Rocky Mountain Discipline

by Lee Savino

  “Donovan, a word.”

  “Mac?” The driver greeted the Scot, even as his gaze focused on Phoebe, coming towards the two men as fast as her limp would let her. Was her new employer rejecting her?

  “One moment, lass,” MacDonnell called back her. “I just remembered that Donovan and I have business.” He turned back to the newcomer. “This is Miss Wilson, the housekeeper I was talking about.”

  “Pleasure, ma’am,” the man said, tipping his hat.

  She nodded, keeping her jaw clenched against the pain. It gave her a haughty air, she knew, but better a cold, proud shell, than friendly. Her pleasing looks seemed to be enticing enough.

  “So about that mule.”

  “Certainly,” Donovan said. “Mr. Martin took him from me to sell, and hasn’t had any takers. I’ll loan him to you for a fortnight, until you decide.”

  “I thank you,” MacDonnell said.

  Mr. Donovan nodded and headed behind the shop.

  “What’s going on?” Phoebe asked.

  “Mr. Donovan trains horses. He got a mule a few seasons back, and I’ve been thinking of buying it.”

  She gave a curt nod as Donovan came around the side of a building leading a dusty, grey mule.

  “Here we are. Just let me know whether you’d like to keep him. We’ll happily barter for some smoked bear meat. Carrie’s quite fond of it.”

  “I will let you know.” MacDonnell turned to Phoebe. “All right, lass, up you go.”

  “Me?” Phoebe stepped back. “You don’t want to ride it?”

  “Don’t like horses, but I need one for a few tasks. With you here, it’ll have more use than pulling a plow. Now, if you’ll do me the favor, go ahead and ride it.”

  Phoebe stared in his eyes, but his gaze held steady. She saw no trace of pity, which she would not abide. The mule stood placid and ready between them, a thick blanket over its back. Miles Donovan had already disappeared, and Calum MacDonnell seemed content to wait as long as it took her to decide.

  “We’ll get a proper saddle, and I’ll have you do the errands to town. It will save me the time walking back and forth.”

  Phoebe pursed her lips. Her new employer made it sound like him buying a mule for her was really for his benefit. She didn’t want charity.

  But she was too tired to argue, so she let it pass.

  Once she nodded, the big man wasted no time picking her up around the waist and setting her on the mule’s back. Her heart quickened at his touch and she frowned, wondering why her body felt this way around her new employer.

  Calum took her bag from her, and grasping the mule’s bridle, led the animal to the forest trail. And so Phoebe found herself riding out of town, like she was a lady and her employer was the servant, instead of the other way around.

  Leaning down, she rubbed her leg a little, weariness setting in as she relaxed on the animal’s back. She’d done it. The journey had been long, but worth it. She’d hoped for so long, and now her dream was finally true. It wasn’t a very grand dream: to be a housekeeper and cook, in exchange for a small salary and a stake in a plot of land, but it was all hers. The only other person she’d shared her vision with was Mrs. Covey, and it had taken some time before her dear employer understood Phoebe’s desire to make her own way.

  “You’re too independent by half. Most women would just marry and settle into working their man’s land.”

  “I’ll never marry,” Phoebe had said. “What man would want me?”

  Mrs. Covey had scoffed. “If it’s the bum leg you’re talking of, I’ll tell you, most men would look at your face and not look further. But you’re a good girl, Phoebe, and a hard worker.”

  Phoebe didn’t say anything to that. She didn’t really want a husband who would want to rut and rule over her. Of course, striking out for the West on her own was dangerous, so she was grateful for her arrangement with Mr. MacDonnell, as long as he kept to the terms. She planned to make her own way as much as possible, and so far everything had fallen into place. There was even a little hut on the land where she could live. Everything sounded perfect.

  Tired as she was, Phoebe couldn’t deny the beauty of her new home. Above the town, mountains creased the sky, snow still on the highest peaks that touched the clouds. And then there was her new boss walking alongside her while she rode. She studied him as he led her mount along the trail.

  Calum MacDonnell was a tall man, a giant compared to most. Even with her seated on the mule, his head still came up to her chest. He was well over six feet, with broad shoulders besides, but still lean and light on his feet. He looked more like a hunter than a farmer. She could imagine him padding through the woods, tracking his prey in silent moccasins. She wondered what caused him to settle down in a homestead at the foot of the Rockies. He was younger than she expected from the maturity of his letters. It seemed strange to her that he would request a housekeeper when he could simply find a wife. He looked pleasant enough. There was an attractive jawline under his sandy stubble.

  When he cleared his throat, Phoebe realized he’d noticed her staring and flushed. She shouldn’t think of her employer as handsome; it was improper. She’d never thought that way about any man before.

  “So, what do you think of him?” He nodded to the mule.

  Phoebe cast about. The mule was a godsend to her tired leg, but she couldn’t say that. “Serviceable. I think it’s a good purchase. Mr. Donovan seems an honest man.”

  “Oh, he is that. He’d cut off his own hand before cheating someone.”

  “You didn’t have to buy the mule for me. I would’ve been able to walk.”

  “So you said.” Calum shrugged. “It was a convenient time to purchase. I told you, I’ll get more use out of the mule now with you here.” What he didn’t say was that he didn’t buy the mule for her. Feeling oddly gratified, Phoebe still felt like she should protest.

  “But—”

  “Enough now, lass,” he clucked. “It’s my decision to purchase.”

  Phoebe fell silent, even though she wanted to argue. She was grateful for the ride, yes, but she couldn’t let him think she needed extra help. He’d never want her to work for him then.

  Her struggle must have shown on her face, because Calum chuckled. “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?” Before she could answer, he continued. “Begging your pardon. You’re just not what I expected.”

  Phoebe swallowed hard. “What did you expect?”

  He shrugged. “For starters, you’re younger than I thought you would be. I expected someone older and sturdier. A widow or matron, who wanted to strike out on her own. You’re naught but a wee thing.”

  Her spine stiffened. “I’m strong. I can work—”

  “I’ve no worries on that end, lass,” Calum interrupted in a soft voice. “And I apologize for my blunt words. Comes from living alone too long. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  Her thoughts swimming over his forthright speech and apology, Phoebe felt a little like crying. Was her position in jeopardy? Did he want her or not?

  “I can work,” she said. “Day and night if that’s what it takes. I’m sturdier than I look.”

  “I ken you are.” Now he looked like he was biting back a smile, which confused her even more. “As for day and night, the work is hard and there’s plenty of it, but you won’t be working such long hours in my employ.”

  “I will do what I must,” Phoebe said doggedly. “I will fulfill our agreement.”

  “You have a young man who will come to work the land with you, when it’s yours?”

  The question came out of the blue, and at the thought of a man coming to take his share in her land, her shoulders hunched involuntarily. “No.”

  Calum waited, then patted the mule’s side, close to her leg. “I didn’t mean to pry, lass. I’m just wondering why one such as yourself would come out here all alone.”

  One such as herself? What did he mean? Before she could ask, he added, “But, there are many pretty ladies who come
out west to seek their fortune, and find it, and a husband as well.”

  She realized what his sharp looks and line of questioning meant: he thought she intended to go about grubbing for a man.

  “I don’t want a husband,” she said. “I want to work.” And own my own land, she added silently. An acre or two she could work and live from, a home of her own. She didn’t allow herself to dream past that.

  After another silent stretch of trail, she had to ask. “Would you have accepted me if you knew I was so young?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “But, you stand up for yourself and I respect that.”

  “I will be a good employee, Mr. MacDonnell,” she said. “I won’t let you down.”

  “I believe you.”

  The trail dipped deeper into the forest and Calum moved as quietly as she expected, with nary a sound. The woods closed in over them, but Phoebe wasn’t afraid. This dark, wild place fascinated her, alive with birds crying out and animals scurrying through the underbrush. She thought she saw a flash of fur through the undergrowth. Calum seemed right at home here.

  The afternoon grew darker, reminding Phoebe’s tired body that she hadn’t rested or eaten since morning. Her body swayed with the mule’s steady gait, lulling her to sleep. Exhaustion from her long journey hit her like a weight, and her head drooped further as the path went on and on.

  As she nodded off, she noticed a big hand at her side, ready to prop her up. Mr. MacDonnell’s hand, Calum’s.

  Calum was a nice sounding name.

  They finally came to a clearing thick with the smell of hickory smoke. She recognized the scent from Calum’s clothes. A few buildings filled the clearing; the largest a sturdy log cabin, large enough to be considered a lodge. She blinked, but couldn’t shake her fatigue. Her new employer led the beast straight up to the porch and lifted her down, swinging her in his arms. As soon as she realized she was in his arms, her heart leapt, even though she was falling asleep.

  “Here we are.” He carried her like a bride over the threshold, and she didn’t protest. She was too tired to do anything but cling to him.

  Inside the great log house, the smell of hickory persisted. Calum carried her straight to a large chair covered in furs right in front of the fire and set her down. Curling up in the big seat, Phoebe looked around the large room, which held a table and massive stone hearth. A few doors led off the main space, one of them half open, revealing a large bed also piled with furs.

  The place was big enough to fit a giant. Which he was. In her tired state, the thought of Calum MacDonnell, the giant, living in a great lodge and fending off pesky Jack in the beanstalks made her smile.

  “You like your new home, lass?” Calum was bending over her.

  “It’s very nice,” she murmured and let him give her a drink of water by holding the cup while she sipped. A part of her was mortified that her new employer was seeing her in such a state, but it was quickly overruled when she leaned back on the soft furs and sank like a stone into sleep.

  She woke in a silky cloud, feeling a little too hot. Opening her eyes, she found herself on the bed covered in furs of every size and color. It made sense; Mr. MacDonnell had been a trapper before he settled at the foot of the mountains.

  Swinging out of bed, she took inventory. Her long, black hair tumbled down her back, its thick, almost coarse texture easily manipulated into a braid. Her body was heavy with sleep, but well rested. As embarrassing as it was to fall asleep on a mule in front of Mr. MacDonnell, the nap had done her good. She felt almost chipper until she started to stand and realized that, though she still wore her dress, her shoes and socks had been removed. Her ugly, crippled right foot was on display. Her stomach turned at the thought that Mr. MacDonnell had seen it. She spent most waking moments trying to hide the crumpled looking appendage and her telltale limp.

  Nothing for it. He’d seen her defect, and knew her shameful curse. If he chose to send her back, she would figure out another way to stay. Maybe another rancher or family needed a cook or housekeeper and could feed her while she worked the land.

  Squaring her shoulders, she limped out of the bedroom, her well-rested leg and hip feeling much better. A large fire crackled in the hearth and she smelled food cooking, but her shoes and socks were nowhere to be seen.

  A guttural growl from the outside door made her freeze. A large wolf, brown and grey with feral eyes stood at attention, its body stiff and ready to attack.

  “Easy, Wolfie, there’s a good lad.” Calum appeared behind the beast, ruffling its head as if it was a dog and not a wild animal.

  Phoebe’s bones melted in relief at the sight of the big Scot stomping in under a load of firewood, his sandy hair hanging in ragged clumps around his face.

  “Hello, lass.”

  Phoebe still hadn’t moved from the door, but when the wolf trotted to the table, she let out a squeak.

  “That’s Wolfie. He means no harm. Isn’t that right, Wolfie?” At the voice of his master, the great wolf-dog grinned and let his tongue loll out of his mouth, looking much more friendly.

  Calum chuckled. “Yes, that’s right, you’re just a great soft beastie.” He dumped the firewood on the hearth and started feeding the fire before pulling the heavy pot away and setting it on the table and replacing it with a large skillet. “You didn’t meet him yesterday because he won’t go into town. He prefers the wild, like his master.” The big man laid bacon in the skillet, and the lodge filled with the delicious smell.

  Phoebe’s stomach growled, and she came forward.

  “I can do that, Mr. MacDonnell,” she croaked. After all, she was to cook for him.

  “No worries, lass. Though if you want bread for the next meal, you’ll have to make it. I never learned the trick of getting it to rise.”

  “I can make the bread, or biscuits if you’d rather.”

  “I love biscuits.” He brightened. “Wake up a bit first.” He pointed to a bucket of water on the table, and she gratefully drank a dipperful.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  She nodded. “Where are my shoes?” As soon as he pointed them out, she hustled over to them, trying to hide her foot from him as she pulled them on. “Why did you remove them?”

  ”I thought it would make you more comfortable.”

  Her cheeks burned with shame. She’d known he would find out about her cursed appendage, but she had hoped to hide it as long as she could and prove herself with work, as she had with Mrs. Covey.

  “You didn’t have to do that.” Phoebe jerked at the laces. To her horror, one broke.

  “Did I offend you, lass?” Mr. MacDonnell set the skillet on the table, and noticed her predicament. He fished on the shelves until he found a thin strip of leather. To her everlasting embarrassment, he knelt before her, took her foot and laced up her boot. “Twas not my intent.” He met her eyes with his mild grey gaze. “Out here, we need to take care of each other.” His careful hands finished tying her shoes as his big body overwhelmed her space. Her heart beat faster, even as her head screamed silently. He was touching her crippled foot! And he didn’t seem to mind. Eyes wide and cheeks on fire, Phoebe wished she could sink into the floor and die.

  “There.” He finished and squeezed her boot in his big paw before releasing it. “Come on, lass, breakfast.” He rose and offered a hand to help her up. After a pause, she took it, marveling at how his swallowed hers up.

  Standing, she tested the boot. The new laces worked fine. Her foot was also feeling better and her leg didn’t ache.

  The meal was bacon and beans. Mr. MacDonnell offered her coffee. “I’ve already had mine.”

  Phoebe frowned. “How long did I sleep?”

  “From the moment I set you in the chair, until now.”

  Glancing at the light streaming in the open door, she felt a sudden shock. “What time of day is it?”

  “Noon.”

  Phoebe’s eyes widened. “Mr. MacDonnell, I promise you, I am not a lay-about. I never sleep past dawn.�
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  “Calm yourself, lass,” he chuckled, patting her hand until she snatched it away. The warmth of his hand was nice, but she wasn’t in the habit of letting herself be petted, as a rule.

  “I’m not lazy,” she insisted. “I never have been.” All of a sudden, she felt near tears. “You can write to my last employer if you wish, and ask her.”

  Listening to her frantic babble, he sobered.

  “Phoebe.”

  She fell silent.

  “I read the recommendation your employer wrote. Her account was so glowing, I thought you were twice as old and three times as large. You’re a wee wisp of a thing, but I know you can work. I believe you. Relax, you start work tomorrow.” He squinted. “How is it you came to work for Mrs. Covey for nine years? You can’t be older than twenty.”

  “I’m almost two and twenty,” she admitted.

  “Still, such a young age.”

  She licked her lips, wondering how much she could lie. His gaze missing nothing. She sighed. “I left home when I was very young.”

  “Left home? Ran away?” Don’t lie to me, lass. She could almost hear him say.

  Her voice was very soft. “Yes.” It was the truth. She had run away from home and her family. She’d had to. It was that, or be treated like less than an animal.

  After a moment, to her relief, Calum nodded and let the matter drop.

  “I’ll put the mule to plow today. Best if you look around here and see what you might need for washing and meals. You can start work tomorrow, if you’re feeling rested.”

  “What about my land? May I see it?” There was a little cabin homestead on her acre where she expected to live.

  “Aye, lass.”

  “I may as well settle my things there.”

  Calum hesitated. “There is a tiny place on your acre, but it’s naught but a mean hut. Dirt floors, drafty. I wouldnae want ye to stay there.” His accent thickened with his worried tone.