Chapter 16
Cora dipped a sprig of dried rosemary into a bowl of marinade and brushed it across the venison roast on the spit. The roast, driven by the mechanical spit jack, slowly turned beneath the needle-like leaves. As she stood, she cast a side glance at Ben’s scuffed boots, crossed at his ankles.
He leaned against the cupboard, grinding peppercorns with a mortar and pestle. Too comfortable, too familiar in the close confines of the kitchen.
She dusted her hands on her canvas apron. “If you have work to do, I could call you when it’s ready.”
“I’m going to work on the buck hide after supper, but first, I want to finish telling you about the settlers.” A smile lit his face. “Running into Major Ramsey today was a godsend. I believe he and his family could become good friends.”
“Friends with you.” She wasn’t exactly the most social person in the county.
When was the last time she had a close friend?
Jeb, in addition to being her brother, had been her best friend ever.
And Frank Taylor? A beau. Smiles, horse rides, dances, and moonlit walks.
A flurry of stomach tumbles, but had there ever really been any depth of feeling?
“With us,” Ben corrected her and handed her the pepper.
Us again. “It would only be temporary.”
“Temporary?” A frown swiped the sunshine from his face.
“I…I mean, you’d only be friends for a little while until you have to head back East.”
His countenance stiffened as hard as the pestle he set down on the table next to the cupboard.
She squinched her eyes shut for a moment. She should have kept the comment to herself. But the reminder was good for both of them. In a few weeks, a few months, he would leave. That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? Then what? She’d be safe. Or would his departure leave a gaping hole in her life?
Pepper granules tumbled onto the hearth as Cora overshot her mark in seasoning the roast.
Ben exhaled. “I hope they’ll be your friends even when I do return to Philadelphia.
It’d comfort me to know you have good-hearted, dependable people like them to turn to in times of need.
” He crossed his arms. “Besides, when I make a good friend, there’s nothing temporary about it. ” His stare bored into her.
A huge part of her prayed that was so. That Ben McKenzie would be her friend no matter what.
Her stupid heart ached for it. She dropped her gaze to the kettle where sliced carrots and turnips jumped about in simmering water, and reaching up, she grabbed a stirring spoon from a hook.
“You can invite them here sometime. Though thirty miles is a huge distance. Most people wouldn’t travel that far unless it’s for cattle or a barn raising. ”
“I believe you could count on the Ramseys whenever you have need.” His tone lost its hard edge, but the crevice between his eyebrows remained.
“The Reynolds, too, for that matter.” He slipped a stem of dried parsley from the bundle hanging from the string overhead.
“I didn’t tell you the most interesting part.
Mrs. Ramsey and her sister were captives of the Comanche. ”
Cora stopped stirring and gaped up at him. “What?”
“Mr. Ramsey didn’t share all of the details.
Just pulled me aside after I’d met the whole family and said I’d probably hear it elsewhere sooner or later, but the two women were captured in their youth and lived with the Comanche for years.
After a while, it was of their own free choice.
The little girl I told you about is the daughter of Mrs. Ramsey and her late Comanche husband. Mr. Ramsey adopted the girl as a baby.”
Cora stepped away from the hearth. “There was a family…well, there have been many families who’ve lost loved ones to the Comanche.
But this family was attacked north of here in ’53, the year we immigrated to Texas.
Shook my parents up. My father and uncle insisted that my mother and us children stay in Dallas while they traveled ahead and built a log cabin.
They wanted us to be safe.” Back when her father was a provider and a protector.
She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her mother had wanted to turn back. It’d been evident in her eyes and in the tremble in her hand, but she hadn’t said a word. Her loyalty was to her husband and his dream. Going back to the past he’d lost for them in Tennessee wasn’t an option.
“I’d always wondered what had happened to the two girls.
The men in the area gathered a posse, but nothing came of it.
Then, seven years later, shortly before the war, the cavalry found one of the girls, all grown up.
She had a baby with her. The story was in all the papers.
Some said she was the wife of a war chief, and he’d died in the battle trying to help her escape. This might be her.”
“Very well could be.” Ben rubbed the back of his neck. “Major Ramsey served in the cavalry before the war and was stationed at Camp Cooper.”
Cora shivered. If her family had arrived on the frontier before Mrs. Ramsey’s family all those years ago, Mrs. Ramsey’s fate could have been hers.
Only a matter of a few days had separated Cora’s family from heading down the same trail.
She could only imagine the pain and suffering the woman had gone through as a girl.
“I’m thankful to learn she’s all right. That she has her own family now, and a husband who loves her. ” Would she ever have that?
“Yes, the two look very happy together.” Ben sighed.
She turned her focus to the venison roast, spreading out the pepper with the rosemary sprig.
Silence engulfed them. The heavy air filled with nothing but the crackling of the fire and the low rumble of the boiling water.
In the yard, Jack barked a playful yelp, but in here, there was just the two of them.
What would it be like to have Ben as a close friend, the kind of friendship he’d had with Jeb?
Loyal, standing by each other no matter what.
What would it be like to be more than friends, to have him court her? To be his wife?
Cora’s stomach waffled. Where had that last thought come from? Time to slap some distance between her and Ben. “You mentioned that you have a…that you have a sweetheart back in Philadelphia. Did you say you were betrothed?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he crossed his arms. “I reckon that depends on how you define betrothed.” He straightened and walked over to the dry sink, emptying the bucket of water he’d hauled in here fifteen minutes before.
“What’s that mean?”
He dangled the bucket against his leg. “It means I put my future with Olivia on hold because I wanted to come here and fulfill my promise to Jeb before I entangle myself in an even deeper commitment.”
“Entangle?” The word fluttered across her lips before she could stop it.
“Excuse me?” He arched his eyebrows.
“Nothing.”
“You said something.”
“Just that you should go call Charlie to supper. It’s time to wash up.”
Entangled. That was the word he used. That didn’t sound like a man eager to marry. Didn’t sound like a man in love. The thought should worry her, but it didn’t. Instead, it was like the first strike of dawn to a morning glory’s enclosed petals.
Ascattering of oak, hickory, and hackberry dotted the outskirts of Mr. Gary’s yard amongst a swath of brown and green grasses.
Hopefully, Goodnight hadn’t moved on from here in the couple of days since Ben had ridden into town to inquire of his whereabouts.
He glanced at the gathering of cowhands by the corral beyond the barn and held his arm out to Cora.
“Why don’t you hold on to me for now, show them we’re together?
Otherwise, they might swoop over to see you like honeybees to a blossom. ”
“I hardly think so.” She lifted her gaze to him, blue eyes deep as a sunset sky today, shaded beneath the brim of a neatly woven straw hat. A red ribbon fluttered down the back against her hair. A small crease formed between her eyebrows.
“You don’t know how long they’ve been out on the range thirsting for a lady’s smile.” Or how you outshine them all.
She rolled her eyes. “Well, to be safe…” She curled her fingers ever so lightly around his elbow.
His heart skipped a beat at her touch. Steady, McKenzie.
Two-thirds of a day riding at her side had definitely gone to his head, despite the fact the conversation had focused on the business of ranching.
The barrage of questions from Charlie about the battles Ben had fought in had been the only verbal detour.
Nothing personal on Cora’s part, and nothing touching on Andersonville.
Or Philadelphia. A subject to be avoided as much as his days at the prison camp.
Along the railing, men clapped and cheered as one of their number tried his hand at a bronc. A cowhand shot up above the crowd’s heads every few seconds as the horse beneath reared and bucked. According to the lady at the main house, Mr. Goodnight was supposed to be amongst the spectators.
Charlie ran ahead, plowing his way through tall grasses reaching almost to his hips rather than detouring to the worn path.
Thud. A collective groan arose from the men, and the horse galloped to the end of the corral beyond the crowd, a stout blue-gray beauty with fire in its eyes and a muscular frame built for strength, unusually large for a quarter horse.
No saddle, only a rope rigging and a bridle.
The rider must have been insane to try to master such a creature with so little gear.
“Howdy, miss.”
“Howdy, ma’am.” A couple of fellows made way as Ben led Cora to an empty spot at the railing next to Charlie.
The boy dangled over the second rung halfway to his waist as if he might decide to scurry into the action at any moment.
“Whoa.” Cora slipped her hand from Ben’s arm and grabbed ahold of the boy’s suspenders, tugging him back a foot. “You need to stay put.”