“And she comes across as very humble—” Matthew started to say, but Genevieve held up her hand to stop him.
“Wait a moment now. Have you been too forward with questions about her appearance or her intelligence? Son, that isn’t seemly. She may get the impression that you are only thinking of her beauty or her smarts when there are far more important considerations. You’ll frighten the girl off if she fears you’ll put her back on the train if her appearance doesn’t suit you!”
“Mother, I never said anything of the sort!” Matthew said, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. “I only meant that she does not seem like the kind of person who would boast about herself. I have surmised that she’s been running a boarding school all alone for nearly a year now, but yet she takes no credit for the work.”
“Oh, so she’s good with children?” Genevieve asked pointedly, and Matthew merely rolled his eyes.
“I suppose you could say that,” he replied, already weary of their conversation. “I have not asked her anything of the sort… I wouldn’t want her to think I’m only seeking a broodmare instead of a wife!”
“Matthew! Oh, the things you come up with to say!” Genevieve replied, pretending to be shocked. Instead she tried to glare fiercely but gave up when she was overcome by laughter.
“I must be getting on now,” he said, standing up and kissing his mother’s cheek before handing his plate to Gertie. “Uncle John is coming up early to help me mark the newest calves. I promised we’d meet early since he has other things to do later.”
John was waiting when Matthew emerged from the house, and together they walked to the pen the hands had built for corralling the new calves. Outside the perimeter of the newly constructed fencing, their mothers waited anxiously, shifting their weight from one hoof to the next or bellowing softly to their young.
“Now what exactly are we doing to these young ‘uns?” Matthew asked, smirking.
“I done told you!” John replied with a smile. “We’re marking ‘em so they can be identified from your herd, but this method is better than a brand.”
“And you’re sure it’s going to last as long?”
“Of course. Have you ever seen one of those roughnecks in town, like the ones who’d hired on to merchant vessels or sailing ships? Did you see what they’ve got up and down their arms?” John asked, running his hand along his forearm for emphasis.
“Yes. Most of them look quite grotesque,” Matthew said, shuddering slightly in disgust.
“Well, those are marks they got while traveling the world. They even pay good money to have it done!” John stopped laughing and looked serious. “We’re going to do the same thing, only to these little ones’ ears. That way, your ranch’s tag will be on ‘em but they can’t be cut off if someone steals part of your herd. Besides, any buyer who wants the skin for leather won’t have to worry about a giant brand burned into the hide. This will not only keep your cattle safer, it’ll help ‘em fetch a higher price when it’s time to sell.”
“I do like the sound of that!” Matthew agreed. “So tell me how we’re gonna do it.”
John explained the process of marking the calves’ ears with permanent ink that was scraped into the flesh. Matthew watched carefully as John wrestled a calf into the rope harness suspended between two walls of fencing, then set about putting the ranch name and the animal’s number on the pink flesh inside its droopy ear.
“She don’t seem to like that none,” John remarked as the first calf bellowed pitifully and tried to thrash her way free. “But that’s only ‘cause she don’t know how much branding smarts!”
“I don’t know, branding is harsh but it seems to be over quicker,” Matthew replied, furrowing his brow and remaining unconvinced.
“Then you must not have ever had a deep burn, the kind that scars you for life,” his uncle said. “The pain of that burn can last for days, maybe even weeks. This will stop hurting pretty much as soon as I’m done and let her run back to her mama over there.”
They finished the first calf and released it through a small gate in the pen, then went to round up another. As they worked, John said, “Speaking of running back to yer mama… what’s this I hear about you looking for a wife?”
Matthew turned several shades of pink. “Sure, it was Ma’s idea at first, but I think she’s got the right notion.” Matthew led a calf over to the harness and helped secure it in position.
“You sure about that? I mean, you’ve only been running things around here for a handful of years. You just need to make sure you’re doing the right thing by bringing a stranger—and a woman, at that—into the middle of nowhere.”
“You don’t seem to be taken with the idea,” Matthew said, wondering if his uncle’s own bachelor status had anything to do with it.
“I’m not opposed to women as a concept, if that’s what yer getting at!” John laughed. “But when you go writing off for a bride, you could end up with a city girl who’s never laid eyes on so much as a vegetable garden, let alone a working ranch of this size.”
“That’s true, but I’ve got a girl in mind and she seems to be no stranger to hard work,” Matthew replied while handing John the ink. “In fact, from the sound of her letters, we may be in for a bit of trouble. She could be just as bad as Ma, always looking for something to keep busy!”
“Well, that’s a good thing,” John answered, although he still sounded skeptical.
“It is. And I think I have a good feeling about our correspondence. I’m thinking on inviting her to Tuckerrise and let her get a sense of life out here.”
“Sounds as if you’ve already made up yer mind, if ya ask me!” Uncle John smiled. “Just know that meeting a girl this way isn’t the same as courting a young lady from town. You go bringing her all the way out here, you’ve pretty much said yer marryin’ her.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” Matthew paused, ignoring the small animal that fought against its ropes.
“Well, how would you take the news if someone went to all that trouble and then turned you out, sending ya back to where ya came from?”
Matthew was silent. He’d been almost certain that Lucy seemed to be a generous, kind person, but it hadn’t weighed on him that they still might not be suited for each other.
“I guess I’ll have to think on that when the time comes,” he answered quietly.
Matthew was saved from any further introspection by one of the ranch hands, come to inform them of a piece of fencing in need of repair. Matthew thanked him, and said he’d handle it himself that same day.
“Ma?” Matthew called as he stepped into the house a few minutes later. “I’ve come in to tell you I have to head out. There’s another place in the north pasture where the fence has come down, I have to see to it today. I might not be back at noon, but I hope I’ll make it by suppertime.”
“Another hole? What’s going on with the fencing? It can’t be wearing apart already, that was some quality materials your pa ordered specifically for this kind of weather,” she argued, looking concerned again. “Why, that fence has only been finished for going on fifteen years now.”
“I know. It’s the darnedest thing, Ma. Maybe the herd has knocked some of it loose, or maybe there’s a varmint chewing at the posts? I can’t rightly say, but in any case, it’s got to be mended today.”
“You go on then, and do be careful! It seems like every time I turn around, something else is going wrong. You make sure to take a skin of water with you, it’s liable to be hot today.” Genevieve followed her son to the door and watched him as he headed to the barn to gather up some supplies. “Gertie, I don’t like this one bit. Can you get some vittles together and some jars of water to drink?”
“Yes ma’am, I’d already started fixin’ something when I heard him say he might not be back a’fore supper!” Gertie answered, already placing a few wrapped parcels in a wicker hamper. She filled several mason jars with water and screwed the lids on tightly, then tucked those down in the hamper as well. “
I didn’t know for sure if he was bringing any of the help with him, so there’s plenty in there!”
“Thank you, I’ll just run this out to his wagon before Matthew gets the team hitched,” the older woman said gratefully. “Matthew! Here you go, Gertie fixed you something to carry with you!”
Matthew turned and looked to where his mother stood on the porch, then he smiled. Leave it to her to constantly care for him.
“Thank you, Ma. And tell Gertie thank you for me, as well. But I don’t think I’ll need all this, there’s enough food here for the Third Infantry!” He peered down in the hamper, amazed at all she’d managed to pack inside.
“Why, I’m sure she planned a little extra for anyone who’s going with you,” Genevieve explained. “You’re taking one or two of the men, aren’t you?”
Matthew shook his head. “No, Uncle John has some things he had to see to over at his place today, and some of the others are busy with other chores. I’d hoped to see Frank around, but I haven’t taken notice of him today.”
“You mean you’re going alone? Are you sure that’s safe?”
“I’ll be fine, Ma. Besides, what choice do I have? There’s work to be done, so I’ve got to get to it. I’ll see you this evening,” he explained patiently. “Oh, but could you take this back inside? And put it with the papers I’ve got to take into town when I go next?”
Matthew climbed up in the wagon and flicked the reins to get the team moving, and Genevieve watched him move out with a small sense of dread. When she looked down at the paper in her hand and saw it was addressed to that girl, she looked up at her son.
“Matthew, how many letters have you written?” Genevieve asked directly.
“Four, I believe. That should be five,” he answered, furrowing his brow. “Why do you ask?”
“Son, I realize I’m quite well known for meddling in the affairs of this ranch, but I’m going to tell you plainly,” she said, her eyes burning with an intensity he hadn’t seen in some time. “You don’t go stringing this girl along, you hear?”
“I don’t know what you mean—” Matthew began, but the look on Genevieve’s face stopped him.
“I mean, if you’re going to marry this girl, then that’s what you do! You stop toying with her and invite her out here!”
Matthew nodded, a slow, knowing smile creeping across his face. “Yes ma’am.”
In her irritation, Genevieve forgot her fears and nodded firmly at her son. She bade him get to his work, and carried his letter carefully inside the house.
* * *
By evening, the chores had been done, supper eaten, the dishes washed and put in the cupboard. Gertie swept the same spot in the kitchen over and over, absently looking out the window to where Mrs. Miller stood on the back porch, leaning against one of the columns that held up the roof. She didn’t have to say anything, Gertie knew what was churning in her mind.
And it was the worst of all possible thoughts.
“Miz Miller? Come on in the house now,” Gertie prodded kindly as she swept the pile of dirt at the back door. “It won’t do you no good to fret out here on your own like this.”
“I can’t,” Genevieve answered, still staring into the late evening sky. “He should be home by now, something’s wrong.”
“Ma’am, it just feel that way! I probably had supper ready a mite too early since I didn’t want the potatoes to turn hard. That’s all it is!”
“That’s not it,” Genevieve insisted. “I can feel it. Something’s wrong. He shouldn’t be so late.”
“Well now, maybe it’s not as late as all that. It just feels like it. The sun’s setting a little earlier these days on account of fall coming. That’s all it is,” Gertie insisted, but her words were hollow, as though she was trying more to convince herself than anyone.
“I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to look for him.”
Genevieve turned to go into the house but Gertie blocked her path, her eyes wide with fright.
“Miz Miller! You can’t be doin’ such a thing! Riding off into the dark like that, what if something happened to you? Mr. Matthew would never forgive me for letting you come to harm!” She shook her head adamantly, but Genevieve only stepped around her.
“You don’t have to worry, he won’t be cross with you. But I can’t sit here and wonder if everything’s all right. Anything could have happened to him, and he could need some help.”
“Miz Miller, please! At least send one of the hands after him, or let one of them fetch Mr. John! But don’t go out there by your lonesome!” The panic in Gertie’s voice gave Genevieve pause.
“Fine. If you’ll go fetch one of the ranch hands, I’ll stay here,” she finally agreed.
“Woooo, now. I’m not aiming to go into that old bunkhouse! It’s not fitting! And you don’t need to be in there neither. That’s no place for a lady, I can tell you that much! I have to go in there and fetch the bedclothes on wash days, and it’s frightful enough in there when no one’s home. We can’t go traipsing in where a passel of single menfolk live!”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Gertie!” Genevieve answered sharply. “What do I care if one of them is standing around in his drawers when my son hasn’t come home? I’ll go get one of them myself!”
Genevieve stepped down from the porch to go around the house, but Gertie chased after her. “I’m goin’ with you, ma’am! Don’t go in there, I’ll just call for somebody to come out!”
Within minutes of Genevieve pounding her small fist on the bunkhouse door, a team of three men had saddled their horses and ridden out into the growing darkness in search of Matthew. They’d shared the fear their boss’ mother had tried to mask, and now raced over the rolling grassland to bring him home.
“Oh Gertie, what’ll we do if they can’t find him?” Genevieve muttered tearfully as the men disappeared from sight.
“Now hush that kind of talk, Miz Miller! Worrying don’t do a lick of good!” Gertie argued softly, patting Genevieve’s hand reassuringly. “They know every speck of this ranch as good as Mr. Matthew, they’ll know just where to look for him. Don’t you worry, they’ll be back before ya know it.”
But it was a long time before the sound of hoofbeats approaching the house startled Genevieve in her chair. She’d drifted off, but now sat up straight in her chair as she looked around for reassurance.
“Mrs. Miller! We found him!” the rider called out. Genevieve raced to the window but only saw the one man, Seaborn, on his horse. “They’re bringing him around in the wagon, I’m gonna ride for the doctor!”
“The doctor?” she cried, waking Gertie. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s in a bad way, ma’am. Lost a lot of blood, too. But he recognized us for a minute there when we got him to open his eyes. Best be ready, they’re bringing the wagon as fast as they can without jostling him too bad!”
Seaborn nudged his horse’s flank while wheeling the animal around towards the road. Genevieve suddenly felt faint, knowing it would be more than an hour before the rider could reach town and return with the doctor.
“Gertie, quick! Let’s get some water on for washing his wounds, and… and… I don’t know, bandages? Don’t we need bandages?” she asked, her mind faltering.
“I can’t rightly know until I see him, but that sounds about right. But Miz Miller, don’t you worry.” Gertie took Genevieve’s hands in hers and squeezed them firmly. “We’re gonna take good care of him… just like last time,” she added under her breath.
Yes, just like last time, Genevieve thought. Lord, please let it be just like last time, just a little injury!
When she caught sight of her son lying in the back of the wagon, she fought the urge to scream. His skin was deathly pale, so white it nearly matched the color of his cotton shirt—or at least the part that was still white and not stained crimson from rivers of blood. His eyes, now closed almost peacefully, already looked sunken with deep blue half-moons lying beneath them. His brown hair was matted with dried blood until it st
ood up in sections like that of a wild animal.
“Matthew?” Genevieve called softly as she approached the wagon, then she was overcome with a familiar feeling. Had it been only a few weeks back that her son had been dragged into the house, broken and bleeding? Would that he would open his eyes and smile at her as he’d done then!
It was not to be. He kept still, his breath coming so faintly that only the barest rise of his chest could be seen.
“Carry him inside, and please hurry!” she ordered the ranch hands. Together, the three of them took him inside and got him in bed, while Gertie bustled about in the kitchen.
“Don’t you worry none, Miz Miller! I’ve got a beef bone cooking in the pot to make him a broth. That’ll get his blood back up! Here, take him this to drink, he’s got to have water in him or he’ll be all dried up!”
A Love Defying The Odds (Historical Western Romance) Page 9