High Desert Haven (The Shepherd's Heart) (5 page)

Nicki frowned. They had been riding so close to the edge that he fell off? Ron entered with the requested hot water, and Nicki used the opportunity to cast a look at Slim, who sat hunched on one of the bunks watching the proceedings with casual interest. He was a tall man, perhaps the tallest she had ever seen, which explained why he was hunched over the way he was. He was skinny too. Skinny as a corral pole. His boots were run down at the heel, and a drooping mustache completely covered his mouth. Slim nodded, indicating his assent to William’s story, solemn eyes meeting hers for only a moment.

“Go on, William,” Nicki said quietly as she dipped a rag Ron had thoughtfully brought into the water and washed the deep gash on John’s brow. She could see the white of bone where the flesh was missing. He groaned, but he did not come to.

“Well, there’s not much else to say. We got a rope around him and pulled him back up to his horse and then rode here as fast as we could.”

Nicki frowned. John was a good rider. It wasn’t like him to lose his balance in the saddle.

But if Nicki had learned anything in her young life, it was that the west was a brutal place. Accidents happened often here. The year she turned fifteen her brother Juan had lost his hand when he cut it on a rusty hay fork. And just last week at church the Snows had reported that their neighbor’s wife had been killed when the cow she was milking kicked her in the head. The family planned to move back east, and their land would revert to the bank. Things happened that could not be foreseen or prevented.

Nicki pushed away her niggling questions about the accident. William had been their friend and neighbor since just after they moved into the valley. She knew he would have done everything in his power to help John.

Conner brought in the wood, but Ron took over building up the fire and soon Nicki heard Conner’s horse galloping out of the yard. Looking at the bone protruding from John’s arm and the nasty bowl-shaped laceration on his forehead, Nicki prayed the doctor would come in time to save her husband’s life.

She gently smoothed his sweat-soaked hair away from his brow and considered their relationship. Although they had been married under unusual circumstances to say the least, she had come to depend on this man. He did not love her, only lusted after her, but he had treated her better than most, she knew. No, she didn’t love him, but he was the father of her son, and he had been good to her. She shivered and felt William’s warm leather jacket settle around her shoulders. She glanced up. He smiled reassuringly and rested his hand gently on her shoulder. “I’ll send for Tilly to watch the boy for you,” he said before heading out the door into the late afternoon gloom.

She tended John through the night as best she could, praying that Conner would be able to find Dr. Rike in time. But it was not to be. Nicki had just pulled the sheet up over John’s face when Conner and Doctor Rike hurried through the bunkhouse door.

Conner grimaced and snatched his hat off his head in a gesture of frustration.

Without a word Nicki brushed past the two men and headed for the house. She could think of only one comfort she needed at this moment. And it wasn’t until she took a sleepy Sawyer from the arms of Tilly Snow, the young girl from church who had come to sit with him, that the tears came. As Sawyer laid his little head on her shoulder she rested her cheek against the soft hair at the back of his neck and let the tears fall. How was she going to raise this precious child alone? His papa had been the world to him, for although John had not loved her, he had doted on his son. and Sawyer was going to be lost without his papa. She rubbed his little back, listening to his deep, even breathing. So innocent and unaware of the gaping, black valley that had just opened up before them.

She allowed herself to close her eyes for a minute, then reality rushed in. Her eyes snapped open. “Tilly, I hate to ask, but do you think your mother could spare you for a couple of days?”

Tilly’s tender, brown eyes glistened, and she blinked rapidly. “I’m sure that would be fine, Mrs. Trent.”

“I’ll send Conner over to tell her. I really appreciate it.”

Setting Sawyer into his high chair, Nicki busied herself getting his breakfast. If she worked, she wouldn’t have time to dwell on her loss.

“I can do that, Mrs. Trent. Why don’t you sit down and rest? You’ve been up all night.”

“Thank you, Tilly. If you will get Sawyer some breakfast, I’ll head out and send Conner to your parents’ place. And then I need to talk to Ron Hanson about a couple of things. Would you be all right in here with Sawyer for a while?”

Tilly nodded, and as Nicki moved out of the house, she prayed for strength.

Nicki found Ron and Conner standing together next to the jumbled heap of the run-down corral, arms folded against the cold.

Walking up quietly, Nicki tucked a curl behind her ear and fleetingly realized she had not combed her hair yet today. She was still wearing William’s leather coat, the sleeves rolled up, and her back ached as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to it.

The two men turned toward her. She stared off into the distance, trying to gather her thoughts and come to grips with the fact her husband was dead.

She suddenly had so many questions and uncertainties. Yesterday when she awoke it had simply been her goal to make it through another day of entertaining a fussy toddler with cabin fever. Now...

What was she going to do?

Should she pack up and head south to California and try to find her parents? What if they had moved after she had left with John? Would she be able to find them?

She could stay here. She glanced around at the run-down ranch. John had been a good rider, and he had known cattle and horses, but it seemed he had known nothing about managing a ranch. Nicki had spoken to him several times about fixing up the buildings and the corral, but he had always said he would get to it in time. He didn’t want to spend money that they didn’t have.

They had lived here for two and a half years, and John had not made one improvement to the ranch buildings or central holding pens except to finish roofing the bunkhouse.

The bunkhouse was made of logs that had wide gaps between them, but John had refused to chink them when she had suggested it, saying it was an unnecessary expense.

Frosty winds gushed through the gaps, making the bunkhouse bitterly cold on most winter nights. Consequently there was only one hand who had been with them the whole two and a half years they had lived here, and that was Ron Hanson.

Ron was in his late fifties with a deeply tanned leathery face and crinkle lines around his usually smiling gray eyes. His once dark hair was now liberally sprinkled with gray, but it was invariably covered by his gray flat-topped Stetson. He’d had offers from other ranchers in the area but, for some reason, he’d chosen to stay and work for the Hanging T—John’s brand. Nicki knew, however, that Ron had not stayed because the accommodations and food were so good. It was his relationship with Christ and a sense of loyalty that had kept him here when there were jobs that offered much more in the way of material comforts nearby.

Nicki’s gaze moved on to the little sod shanty that served as the ranch house. Dug back into the side of a hill, all that could be seen of it from this vantage point was the chimney pipe sticking up through the snow-covered dirt, the wooden door, and the one small window that John had consented to on Nicki’s behalf. It wasn’t much, but it was warm, and for that, Nicki was thankful.

It was the only home Sawyer had ever known. With that thought, her stomach tightened. Could she take her son away from the only home he had ever known in search of her parents, when she had no idea where they were? What if she gave up this place and went to California, only to fail in finding her parents? What would become of them then?

She glanced around the run-down place once more and realized that her mind had been made up even before she had begun this debate with herself. She would stay. It would be so good to see Mama once more, but she couldn’t risk it.

Ron interrupted her thoughts. “Ma’am, are you all right?”

Nicki came to with a start. “Oh. Yes.” She cleared her throat and glanced at Conner. Her voice was low and raspy when she spoke. “Conner,” she cleared her raw throat again, “I need you to ride over to the Snow place and let them know what has happened and ask them if it’s okay if Tilly stays here for a couple of days. Um, tell them two, for sure, and maybe three days if we can’t get the minister for the…for the…before then.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Conner touched the brim of his hat as he moved off to saddle up, but Nicki caught the gentle compassion in his green eyes before he turned away. A lump tightened her throat. Whatever happened, she could depend on Conner and Ron.

Conner was young and had only been with them since the summer before, but he attended Sunday services in Farewell Bend with her and Ron every Sunday. She didn’t doubt that he truly loved the Lord.

This thought brought another wave of sadness, for try as she might, she had been unable to convince John to join them on Sundays. He had always had something that was more important: a sick cow, a lame horse, a trip around the ranch perimeter to make sure all the fences were intact because he couldn’t afford to lose stock to a neighboring spread. There had always been something that needed tending. Something more important than church. Something more important than God.

Blinking back tears, Nicki turned her face away from Ron’s fatherly inspection and folded her arms against the bitter wind that had begun to blow. “Ron, I am planning on staying. Now is not the time to discuss things, but I would appreciate it if you would stay long enough to fill me in on some of the things that I don’t know about this place. Other than that, you are free to leave anytime you choose. I’m sorry I don’t have the money to pay you right now, but if you stop back by someday, I will be more than happy to make it up to you.”

“If it’s all the same to you, ma’am, I’d like to stay. You will need a good hand and someone who knows a little o’ the workin’s o’ the place.”

“I don’t know when I will be able to pay you.”

“All a man needs is a place to sleep and some food in his belly.”

Nicki turned tear-filled eyes on him. “You are an angel in disguise, Ron Hanson.” Throwing her arms around the surprised cowhand’s neck, she gave him a gentle squeeze. She felt him stiffen before he awkwardly patted her back with one hand while the other hand remained stiffly at his side.

What would I have done if he had chosen to leave? Gracias, Lord.

Holding Sawyer in her arms, Nicki stared bleakly down into the dark hole that waited to receive the body of her husband.

The voice of the minister droned in the background, but somehow she could not bring herself to focus on his words. She felt numb.

All around her friends and neighbors stood in somber silence. Some listened intently to the minister. Others watched her with strange sympathetic expressions. Women held onto the hands of their husbands more tightly. Little boys glanced at Sawyer and then up at their own fathers, stepping closer to wrap small arms around strong, steady legs.

William Harpster stood to her left and Ron Hanson to her right.

Nicki closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the toddler’s. What was she going to do without John? He had been her sole means of support. Could she really run this ranch by herself?
Lord, I don’t think I can do this
.

Swiftly the verses she had read only moments before John had been brought in wounded jumped to mind.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”

Lord, I’m in that valley. Help me to know that You are here with me.

Comfort me. What am I going to do without him, Lord? I never realized that I cared for him so much, but I miss him. Help me, Lord, because I will never be able to make it through this without You. And please be with Sawyer. Don’t let this be too traumatic for him. He has already been asking for his papa. Help me to know how to explain to him that his papa’s not going to be here anymore
.