Chapter 11
Seated in the Scott kitchen, Ben savored a sip of coffee and soaked in the warmth of the fire crackling in the hearth.
Even if Cora adamantly refused to meet his gaze, she’d at least invited him to share a meal with them, an unexpected blessing.
Maybe tonight, he’d actually be able to sleep instead of the restless tossing and turning half wakefulness which had plagued him for weeks.
This rustic kitchen was a world away from the chandelier, polished cherry table, silver serving set, and imported carpet of his family’s dining room, with Olivia a short carriage ride away.
Was she still angry with him? She’d come to the train station to see him off with pouty lips and had given him no more than a peck on the cheek.
She was probably accepting gentleman callers in his absence to spite him.
And if she wasn’t, she would be after she received his letter explaining that Jeb’s family was destitute and the situation would take months to remedy.
A letter in which he hadn’t been able to cough up the word love, but had barely managed my dearest and soon to be betrothed.
A letter in which he neglected to mention that Jeb’s mother had passed and left his twenty-four-year-old sister in charge.
He glanced Cora’s way and ventured into uncharted territory. “Finest coffee I ever tasted.”
She arched an eyebrow and set a plate of food in front of him. “A luxury.”
“True.” Getting this woman to accept anything from him, even a small compliment, was as challenging as marching uphill in mud.
“At Andersonville, I dreamed of having a sip of coffee. The only thing better were my dreams of a chunk of freshly baked bread, hard on the outside and soft inside.” His mouth watered at the memory.
“You dreamed about bread?” Charlie quirked his mouth to the side, his bangs falling across his forehead.
“Even the thought of it made my stomach feel a little fuller.” Ben inhaled the aroma of beans busting their seams interspersed with ham. “We used to spend hours planning the first meal we’d have after we were freed.”
“I’d like to hear more about Andersonville.” Cora sat down across from him with a direct glance.
First time he had her earnest attention since the bottle incident, and his words dried up.
His gaze fell on the cornbread in the middle of the table.
“I’ll tell you one thing. Your cornbread may be the best in the county as far as I know, but I don’t know if I can eat it.
They fed us green corn at the prison camp.
Didn’t bother taking the husks out. Just ground it up, baked it, and gave it to us and little else. ”
Charlie scrunched up his nose. “Didn’t that taste terrible?”
He shouldn’t say it, but he did. “There were men willing to eat shoe leather and worse.” Hunger that gnawed a man’s stomach inside out and then started on his soul.
Cora sucked in a breath.
Charlie gaped at him. “Wouldn’t that hurt their teeth? I’ve heard that my mother’s people drink buffalo blood, or if they’re really thirsty, they might drink their own—”
“Charlie.” Cora shot the boy a deep frown.
“I just want to know what the prisoners ate.” Charlie stuffed a spoonful of rice in his mouth.
Ben lowered his gaze and stirred his beans. “That’s all I’m going to say on the matter.” His voice cut sharper than he intended. “Should we say grace?”
A whimper and a flurry of scratching and scraping, like tiny twigs brushing against wood, sounded against the outside door down the hall.
“Jack.” Charlie jumped from his seat.
One look from Cora sat him back down again. She bowed her head, her voice not quite steady. “Let’s say the Lord’s Prayer.”
Stupid of him to give Cora such details about the camp. She didn’t need to know her brother had suffered so.
He mouthed the words of the prayer along with Cora and Charlie. “Our Father who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us…”
Did Cora believe in such forgiveness, or were they just words to her? Goodness knew he had committed more than his share of trespasses. His need for laudanum was a cardinal sin in Cora’s judgment. But that would be nothing compared to what would happen if she discovered he’d failed Jeb.
Prayer finished, Charlie hopped up and opened the door.
Jack scampered in, ran to Charlie’s chair, and then bounded back to paw Charlie’s legs. The boy laughed and scooped the puppy up.
“Not at the table. He stays on the floor.”
“Ahhh,” Charlie mumbled, set the puppy down, and hurried to plop into his seat. “You could tell us about one of your battles, Ben. Did you ride a horse and have a saber?” He palmed a small piece of ham, eyeing his sister to see if she’d noticed.
“Charlie, we’re done bothering Ben with our questions.” She tapped her fork on her tin plate. Wisps of chestnut hair fluttered about the sides of her face. A crinkle extended from the outside corner of each eye. Had the sun or worry etched the first lines on her smooth, youthful face?
Ben stabbed a chunk of ham. “I was in the cavalry and had a fine-looking horse and saber, but your sister’s right. Enough war talk tonight.” He shot Cora a glance and cleared his throat. “I have some questions about the ranch, but if you prefer, they can wait until after dinner.”
She gnawed her lip. “What about the ranch?”
He finished chewing his ham. “I’m wondering what happened to your family’s cattle. Jeb used to talk about the herd, and the round-ups, and accompanying his father to sell cattle in Louisiana.”
“The war is what happened. No men around to do the ranching. Not enough help to take care of the cattle. Ranchers all along the frontier lost their herds.”
He pressed his palms together and touched his fingers to his lips. Her father had been around. Best not to mention it.
“The raids got so bad, family after family moved into Weatherford or farther east to Dallas. The folks north of here in Elm Creek built themselves a fort. Texas formed the Frontier Regiment, but the men were spread so thin, it wasn’t anything a body could count on.”
“So the beeves died or were stolen?”
“Some of them. The rest wandered across the grasslands and woods living wild. Ranchers from the larger spreads have been scouring the prairie for their brands and rounding them up.”
“At least they branded their animals.”
“Sure. The ones that wandered off during the war, but not the calves. There’s three- and four-year-old mavericks out there with no brand. Who’s to say who sired them? There have been disputes.”
“I bet. The kind that could leave a man dead.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m not asking you to get involved in any of that.”
He exhaled and laid his forearms on the table.
“And if I don’t, who will round up your cattle?
” Never mind that his knowledge of the animals didn’t extend much beyond barns and stockades.
But the war had taught him plenty about riding hard, living rough, and rounding up men. Could cattle be that much different?
Cora’s shoulders rose toward her ears. “I hadn’t planned that far ahead yet. I figured the garden combined with hunting would be enough since we owned our land free and clear, or at least I thought we did until Mr. Coffin showed up with the promissory note.”
This girl needed all the help she could get. “Your courage is admirable. Most women would have clung to the safety of town.”
She waved her hand at him like some plantation mistress dismissing a servant. “I had enough of town life and working all day for a pittance. I was done waiting. The war was over. It was time for action.”
Cora lifted her chin. Her gaze fell into his. Unguarded for once. Full of spirit. Lamplight glistened in her blue irises.
His pulse quickened. She was quite a woman. A smile erupted across his lips.
The corners of her mouth twitched upward, but then she seemed to catch herself and glanced away.
Charlie slipped Jack a bite of cornbread. “We like adventure.”
Ben swallowed a spoonful of beans. “I can see that.” He sipped his coffee. “I’d like to hear more about why your sister wants to be a rancher.”
Cora dragged her fork through her rice. “Not much left to tell. Other than the fact that I have no intention of giving up land that too many of my family members worked and died for.” She sat tall, chin lifted.
He’d work together with her on that if she’d let him.
Charlie chimed in. “I bet if the Comanche knew Ben was our friend, he wouldn’t have to worry about them attacking him.”
Ben blinked at the abrupt change in topic.
“That’s not so.” Cora’s voice cut sharp. “And don’t you count on them showing us any special favor. None of us should risk our lives on it.”
The boy’s shoulders drooped.
“Count on what?” Ben quirked his eyebrows upward. “Do they consider you as a friend because of Charl—”
“There’s no ‘they’ about it.” Cora straightened. “The Comanche have dozens of different bands. And then there’s the Kiowa.”
“But you’ve got to tell Ben what happened—”
“That’s a story for a different day.” Cora stood. The blade of her voice softened. “Come put your plate in the wash pan and take Jack with you to check on the horses.”
“All right.” Charlie scuffed his toe, got his plate, and whistled for Jack to follow.
Wagging his white-tipped tail, the puppy padded behind him into the hall.
Ben swallowed the last of his coffee. Maybe he’d best leave, too, and wait a day or so before pushing for an agreement regarding the livestock. Only, he didn’t. “I’m serious about my offer to help round up the cattle.”
She set down the empty plate she’d picked up. “I appreciate—”