Emma's Blaze (Fires of Cricket Bend Book 2) (4 page)

“Pardon me?”

“I found her. She was hurt.”

“And she’s at our camp right now?”

“Yep.”

“She pretty?”

“Very.”

Andrew nodded appreciatively. “Maybe going back to work won’t be so terrible after all.”

Bill threw his brother a murderous look, but Andrew had already slipped his hat over his face to try and sleep.

CHAPTER FOUR

Emma

Bill riding away from camp made Emma consider running off too, except there was work to be done. As long as she was traveling with the drive, she aimed to do whatever she could to prove she wasn’t taking advantage of the kindness of the men who’d allowed her to come along. She buried herself in chores all that day long—cooking, washing pots, and mending clothing. After she’d helped Appie load the wagon as best she could, she got into the seat next to him and rode along the cattle trail, mending holes in jackets and shirts and pants all along the bumpy way. Appie talked about the countryside, the ranch, the way of cattle drives, and Emma listened to everything.

She worried constantly about Bill, and her worry surprised her. He wasn’t anyone to her, and though he’d saved her life, he didn’t owe her anything. If he rode off and never returned, it would make no difference. Yet she still kept finding herself looking over the horizon, in the hopes of seeing the handsome cowboy coming back toward them. Simply, she felt safer when he was around.

When the drive stopped for a midday break, she began to hobble around again. The ground was softer in the slight valley where they stopped. She nearly lost her footing a few times as the broom she was using for a crutch slipped into the ground. She did all her work nonetheless.

They drove on.

The sun was coming down in the sky when Jess came back to them from the front of the herd, announcing they’d stop for the day and make camp. Emma had been surprised to find out just how fragile the large cows were, and how frequently they needed breaks. She and Appie cooked dinner, which the boys devoured.

During dinner, she again heard the mournful harmonica music. Saul stood off just a little, watching the herd and playing a song Emma knew. “Lorena.” She’d performed it for audiences before. Without thinking, she started to sing along with Saul’s playing.

“Oh, the years creep slowly by, Lorena,

The snow is on the ground again.

The sun's low down the sky, Lorena,

The frost gleams where the flowers have been.

But the heart beats on as warmly now,

As when the summer days were nigh.

Oh, the sun can never dip so low

A-Down affection’s cloudless sky.

A hundred months have passed, Lorena,

Since last I held that hand in mine,

And felt the pulse beat fast, Lorena,

Though mine beat faster far than thine.

A hundred months, ’twas flowery May,

When up the hilly slope we climbed,

To watch the dying of the day,

And hear the distant church bells chime…”

The song went on, an ode to timeless love. Soldiers during Mr. Lincoln’s war had grown fond of the song and made it popular. Emma had been surprised the first time someone had asked her to sing it, but she’d been regretfully unable to fulfill the request of the scarred soldier. But she’d learned it, and taken to singing it frequently. The older men who’d bought tickets to hear her always got a little wistful when they listened. Twenty years on, and the war still lingered.

Saul accompanied her perfectly. The other men ate their food as they listened closely.

When the song ended, she looked toward Saul to thank him and compliment him on his playing, but he had already gone off into the darkness.

“Don’t mind him,” Jess McKenzie said. “He’s so shy he don’t hardly speak to us most days.”

Emma settled in after the song and listened to their conversations. She tried to piece together the story of the men. Bill was the oldest brother, she knew that. Following him in age were Pete, Jess, and then Saul. Andrew, the one who wasn’t around, fell somewhere in between them all. The four brothers she’d met were all big men, built like bulls, with amber-brown hair. One could tell in a moment they were related, and that they spent most of their time on horses from the way they swaggered. From what she could tell, Bill was the natural leader. After all, he was the one who was charged with keeping an eye on her and getting her to Cricket Bend. Jess was the liveliest, the loudest, and the one who did the most laughing and leg-slapping. Emma liked him immediately. Pete was a few inches shorter than Jess, and didn’t do too much talking, but he seemed to know maps and routes. She heard them joke that he had the strongest stomach when it came to branding and castration. If Pete was quiet, then Saul was a ghost. Shy-eyed, he’d lingered on the edge of the fire and said nothing. Once or twice, Emma thought she saw him give the tiniest smile at something in the men’s talk, but she wouldn’t have sworn by it.

It seemed Ollie had been with the ranch forever, as had Hiram and Nick. Blue and Johnnie were recent additions to the hands, but seemed to fit in well. There were a few others, but they were off watching the herd while the others got a break to eat.

“Pretty different from what you’re used to, I suppose,” Jess said to her.

Emma gave him a polite smile. “Different. But not unpleasant. I’ve met cattlemen before, but never even considered being out on the trail.”

“Ain’t much of a place for a lady.”

Emma laughed. “It’s a good thing I’m not really that much of a lady, then. Lest you assume I’m anything else, you should know I’m simply a saloon singer.”

“That so?”

“Yes.”

“Guess that means you won’t faint and need smelling salts if we forget our manners and cuss in front of you.”

“Hey,” Pete chimed in. “There ain’t to be no cussin’ this year. Pa decreed it so.”

“Pa should mind his own damn business sometimes,” Jess retorted with a big laugh. “We ain’t kids.”

“I assure you, I have heard cuss words you boys haven’t even learned yet.” That earned laughter in response, so Emma continued, “He really told you not to cuss? Out here? What difference does it make?”

“Well, you see, we tend to be a rowdy bunch,” Jess began.

“You can say that again!” A man interjected from behind Emma.

“Rowdy? We’re damn near heathens!”

“Watch your mouth, Blue.”

The men had a good rapport as they teased and talked overtop each other. They were almost like a big group of puppies; albeit puppies who could likely gang up and tear down anyone who messed with them. Emma made note of the fact that they all carried pistols; no doubt for a variety of reasons. A few of them also carried large knives. Tools of the trail, she assumed, but also good to have in a fight.

Jess looked at Emma. “A very rowdy bunch. Pa put down new rules this year, and we’re all just trying to live by them. No cussing, no drinking, and no fighting. We ain’t even supposed to visit saloons when we go into a town.”

“Oh my.” Emma sighed. “That sounds…tedious.”

“I knew I liked you,” Jess replied.

“And you’re obeying these new rules?” she asked. “I presume your wives approve, if you have wives back home, that is. Perhaps sweethearts. Don’t they lose their minds with worry, with you out here for months at a time?”

“Hiram’s married, Appie’s married, Nick is married. The rest of us are happy bachelors.”

“Ha!” Pete answered. “Bachelors, sure. But happy?” He pointed at Jess. “Jess here is head over heels for a girl back at home. Clara Belmont. Pretty as a picture.”

“Really?” Emma asked. “Are you courting her?”

“Courting?” Jess shook his head. “We ain’t courting.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause he’s chickenshit.” Pete laughed.

“Me? How long are you going to string Helena along?”

Emma turned to Pete. “You too!”

The two brothers glared at each other. Emma held up her hands in a gesture of peace. “So the two of you are
un
happy bachelors. But what of your wayward brothers?”

“Andrew couldn’t be tied down with iron chains. And I’m starting to think Bill’s either going to wind up an old bachelor, or surprise us all one of these days with one of those mail order brides. Why? You looking for a husband? Reckon you could take your pick.”

“The last thing I’m looking for is a husband. Men are more trouble then they’re worth most of the time. I mean no offense.”

“None taken,” Pete said. “We’ve been called worse than trouble.”

After finishing her own dinner, she pulled herself to her feet to tend to the dishes. As she stood up with the aid of her crutch, everyone saw her big yawn.

“Get to bed,” Appie ordered. “You ain’t healed up yet, you know.”

“The dishes…”

“Aw, hell.” Pete stood up. “I’ll do ’em.”

“Don’t argue!” Jess replied. “Pete’s never agreed to wash a thing his whole life.”

The men shooed her off to sleep with laughs and cheers, and she picked her bedroll out of the wagon. Emma realized she’d be sleeping without Bill by her side, and felt a little sadness and a bit of fear. She did so hate the nighttime.

Appie noted her hesitation. “You can set up your bedroll by the wagon over there. I’ll be nearby.”

“Thank you.”

“That song you sang…”

“Lorena.”

“Lorena,” he repeated. “I remember that song. The soldiers used to sing it.”

“During the war?”

He nodded once. “Miles and miles each day, they’d walk. All there was to do was sing.” His gaze seemed fixed on the fire.

“I apologize if it brought up bad memories.”

“Not bad ones altogether. Just memories. You go get some sleep now.”

That was all she needed. She didn’t push any harder. The difficult work of the day had exhausted her. She slept near the wagon, and quickly drifted off as she listened to the men talking and laughing. Her sleep was hard. There was no time for dreams.

In the morning, she and Appie did it again: woke up early to get the fire going, and roasted the coffee beans before grinding them and adding them to boiling water. After that, they took up their pots and pans to wake the men unceremoniously. Pete had done a fine job washing up the dishes. They were all neatly stacked and ready to be handed out. When he saw her notice, he gave a fancy bow.

After breakfast, Appie and Emma took back to the wagon and drove on. Appie let her drive for a bit and caught a nap. At the midday stop, Emma nearly fell again and cursed her ankle loudly. Having difficulty walking was proving to be incredibly inconvenient. Luckily, she caught herself on the wagon. “Damn,” she whispered, letting the broom she used as a crutch fall to the ground for a moment. Having limited movement out on the trail was a huge hinderance. She leaned on the wagon wheel.

“Miss?”

Saul McKenzie, the shy brother with the harmonica, stood behind her with one hand nervously jammed in the pocket of his coat. His other hand held the reins of a pretty brown horse, smaller than the other ones she’d seen on the drive.

Emma remembered Jess’ words—Saul was terribly shy. Trying not to scare him away, she smiled sweetly. “Have you come to play me a song? I could use one.”

“Not quite. You said you can ride.” When Emma nodded, he continued. “We wondered if you needed a horse, Jess and Pete and me. This is Maggie. She’s sweet and not too big. Thought you might be able to get around better using her until your foot heals.”

“I presume you’ve noticed my crutch isn’t quite living up to its task.”

Saul actually chuckled. “I don’t think we can stand to see you lose your footing anymore.”

“A horse would be greatly appreciated,” she said. “It would be nice to go further than a few steps at a time.”

He indicated for her to come over.

Emma approached the horse, Maggie, slowly. She hadn’t spent much time around horses, but the brown mare with the dark mane was a beauty. “Hello, pretty girl,” Emma whispered as she stroked the horse’s muzzle. “I’m glad to see there are other women around. I was beginning to feel outnumbered.”

Saul laughed softly.

“And what role do you play on this drive?” Emma turned her attention to him, hoping he would also be a friend. “Appie says you’re the wrangler, but I must confess I don’t know what that means.”

Saul pointed to the horses. “Everyone else sees to the cows. I get the horses.”

“There’s so many of them. Do you know all their names?”

“Every one. They’re like people. Some are better at things than others. There are a few who are fast, but for a short distance. Then there are the long haulers, who can carry a man for days without stopping. We ride them hard, and we need to be ready for anything—from a rattlesnake to finding a woman in the woods who needs a way to get around.”

“Does that happen often?” Emma teased.

“Here and there,” Saul teased right back.

Emma ruffled Maggie’s mane. “And here I thought I was one of a kind.”

“When we make camp for the night, I’ll rig up something like a saddle for you,” Saul said. “We don’t carry an extra, but there’s blankets and rope. I’ll make something work.”