Little Sam's Angel (6 page)

She broke off again, leaving Mrs. Jones in an awkward leaning-forward position. Mrs. Jones pulled up straight, feigning casual interest to ask, "She says the child is his."

"Well, that isn't what that woman said yesterday," Sammy replied crisply.

"You heard her say the baby isn't his?"

Sammy nodded and whispered, "Very clearly." She pulled up straight. "I really shouldn't have said anything about someone else's private business. I wouldn't have listened, only it all shocked me so much I couldn't move and then that woman saw me and…"

Sammy rolled her eyes dramatically and dropped her voice again. "I think she thought something entirely wrong. Mrs. Jones, I shouldn't have said anything at all, but it so disturbed me seeing a mother do something so horrible and then threatening to ruin poor Mr. Taylor because he refused to accept her…well, her advances."

After receiving a reassuring pat on her back, Sammy left knowing Mrs. Jones would repeat every word she'd heard, plus adding plenty of her own. Sammy just hoped she had said the right things to start Mrs. Jones in the right direction with the story she would tell.

From there she made the rounds of friends in town who might be able to loan her the hundred dollars cash she had promised Gabe. At each stop, she became more and more furious. When even the bank refused her, she headed for Hedges, sure that he was behind the sudden shortage of cash in the town. Hedges wasn't to be found.

* * *

Cheated in her plans to vent her anger on the old conniver, Sammy left town, dreading the thought of facing Gabe with the news of her failure to get the money. She was relieved to find that Hedges had gone to the homestead, then angry all over again when Hedges greeted her with an air of complete innocence, coming out of the house before she could dismount.

"Don't you howdy me, you conniving old fox."

"What'd I do?"

"I don't know how, but you convinced everyone not to loan me that hundred dollars."

Gabe stepped to the door with the boy balanced easily in one arm. Sammy thought of that, how naturally Gabe held a baby while she told him, "I'm sorry, Mr. Taylor, but Hedges fixed it so I couldn't borrow any money. I won't be able to give you that cash until the drive's completed."

"Guess that settles it, Gabe," Hedges said happily. "You'll just have to stay here till then."

Gabe looked he'd like to strangle Hedges, and Sammy fidgeted in embarrassment. She told Gabe, "I may be able to sell some horses at the auction in a few weeks, if you could wait that long."

"Ma'am, you mind holding him for a minute?" Gabe asked, walking towards her.

"What you gonna do?" Hedges asked as Sammy dismounted.

"Take you out behind the house and wring your neck," Gabe promised dryly.

Sammy held out her hands to take the child, then hesitated, not sure if Gabe meant it or not. Danny, recognizing her from the day before, clutched at her arms when Gabe leaned him that way, making it impossible for her not to take him.

"Sammy, you better think of something quick. I think he means it," Hedges pleaded, backing away as Gabe advanced.

"Me?" she asked in surprise. "I didn't make this mess; you did. All you have to do is loan me the money."

"I ain't got it. I swear, I ain't, Gabe."

"Oh, dear," she said.

"What's wrong?" Gabe asked, turning back to face her.

"I've never heard him lie when he swears to it. He really may not have it."

Gabe looked like he wanted to cuss. He paced off about ten feet then turned around to face Hedges. "You mind telling me just how I'm going to make a living? You got me into this fix. Now you figure a way to get me out."

"Now, I didn't do it all alone. You wouldn't have to worry so much if you didn't have that baby to care for, and I didn't have nothing to do with that."

"She wouldn't have found me if you hadn't held me up here," Gabe growled.

Hedges moved away from that subject in a hurry. "Now Gabe, it ain't really that bad. You got plenty of food and a place to stay."

"I got to have money coming in!" he shouted in exasperation. "And I ain't going to keep living off your charity!"

"We'll think of something."

"You better be speaking for yourself," Sammy warned.

"Now, Samantha," Hedges pleaded, "ya wouldn't turn your back on me in a time of need would you?"

"You got yourself into it. Besides, what could I do?"

"Think of some work he could do where he can keep the kid with him."

"Is that all?" Sammy asked with a scoff.

"You got an idea?" Hedges asked hopefully.

"No, but I'm sure you'll think of something," she said sarcastically.

"I was kinda wondering maybe there might be something you could find for him to do on the ranch. Then you and Sally, that woman of yours, could watch out for the kid while—"

"No," Gabe said, walking over rapidly to take Danny away from Sammy. "I won't be depending on someone else to watch him."

"I don't need any more men on my crew anyway," she said, wondering if that was the real reason for Gabe's instant refusal.

Hedges persisted. "There's got to be something that needs doing, 'specially with your boys busy on roundup."

Sammy looked at Hedges with blood in her eye. She couldn't afford a new hired hand, and Hedges knew it. The boys had all been paid for last month, and when they left on the drive next week, they knew they wouldn't see any coin again until its end.

"Cutting wood for the winter maybe or fixing fence," Hedges went on. "Maybe you need some painting done, or…"

"Hedges, you know—wait a minute. I don't need wood, but others, especially those in town, are always looking for someone to cut wood for them."

"You got it," Hedges whooped joyously. "You're going to cut wood, boy, and sell it for that money you need."

"You through planning everything out for me?" Gabe asked coolly.

"You told me I got you into it so's I got to get you out. That's the way. You can keep that kid with you all the time. That's what you wanted, ain't it?"

"What I want is to get away from you."

"I'm only trying to do what is best for you," Hedges said in dejection.

"Yeah? You got me tied up owning land I don't want, arranged a buyer for me that cain't pay for it, won't take it until she can, and then ask me to strip the place of timber before she can pay for it. You've sure helped, Hedges."

"It was her idea. She's been telling me there's a section she wants cleared anyway. You'd be doing her a favor by hauling the wood off."

Sammy interrupted. "Excuse me, but there's a much better solution. I should have thought of it before. What you said about him finding you a buyer. He doesn't have to. It's a choice piece of land, and you wouldn't have any trouble at all finding a buyer for it, one that would have the cash."

"Samantha, no!" Hedges cried. "You had this house built—"

Sammy cut him off. Gabe was being stubborn enough without finding out she'd had the house built for herself to live in and had planned on moving into it as soon as possible.

"Yes, Hedges." She turned back to Gabe. "I know Mr. Burns would be interested in it. You could get much more than a hundred."

"No, we made a bargain," Gabe told her flatly. "There's an ax in the barn. I'll cut wood on shares, and if you'll just tell me what I owe you for that furniture you sent over, I'll see—"

"It isn't for sale," she responded in a brisk tone. "You can use it until you have no further use for it, and I don't want any shares. You own the land until I can pay for it. Until then, what you do with it is your business, and it's your profit. Just do me the favor of clearing the area I want done. Hedges can show you where." It was a farewell speech, delivered stiffly. Sammy felt like Gabe had looked, wanting to strangle Hedges. She, unlike Gabe, did cuss as she rode away. Most of her aggravation, however, was with Gabe Taylor's stiff necked stubbornness.

Chapter Five

If Sammy hadn't been there, Gabe would have cussed he was so mad, even if it wasn't the head pounding rage he had been feeling before.

Hedges held his tongue until she was out of sight. "You mule-head," he muttered.

"I don't want to be indebted to her, not any more than I already am, and I'd just as soon she didn't come around so much. Every time she does, I make an ass out of myself."

"Wouldn't if you'd try a mite harder to be civil. Just act natural with her."

"I cain't," Gabe said and walked off.

After offering to give the place back for nothing once, with Danny to care for Gabe couldn't afford to again. Nor could he afford to hang around waiting for the money. What little he had would be gone long before her cattle drive was finished. He couldn't take a sunup to sundown riding job because of Danny. At least with that deed money, he'd have had time to find some kind of work where he could keep Danny close or hire someone to watch him if he could find a job. He might be able to find something in Crossings, but Hedges had told him just before Sammy arrived that Brenda was in the town, and he wanted to avoid her completely. He was even considering going back to his folks, but again, that took traveling money. He didn't have any choice but to cut wood, beholding even more to Little Sam.

Hedges was going to put up a notice in the hotel lobby, and was sure he'd get more orders than Gabe could fill before fall which meant a lot of chopping. After his first day of swinging an ax for hours, Gabe ached in every muscle and joint. He had gotten soft, not working at anything for so long with his illness after the shooting and was still weak.

Although a cow man by profession, Gabe was somewhat different from the run of the mill breed. He didn't have an ingrained hatred of any work that couldn't be done off the back of a horse. He liked the forest, and he liked the feel of physical labor. He just didn't care much for the blisters or the soreness from strained muscles.

He was glad that night when Danny fell asleep in his lap so he could soak his hands after putting him to bed. The blisters had worn up big water pockets that had burst, leaving the palms of his hands raw. He'd have to wrap them tomorrow just to be able to hold the ax.

Sitting there in the kitchen, looking into the empty front room, he started to wonder again about the house. He'd found what little there was boxed up in the barn, no doubt done by Smith before he moved out, some beat up pans and dishes, a rickety table and two chairs. Made him wonder why it'd been moved out. Why had she gone to the trouble and expense of building so nice a house? She already had one, so why waste the money building a second one before she even had possession of the land it set on? Hedges had started to say something about her having it built, and she'd cut him off. He was going to ask Hedges about that the next time he saw him, and he was going to ask him about that garden. She sure enough knew about it. A garden that size hadn't been planted to provide for one man, and she'd come asking to pick the vegetables out of it.

Even if he couldn't remember anything after Pierce pulled him off that wagon, he was so embarrassed over what he'd said to her in that rage, he couldn't get his tongue untied when she was around. When he did, everything he said seemed to sound wrong, even his clumsy apology. He hadn't said anything right since, either.

Well, maybe he did say one thing right. He hadn't thought she would believe it, but he had enough pride left to tell her Danny wasn't his and to his surprise she’d believed him. Seemed she had anyway 'cause she hadn't shunned him.

One thing about Hedges, he was dead right in a lot of the things he said. Miss Mentrol didn't belong with the same brand as other women just because she was a woman. Gabe had never met a woman like her. She had quite a wallop for such a little thing and smacked him a good one that set him back on his heels when he'd called Danny a bastard after Brenda left. At the same time she was as gentle as a mouse with Danny. No, mouse wasn't quite right. Maybe cat was better. Cats could be almighty vicious when they got riled, but one of the gentlest creatures alive when that was their mood, and they were good mamas. No, cat wasn't right either. Sammy—Miss Mentrol—wasn't a vicious person. She'd been mad clear through over what he'd said, and she had shown it. Plenty of spirit and guts in that little package.

He pondered about that for a bit, wondering just how to describe her. Then he decided he couldn't compare her to something or someone else, because like Hedges said, there wasn't another one like her.

Too damn bad he'd started off so wrong with her. Then he shut that thought down in a hurry. What was too bad was that she was rich. She might be short of cash, nothing new to a cattle ranch, but she had the land and cattle, horses, too, if she had enough to be auctioning some off. That wasn't all, either. She was spoiled, used to having her own way, bossing her own outfit and a crew of men, and too independent to make a good wife.

That thought startled him. Who was he to be thinking of her as a wife? Who was he to be thinking of any woman as a wife? For that matter, who was he to be thinking of any woman as his wife. He'd made a mess of his own life and had enough to take care of, making some kind of living for himself and Danny. He sure didn't need any more to worry about.

He shook the water off his hands impatiently and went to bed. Yet, lying on the straw pallet, he continued to think of her, of how pretty she was, mad or somber. He wondered how she looked laughing, and then remembered he'd seen her almost laugh; only he had cut her humor short by being rude.

He was willing to bet it'd be easy to make her laugh full out and a pleasant sight to see. Then he chided himself again and shifted his mind to think of the work he had ahead of him. That helped him to fall asleep, but the next morning she was right back in his thoughts.

Danny cried, wanting his breakfast. The first thing Gabe saw when he walked into the small bedroom was the bars of the crib Danny had his little face pressed up against. She'd thought of the baby needing a safe place to sleep and seen to it that he had it. Dang, he thought, he couldn't get away from thinking about little Samantha Menthol.

Her coming by again didn't help. Sammy was there that morning, seeking him out in the woods where he was cutting wood. The first things she noticed were the bandages on his hands, and she commented on them.

"Takes a while to build up calluses," she told him. "We've probably got extra gloves lying around if you'd like me to send some over for you."

"Hedges are going to bring me some out," Gabe said, wishing he could take the stiffness out of his voice.

"Oh," she said, and he could tell she thought he was being rude again, refusing anything from her. "You've made a good— is he tied?" She noticed the rope around Danny's waist when the baby stood up to go to her.

"Hobbled some," he answered uncomfortably. He had to do something to keep Danny from under his feet when he was swinging the ax, but he was sure it looked cruel. He felt mean tying him up, but there wasn't anything else he could do to keep working.

"Papa told me they used to tie me to the clothesline. It worked until I learned how to untie the rope. The first time I got loose, it took them three hours to find me." She smiled as she talked, her face lighting with an inner glow that came from fond memories. "Papa rigged up a harness for me, but I figured that out too, so they eventually gave up. Do you mind if I hold him for a while?"

Looking at Danny at the end of his tether, holding his arms out to her, Gabe told her, "No, ma'am, looks like he's tired of that rope anyway."

"It'll do him fine. By the time he's old enough to figure the knots out, he'll be old enough to stay put," she told him, picking Danny up, rope and all.

"Did you?" he asked out of curiosity, then realized it was bold and wished he hadn't.

"No," she said with a laugh, "but by the time I'd figured out the harness I was old enough to go with Papa. That doesn't mean Mama quit worrying about me. She just didn't worry as much. How old is he, Mr. Taylor?"

Gabe went from thinking about how her laugh sounded just like he imagined it would, too embarrassed over her innocent question. That was one question he sure knew the answer to. The stiffness was back in his voice when he answered. "He'll be two in September."

"Oh, well," she said, turning her face away as she blushed. "I came to ask you about the vegetables."

"What about them?" he asked, angry with himself for getting upset over a simple question. Letting it sound in his voice and probably making her think he was angry with her made him even madder.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Taylor, I didn't mean anything by—"

"I know you didn't," he snapped, furious with himself. He was only making it worse and knew it. His struggle to keep his temper was visible, and when he thought he had it under control, his voice was flat and rigid again. "The stuff in that garden needs picking before it gets too ripe. You don't need to bother none with doing any canning for us. We'll be gone before it all quits growing anyway."

She set Danny back on the ground carefully. Her walk back to her horse was full of self-restraint, and when she mounted she said, "You're the rudest man I've ever met, and since you're so big on sticking to a bargain, you're going to get your share, canned, whether you want them or not."

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbled, sinking the ax deep into the log as she rode away.

* * *

When Gabe quit for the day and walked back to the house, there was a strange woman in the garden. He didn't have to wait long to find out who she was, though.

"Howdy," she called out, waddling toward him. She wasn't really that heavy; she just waddled as if she was. "I'm Sally. This must be Danny, and Sammy didn't exaggerate at all. He is the prettiest baby ever. A bit frail looking, but that'll soon mend itself."

Danny was shy, turning his head into Gabe's shoulder and clinging tightly. Sally wasn't put off at all, but then Sally didn't appear to be burdened with shyness. She chuckled over the way Danny acted, patting him on the back with her dirty hands, and noticed the bandages on Gabe's hands.

"Boy, you're a fool doing that kind of work without gloves" she said, twisting Gabe's nearest hand up, against his will, for a closer look.

"They just ain't toughened up yet," he said, trying for all the world to back away from her and free his hand without having an actually wrestling match.

"I guess not," she said, clicking her tongue over the blood that had soaked through and dried on the cloth he'd wrapped around his hands. "You just come in here, and I'll fix them right up."

Gabe hung back, but that didn't faze her either.

"Come on now, I ain't got all day. I got to get them vegetables picked and get on back home. I told Sammy it'd be easier doing them here, but she says—are you coming?—she says she doesn't want to impose."

Sally snorted at the idea, leading the way into the house. "Impose? Now how can it be that? You ain't here during the day no how, so how could I be in the way?" She talked while rummaging through the cupboards for something she seemed sure was there, pumping water into a basin and mixing up what she'd found.

Gabe followed her, drawn by a smell in the room. He located the source of it in a pot on the stove.

"Beans, my own special recipe. You sit right here." She pulled Gabe away from the stove, propelled him toward a chair, and lifted Danny away from him at the same time. Danny whined a little but quieted down as soon as she plopped him in his highchair.

Gabe figured he could have fought her off, but it would have been a fight, so he let her have her way. She unwrapped his hands, clucking her tongue again at what she saw. That was all right, but when she pushed his hands down into that basin of water she'd moved to the table, Gabe came right up off the chair.

The water wasn't hot, but the salt and whatever else she'd put in it burnt the raw flesh like fire.

Sally dunked his hands back in the basin. "Don't be a baby. It'll quit stinging in a few minutes."

"If I live that long."

"Nothing better for hardening up tender skin," Sally said with a chuckle. "You just stay still. I'll rustle you up some grub."

"Thought you had vegetables to pick," he said, wishing she'd go back outside so he could jerk his hands out of that water.

"What I don't get today, I can get tomorrow. Got enough picked to make that baby's dinner. Cain't be feeding him beans. What do you use for meat?"

"Nothing right now," Gabe said, wiping the sweat that had popped out on his forehead against his forearm.

"Baby needs meat for growing. You better get some quick. Plenty of deer in them mountains behind you. No reason you cain't get meat for that child."

"I don't have a rifle, and I cain't leave him alone to go hunting. Say, what did you put in here? It doesn't sting anymore."

"Secret ingredient," she said with a broad wink. "You better take them out now before they go numb. I'll bring a rifle over tomorrow. You can leave the boy here while you hunt, and I can get them vegetables put up here instead of hauling them home to do. That baby will warm up to me before I leave tonight."