nodded. “That's something.”
    “It's everything,” Paul said firmly. “I, for one, am glad the way things happened. I wouldn't be here if they hadn't.” He touched Julia's cheek. “Maybe you and Julia can get together this fall. Might you tell her what you remember about my mother?”
    Julia nodded. “I'll visit.” She felt suddenly shy. “If you want me to, Uncle Al.”
    “More than anything,” he said.
    They strolled home in the gathering dusk, Paul saying nothing until they were climbing the steps to her front porch. He took her hand and steered her toward the porch swing. Papa had been meaning to put it away for the winter, but it was still there, moving slowly in the slight breeze that had come up.
    He tucked her close to him, his arm around her good shoulder, and just pushed the swing with his foot, saying nothing. He didn't have to; she knew what he was thinking.
    “It'll pass quickly enough,” she told him, when she had noticed him swallow several times. “You'll be back for Christmas. Please bring James too.”
    He nodded, still unable to speak.
    “Relatives do that to me too, sometimes,” she said, her hand resting inside his vest, just over his heart.
    “There's some real sadness in him,” Paul said, his hand over hers. “Find out what you can, Darling.” He kissed her. “I'll be counting the days until I see you again. Maybe I can find a respectable calendar somewhere in Wyoming. I doubt it, though.”
    “I'll send you one!” she said, trying to lighten the mood, even as she wished time would stand still. They sat in the swing until the streetlights came on. Papa came out finally, looked at his watch, and harrumphed a few times.
    “I know, I know,” Paul said as he stopped the swing. “I'm a desperate rancher, and you're not going to let a desperate rancher stay out too late with your daughter.”
    “You read my mind, son. Don't forget to put out the cat and lock the door when you come in, Julia.”
    “Papa, we have never had a cat.”
    She could still hear her father laughing as he climbed the stairs.
    “ We have a cat,” Paul said, amused. “And a burned house, and a pile of lumber now.” He sighed. “Julia, when I get home, I'll saddle up and keep hunting for my cattle. I'm going north through Niobrara County this time. My neighbors and I are all taking different directions.”
    She knew what he was trying to say. “If there's only a one-room house in March—”
    “Friday, March 17,” Paul interrupted.
    “—I don't mind. I draw the line at moving into the bunkhouse, however.”
    “Horrors,” he said. “I'll evict Blue Corn from the tack room, if I have to.”
    “You won't. One room's