Sixteen Brides (24 page)

Ruth knelt beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. “You must let me care for Lucas today and take yourself to bed. If you can tell me what you think it is—if there’s anything—medicine we can send for—anything. Tell me what to do for you.”

Hettie gagged again, then wiped her mouth with the handkerchief she’d taken from the pocket of her duster. She sat back on her heels. Her head bowed, her eyes closed, she breathed in and out, obviously concentrating on keeping her breathing even and steady. Presently she opened her eyes. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to worry about?! You listen to me, Hettie Raines! I can’t have you getting sick. Not now. I don’t know the first thing about tending a broken leg. We’re going to have to change that bandage in a couple of days, and not only do I not know how to do it properly, I won’t know what I’m looking at. You have to take care of yourself.”

“I am. I’ve gotten a lot more rest the last few days while you and Lucas have been sparring. I’ll be fine.”

“That’s just not an acceptable response. You have to—”

“Ruth!” Hettie almost barked the name. “I’m not sick.” She took a deep breath and looked away, toward the eastern horizon, where dawn was beginning to tinge the sky with pink and crimson. “I’m not sick,” she repeated. “I’m pregnant.”

Pregnant.
A thousand questions rose in her mind, but Ruth forced them into the background in order to take charge in the moment. After helping Hettie into one of the chairs just outside the front door, she headed inside. “I’m going to tell Wah Lo you’re fine, and ask him to make us some tea. And then I’ll be back.” She did her best to sound convincing when she patted Hettie’s hand and said, “It’s going to be all right. I promise.”

Back inside, Ruth did her best to reassure Wah Lo about Hettie without betraying her confidence. She made her way down the hall to Lucas’s room, happy to see he was still asleep. And then she went into the kitchen and prepared a tray of biscuits while Wah Lo made tea. Back outside she helped arrange the light breakfast on a low table. Wah Lo went back in, and Ruth sat quietly watching the sunrise and sipping tea. Finally, she said, “I didn’t realize widowhood was so fresh for you. I’m afraid I haven’t always been very . . . sensitive.”

Hettie bowed her head. She swept her hand over her hair and shoved her spectacles up on her nose. “You don’t owe me an apology. I . . . I haven’t wanted to talk about it. And I still can’t—not the way you’d like.”

“It’s all right. Sometimes words aren’t adequate.” T he idea of Hettie’s being a young widow about to have a baby was heartbreaking. At least the General had had a chance to see his son. Everything would have been so much worse if he hadn’t even seen Jackson. Just thinking about it brought tears to Ruth’s eyes. “You don’t have to do this alone. You have friends now. You know we’ll help you in every way possible.”

Hettie sighed. “I have an aunt in Denver. I was actually thinking maybe I’d go to her before I met all of you.” She closed her eyes and laid her head back. “I suppose I should confess something else. I never really
joined
Mr. Drake’s Emigration Society. In fact, I . . . I’d never heard of it until I got on that train and stumbled into you. But then you all just assumed . . . and I was confused and nervous and not really sure what I was doing and . . . I just let it happen. All of it.” She glanced at Ruth. “I stowed away with you.” She took a deep breath. “I like the quiet. I like being away from people. And I
cannot
be the ‘lady doc.’ Not because I don’t know how, but because it hurts too much.”

Ruth nodded. “When George died, it was two
years
before I stopped thinking I heard his footsteps in the hall. When my sister invited me to bring Jackson and come and live with her, I was so relieved. She was willing to make all the decisions, and I let her. I just didn’t have the energy. I was grateful to have someone to think for me.” She shook her head. “I know what it is to feel like you’re just sleepwalking through life. You need time. I hope you’ll stay with us. But if you can’t—if you need your family and you want to go on to your aunt—then of course that’s what you should do.”

Hettie shook her head. “My aunt has very strong opinions of how things should be. She wouldn’t be at all happy with me for refusing to—for refusing the role she thinks I should accept.” She swiped at a tear. “If you’ll still have me, I want to stay here. But no one expected a baby to come into the middle of this. It complicates things for everyone.”

“I think having a baby at Four Corners would be wonderful.” Ruth smiled. “Of course, he or she will be spoiled rotten with five aunts and one uncle hovering.”

“Y-you really think the others won’t mind?”

“I think . . . that you should ask them. And I will keep your confidence until you feel it’s the right time to do so.”

Finally
. Main Street might still be something of a bog, but after nearly a week of intermittent storms, sunshine and a warm breeze began drying things out. Ella wanted to leave the Immigrant House and head to the homestead immediately, but Will advised them to wait at least a couple of days until the ground had a chance to dry.

“But we could take the tarps off the wall,” Ella said. “Wouldn’t everything dry more quickly that way?”

Will agreed with that, but also said, “You don’t want to be building a roof with wet wood and soaked shingles. And to get a good hard dirt floor, you’re going to want to let that dry, too—preferably without folks mucking around inside filling cracks and setting up rafters. You need to be patient.”

Patience, Ella realized, was one of the virtues in short supply not only with her, but also with the others. That fact was made clear on Thursday of the “waiting for things to dry out week,” when Sally and Mavis Morris nearly came to blows over Sally’s use of the Immigrant House oven.

Mama saved the day when she brought up the idea of a side trip. “Jackson has to be missing Ruth. And wouldn’t we all like to see how they’re doing up at the ranch—and have a change from this place? It’s so crowded here now with all the newcomers staying in town. There’s no place to settle in for an evening of knitting these days.”

And so it was that right after dawn the next morning, Caroline, Sally, Jackson, and Mama piled into the back of Otto Ermisch’s only available carriage. Ella took the reins and headed the team north on the trail toward the Graystone Ranch.

Ruth clasped her hands together and tried to look calm as she watched Hettie snip away the bandages that had sealed the wound on Lucas Gray’s leg for the last two weeks. The tension in the room was palpable. Lucas winced as Hettie worked at the site of the injury. Sweat broke out on his brow. Ruth longed to reach for his hand and hold it, but she knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t succumb to a sign of weakness. At least not in broad daylight.

“Now,” Hettie said calmly, even though Ruth could see her hands shaking. “Now, Mr. Gray—”

“—Lucas,” he corrected her.

“All right. Lucas. There is going to be bleeding. I’ve let the bandages harden in place. As you will recall, I did that intentionally, knowing it would help to seal the wound and keep out infection. I’ve softened those bandages with water, but it’s still going to bleed when I finally get this last bandage off, and it may bleed quite a lot, depending on how well it has healed. It’s only been two weeks. Everyone is different, and I don’t want you to worry no matter what you see or what you think—or, for that matter, what you smell. A putrid smell doesn’t automatically mean gangrene. So please. Don’t panic.”

Lucas nodded. “Just so we’re clear, though, I haven’t changed my mind about how this will go if you think a doctor would recommend amputation.”

“We’re both aware of how you feel about that,” Hettie said. “Let’s not make any rash statements right now, all right?”

“It isn’t a rash statement.”

With a nod, Hettie went to work on the last bandage, moistening it and working to pull it free. When finally she could see the leg, she closed her eyes briefly. She bowed her head.
Putrid
wasn’t quite a strong enough term for what assaulted their nostrils.

“Bad, huh?” Lucas said. His jaw clenched and his lips formed a firm line. He took a deep breath. “It’s not your fault. You did everything you could.”

“Lucas.” Ruth took a quick breath.

He held up his hand. “No—no. It’s all right. I’m in your debt. Both of you.”

Ruth grabbed his hand. “It’s
healing
, Lucas. It’s healing well. There’s no sign of infection.” He stared at her, uncomprehending. “Look for yourself. It’s
healing.
You’re going to be fine.” She dropped his hand and pointed at the wound.

With a grimace, he pushed himself forward until he could see his own leg. For a long moment he said nothing. Then he took a deep, wavering breath. “I . . . uh . . .” His voice broke. He cleared his throat. Sniffed. “I . . . uh . . .” He swiped at his nose. Nodded.

Ruth wanted to hug him. Instead, she reached up and pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “It doesn’t appear you’re going to have to shoot anyone after all, Lucas. I hope you aren’t terribly disappointed.”

CHAPTER
TWENTY

. . . Jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire,
which hath a most vehement flame.

SONG OF SOLOMON 8:6

L
ucas Gray!” Ruth scolded from the doorway. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

Lucas planted his foot on the floor and began to stand up.

“You stop that this instant. And get your sorry carcass back in that bed. You heard what Hettie said.
No movement
for another week. You have to give the bones a chance to knit and that wound a chance to close up. And this”—Ruth gestured at the man who was attempting to stand up beside the bed—“is
not
what she had in mind.” She went to Gray and took his arm. “Now, get back in bed before I go get her to help me tie you down.”

“I’m going to go crazy sitting here with nothing to do,” he protested. “The boys need to know the boss is in charge.”

“Well, if you weren’t so prideful, you could tell them yourself. There’s no reason Pete and Del shouldn’t be in here giving you reports and getting orders every day.”

With a sigh and a little cry of pain, Gray boosted himself back into the bed. “I don’t want them to see me this way,” he said. He glowered at Ruth as she smoothed the bedcovers back in place.

“Is it the lace on the pillows or the ‘how the mighty have fallen’ aspect of this situation that makes you reluctant? Because personally I think the lace on the pillows is attractive, you aren’t that ‘mighty,’ and you haven’t really fallen. You’ve just been waylaid.”

Lucas narrowed his gaze. “You aren’t much for coddling a wounded man, are you?”

“I can be as sweet as sweet can be when the situation requires it.”

“I’ve got a broken leg, woman. I can’t do my job. What more of a situation do you require?”

“You have a
fractured
leg, and you could do your job just fine if you’d stop tripping over that boulder of pride you’re letting block the doorway to this room.”

Lucas frowned. He stared at her. She met his gaze. He sighed. She folded her arms and waited. Finally, he relented. “Fine. Would you please tell Wah Lo to find Pete and have him come up to the house. And while Wah Lo is gone, could you and the doc get rid of the lacy pillows?”

“I’ll ask Hettie to fetch the pillows,” Ruth said. “And I’ll find Pete myself, if he’s to be found. I could use some fresh air. A woman could choke on the smell of self-pity in here.”

Knowing that Pete was likely not too far from Lucas’s infernal stallion, Ruth took her time strolling in the direction of the far corral, where they’d moved the animal after the storms blew through. She’d heard Pete and Del talking about that creature. Phrases like “kick the place apart,” and “what a devil.” They’d taken to referring to Hannibal as “the Prince of Darkness.” It made her shudder. She worried that once healed, Lucas would feel it necessary to prove his manhood by trying to ride the creature again. And she worried that she was beginning to be far too concerned about Lucas Gray. After all, he’d set his cap for Caroline.

Try as she would, Ruth couldn’t seem to rein herself in. From that curl that insisted on falling forward when he slept, to his penchant for teasing her, to his grin . . .
enough.
Taking herself in hand, Ruth made her way between the corrals filled with cows and bawling calves, past the smaller of the two barns erected on the place, and toward the bunkhouse and the isolated corral where, true to form, Pete stood watching the gray stallion while he talked to another wrangler.

“Ma’am?” Pete tipped his hat. “Everything all right?”

“Getting better,” Ruth said. “He wants to see you.” When Pete’s expression showed concern she smiled. “No, it’s not the leg. He just wants to talk business.”

“Well, that’s mighty good news.” Pete took his hat off. “Excuse me, ma’am, I’m forgettin’ my manners. This here is Clyde Day, Lowell’s brother. Clyde has a reputation for being a first-rate horse breaker.”

“Breaker?” Ruth tilted her head. “I’m not familiar with the term.”

“Well, Mr. Gray doesn’t like to take that approach most of the time, but every once in a while we come up against an animal that just won’t listen to reason. And then we call in Clyde.”

Ruth glanced at the gray stallion, which was, at the moment, standing quietly watching them, its head lowered, front legs braced. “He doesn’t appear to be unwilling to listen to reason at the moment.”

“First time he’s stood still all day,” Pete said. “He just doesn’t seem to like people. Not one bit.” He nodded at Day. “See what you think. I’ll talk to the boss.” And with that, Pete and Ruth set off toward the main house. They weren’t far away when the stallion screamed. Ruth glanced behind her just in time to see the animal charge the fence where Day was standing. Day moved back. The stallion pawed the earth and tossed its head. Ruth shivered.

Pete had gone into the house, and Ruth was sitting beneath the overhang when Hettie joined her. They hadn’t been there long when a cloud of dust on the southern horizon caught their attention. Ruth stood up. “Looks like Lucas has some company.”

“Wouldn’t it be something if we were finally getting a doctor?” Hettie rose to stand beside her.

The bright red hair gave it away. Ruth’s hand went to her collar. “I think it’s—oh—look, Hettie—look! It
is
.” She was embarrassed by how thrilled she was to see them . . . by the tears that came to her eyes as Jackson came into view. But embarrassment melted when Jackson leaped out of the still-rolling carriage and flew into her arms and literally lifted her off the ground and spun her around.

Breathless, Ruth laughed. “My goodness . . . you’ve grown a mile!” She called out to the others. “What have you been feeding this boy?”

“What
haven’t
we been feeding him?” Zita said. “Beefsteak and eggs and bread and pie and pickles and . . . anything else anyone offers! We think he has a hollow leg. We really do.”

“How’s Mr. Gray?” Jackson asked.

“Thanks to Hettie and the good Lord, he’s going to be fine. Although there has been some talk of possibly chaining him to the bed so he’ll wait to recover before trying to rope any cattle.” She glanced Caroline’s way, instantly aware of the way Caroline took in the details of the house.

“It’s . . . not what we expected,” she said.

“Indeed not,” Ruth agreed.

Wah Lo came outside. Hettie introduced him to the ladies, who kept interrupting each other with their reports of the progress at Four Corners and how the rain had kept them in town. The little man bowed to each woman and welcomed them as honored guests. He asked that they please sit on the porch and he would bring them tea, and said they would of course be staying over and that Mr. Gray would be insulted if they refused his hospitality. While he was carrying chairs out, Pete came to the door and motioned to Ruth. Lucas had summoned her, but before she headed back to his room, she introduced Pete to everyone.

Pete was about to step off the porch when he caught sight of Jackson. “You want to have tea with the ladies or help on the ranch?”

Jackson shot out of his chair, then glanced Ruth’s way.

“You’ve never liked tea,” she said. The look of joy on Jackson’s face was worth whatever amount of worrying she would do for the rest of the day.

Lucas had donned a fresh white shirt and was sitting up in bed. “I’m sorry for all the noise,” Ruth said. “You were right about things, by the way. Will Haywood insisted the Four Corners ladies follow him back into Plum Grove the day of the storm. They’ve been in town ever since waiting for things to dry out. And since your condition was a topic of concern and Will said the place wasn’t hard to find . . .”

“Hold on. Did you just say I was
right
about something, Mrs. Dow? Call Wah Lo. I want a witness to this moment.” He grinned. “So what you’re really saying is Jackson missed his mama, and since the rain has interrupted work on the soddy, coming this way was a welcome diversion.”

“No, I said people are concerned—”

“My health isn’t something anyone in Plum Grove would be concerned about, Ruth. Unless, of course, there was news of my demise. There are those who would delight in that.”

“What a thing to joke about,” Ruth scolded.

“I asked for you because the ladies shouldn’t try to make the drive back tonight. I’m sure Wah Lo invited them to stay. Just wanted you to know that’s in keeping with Graystone hospitality.
You
might be able to handle a midnight run in a carriage, but I doubt many could, and I don’t want a southern belle’s demise—or anyone else’s for that matter—charged to my account. So. Please extend my welcome. Wah Lo will make up the extra bedroom—including a pallet for the floor— and with your permission, Jackson can bunk with the boys.”

“He’ll be thrilled,” Ruth said. “As to the rest . . . I’m sure they’ll appreciate your hospitality, too.”

“And since you seem all for my removing the boulder of pride from the doorway, I’d appreciate a chance to say a few words to Mrs. Jamison. If she’s agreeable.”

Ruth nodded even as her heart fell. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll send her right in.”

Lucas nodded. “Thank you. And Ruth?”

She turned back.

“I’d like it to be a private viewing if you don’t mind.”

“I’m not your mother, Lucas. You can do whatever pleases you.” She hurried away.

“Everything all right?” Caroline wanted to know.

“Wonderful.” Ruth forced a smile. “He’d like to speak with you.” Ruth held the door open. “Wah Lo will take you back.”

As she watched Caroline glance around at the front room and kitchen, and then the bedrooms as she followed Wah Lo toward the back of the house, Ruth thought back to her own amazement at Lucas’s home that first night. Even a southern belle who grew up on a plantation could be very comfortable on the Graystone Ranch. With effort, Ruth faced her friends with a smile, grateful when Sally said something about Pete Mills.

“Now, there’s a fine bit of manhood. I didn’t know whether to straighten my collar or unbutton a couple of buttons.”

“You’ve been out in the sun too long,” Zita quipped. “The
buttons
, of course!”

“Oh, Mama.” Ella just shook her head as she took hold of one of the mares by the bridle and led them toward the barn.

Hettie said that she would linger behind to tend Lucas and send Caroline their way as soon as she was free. Ruth, along with Sally and Zita, followed Ella into the big barn, where they found two wranglers unhitching the team while Ella stood nearby eyeing the interior with a look that clearly said, “I want one of these someday.”

“My Ella,” Zita said, shaking her head. “Always looking up at the clouds for the next thing. Did you know she’s already planning the
frame
farmhouse that will replace the soddy?”

“Well, if anyone can make that happen—” Ruth began the sentence, but everyone finished it together. “—Ella can.”

Caroline joined them as they came out of the barn, and when they rounded the corner, there sat Jackson astride a buckskin gelding. Pete let go of the horse’s bridle and crossed the corral to where Ruth stood. “Sam’s not very flashy, but he’s a good old boy. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not a bit,” Ruth said. Jackson was beaming with joy.

Pete called out. “About all you have to do is sit up there and get the feel of how he moves. And don’t fall off. You grip with your knees. Only a greenhorn hangs on to that saddle horn.” T he instant Pete said it, Jackson let go of the saddle horn as if it were a hot poker.

“All right,” Pete said. “Give him a little nudge. Tell him to move out.”

Jackson nudged. The only thing the horse moved was an ear.

“You got to tell him so he knows you mean it,” Pete said. “Nudge him harder and do this.” Pete made a clicking sound with his jaw and Sam looked his way. When Jackson did it, the horse took one step, then stopped.

“Well, I won’t have to worry about him losing control of a wild animal,” Ruth chuckled.

“Mind if I take him for a little ride outside the corral?” Pete asked. “We’d be back by sundown.”

“He’ll be thrilled,” Ruth said. When Pete took Sam’s reins and told Jackson what they were going to do, he let out a whoop. Sam lifted his head and looked almost awake.

Matthew lay on his back staring up at the bare rafters of the lean-to in the predawn light. Dare he believe the nightmares were gone? He hadn’t had even one since leaving the dugout. In fact, he’d been dreaming good things. Seeing Katie happy and whole. Watching Linney toddle off up a hill through blooming spring flowers. It was so strange to sleep soundly that it was its own kind of frightening. He didn’t quite know how to think about feeling . . . good.

He also didn’t know quite how to think about the way he felt when he was around Caroline Jamison. The fact that he liked that lilting voice of hers didn’t make him feel guilty. The demon who’d always reminded him that he didn’t deserve to be happy seemed to have up and left. Could that be true?