The Trouble with Patience (10 page)

Jedediah saddled Charlie and headed out to John Hargrove's ranch, the Cross Bar, glad to leave behind the overcrowded town on this warm summer day. It was always refreshing to quietly ride alone, though his eyes automatically scanned the surrounding woods for any sign of movement. Somebody had stolen Hargrove's cattle, he had found out just this morning. But he was sure whoever it was wouldn't have hung around—either driving the herd on to the nearest town and railroad or hiding them in a coulee. But where?

Today he'd try to gather some clues about it. He wanted to discover the rustler before he—or he and his cohorts—hit other ranches.

The Cross Bar was one of the larger ranches by comparison to others in the area. John Hargrove was one of the first in the territory and had a decent head of cattle and ranch hands to help run it. He and his wife, Judith, had invited him over to supper once
—as much
to get on my good side as anything else
, Jedediah thought with a wry grin. Like now—John was expecting immediate capture of the rustlers and retribution. Well, so much for wishful thinking.

Jedediah knew all there was to know about road agents—enough pilfering of homesteaders and rustling to last him a lifetime. And he also knew it was unlikely that anything would be settled anytime soon . . . if ever.

Cow dogs, barking loud enough to raise the dead, ran to meet him after he secured Charlie and sauntered up the lane to the ranch house. He saw John's wife walk out onto the porch steps, shading her eyes with her hand.

“How do, Miz Judith. John around?”

Jedediah knew John had done himself a favor by marrying Judith. Not only was she a pretty woman, he found her to be just as sweet as she was pretty. And now that she was with child, he could've sworn she was even prettier.
Will I ever be lucky enough
to have a wife that looks like that?
All he knew was that he wanted someone in his life with whom he could share the day's events, accomplish things together, and if he was fortunate, appreciate a lot of cuddling. He'd never had much of that in his life growing up. He figured that's why he had a harder edge to him.
Human touch matters a
lot . . . a whole lot
. Which he of course wouldn't say aloud.

“Hello, Jedediah. Why don't you come up here in the shade? That sun is powerful hot today,” Judith told him as he approached the porch.

“Thanks, but I wanted to speak with John if I could. Do you know when he'll be back?” Jedediah was hoping he'd be close by. Although he'd enjoyed the ride alone, he would hate to have made a trip all the way out here for nothing.

“He didn't say, but I don't think he's too far down the property. Probably toward the south,” she said, pointing. “He and a couple of ranch hands are out checking for any breaks in the fence line. Has anyone else had trouble with the cattle thieves?” she asked, stepping back under the protection of the porch's roof.

“No, ma'am. Not that I know of yet. I'll mosey on in that direction, but if I don't catch up with him, will you let him know I stopped by?”

She nodded with a sweet smile. “I surely will. Come back and have supper again soon now. Particularly if you have news on the rustlers.” She laughed, and Jedediah turned away with a smile and a wave.

He had gone a couple of miles and was about to nudge Charlie back toward town when he spied John and his men. A couple of ranch hands stood next to a fence post, rewiring a section of the barbed wire, and John was still on his horse. Jedediah called out to him, and John waved his hat in greeting. He pulled up alongside the other man's horse.

“Hope you're here to tell me you've found the rustler,” John grumbled in greeting.

“I haven't yet, but I'm wondering if I could ask you and your men a few questions. It might be helpful,” Jedediah said. The ranch hands stood about, listening.

John was chewing on a wad of tobacco and spit a long string on the ground. “Ask away.”

“Were any of your men around that night when the cattle went missing?” He looked at the group of rugged cowboys. A couple of them shook their heads and two others answered yes.

“Where were you two at the time?” he asked them directly.

One of them, a shaggy mustache and beard hiding his mouth, shifted on his feet. “Both of us was up at one of the line shacks on the other end of the prope'ty.”

Jedediah directed his gaze to the other two. “Did you see anything unusual about the time you heard the shots? The ones John said were fired?”

“Can't say I noticed anything,” a younger fellow answered. “Did you, Bob?” he asked, turning to his companion.

Bob squinted his eyes. “You know, 'fore I heard the shot and the cattle scattered, I noticed a flash of blue color—maybe the man's shirt?” He scratched his chin. “I thought it was mighty purty for a man to be wearin'. But other than that, it was dark enough I ain't sure he had somebody helpin' him or not.”

The other guys guffawed and one crowed, “That flash o' blue was prob'ly the lights in your brain from when you fell off that high-strung stallion the other day!” There was another round of laughter and elbow poking.

“All right now—cut out the shenanigans,” John commanded sternly.

Jedediah filed the information away. “Were the shots, then, only fired from one direction?”

The younger man answered, “I believe so, Marshal.”

“Thanks for answering a few questions. Appreciate your time.” Jedediah nodded at the men.

“Jed, why don't you stay for supper? I'm sure Judith would like to see somebody else's face across the table—hear what's happening in town,” John said.

“I'd like to, but maybe some other time, John.”

“You got it. Let me know if anything develops.”

“I will.” He swung Charlie around. “By the way, where was Monty during all the ruckus?”

“You'd have to ask him. He rode over to Virginia City this morning.”

“Sure enough, next time I see him.” Jedediah galloped off, leaving the men to get on with stretching barbed wire.

Monty must've been off seeing a lady friend.
At
least he has one.

The summer heat built to near sweltering during the day, and thunderclouds slowly formed over the dusty town. Patience and Emily had the windows wide open to catch any cooler breeze that might happen along.

“I do smell rain in the air, and it will be a welcome relief from this heat,” Patience noted with a glance outside. She and Emily were at the dining room table going over the list of boardinghouse tasks.

“I agree. The only good thing about summer in Montana is that it usually cools down after dark.” Emily was copying the list in longhand for her personal use. “I'm not much of a cook, but I can make beds and dust,” she said, glancing again at the list.

Patience laughed. “And I'd much rather be baking, although the kitchen is not the place to be with the heat like it is.”

“I've heard nothing but compliments from boarders when it comes to your cooking, Patience. Maybe some of it will rub off on me.” Emily smiled, tapping her pencil against her cheek. “We could both do the shopping for the pantry.”

“Good idea. That way we can have a respite from our usual work. I plan to start cutting the fabric for the parlor curtains this afternoon. Do you sew, Emily?”

“I've done some, but I'd be glad to learn more from you.”

“After I get the curtains done, I want to rearrange the furniture—what little we have. I've been squirreling away money to save for one or two more dining room chairs. You can help me decide what will go well in that room.”

“I'd enjoy that. What we need is music! Music is great entertainment—perhaps a piano.”

“Now hold on there a minute.” Patience giggled. “One thing at a time. I doubt I'll ever have enough money for such an extravagance.”

“I'd love to learn to play the piano. It's possible that we could find a used one. Oh!” Emily clapped in her excitement. “We could sing Christmas carols and place ivy and candles all around the parlor, have an old-fashioned Christmas party—”

“Decorating the room, yes, but a piano?” Patience inserted quickly. “I'm afraid that's out of the question for a very long time.”

“Do you know how to play a piano?”

Patience closed the writing tablet. “Oh, yes. My mother insisted that I learn, and I hated it at the time, but I learned to love it. I like singing too. Do you like to sing?”

“Yes—”

The doorbell chimed, and Emily pushed her chair back and went to answer the door. A few moments later she called from the hallway, “Patience, you have a visitor.”

Patience reached up to pat her hair into place, hoping she was presentable.
Too late to remove my apron. Perhaps another boarder?

“Is this a bad time?” Jedediah said as he removed his hat and walked into the room. “Looks like you're working.”

Patience had stood to her feet. “Hello, Jedediah. No, it's not a bad time. We were just finishing. Is there something I can do for you? Are you about to hit the trail again?”

“No, not yet, though I may have a posse rounded up in a few days . . .” He didn't explain further.

“Are you interested in a room?” Patience teased. Of course she knew the answer to her question.

He chuckled. “No, no I'm not. But it does sound better than the cot upstairs above the marshal's office. I'm afraid my position doesn't pay well enough for such a nice place as you have here, though.”

This was a more courteous, amenable tone than what Patience was using to hearing from him. “Won't you have a seat, then?”

He pulled out a chair and placed his hat on the table.

Patience caught Emily's glance from Jedediah to her and gave her a little nod.

“Would you care for some refreshment?” Emily quickly offered, making to move toward the kitchen. “A cup of coffee or tea perhaps?”

“Don't mind if I do. Coffee sounds good, if you have some ready.”

Emily smiled and told him they did. She slipped past them to the kitchen.

“Now, Jedediah,” Patience said, cocking her eyebrow, “if it's not boxed lunches and not a room you need to rent—or some crime I'm guilty of—what brings you here this afternoon?” She began clearing the paperwork and pencils to make room for their coffee. She hoped he knew she was only teasing.

Jedediah leveled a gaze at her for a moment. “Not cattle thieves, I can assure you.”

“Well?” The word hung in the quiet air except for the ticktock from the clock in the parlor.

“I came to ask you to the Hargrove dance on Saturday,” he blurted out, his mustache twitching and his gaze skittering away in the direction of the big china hutch.

Her breath caught and she mourned silently. If she'd only known he might ask, she never would have accepted Cody's invitation! “I'm so sorry,” she began slowly, but then her words stumbled over each other. “I have—have already been asked. I have an escort for the dance. But I do thank you.” He had turned back to face her, and their eyes seemed to lock. Why was he looking at her like that?
Say something . . . anything.

He cleared his throat as Emily returned with the three cups on a tray.

“I brought us a couple of sugar cookies also,” she said cheerfully. She eyed Patience with an arched brow, her expression asking what was happening. But Patience avoided Emily's gaze and held the plate of cookies over to Jedediah, who merely shook his head. Emily gave them each a cup and sat down again.

Trying to break the silence, Patience told him, “Emily is my partner for the boardinghouse. She's already proved to be an asset.”

“And I'm excited about working here and thrilled Patience made me a partner.” Emily bit into her sugar cookie around a smile.

Jedediah grunted and took a long drink of coffee. “Then
it's the restaurant's loss, for sure.” He looked over the rim of his cup at Patience. “I thought money was tight right now.”

Ah—there was the suspicious man she knew. “Not that it's any of your concern, Jedediah,” she answered tartly, “but I have nearly a houseful of boarders now, and that's helped a great deal.”

A rumble of thunder sounded outside.

Jedediah's jaw muscle twitched. “Good to know you're making a go of it, Patience.” He downed the rest of his drink, then stood, reaching for his hat. “Better get on my way now. Sounds like we might be in for a storm.”

“I'll show you out,” Patience offered. “Emily, will you clear the table so we can cut the fabric?”

“Yes, of course. Goodbye, Marshal.” He murmured a goodbye and followed Patience to the door. When she opened it, rain was beginning to fall, and people hurried up and down the boardwalk for shelter. Jedediah gave off a pleasant scent of leather and shaving soap as he walked past her. She couldn't remember him ever being so quiet.

“I do hope I will see you at the dance,” she said quickly, “and I did mean it when I thanked you for thinking of me.”

He paused at the doorway, and his nearness unnerved her. “Don't mention it.” He donned his hat and pulled up his collar against the rain and wind. “By the way, who's the lucky man?”

“Cody,” she answered. “He—he asked me just this week.”
What's wrong with me?
she thought, licking dry lips. But she knew it was his penetrating eyes that now held a softness she didn't know he was capable of.

“Then tell Cody that you're saving a dance for me!” He turned and strode into the storm.

That last comment to Patience was forced, and Jedediah tried to rein in his disappointment as he headed up the boardwalk to his office in the downpour. He'd worried all morning about asking Patience to the dance, planned what he might say, imagined her response, and had finally gotten up the nerve to ask her. He felt foolish now. He walked with his Stetson pulled forward, head down, to avoid the worst of the stinging rain in his face. And so it was he walked smack-dab into Millie, who was fighting to open her umbrella in the wind but getting drenched in the process.

“Sorry, Millie! Here, let me help you,” he said, steadying her by the elbow.

“Jedediah! We meet again. I declare,” she said, still struggling with the umbrella. “This thing is stuck—just plain hard to open.”

Jedediah took it in hand and in a second had popped the umbrella up and held it over her. “It won't do you much good now with all this blowing wind.” He avoided looking at her soggy dress clinging to her shapely form.

“Thank you so much, Marshal. Please, won't you step inside Hannah's and have a cup of coffee with me? Let's get out of this miserable storm.”

“I'd love to, Miss Millie, but not this time,” he said as he passed the handle of the umbrella to her. He paused a moment, then looked under the edge of the umbrella into her face. “Uh . . . but since we meet again, would you care to go to the Hargrove dance with me? That is if you don't already have an escort. I'm a bit late asking . . .” Maybe this way he could keep an eye on Cody and get his chance to dance with
Patience. Besides, Millie was a good-looking woman. Maybe Patience would notice, wish she was the one on his arm.

“Well, Jedediah, I'm flattered.” Millie was dabbing raindrops from her face. “Yes, I'd love to go with you. I wouldn't miss all that fun and frivolity.” She batted her eyelashes, her brown eyes full of merriment.

He pulled his collar up higher. “Good! I'll let you get outta this rain before you get washed away.”

“Yes, let's do that. See you soon.” She hurried on her way, leaving him wondering if asking her to the dance had been that good of an idea.

Back at his office, he ran upstairs, toweled off, and quickly changed. He spread his wet clothes across the foot of the bed to dry. He smacked his wet hair down, trying to tame the waves. He hadn't many clothes, but he took out his black coat to examine it for moth holes. About the only time he wore it was to church—the few times he went. There was a small hole near the first button, where some type of bug had eaten through. Hopefully, if he wore a dark shirt underneath maybe it wouldn't be noticeable. He heard the door open below, so he left his coat hanging on the wardrobe to air out and went down to the office.

“'Bout time you showed your purty face, Jed.” Joe peered over at him from the doorway, dressed in his usual—dungarees caked with mud on bowed legs tucked into the tops of heavy boots, and a beat-up old hat folded back along the front brim. He also dripped water all over the floor.

“Now, Joe, I know you just walked in 'cause I heard the door open. What's up?” Jedediah eyed him for signs of liquor, but decided he was sober for now.

“Not much, really. Got tired o' working on the claim that's
'bout near petered out. I'll either have to move on or call it quits—which at my age is sounding better 'n better all the time.” He pulled on his long gray beard, looking like his mind was somewhere else.

Jedediah chuckled. “You know you're not about to leave this town, Joe. You've threatened me with that before.”

Joe snorted. “There's a possibility I'd stay if I had a good woman for those long winter nights.”

“You? Aren't you a bit long in the tooth for such?”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Not long as I can still breathe, I ain't! What about Hannah at the bakery? She's a nice looker and a widder to boot. She's prob'ly thinkin' 'bout next winter too—”

“You don't stand a chance, Joe, unless you can clean up your act. How 'bout a cup of java?”

Joe licked his lips and Jedediah wondered if he was considering something stronger. “Guess I could manage a cup.”

“You know that other stuff is going to rot your gut, don't you?” Jedediah looked him square in the eyes.

“Now don't you go to preaching at me. I ain't got a whole lot to live for in the first place. Or nobody.” He shuffled over to the coffeepot, dripping water behind him.

Jedediah knew the man's past—how he'd lost his family to an Indian attack on the Bozeman Trail west. Joe had never talked about it to anyone but him. How he'd earned that trust, Jedediah wasn't sure. “Oh, come on now. Don't go feeling sorry for yourself.” He took the coffee mugs from Joe and filled them from the pot. The rain continued hitting the tin roof with loud pings.
A dismal day indeed
, he thought, handing one cup to Joe.