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Chapter 16

Author: C.ELLICA
last update Last Updated: 2024-10-29 19:42:56

Abegail particularly loved to paint the stream that cascaded down the mountainside from the saw mill camp, and so she frequently rode up to a little glen beside the water in a grove hidden from the road about half way up to the saw mill. The stream gave a little twist here and went over a stone outcropping, and the little meadow area was rampant with colour in the spring, when the wildflowers were in bloom. It was a restful place for contemplation, and it was a perfect place to paint. It was also the perfect place to make love. And frequently, when Abegail went up to the hidden glen to paint, Pete sneaked out of the sawmill encampment and went down to the glen to fuck.

Wally Holland was no dummy, however. He soon caught on to Pete's disappearances from the camp and followed him down the mountainside unobserved one beautiful spring day in 1919. He quickly regretted that he had done so. From a hidden spot at the verge of the grove of trees, he saw Abegail open her dress to Pete, and Pet
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    "There won't be snow scenes out here to paint then, Wally. And it's really peaceful here. Besides, I'm not really alone. I can see the smoke from the Water Creek Ranch from here. If I need anything, I'll just go up there." What Abegail didn't want to admit to Wally was that she had grown discontented with her life. The setting here was idyllic, but ever since Pete had disappeared, there was something very important missing in Abigail's life. And it had made her one frustrated and discontented woman."No, don't do that. I keep telling you to stay away from that lot, Abegail." Wally was really concerned now. "That Fernand Wolf is mean as rot, and his two sons are much worse. I'm more concerned about them coming down here and messing with you than I am with the snow, if truth be known."Abegail didn't focus on the catch in Wally's voice when he said this. He was cutting awfully close to the bedrock of what had been clawing at him about Abegail for years. He loved her; he'd loved her from

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    When the spring thaw settled in and Abegail came into Slater to retrieve her son, she left the post office and emporium permanently in the care of Martha and Thaddeus. And it was to the Water Creek Ranch on the hillock below Hahn's Peak that she returned, not to Bally House. That same spring, when Wally Holland left for Denver, he didn't return. He did, however, make good on his promise to take Abegail's paintings with him and they, indeed, did sell very well in Denver—and art dealers throughout the region started to take notice of this new talent hidden away in a remote Rocky Mountain valley. It wasn't long before George Vaughn had taken notice of Abegail's success and had both established her with an art broker in Chicago and featured her paintings in the upscale furniture department of Vaughn's department store. The arrangement was quite lucrative for both of them.Abegail had grown into a strong, independent woman, spurred by having lost nearly everything, including her husband an

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    And, indeed, when the two strapping sons had disappeared through the log arch leading out towards the road down into Slater, Fernand Wolf lowered the barrel of the shotgun and slowly sank to the floor of the porch. Abegail barely had the strength to drag the massive man back into the ranch house and onto his bed.She nursed him for two weeks before he was clear of whatever fever had attacked him. She had seen right away that it wasn't anything like the Spanish flu that had taken most of her family, and she reasoned that the ranch's well must have gone bad. She melted snow for drinking water, stripped him, sponged him off several times a day, wrapped him well in blankets, and applied all of the herbs she had learned to employ that might help make him well.Then on Christmas day, marked that year by Abegail only as a date on the calendar, Fernand Wolf showed that he was strong enough to rejoin the world by pulling Abegail down on his bed, rolling on top of her, and kissing and stroking

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    "Yes, I know, Abegail," Kolester said, and he gave her that big, handsome, melting smile he was so well known for. "The elk in your paintings are what first attracted me to you.""My elk?" Abegail said with a little frown. "That's quite a compliment for a woman, you know.""Ah, your beauty needs no compliment, my dear," Kolester said smoothly. "It exists above description. There, in fact, is no description that could do justice to your beauty.""So, now you are mocking me," Abegail retorted, her eyes dancing, telling him both that she was in good humour and that he'd struck deeply with his arrow."It is the spirit of the elk that moves me. Have you not seen that in some of my writing?""Yes, I have. I've seen that you've used several beasts of the wild, like the elk, for your images of perfection.""Ah, yes, you do understand then. I see them as everything I must possess. That's why I want to hunt the elk—not for the sport of killing them, really, but for the need to possess them and

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