“Let's go somewhere more private to speak,” he suggested instead.
“Private?” She inclined her head slightly toward the others. “Are you sure about that?”
“If people are going to talk, they'll talk no matter what we do. Come, please?” He held his hand out to her and was gratified when her fingers slid across his palm to grasp it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jack led Esther into the barn, and all the way to the back, where the foal was. He reached across the stall rail and scratched its head. Esther waited patiently, sensing he was stalling. She hoped he was merely gathering his words and not courage. If he needed bravery to speak with her, it must not be good news.
Finally he turned back to her and smiled tenderly. “Esther,” he said gently, as he took her hands in his. “I want to court you properly, if you’ll let me.”
She looked down at their joined fingers, twined together, much like their lives were now, she acting as a wife in nearly all ways, he as her husband. They ate together, and both worked for the good of the ranch, their future vision the same. But the opinion of the town’s people would always affect them.
“I’m certain the town is never going to accept me as anything other than a servant.” She looked up at his dear face, looking down at her. “You saw how all of our words have fallen on deaf ears. I think the Whitneys are good, fair people and even they didn’t believe us until they saw it with their own eyes.”
“It won’t matter that they thought those things once we get married.”
“It might, and I can’t take that chance.”
“Can’t or won’t? Are you so afraid of not being accepted that you would give up our whole future together?”
She shook her head and felt the first tear fall, traveling slowly down her cheek. “I couldn’t care less if they accept me. I can’t do it to you.”
“There is nothing they can do to me that would hurt more than losing you.”
She nearly stamped her foot. “Don’t you see? They have tremendous power over us. They could refuse to buy your beef, they could not come when we need help, they could torment our children. This community needs everyone to work together, and if we step out of line, they will shun us.”
He looked shocked. “I can’t believe that.”
“It’s true. When I…” she paused, hating to bring it up, but she must. “When I lived at the north end of town, the only person who was ever kind to me was Mika. Even when I had money to buy food and other things, I could tell I wasn’t welcome in the store. When the sheriff rode by my soddie he scowled and looked hard at me.”
“But no one actually hurt you. You may have gotten dirty looks, but you did shop at the mercantile and Lucy took your money, even though she disapproved of how you’d earned it. Sheriff Price may have been looking to make sure you were safe. Ultimately, though, none of that matters. You lived your life and no one actually stopped you.”
A sob tore through her throat. “But, oh, how I wish they had,” she cried.
If only, instead of black looks and grimaces, the Prices had offered her their friendship. Just knowing she wasn’t alone would have helped tremendously. When she was hungry, a basket of potatoes or a bag of beans would have gone a long way toward turning her from the only work she had found to survive. Where was their charity and good works when she had been down on her luck with nowhere to turn?
“Are you angry at them for not accepting you or for accepting you?”
“What does that mean?” She was genuinely puzzled. It wasn’t like Jack to speak in riddles.
“I understand they should have done more for you. We all should do more for those less fortunate than we are, even when we disapprove of their choices. They didn’t accept you as one of their own, because if they had they would have done those things. They saw you as different from them, and perhaps that made it easier to not see your plight.”
“Yes, that’s it,” she agreed. “But what did you mean about them accepting me?”
He put his arms around her and pulled her close. “They accepted the way you had chosen to live your life. So, on the one hand, you were different and they couldn’t embrace you into the fold but on the other hand, they assumed you were, had always been, and still are to this day, exactly what they saw.”
She breathed deeply of the honest fragrance of him; horse and leather, coffee and soap. “Both.”
“Both what?” he murmured, resting his lips on the crown of her head.
“I am angry, you’re right. And for both of those reasons. They should have reached out to me and helped me and they should realize that I am no longer the soiled dove I once was. I want them to accept me, and reject my past.”
“You know the best way to make that happen?”
She could feel the heat from his breath in her hair, and tipped her head up to look at this face. “How? Tell me, and I’ll do it.”
“First, you must forgive your own past by beginning to live your life the way you wish. Don’t let that sad chapter be the end of your story. Marry me, Esther. Let’s begin anew.”
His lips met hers, at first softly, but deepening as she sank into his heat. She stretched her arms around his back and pulled him closer, his hard chest flattening her bosom, his legs cradling her hips.
She pulled away first, breathing hard, and could feel the moisture from their kiss on her lips. She whispered sadly, “I can’t.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Jachym hated leaving with things unsettled with Esther, but there was nothing to be done for it. For his part, Andy did manage to get the hands all together and ready to go by mid-morning, but there was considerable grumbling on the matter. When they rode away, he saw Esther watching from the porch out of the corner of his eye, but couldn't bring himself to turn in his saddle and face her. She had repeatedly rejected him, or at least it felt that way, but she'd never denied an interest in him, had she? Surely there had to be a way to work it all out.
Struggling with that puzzle kept Jachym's thoughts busy for most of the ride down into Nebraska. When he wasn't thinking about Esther and what could be, he was watching the hands and listening to their complaints about their sore backsides. He'd allowed Smith to choose the crew for the ranch, assuming the man's greater experience would mean he'd be best suited for hiring experienced men. Now he wondered if Smith had lied about his experience entirely. None of the hands had fallen out of their saddles yet, but that was about the bare minimum of skill he expected.
The cattle he purchased were mostly young steers in need of fattening, but a few heifers and cows with calves were mixed in there, to replenish his own breeding stock. The drive back at least took enough of his thought that the couldn't brood the entire way. A few ornery steers were always looking for chances to slip away and someone had to stay vigilant at all times. Most of the cattle could easily be controlled by being kept all together—called the mill—so that their neighbors slowed them down and they'd just plod along with the herd. Letting the mill break up was the worst thing they could do. Not only might the cattle scatter, but there would be no check on stampedes. The endless, slow march and moving back and forth along the lines reminded of his time moving with the Bohemian army. As part of the cavalry, they could move swiftly, but the men on foot set a pace not much faster than the cattle. When cannons were being moved, the whole military apparatus slowed to a near crawl.
“I can't move.” One of the men—an immigrant from Wales named Rhys—flopped out of his bedroll with a groan. He got up to his knees, slowly bending every joint. “How can I hurt this bad?”
Jachym snorted softly and took a sip of his coffee. “You weren't riding every day to get ready for this. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking I'd save up my strength.” Rhys dragged himself over to where Froggy was serving breakfast, then let out a great sigh. “Beans, again?”
“Fifth morning in a row,” Paul agreed bitterly. “And I think they're all the same beans.”
“Yes, they're last night's beans,” Froggy snapped. “What do you expect me to do? Cook you ladies fresh crepes with peaches and cream every morning?”
“What the blazes is a crepe? Is that even food?”
Jachym finished off his coffee, then rose to his feet. Andy had stayed up half the night to keep watch over the herd and was still burrowed in his bedroll. It left the direct management to Jachym for the moment, which was new for him. “Eat and get moving. We're almost home.”
“I don't know if I can ride today, boss,” Rhys complained.
“Then you can walk.”
As it turned out, Rhys found walking even worse than riding. He wasn't the only one complaining, though, and Jachym began to suspect that their previous work experience—if they truly had any at all—had all been on small family farms where little riding was involved. Perhaps they'd raised chickens or had a single dairy cow growing up.
One particularly independent steer with a broken horn had been doing his best to take off the entire drive back into the Dakota Territory. It seemed every time someone took their eyes off of him, he was breaking away from the herd. It wouldn't be such a trouble if others weren't inclined to follow him, so that if they stopped paying attention the herd would quickly split itself into two going in opposite directions. That day it was Rhys on the side with the troublemaker.
“This is inhumane. I'm pretty sure I'm doing permanent damage to my body,” Rhys whimpered as he pulled himself back into his saddle, finally having decided that walking wasn't doing him any favors. “I'm going to be lame by the end of this.”
Jachym rolled his eyes at the continued whining. “Some of the drives down south are over a thousand miles long. Do you think all of those men are crippled?”
“Yes. All of them. I've seen pictures of how bowlegged they—oof!” Rhys slipped when his foot missed the stirrup and his horse jerked at the same time, shying back from the troublemaking steer, who had chosen that moment to run. Rhys scrambled for purchase before he fell sideways and hit the ground hard.
Other cattle were following, picking up their pace in the excitement, and Rhys was trying to get out from under his mount's hooves without being trampled by the mare or the beeves.
Jachym wasted no time urging his horse forward, pushing through the herd like fording a river. He leaned down without slowing the pace, caught Rhys by the back of his shirt, and hauled him upward. Fabric tore, but the man got to his feet. “In your saddle, now!” Not waiting long enough to see if Rhys did as he was told, Jachym rode on ahead. Cattle were different from horses, his own area of expertise, but they were still a herd animal. They were agitated now, pushing each other as they moved, and a full stampede looked possible. Particularly with most of the crew so green he expected them to panic as well.
He caught up with the troublemaker, but didn't get in front of him, not wanting his mount gored and himself crushed. No, staying alongside him was best, because turning the herd would work better than trying to stop it at this point. He drew his six shooter and fired into the ground a few feet ahead of the steer. The animal shied back, whites visible his eyes were so wide, and turned away.
“What do you want to do with them?” Andy yelled from behind.
“Just what I'm doing. Stay on this side, fire into the ground to herd them back into the mill.” Jachym looked, spying three of the other men on the far side, where the majority of the herd still was. “Paul, keep things steady over there as we bring in the rest of them.”
While they worked to bring them in, Andy started singing something about the Chisholm trail. Rhys and another fellow joined in. Jachym didn't know the words, so simply whistled the tune. It calmed the animals down, but more importantly every man could tell where his companions were and that they were all in well enough condition to sing. If a man's song faltered, the others knew to check on him. Soon the stampede was over before it could start and all the herd was back in the mill.
Andy rode up to clap Jachym on the back and let out a whoop. “That was the best riding I've ever seen in my life.”
“I thought I was a gonner and then there he was, the boss riding up out of nowhere!” Rhys said.
“You sure you even need a foreman? Maybe you could fire Andy while you're at it,” Paul called over, to much laughter.
A warm feeling of acceptance settled over Jachym as the men continued to sing his praises and ask him questions about his history in the cavalry. If only it could be this easy for Esther. Somehow, he thought, he'd need to push the town to accept her once and for all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The days all seemed to roll together, undistinguished one from another. After Bridget and Lore left with their twins, Esther was completely alone on the ranch. The chores took a good portion of her time, of course. She fed the animals, milked the cow, and gathered eggs. But she often forgot to eat, and frequently slept in, the sun high in the sky when she woke.
It was as though Jack was her metronome, and without his steady beat, she had lost the rhythm of life.
One day, while she was aimlessly scattering corn for the chickens, a horse approached. Her first thought was to run get the gun Lore had taught her to shoot, but then she saw it was the man himself. When he was close enough to hear her, she called out, “How are the babies?”
“Ah, sure, you don’t care how their parents are. I see how it is with you.” He grinned and a gold tooth twinkled.
They spoke for several moments about the amazing things the infants had done such as yawning, burping, and filling their diapers, until Esther was laughing too hard to breathe and tears coursed down her cheeks.
“Actually, the real reason I’ve come to see you, besides making sure you’re all right, is to ask if you could do some mending for the laundry.” He pointed to bulging saddlebags behind him on the horse.
“I thought the two girls Bridget hired were working out.” A little pang of guilt struck her. What if her friend needed her to come back and work? She didn’t want to and that was the honest truth, though she wouldn’t mind doing mending. She’d always enjoyed the calm and quiet of pushing a needle through fabric.
“Aye, they do a fine job but no one has your touch with sewing. If you would, she’ll pay you by the piece.” He twisted in the saddle and grabbed the bags, handing them down to Esther.
After he left she was filled with new purpose. She rushed through her chores and happily settled down in the sitting room by a sunny window.
The next day she saddled one of the few horses left behind, a tired old pinto, too slow to go on the cattle drive, and headed to town with the repaired clothes behind her in the saddle bags.
Bridget wasn’t at work, enjoying those early days at home with her children, but one of the girls at the laundry took the mending and had more to pass on. Esther happily thanked her. Outside she untied her horse from the rail and stood up onto the highest step of the stairs to help her mount. She was just about ready to pull herself up into the saddle when she spotted Beulah walking over from the parsonage next door.
She sighed. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the pastor’s wife; she did. But they just couldn’t seem to accept she had changed. She thought back to her conversation with Jack before he’d left on the drive. He’d said she must forgive herself and begin to live the way she wished. If she had really forgiven herself, she wouldn’t accept the way they treated her.
“Just the lady I wished to see,” Beulah said happily as she came near.
Esther tried not to act defensively. She reminded herself she was doing nothing to be ashamed of. She had no reason to defend herself. “What can I do for you, Beulah?”
“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay out on the ranch by yourself.”
She smiled. Up until yesterday she might have complained about the long days, and aimlessness of not having Jack there, but having the mending to do had shaken her out of her melancholy. “Everything is going fine. I had so much time on my hands without everyone there I was glad when Bridget sent
Lore out with some work for me.”
“Good, I know the new girls can’t sew as well as you.” She glanced back at her house and Esther realized that little Jonah was playing in the yard. “I only have a moment. He gets into things so quickly.”
“I can imagine,” Esther said though she really couldn’t since she’d never spent much time around children.
“We’re going to have a group baptism this Sunday. You should come and join the church properly. After the service, the ladies usually bring some refreshments. Please say you’ll come.”
“A baptism?” Her own baptism had been as a child, but so much had changed since then.
“Of course. Begin again, like a child reborn.” Beulah reached out to grasp her hands. “I’m sure the Almighty has already forgiven you if you’ve asked, but this is a way to forgive yourself and start anew.”
“I’ll think about it.”
As she started the journey back to the ranch she vacillated back and forth between joining the church and not. Her resolve to forgive herself and demand respect was chipped away with each fall of the horse’s hooves. She was reminded again that her presence in Jack’s home put him at risk.
She stopped in the farmyard, the central area between the house, the barn, the bunkhouse, and the foreman’s cottage, everything now neat and tidy under her care, and looked around. She enjoyed living on Jack’s property but how could she justify seeking her own happiness at the expense of his?
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