Chapter 8
“So then I got a hoof right in the belly.”
Cassie had talked every second since Red came in for dinner. She hadn’t scolded him yet, but he’d earned the sharp side of her tongue several times since they’d left Silas and Belle’s. Strange, given how quiet she’d been when they were first married. How careful to be obedient.
Those were the good old days.
After a week with Belle, Red’s wife was now just looking for an excuse to yell at him. It was all Red could do not to be ornery, just to let Cassie have her fun. Honestly, it was all pretty lightweight as far as bossiness went. His sweet little wife just didn’t have a mean bone in her body.
Cassie gently wiped mashed potatoes off Susannah’s face, wrinkling her nose to get the toddler to smile.
Red had added onto their little soddy, making a log house about three times the size of the first cabin.
Of course, three times the size was still about half the size of a normal home.
They still used a cave as their bedroom and a second, smaller cave with a chilly spring running through it for a cold cellar.
“You think we need to make the house bigger, Cass, honey? Does the baby keep you awake at night?” Red took the cloth from Cassie.
“Here, let me do that. You’ve got your hands full.
We could add on a bedroom as we did for Susannah and move him just that little bit farther away from us if you’re tired.
I wake up faster’n you at night, and I’d be able to go cheer him up most of the time. ”
Cassie finished with Susannah, then looked at the wriggling little boy in Red’s lap with a fond smile.
“He is a terror, isn’t he? Why will the child not sleep through the night?
” She ran her hand over Michael’s curls, and Red felt as if she were touching him.
She’d been so thrilled when the little boy had his daddy’s hair.
Between her cute, newfound toughness and the way she touched little Michael, Red hated to ruin the moment. But he respected her enough to be honest. “Cassie, I’ve waited until we’re about done eating to tell you something important.”
His Cassie had a sensitive soul. She looked up straight into his eyes, knowing this was serious. “What is it?”
Red turned Michael against his chest so he could pat a burp out of him—also to stall a few seconds.
If only he could smooth out all of life’s bumps for his wife and family.
“I’ve…I’ve got cattle missing. Someone from the Jessup ranch stopped in every day while we were gone to do chores and check the herd.
Walt, the Jessup foreman, came by this morning, not knowing we’d gotten back.
He told me he found a carcass that had been butchered right on the range.
Well, a cow can wander off, but Walt thinks several head are missing.
It’ll take a while to run a tally, but Walt’s a mighty knowing man.
If he says he’s worried, then I’m worried too. ”
A line formed between Cassie’s pretty dark-brown eyes.
Red regretted laying any trouble on her, but she needed to know. “I’ll do some tracking and hopefully pick up a trail and get to the bottom of it. But you need to be on guard.” But maybe he could cheer her up. “You’d better keep that blade Belle gave you close to hand.”
Cassie sat up straighter as if almost hoping she’d get a chance at a knife fight with a rustler.
Too bad Red couldn’t have a long talk with Belle Tanner…
Harden…for putting ideas in Cassie’s head.
The woman was trouble and that was a fact.
Silas had his hands full, and yet he seemed to be a happy man.
Which Red wouldn’t be if he tussled with Belle.
The woman was tougher than a full-grown longhorn and twice as dangerous.
Then there was Abby—the way she’d stabbed that rattler, then planned to eat it. Abby had also saved Cassie and Susannah.
The West-bred women were tough, and his wife was learning to protect herself.
No matter how much Red tried never to leave her in jeopardy, he couldn’t be at her side every minute of every day.
But even if she wasn’t as tough as Belle and Abby—well, he couldn’t help thinking that, when it came to women, he’d gotten the best end of the deal.
Red stood up and, with no wasted motion, plunked Michael onto the floor, then swept Cassie up and sat back down.
She giggled. “Red, what are you doing?”
Red reached out and loosened the towel that kept Susannah secure in her chair, then set her on the floor so she wouldn’t fall. That left Red free to kiss his sweet little wife thoroughly.
“I’m just letting you know, I think I’m the luckiest man who ever lived.” He gave silent thanks to God that he’d gotten the best of the three women and made sure Cassie knew he felt that way by the strength of his arms and the depth of his kisses.
He only quit kissing her when Susannah’s slaps on his knee and shouts of “Papa!” got his attention. How long had the little girl been whacking at him?
Cassie stood, then her knees sagged and Red supported her until she could support herself.
When he was sure she was steady, he plunked Michael into Cassie’s arms and lifted a fussy Susannah high over his head.
She giggled as he hugged her tight and scratched her chubby neck with his whiskered cheeks.
“You know what I think we oughta do, Cass, honey?”
She had that wide-eyed, obedient look that Red had come to cherish because he saw it so rarely these days. “What, Red?”
“I think while we’ve still got a little daylight left, we oughta go practice throwing that knife of yours. I think you could teach me a few things.”
Cassie’s obedience faded to something much warmer and livelier. She threw her one free arm around his neck, and even with both young’uns between them, they managed to while away so much time, there wasn’t enough light to get any serious practice in before bedtime.
Wade came into the house for breakfast to find Gertie and Abby talking and happily working side by side. “Abby, you want to come out and see the ranch?”
“I will stay and help Gertie. We have a full morning planned cleaning this monstrosity. What foolishness.”
Gertie snickered. “You go on out with Wade. The hands should be stirring by now, and I’ll have breakfast ready when you get back. Something tells me you’ll be happier outside than in, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to turn down your help.”
Wade suppressed a sigh of relief when Abby turned to him, removing the apron Gertie had her swathed in.
He dreaded facing the cowhands. He had to earn their respect although he’d never managed it before.
But Gertie had said these were nearly all new hands.
Maybe they wouldn’t have judged him already as a weakling and a coward, a view his father openly held.
Abby hung her apron on a nail beside the kitchen door. She wore the same dress she had yesterday and had her hair neatly braided. But she still also wore her moccasins, and her braid was tied back with a leather thong. She’d packed her doeskin dress too.
He could also see the small raised place at her waist, in back, where she tucked her knife. It was an unsettling mix of civil and savage that Wade found wildly appealing.
“I would like to see your ranch. My father raised cattle. I have only flashes of memories from my white family, but I remember a barn with horses and a herd of sandy-brown cattle with long horns.”
Wade held the door open for her, and she stopped to stare. Gesturing outside, he said, “After you.”
“After I what?” Her brow beetled.
Wade smiled. “I mean, I’m holding the door open so you can go first.”
With a shrug, Abby went outside, and Wade followed her. They walked side by side toward the massive barn, one of three huge buildings his father had built, connected by corrals, all set to best block the force of the winter winds.
Wade moved ahead of her and held the door to the closest barn, the one where the horses were taken to foal or heal from injuries. As they entered the warm building, the smell of hay and horses and leather evoked a warm memory of home. He’d always loved the horses best.
As Wade came in behind Abby, four cowboys he didn’t recognize were loafing around, while a grizzled old man who had been with Wade’s father for years brushed a mare with a new baby foal at her side.
“Chester, hello.”
The old-timer straightened and laid his brush aside. “Wade?” His voice was kind.
Wade had learned most of what he knew about horses from working with Chester. The man had a kindly way with animals and had always been patient with Wade too.
Emerging from the stall, he came forward quickly, his hand extended. “Good to see you, boy.” The man’s grip was solid. He turned to the cowboys lolling about. “Come and meet the boss’s son. He’s here to take the reins. And about time too.”
The men stood quickly, exchanging glances. One of them, skinny with a weak chin and mean eyes, seemed unable to take his eyes off Abby. Wade could understand that—women were scarce in and around Divide, Montana. That didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted to punch the guy in the nose.
Then Wade noticed another one staring between him and Abby as if he didn’t know which one interested him more.
The man had two missing fingers on his left hand.
He was broad and running to fat, with blue eyes that looked cold as death.
He stepped forward in a way that told Wade this man was in charge.
Chester jerked his head at the leader of the pack of loafers. “Wade, this here is Sid Garver. He’s the foreman of the M Bar S now, ever since the old foreman took off.”
“Otis took off? He’d been here forever.”
“He vanished just after your pa’s accident, and then Sid got the foreman job.”
Something in Chester’s voice made Wade wary of Sid Garver, as Wade was sure Chester intended.
“Sid”—Chester turned to the scowling man—“this is Mort Sawyer’s son. His pa sent word that he needed his help, and Wade came home to take up the reins until his pa gets better.”
“He’s not gettin’ better, and you know it, Chester. No man gets over a broken back.” Garver tugged his Stetson low over his eyes.
Chester sniffed. “Where there’s life, there’s hope. Somethin’ my ma used to say. As long as Mort’s alive, there’s a chance he can get better. Anyway, he can still rule this ranch with Wade here to be his eyes and ears.”
Garver turned to Wade. “Welcome home, boy. I heard you’d quit the country long ago. Heard ranching didn’t suit you, that you’d gone looking for a life that didn’t get your hands dirty.”
The other men, all but Chester, laughed.
The sting of those words sapped the stiffness out of Wade’s spine.
He wanted to turn away, slink off and hide.
It’s what he’d have done before he found God.
But he wasn’t the same boy. He was a Christian.
That might not make him a rough-and-ready cowhand with a quick draw, but it was a better strength, one that would last.
“Sid, that’s the last time you’ll call me a boy, and if I hear another insult from you, you’ll draw your time and hit the road. Is that clear?” Wade stood straight, holding Garver’s eyes.
“I was hired by your pa, and he’ll be the only one to fire me.” Garver crossed his arms.
Wade turned to Chester. “Have you finished the roundup yet?”
“Haven’t even started it.” Chester narrowed his eyes at the other cowhands. “And it’s plumb late in the season.”
“All right, let’s go ask Pa if early June is high time to be doing the spring roundup. You want to go in now and explain to him why it’s not done? Then we’ll see if Pa will back me.”
Garver’s beefy fists dropped to his sides. “I was starting today, anyway.”
“I’m glad we agree.” Wade watched Garver as his hands swung too close to his holster. The man wore his gun on the left, which meant he was left-handed, the same hand that had the two fingers farthest from his thumb missing. “Is there grass in the south canyon?”
“Yep, plenty,” Chester answered.
With a jerk of his chin, Wade said to the cowhands, “Let’s spend the next three days bringing the cattle in there. We’ll take the Lord’s day off, then be ready to start branding come Monday. Can you handle that, Garver? Have you got any men who’ll spend their time working instead of loafing?”
“I can handle it.” Garver’s jaw was so tight, the words were barely audible.
“Glad to hear it. I saw on my ride in that the grass is overgrazed in the west valley. Let’s move those cattle first.” Wade studied the man for a second longer. “Have we met before, Garver? I can’t place you, but something about you is familiar.”
“I’ve never seen you before in my life.” Garver made a sudden move with his left hand, and for a fraction of a second, Wade braced, expecting the man to draw his gun. Instead, Garver shoved his disfigured hand into his pocket. “Let’s get cracking, men.” He stormed out of the barn.
The rest of the hands tagged along with none of the speed and determination Wade expected to see from cowhands in the spring. He watched them closely, still a bit shaken by something he couldn’t put his finger on. Once they were out of earshot, he turned to Chester. “We need to have a long talk.”
Chester dipped his head. “I heard you were around, at the Dawsons’ and working at other ranches, doing some cattle drives. The best hands have moved on, driven off by Garver and the sluggards he’s hired.”
“And it’s not like Otis to up and leave. He’d stick by Pa.”
“There’s more, but for now, it’ll have to wait. I’m glad to have you home. You’re dead right that we need to get hustling on the roundup. I’ve tried to start it, but Garver’s been against me every step. And you’re looking fit. I’ve heard you’ve made some good changes in your life.”
“I’m glad to be here, Chester.” Wade realized with a start that he was telling the truth.
Chester headed for the barn door, then turned back, his eyes somber and steady. “Watch your back, Wade. There’ve been too many accidents on this ranch, and that includes your pa’s.”
Nodding, Wade said, “I’ve never known the man to fall off a horse in his life.”
“I don’t want the next accident to happen to you or your pretty woman here.” Chester tugged his hat down low over his eyes and left.
Wade glanced at Abby, who had stood quietly through the tense meeting with Garver, her hand tucked in the folds of her skirt. “You can put the knife away now.” He couldn’t control a flicker of a smile.
“For now. But those men look evil.” Abby shrugged and returned her knife to its carefully concealed sheath. “Don’t be surprised if I keep it close at hand.”
Chuckling, Wade said, “I’d be surprised if you didn’t. Let’s go see the rest of the buildings. Then we can go turn you and your bad attitude loose on Pa.”