Drifting from Deadwood: The Pioneer Brides of Rattlesnake Ridge, Book 6

by Flightner, Ramona

  The foreman nodded and backed away. “Fine. Don’t let harm come to those boys.”

  Lance glowered at him. “They need to learn about hard work. One of them is at least ten.” He paused as Zachariah muttered, “Eleven,” and nodded in confirmation. “He should be an accomplished horseman and have a list of chores to do every day. Don’t expect me to coddle them when they work with me.”

  “Good,” Zachariah said. “It’s what should have occurred years ago, but …” He broke off as Simon and Peter raced into the barn.

  “We’re here!” Simon yelled, thrusting his arms wide at their arrival.

  Lance laughed and ruffled Simon’s black hair. “You are. Go find some shovels, and you can help me muck out stalls.” When they made disgusted faces, he gave them a long look. After only a moment, they raced to the cluttered storage room, and he heard them muttering to each other about finding the perfect shovel.

  “Good luck with the boys,” Zachariah said as he left the barn.

  * * *

  A few days later, Lance worked on the barn roof hammering in nails as he secured new shingles. He swiped his forearm across his brow as he glanced at the roof and shook his head in wonder that the roof hadn’t already sprung a leak. Or multiple leaks. Looking over the surrounding land from his high vantage point, he saw willows and cottonwoods in the distance and imagined a creek to be nearby. Few cattle were visible, and he remembered Zachariah saying they had been moved to the higher pastures with lush grass. From what Zachariah had said, he hoped to join his men in the higher country soon.

  Lance sighed as he slammed the hammer down again. Although thankful for the work, he longed to ride the land. To feel unfettered again. He gave a disgruntled snort. “You gave up your homestead. You have no right to complain,” he muttered to himself. Although he had not lied to Zachariah, and he appreciated being busy, there were moments he yearned to ride as though uninhibited by any obligations. Even the minimal obligations of a ranch hand.

  A noise distracted him from his thoughts and made him glance up. He looked toward the road heading to the town of Rattlesnake Ridge and the long drive leading to the ranch. He squinted as a wagon turned up the drive.

  Looking down to the ladder propped against the side of the barn, he gave a sharp whistle. Simon poked his head up, as he had volunteered to run for supplies if they were needed. In reality, he sat in the shade and sang to himself while Lance worked on the roof. “Yes, Mr. Lance?” he called out in his excited, youthful voice. He hopped around. “What do I get to do?”

  Lance smiled. “Tell your mother that visitors are heading down the lane.”

  “I’m a sentry!” Simon protested before running to scramble up the half-dead tree behind the bunkhouse to peer down the lane. He gave a whoop of joy and fell nearly head first out of the tree before racing to the house bellowing incoherently to his mother.

  Lance chuckled and continued to work, although he cast frequent glances up the lane to see whose arrival warranted such fanfare. As the wagon approached, he saw an attractive, well-dressed woman easily managing the horses pulling her wagon with two children beside her. A pair of dogs paced in the back of the wagon. He smiled at the children when they gaped at him standing on the barn roof as they rolled past before coming to a halt in front of the ranch house.

  He heard Eleanor exclaim, “Barb!” and then a cacophony of voices and dogs barking as the guests were welcomed to the ranch. “Work,” he muttered to himself. “You’re a hired hand.”

  He slammed the hammer down so hard he nearly shattered the shingle in half. With a sigh, he forced himself to concentrate on his work and fought to ignore the delighted voices below him.

  * * *

  “Barb!” Eleanor exclaimed as she raced from the house and down the front steps. She held her arms open as she waited for Zachariah to help Barb and her children out of the wagon. Eleanor pulled her close, squeezing her tight. “Oh, it’s so wonderful to see you! I had no idea you were planning a visit today.”

  “Jack encouraged us to visit. Thought we needed a day away from the house.” Barbara’s husband was Jack Hollis, Deputy Sheriff of Rattlesnake Ridge. She released Eleanor and wrapped an arm around each of her twin children’s shoulders. “He thought Ishmael and Isabelle could use a little time running around the ranch, playing with your boys. I think Jack hopes they’ll return home exhausted.” The two friends shared a smile.

  Eleanor pulled the two children close and kissed their foreheads. “I know Peter and Simon will enjoy any excuse to play.” She watched as the four children and the two dogs ran off together. “Simon will try hard to keep up,” she murmured as she saw her six-year-old struggle to run as fast as the thirteen-year-old twins and his eleven-year-old brother.

  “And Isabelle will have to convince them that a girl still enjoys playing in the mud and finding frogs,” Barbara said with a chuckle. “Come, let’s enjoy our time free of children.” She looped her arm through Eleanor’s, and they ascended the steps to the ranch house porch.

  Zachariah returned to the barn, leaving the women alone.

  Barbara watched his departure from the porch and raised an eyebrow. “He’s as attentive as ever,” she murmured.

  “Don’t start,” Eleanor said with a sigh. “You know we’ve only ever been good friends.” She frowned when her best friend made a face and looked embarrassed. “Barb?”

  Barbara ran a hand over the skirt of her blue calico dress that enhanced her natural curves and the beauty of her blonde hair. “I … I don’t know how to tell you what is being whispered about you in town.”

  Eleanor tugged her to a pair of rocking chairs, and they sat down. A pitcher of water with glasses sat on a table between the chairs. “I know they continue to whisper about the disgrace of my husband’s death. And they remain dumbfounded that I manage the ranch.”

  Barbara flushed beet red, and her eyes lit with anger. “That’s just it, Eleanor. Someone, and I’m not sure who, started the rumor that the reason the bank hasn’t had to take over the ranch is because Zachariah is really running it.”

  Eleanor looked at her friend with a puzzled expression. “That comes as no surprise to me, Barb. Why should that upset you? Few men believe a woman capable of managing such an enterprise. Never mind helping it to thrive.” She grimaced. “Except for last year when the price of cattle sank.”

  “Well, there’s more to it. It seems that there are those who believe Alan intentionally sought death at that card table. Because he was tired of living a lie.” She gripped Eleanor’s hand as Eleanor paled.

  “What? I don’t understand.” A tear tracked down Eleanor’s cheek. “I know the last few years of our marriage were difficult. He never took to being a father and resented the time the boys wanted to spend with him. Hated the time I spent with the children, called me doting and smothering. He was bitter at the help I provided to keep the ranch running, and was annoyed at the partnership Zachariah and I forged to keep the ranch running smoothly.” She sniffled.

  Barbara let out a deep breath. “I never realized it was that difficult.”

  Eleanor shrugged. “Then, suddenly I was a widow, due to my husband’s proclivity to gamble, and I was expected to mourn and wail and show remorse. And I was sad, Barb. I promise I was. But I also felt a tremendous guilt.” She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. “Such guilt because I felt relief that all that strife had come to an end. That my worst fear hadn’t come true.”

  When Eleanor remained silent, Barb whispered, “What was that?”

  Eleanor opened guilt-stricken eyes. “That he’d gambled away our ranch and left me destitute. He talked about doing it on a nearly weekly basis.” Her eyes shone with anger as she recalled those conversations. “That we’d lose everything due to his…” She let out a deep breath. “I felt such relief to know that could never come true.”

  “Oh, Eleanor,” Barbara whispered.

  Eleanor’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears. “A few harsh words here and there by
the townsfolk will never be worse than what I say to myself. For I did not mourn as a loving, grieving widow should. And that is what shames me.”

  Barbara bit her lip and then murmured, “It is said that the reason Alan never took to the boys, especially to Simon, is because Simon wasn’t—isn’t—his.”

  Eleanor’s eyes widened with shock, and she gaped at Barbara. “I beg your pardon? Who would suggest such a… scandalous… horrible thing?”

  Barbara shrugged. “Those who like to gossip. And they thrive on it.”

  Eleanor rubbed at her forehead. “This is why I was treated in town differently the last few times I’ve gone in for supplies. This is why I’ve had fewer visitors,” she whispered. “I swear to you, Barb, I was always true to my vows. I never…” Her voice broke. “I would never do what they are suggesting.”

  Barbara nodded. “I know. It’s why I was so angry. And it’s why I made a point of telling everyone in the General Store today that I was heading here to see you with my children and that Jack had encouraged me to visit. A few were shocked, but more looked chagrined that they had given any credence to the rumors.”

  “How do you fight such… nastiness?” Eleanor whispered as she swiped at her cheek.

  “You can’t,” Barbara said as she squeezed Eleanor’s hand. “You must hold your head high and continue to be the respectable woman you are known to be.”

  After a long moment, where Eleanor looked toward the barn, she whispered, “They think it’s Zachariah, don’t they?” She shook her head ruefully. “Why is it that the townsfolk can’t understand a friendship between a man and a woman?”

  “Because it’s rarer than a raincloud in July in these parts,” Barbara said with a wry smile. “They can’t understand it because they are incapable of it. However, I wouldn’t let their nasty speculation ruin the friendship you do have, Eleanor.”

  Eleanor sighed. “I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew there would be someone who would make an offensive comment when Simon was born with black hair. No one ever bothers to learn that my mother had black hair. Blacker than Simon’s.” She looked in the direction her youngest son had run off to play and smiled. “He reminds me of her.”

  Barbara nodded. “If they bothered to look closely, they’d also see he has Alan’s smile and Alan’s spirit.”

  Eleanor shivered. “My hope is that Simon has Alan’s curiosity but not his recklessness.” She swiped at her cheeks.

  “You mustn’t be afraid of him being a boy and exploring the world around him,” Barbara soothed. “He will do reckless things, but that is normal. You mustn’t always imagine it is due to him being Alan’s son.”

  “It’s so hard,” she whispered. “I dread anything happening to him or to Peter. I don’t know what I would do.”

  Barbara nodded. “I know. But I also know that trying to protect them from every mishap will only hurt them in the long run.”

  Eleanor closed her eyes for a moment before she changed the subject. “I must admit, this new gossip makes going into town for Sunday service less enticing.” She shared a rueful smile with her friend.

  “But you must go, Eleanor,” Barbara urged.

  “Yes, I know. I must.” She was silent a long moment. “What was it like for you, overcoming their gossip because you sang and played the piano in the saloon?”

  Barbara flushed at the mention of what she did after her first husband had died, and she had to find a way to earn a living to support herself and her twins. “It was challenging at times, but I soon had the support of Mrs. Brown.” She smiled. “That woman is not to be crossed. If she hears of the comments disparaging you, I have a feeling she will find a way to make those gossipers atone.”

  Eleanor smiled with satisfaction as she thought about the reverend’s wife. “She is a force to be reckoned with, isn’t she?”

  Barbara giggled. “Yes. Even the most rough-and-tumble miner doesn’t dare cross her. That’s why it’s vital for you to go to church on Sunday. She will have a greater chance of hearing the murmurings if you are there. Too many of the gossips can’t help sharing what they’ve heard, and their voices are louder than they think.”

  Eleanor sighed. “I think it will be important my new ranch hand accompany us.” She nodded to the man working diligently on her barn roof. “His presence here should dispel the notion that working for a woman is a challenge.”

  Barbara squinted as she looked at Lance kneeling on the roof, the muscles under his shirt rippling as he hammered in nails. “He sure is fine to look at. Are you certain you can trust having him here on the ranch?”

  Eleanor shrugged. “I fear I don’t have a lot of choice. We need help.” She spread her arms as though to encompass the ranch falling apart, board by board, around her. “He knows what needs to be done and does it.” She met her friend’s worried gaze. “And he ran to the paddock to protect Simon within the first five minutes of arriving here. Calmed Spirit when Simon tried to bring him into the paddock alone.”

  Barbara gasped. “Spirit’s barely tamed.”

  “I know. But Mr. Gallagher approached him and had Spirit nuzzling against his chest in a matter of moments. I’ve never seen the like.” A mischievous smile spread. “I think Zachariah was a bit jealous, as Spirit has only ever snorted and misbehaved for him.”

  Barbara let out a deep breath and looked with a mother’s appreciation at the man working on the roof. “Thank heavens he knew what to do.”

  Eleanor smiled. “Yes. And since then, he’s been good to both boys. Encouraging them to work with him, but ensuring the tasks are within their abilities.” She blinked away tears. “I never realized how much they were missing a male presence in their life. They have Zachariah, but he tends to keep himself separate.” She sniffled. “With Mr. Gallagher, they follow him around like a puppy, and he doesn’t seem to mind.”

  Barbara took a deep sip of water. “Well, hopefully he will prove worthy of the trust you have already bestowed upon him.”

  Eleanor looked at Lance as she nodded. “Yes, I hope so.”

  Chapter 3

  “Boys!” Eleanor called up the stairs. She waited a moment, and, when she failed to hear a responding thud to her call, she yelled again. “Boys! It’s time to leave. You’ll have no dessert if we’re late to service.” She waited with a smile as she heard shouts of distress and two pairs of feet scampering around above her as they raced for the stairs.

  “Mama! We’re ready,” Peter said as he sailed down the stairs. His shirt was only half tucked in, and one shoe was untied. She motioned for him to make himself presentable for church and focused on her youngest.

  Simon looked as though he’d just wrestled with a hedgehog and lost. His hair was on end, his previously pristine white shirt had a red splotch on the chest, and his trousers had a tear at the knee.

  “Oh, Simon,” she whispered as she fought a chuckle. “What did you do?”

  He held up his arms, only one arm in his good coat for church. “It doesn’t fit well, Mama.”

  She looked at him with a critical eye and nodded. “You’re right. You’re getting too big for your jacket, and we don’t have time to adjust one of Peter’s. For now, you’ll make do.” She looked at him with confusion. “I was upstairs not ten minutes ago, and your clothes were fine. What happened?”

  He shrugged. “I thought I saw a mouse and tried to trap it. Instead, I caught the nail on my pail lunchbox and then scratched my finger.” He held up his left index finger that showed little sign of injury and waited for his mother to react.

  She smiled as she leaned forward and kissed it. “And then what happened, my little love?”

  He thrust his arm out with excitement, thwacking the wall with the free arm of his jacket. “And then the mouse jumped back out again, and we had to chase it around. But it got away.” He ducked his head as though that were a shame.

  “They tend to outsmart us humans,” she said with an affectionate smile. “Come, we don’t have time to put you to rights before church.
” She attempted to tame his wild hair with a few pats, and then helped him on with his jacket. She frowned when she saw him in it. “This fits you perfectly, Simon.”

  He pulled at the sleeve of it. “I don’t like it, Mama.”

  “Just because you don’t like something, Simon, doesn’t mean you should tell me a fib. It would have cost me money we shouldn’t spend on buying fabric you don’t need.” She waited until he nodded his head in understanding. “Come, boys.”

  They departed their house to find Zachariah and Lance waiting for them. Lance grabbed Simon while Zachariah grabbed Peter, hauling the boys into the back of the wagon. Lance rode his horse, Amaretto, while Eleanor rode beside Zachariah in the wagon.

  “Mr. Lance!” Simon called out as they made their way to town. “Mr. Lance, did you know we have a mouse in the house?” He giggled as the sentence rhymed.

  Lance shook his head. “No, but that’s quite common. They like to be near little boys.”

  Peter and Simon shared confused looks and then looked at Lance. “Why?”

  “Because little boys often hide food and other treats in their bedrooms. They know they can nibble on those treats when the boys aren’t looking.” He laughed as the brothers made gagging noises.

  “Of course you boys would never do such a thing, would you?” Eleanor said as she looked back at her sons. “It is strictly forbidden to have food on the second floor.”

  Simon opened his mouth and then hung his head. “I already fibbed once today, Mama. I can’t tell another one, or the preacher won’t let me in the church.” He met his mother’s patient stare. “We keep a little cheese and bread in our bedside drawer.”

  “And why would you do that?” Zachariah asked.

  “We’re always hungry, and Mrs. Wagner says we eat too much. When we ask her for snacks, she slaps our hands and tells us we are guillotines and that it’s our greatest sin,” Peter said.