Sixteen Brides (34 page)

“Will wonders never cease,” Zita said from where she stood in the doorway.

“Well, ain’t that somethin’,” Sally echoed from the open window.

Ruth stood speechless, water bucket in hand, beside the seedling trees. Caroline, who’d been watering the seedlings at the opposite end of the house, set her bucket down and waited, shading her eyes with one hand. While the cattle scattered in the general direction of the cottonwood tree and the spring in the distance, Lucas rode up to Ruth.

“Good day, Mrs. Dow. I believe I promised your son some cattle.” He grinned at Jackson, who’d come running from the direction of the barn. “Think you and Sam can manage to keep track of a dozen?”

“I don’t know about me,” Jackson said, “but I’m pretty sure Sam’s up to the task.”

Lucas laughed. “Well, you’ve learned one of the most important lessons in a cowboy’s life. If you’ve got a good horse, listen to what he has to say.”

Matthew rode up to Caroline and dismounted. Ruth didn’t know what he was saying to her, but whatever it was, she seemed to like it.

“You’ll stay for dinner, of course,” Zita said.

The men said they would. Lucas dismounted. When he took off his hat, that same lock of hair fell over his forehead. Ruth wished for a flyswatter.

Somehow Ruth made it through dinner without knocking over a glass or spilling peas down her front. She remembered these feelings from those long-ago days when she was a reasonably attractive young woman invited to dinner by the much-sought-after cadet with the long name. Back then she’d been so nervous she could barely eat, and that’s exactly how she felt now. How ridiculous for a grown woman—a widow and the mother of a half-grown son, no less—to feel this way. She might not be wearing black anymore, but that didn’t mean she should be harboring any notions about Lucas Gray.

Things went from the ridiculous to the absurd when Lucas asked if they could take a walk. Her heart began to hammer. She didn’t wait for him to speak. Instead, she took up the topic she was certain he had in mind. “We are all fine with your cattle grazing on that section of our land this year, but I hope you’ve schooled Jackson in what he needs to know. None of us knows a thing about your longhorns.”

“The cattle will be all right. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” He kept walking. Ruth hurried to keep up. Finally, when they were farther from the house than she cared to wander as the sun went down, he stopped. “You did get the note I sent with Jackson?”

“I did.”

“I wanted to tell you something first. I’ll tell the others when we get back inside, but I didn’t want to ruin a nice dinner with this news. Lowell Day’s serving ten years in the penitentiary at Lincoln. Charlie only got three, but I honestly don’t think he was ever a real threat to any of you. But mostly I wanted to say that I was really sorry to miss that dance. The trial took longer than I expected and then—”

“You went to the trial?”

He looked surprised that she’d ask. “Of course. I always knew I should keep an eye on Lowell. I only hired him because of Clyde. Clyde’s a good man. I wanted to give his brother a chance.” He shook his head. “In a way I feel responsible for what happened. Thank God it worked out as well as it did.” He smiled a slow smile. “But just because I sent a note doesn’t mean I don’t owe you a special apology. It also doesn’t mean I don’t expect you to make good on the promise. Two dances at the very next hoedown.”

Ruth crossed her arms over her body and took a little step back. “That isn’t necessary. We were going to talk business. The business got attended to. That’s what matters.”

“I see.” He didn’t seem pleased, but he guided things away from the subject of dancing. “Well. Maybe we’ll come back to that. You’ll recall the note said I had things to attend to before I could come back into town. Things . . . plural?”

“I remember.”
I memorized every word.

“How much do you know about my . . . history . . . with Matthew?”

Ruth’s hand went to her collar. “Enough to know it’s none of my business.”

“I appreciate your respecting a person’s privacy. But I’ve reasons for wanting you to make it your business. Will you hear me out?” When she nodded, he began. “Matthew and I came out here together. We had a plan. . . .” He told her what Ruth presumed was everything. The whole tragic story. He didn’t try to gloss over his own behavior. She could tell it was difficult for him to form the words, and yet he did, staring off toward the horizon as the setting sun painted his handsome face gold.

“I still can’t believe we just managed a cattle drive together and didn’t come to blows even once.” He shook his head. “Maybe miracles do still happen from time to time.” He smiled at her. “Maybe this is my year for miracles. After all, here I stand on two good legs.”

Ruth didn’t know what to say. Everything he’d just shared was horrible . . . and wonderful. Her mind was whirling so that she almost missed it when Lucas said something about yet more “business” between the two of them.

“I’m going to go for a third miracle.” He lifted her chin. Met her gaze with those cool gray eyes . . . not so cool at the moment. “Would you be open to my calling on you from time to time?”

Ruth pulled away. Gently. She frowned. “You can’t mean that.”

“Why can’t I mean it?”

“Well, because I’m old enough to be your—”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded. “Thanks be to God you’re old enough. I have made inquiries about you, Ruth Dow. You are exactly three years, two months, and fourteen days older than me. You’re also smarter and braver and a heck of a lot more honorable. But you aren’t very good at answering questions sometimes. So I repeat, may I call on you?”

“I don’t . . . know.” She looked toward the house. “I . . . I have Jackson to think of.”

Lucas sighed. “All right. I can respect that. I thought you might react this way at first. Can’t say that I blame you. But I’m not giving up, Ruth. As I told Jackson earlier, if you’ve got a good horse, listen to what he has to say.”

“I fail to see what
that
has to do with this conversation.”

“Hannibal liked you from the start. I should have listened to what he had to say a long while ago.” He glanced toward the house and stepped back. “I have a long ride home in the dark, and I should get started. Are you sure you can’t give me an answer tonight?”

Ruth managed a laugh. “After the long ride home I imagine one of you will come to your senses and regret this little speech.”

“One of us?”

“You or that horse you listen to. But if, for some reason, you and Hannibal both fail in the common sense department, and if you really want to make calls that require hours in the saddle, then yes, you may call. Now, let’s get back to the house before they send out a search party.” As she and Lucas made their way back across the dew-soaked prairie toward the house, he took her hand.

Dear Lord in heaven above, she was going to need a bigger flyswatter.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT

For God hath not given us the spirit of fear;
but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

2 TIMOTHY 1:7

I
n the middle of August, Hettie told her friends that Forrest would be returning to Plum Grove the next week and opening an office in one of the new buildings on the town square. “So Plum Grove will have a real doctor.” She smiled and went on to say that Forrest had sold the house in Missouri along with most of the contents and would store the few things she’d expressed some interest in keeping in the back at the clinic. “He’s living in the upstairs apartment for now. It’s . . . nice.” She glanced at Caroline. “And he’s hired Matthew to build a house on one of the city lots not far from the office.”

“A double lot, actually,” Caroline said.

“Ain’t that a little pushy?” Sally asked.

Hettie shook her head. “No. It’s not like that. Forrest has always had a good head for business. He said it’s a good idea to invest in real estate here in town. At the rate things are going, he says a house that costs a few hundred dollars today could be worth a few thousand someday.”

“Too bad I ain’t got a few hundred dollars,” Sally murmured.

August was such a long month. Especially for a woman missing a man who’d gone back east to marry and communicated very little ever since. “All I know,” Martha said when Ella expressed concern one day over the hay that was going to go to waste over at Jeb Cooper’s, “is that Jeb telegraphed Will to say Elizabeth was ill, and he was going to be delayed. So Will telegraphed back and said he’d see to the haying.”

It was nice, the way the folks in Dawson County took care of one another. Ella didn’t let on that it hurt her not to be invited to the haying. After all, she’d promised Jeb she’d help with haying as payment for his cutting all that sod this past spring. When she talked to Will about it and offered to move Jeb’s livestock over to Four Corners until Jeb got back, she got yet another surprise.

“Well, that’s real nice of you,” Will replied, “and I’m sure that will mean a lot to Jeb, but you don’t need to worry. Frank Darby took the livestock. Jeb gave him a real good price, too.”

“He
sold
them?”

Will nodded. “Said that given Elizabeth’s health, he didn’t know when he’d be able to get back, so it seemed the best thing to do for the time being.”

In mid-September Hettie decided that Zita and Ruth and God— although not in that order exactly—were right, and that while it was likely going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done, it was time to talk with Forrest about the future. She rode into town with the ladies, walking to the clinic while the others shopped. When she opened the front door, a little bell rang. It made her jump.

“I’ll be right out,” Forrest called from the back room. “Just have a seat.”

Hettie sat on one of the oak chairs arranged along the wall in the waiting room, clasping her hands in her lap.

“Hettie.” He smiled. “What brings you to town on a weekday?”

“Sally ran out of thread. Both Caroline and Ruth seemed to think it was an emergency.” She smiled. “Although personally I think they both wanted an excuse to come to town. Caroline walked over to see the progress on our—on the house. Ruth’s up at the mercantile visiting with Martha Haywood.”

“Caroline and Mr. Ransom seem to be . . . close,” he said.

Hettie nodded. “Do you mind if I pull down the shade and put out the closed sign—just for a few minutes?”

Forrest did it for her, then sat down in the chair next to hers.

“Everyone is saying nice things about the new doctor. Nancy Darby seems to have finally been convinced that
you
are the one to attend her confinement . . . not me.”

“Well, it’s nice to be trusted.”

Hettie looked at him over the top of her glasses. She smoothed her palm over her abdomen. The baby kicked. “People always did think you had a nice manner. I’d forgotten that. I’d forgotten a lot of the good things. It all got buried under . . . the rest.”

“I will never forgive myself for what I’ve put you through, Hettie. Never.”

“No.” She held up a hand. “Don’t. That’s not why I’m here.” She cleared her throat. “If it was up to me, I would have run away and kept running. I’d still be running. But for whatever reason, I met up with those ladies on that train and I ended up here. In the middle of nowhere.” She took a deep breath. “I’m glad that happened. I’m glad I didn’t run farther. And . . . I finally think I’m glad you found me.”

She gulped. “You keep saying that you want a chance to prove yourself. I think I’ve always wanted to give you that chance, but I’ve been afraid. Sometimes a person like me needs a little . . . kick—” She smiled as the baby responded appropriately. “A little kick to move them past the fear. I’m still afraid, but I’m being kicked.” She took her husband’s hand and pressed it to her abdomen. “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed, but I’ve only just begun to have to loosen things. I don’t suppose it’s really all that obvious. And you’ve never been all that observant about—” The baby kicked again.

Forrest jerked his hand away, and a whole host of emotions passed across his face. The last one brought tears. He slid to the floor before her and buried his face in her lap and wept. She stroked his dark hair. She was still afraid. But she was also still in love.

It was a beginning.

Martha made quite a show of things. “A letter? For you? Well, now . . . let me see . . .” She pretended to search and then feigned surprise. “Well, would you look at that. There
is
a letter addressed to Mrs. Dow.”

Ruth just shook her head and tucked it in her bag. Lucas was nothing if not creative. She’d only seen him once since he’d asked to call, but that didn’t mean she felt abandoned. Apparently he’d ridden into Plum Grove not long after bringing the cattle to Four Corners, and either the long hours in the saddle had addled his brain or he really was one of the most charming men she had ever known.

It had begun on the first Saturday in August.
I intend to call, although you may not see me as often as I hope we’d both like. We’re having to keep special watches out because of the danger of fire right now, and I can’t leave the boys and go hightailing it off on social calls. Please check with Martha every Saturday when you come to town. I’ve spent a long and very enjoyable day today planning a little something to keep you from forgetting me, but Martha knows to hold back so there’s one for every week.The first “something” is this note, and a request that you make sure to read this week’s edition of the Pioneer.

It had taken Ruth a few minutes to find it, but amongst the columns of ads inviting people to buy six hemmed handkerchiefs for twenty-five cents at the Haywood Mercantile and subscribe to the
Pioneer
for two dollars a year, right below the mention of Graystone Ranch having shipped a carload of “the best beef in the nation” to markets in the east she saw a curious notice. It caught Ruth’s eye because of the line drawing of an elephant. All it said was
Hannibal sends greetings to RD.

The next Saturday, Lucas’s note directed Ruth across the street to the Portrait Gallery. Mr. Lucas Gray had left her a cabinet photo. He’d posed in a suit—Ruth didn’t know he owned one—and looked . . . wonderful. It wasn’t until she got back to Four Corners and took the photograph out by lamplight after everyone else had turned in that she noticed he’d scratched a note on the back.
Hannibal says that someone is missing from this photo. I quite agree.

After that, the notes grew longer.
Wah Lo asked after Mrs. Gates today
.
Pete’s hoping for a chance to dance with Sally again before too long. The boys are already planning all kinds of devilment at Jackson’s expense during spring roundup next year. It means they like him, by the way.
The danger of prairie fires remained high. Lucas said not to worry and ended with another reference to the stallion.
Hannibal doesn’t seem nearly as concerned about the need for rain as the rest of us. He seems to be single-minded in his missing you.

“Aren’t you going to read today’s?” Martha asked.

Ruth started and blushed. She was getting a reputation for being distracted these days, and that would not do. “No. I thought I’d wait until . . .” She didn’t want to admit that she wanted to wait until she was alone. But that was it.

“There’s a package, but you’re supposed to read the note first.” Martha smiled. “I’m doing my best not to be nosy, Ruth, but I don’t mind saying that as the weeks go by, it’s getting more and more difficult.”

Ruth only smiled. She opened the letter.
I hope you aren’t getting bored yet. When you read this I will likely be gone to the cedar canyons north of here cutting fence posts. We’ve renewed all the firebreaks, and I’d like to get more fence run before winter sets in.

I don’t mind telling you that many of the neighbors are bemoaning the influx of homesteaders because of what it means in terms of losing open range. I also don’t mind telling you that I rather like the idea of homesteaders.Martha has a little gift. I hope you will take it in the spirit it is meant. I know it may shock you, but I beg you to consider. I wish I could see your face when Martha brings it out. I can almost hear you scolding me. I don’t mind.Hannibal offers no words of wisdom today. He turns away and sulks.

He’d jotted a postscript.
I imagine either Matthew or Jeb has explained how to make a fireguard, but just to be sure, I’m reminding you to see that it’s done. Try to keep a wagon loaded with empty barrels parked by the well and throw every empty feed sack you’ve got in the back with the barrels. We can talk more about such precautions the next time we’re together. About more than prairie fires, I hope.

The idea that Lucas had gone to such lengths to arm them against fire made her feel at once valued . . . and afraid. When she asked Martha about Lucas’s concerns, the older woman explained. “It’s a danger every spring and every fall. We’re just one big field of wild grass out here, and when frost kills off the green and the roots dry out—” Martha cupped her hands together and pantomimed a small explosion.

“How do they start?”

“Lightning. Hunters. Indians, sometimes.” She leaned over and pointed to Lucas’s note. “But if you do what he says, you’ll be prepared.” She smiled. “I’m not saying the danger isn’t real. I’m saying there’s no reason to stay up nights worrying. It’s like anything else in life. We do what we can to prepare and then trust God.”

She turned around and reached for a bolt of red cloth set apart from the others. “Now. As to Lucas’s gift.” She unfurled the cloth. “I told him you wouldn’t like it. He said to tell you that Hannibal would approve and so would he, although he thought Hannibal’s opinion might carry more weight with you. I have no idea what that means, but he seemed to think you’d find it amusing.”

Martha waited for Ruth to explain. Instead, she just shook her head. If he were here this instant, she would be scolding him. But he’d just grin, and she had no ability to resist that grin. She’d ask Sally to make her something for the Harvest Festival. If Lucas showed up, then she’d show him.