The two men jumped up on the wooden bed. Jake shifted the barrels and crates toward the sideboards, leaving space down the middle, and Rusty grabbed several blankets from under the seat. He dropped a couple on top of the closed containers. The cowboy partially unfolded each of the others and stuffed them into the empty space.
Fascinated, Lorinda watched the way the ranch hands followed orders without question. Mr. Vine must be a powerful man for his men to obey like that so quickly. But then Lorinda hadn’t had much experience with men besides her husband and her father, who she didn’t want to think about.
Mr. Vine pulled one foot out of the stirrup and slid off the back of the saddle, all the while making sure she was secure in the seat. “Are you all right?” His words were only loud enough for her to hear.
She became aware that she missed his warmth surrounding her. “I’m fine.” She refused to shiver in the icy wind.
He finished dismounting. “Now I’m going to help you down.”
She leaned over and placed her hands on his shoulders, hoping he could get her down without a mishap. He put one arm under her knees and the other around her waist and gave a gentle tug. When she was free from the saddle, the rancher didn’t set her on the ground as she expected. Instead, with long strides, he marched across the rocky ground and set her in the back of the waiting wagon. The things stacked along the sides of the wagon cut off some of the cold wind.
“I’ll climb up and help you settle.” His words, spoken in a rich baritone, sounded almost tender.
“No!” Lorinda hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. “Thank you. I can move back just fine on my own.”
After she settled into the welcoming nest, Mr. Vine climbed onto the wagon anyway. He took the waiting blankets from atop the barrels and covered her, tucking them both in all around, just leaving her face uncovered. Lorinda didn’t remember anyone ever taking such tender care of her physical needs, not even her mother. And for sure, no man ever did.
Once more she whispered, “Thank you,” before the rancher got down and turned toward his men.
“Jake, take my horse and go on back to the ranch house. Tell Mrs. Oleson to get a room ready for Mrs. Sullivan. Rusty can ride along as our guard on the way.” Evidently Mr. Vine planned to drive the wagon.
Lorinda wondered why he didn’t just have one of the cowboys take her to his ranch house. But soon those thoughts left her mind. Since she was so tired, she relaxed in the warm cocoon he’d created for her and closed her eyes. However, sleep eluded her, jumping just out of her reach, crowded out by the thoughts that invaded her mind.
She’d been so young when her mother died. Probably no more than five years old. But she remembered every detail as if it happened yesterday. Her mother’s swollen belly...the moans when she’d gone into labor. Lorinda didn’t even realize what was happening. She just knew how it scared her to hear her mother’s anxious whimpers grow in intensity.
Pa couldn’t go to fetch the doctor because of the terrible ice storm that surrounded their log cabin. Lorinda had heard about it many times through the intervening years when her father came staggering into her room so drunk he couldn’t see straight. As she grew older, Pa ranted longer, revealing more about what happened. His graphic descriptions of his disappointment the night her mother died after giving birth to a stillborn son always triggered the memories of his anger and her mother’s horrific screams during the ordeal that echoed through the tunnels of her mind even now.
Those rants scared her spitless. For years, she’d planned to never let a man close enough to her to get her with child. But love for Mike drove those fears away. Her life with her husband was so different from the way she was raised that she’d been able to almost completely obliterate those memories.
Now Mike was gone, and she had spent six months alone snowed-in at their cabin. The larger her own body had grown, the larger her fears had become. She was afraid that when she went into labor, she would die on that mountain as her mother did trying to give birth to her little brother. Occasionally, she had reminded herself that her mother had survived one birth, but those thoughts didn’t last long enough.
Mr. Vine and his cowboys rescued her from the work of an arsonist. Maybe she should feel better about everything. And she was glad to be down from the loneliness, but her fears still persisted, haunting her like ghosts from the past. Would she ever be able to outrun them? How would she face the birthing time that fast approached?
Franklin wanted to make sure Mrs. Sullivan and her baby weren’t jostled too much. By driving the wagon, he could do that. And he wanted to make sure someone had a rifle ready in case the varmint that had set her cabin on fire tried to follow them. Disgust filled his thoughts. What kind of animal would torch a cabin with a woman inside? Maybe the man didn’t know she was there, but surely he would’ve spied on the place for awhile before he did anything. Wouldn’t he have just broken into the cabin if he thought it was empty? What reason would he have to burn it down? This event sounded like someone with a grudge against Sullivan. Or maybe he was trying for revenge against the dead man. Perhaps he didn’t know Sullivan had died.
Franklin wished he had gotten to know the neighbor before he was killed. Somehow, he didn’t think the same person who killed Mike Sullivan also started the fire, because it had been so long since the man was murdered. He also couldn’t imagine why anyone would take a chance on burning a whole lot more than just a cabin. If the wind had been stronger today, the fire could have swept down the mountain and onto his ranch. And a lot of valuable timber in both places would’ve been destroyed. Maybe even some of his cattle...or the buildings. Or even people.
As soon as he could make sure Mrs. Sullivan was settled at the ranch house, he planned to alert the other ranchers to the presence of an arsonist in the area. Maybe they should band together and start patrolling their ranches and surrounding mountains to see if they could find the man. He assumed it was one man, since only one set of footprints led from the trees toward the house, then went back the same way. He hoped the man wasn’t part of a gang roaming the area. So many of the mines were playing out, and some of the miners could be hanging around. Since Colorado was sparsely settled, other men could be running from the law and trying to hide in the expanses of wilderness. But this arsonist was far too close to Franklin’s own ranch for comfort. And after what the scoundrel did today, he knew the fiend wasn’t afraid to kill anyone in his way. A chilling thought.
All the way on the half-hour trip to the ranch house, Franklin studied the road so he could go around any holes or humps. In between each sweep of the ruts in front of the wagon, he also glanced at the trees and bushes that lined one side of the trail, looking for any sign of movement. He didn’t want to be ambushed. He also glanced at Rusty and found that his trusted employee was keeping an eagle eye on the surroundings as well.
One thing he didn’t do was look at the woman tucked up in the back of his wagon. He’d made sure she would be comfortable, but he didn’t want his mind to dwell on what her presence meant.
Making his way down the treacherous trail showed him that he needed to help the woman and get her into a place where she could belong as soon as possible. The soft contours of her body rested against him in a way he’d never experienced before, even with Miriam. Though Mrs. Sullivan’s body was swollen with her child, she was so tiny she didn’t weigh much. But the impact of cradling her body close to his would be hard to erase from his mind. Visions of holding his own wife and child that way crashed through his mind before he finally captured them and thrust them away. He couldn’t let himself dwell on such thought.
He. Would. Never. Marry. His heart couldn’t take another breaking.
Mrs. Sullivan brought out his protective instincts. He needed to get her far away from the ranch, so he could shore up the wall he’d built around his heart after Miriam’s defection. No matter how soft Mrs. Sullivan’s skin was...no matter that even though the scent of smoke surrounded her, so did a faint, clean flowery
scent. One that drew him one minute, then repelled him as soon as he realized he was softening toward her.
Since Miriam broke his heart, no other woman he’d seen had made any kind of impact on his senses. He spoke to them at church, but kept his distance. Holding this fragile creature caused a trembling inside him. And he didn’t need to let it continue. No matter how much he wanted an heir. He would never give his heart freely to another woman. Maybe he’d just break up the ranch by willing portions of it to his most loyal ranch hands. Three or four of them had been with him a long time, pouring all their efforts into helping him create one of the most valuable ranches in this part of Colorado. He’d hate to break it up, but what other option did he have?
When he finally spied the roof of his house, he relaxed a bit. He didn’t expect the outlaw to come this close to a thriving ranch with cowboys working all around. The man had to be a coward to slink through the night and set fire to a cabin with a helpless woman inside. He wouldn’t want to face an honest fight.
As they drew closer, Franklin saw Jake and Mrs. Oleson, bundled in warm coats and waiting on the porch that spread across the front of the two story ranch house. They both watched his approach with eagerness shining on their faces. He had good people working for him. People he could trust and depend upon. Although he didn’t know how to handle this new development, he knew he’d have plenty of help as they worked everything out. They’d make Mrs. Sullivan feel welcome.
And help him find a solution for her problem as soon as possible.
Chapter 5
Lorinda could walk just fine, but Mr. Vine lifted her, blankets and all, from the bed of the wagon. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and held on while he headed toward the gate in the white picket fence. Strange to see one out here in frontier Colorado. She had seen plenty where she grew up, but they surrounded neat houses not run-down shacks like the one where she existed. She never learned what it meant to really live until she married Mike.
The red-haired cowboy had already jumped down from his horse and tied the reins to the railing of the fence. He opened the gate and held it wide for them.
“Thank you for all you did, Rusty. You can go on back to your chores now.” The rancher’s voice rumbled in her ear pressed against his muscular chest.
Since the wind had picked up during their ride, a shiver raced down her backbone. He pulled her even closer in his arms, and his warmth seeped into her. Restless movements by her baby kept her stomach from settling down. At least, she thought it was the baby that caused the uneasy feeling.
“Boss, you need some help?” Jack stepped lively down the front porch steps.
“Yes.” Mr. Vine nodded toward the wagon. “Get all that unloaded, and let Terrell know to come up and help Mrs. Oleson. We’ll all eat in the main house tonight, since so many of the hands have gone into town for their day off. No need to have two separate meals.”
Lorinda tried to figure out what he meant by that. Was the ranch so big they had a cook for the bunkhouse? She hadn’t realized how large Mr. Vine’s holdings were. The piece of land she and Mike owned must look pretty paltry to him, even though it had seemed huge to her.
“Oh, you poor dear.” A tall woman stood with both hands clasped under her ample bosom.
Lorinda figured the woman with a kind face must be his housekeeper or cook. If there was a Mrs. Vine, where was she? Shouldn’t she be welcoming a guest into her home, even if the person arrived uninvited? She’d always heard that hospitality was part of the code of the west.
The older woman held the door open until Mr. Vine was completely inside. Then she shut it against the cold wind.
“I wasn’t sure where you’d want to put Mrs. Sullivan, but since Jake told me about her condition, I thought maybe she wouldn’t want to climb the stairs. I made up the room next to yours down here. Hope you don’t mind.”
Lorinda glanced up in time to catch a quick scowl on his face. What is that all about? “You can put me down now.” She tried to pull away from the man.
His arms tightened and his gaze connected with hers. A sad smile flitted across his face. “I’ll just take you in here.”
While Mrs. Oleson held the door open, he stepped into a very feminine room decorated with pinks and blues and lots of flowers and ruffles. Lorinda knew wealthy people had nicer things than she ever did, but she’d never imagined a place filled with this much beauty. The flowers on the striped wallpaper matched those in the long curtains, the bedspread, and pillow covers, surrounding her with serenity. She’d never lived in a house with wallpaper, and the only curtains they’d had were those she’d made herself. When she was a girl, she covered the often-broken glass by tacking feed sacks over it. But she’d made the gingham curtains in the cabin she shared with Mike by just hemming them top and bottom. She’d never seen ruffles and lace used for decorations.
Actually, she’d never had ruffles and lace on any of her clothing either. And here she was in her flannel nightdress, Mike’s union suit, his too-large robe, and wrapped in blankets. At that thought, she realized she didn’t belong in this room...or even in this house. If only she had somewhere else to go. Anywhere but here.
Mr. Vine lowered her gently onto the bed with the turned-back covers. When he stood up straight, he focused on his housekeeper. “This is fine. It’s high time we started using this room. I’ll let you get Mrs. Sullivan settled. She had a rough night and early morning. She might want to rest awhile.”
He spoke as though she wasn’t in the room even though she was staring up at him. The man had been good to her, but his highhandedness galled her. She didn’t dare express that opinion. At least, not until she knew what was going to happen to her and her child.
“Of course.” Mrs. Oleson watched him exit, then turned back toward Lorinda. “I know it’s cold out there. Would you like some good hot coffee or tea to warm you up? Maybe some toast or scrambled eggs? I’m sure you haven’t eaten since last night. Right?”
Lorinda wondered if this was the way a mother would have treated her. She remembered so few things about her own. “Tea would be wonderful. And now that we’re here, I do feel hungry.”
“First, let’s get you settled.” The kind woman helped remove the scratchy blankets from around her.
When Lorinda relaxed on the sheet covering the soft mattress, Mrs. Oleson pulled the top sheet and two quilts up over her. Everything was made of finer material than any she had ever touched. Smoother...softer.
“Thank you.” Lorinda’s eyelids felt heavy, but she worked hard to keep them open.
“I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, as my mother used to say.” With a smile, the woman hurried out the door and closed it gently behind her.
Now that she was alone, Lorinda decided to close her eyes for a little while to rest...just until Mrs. Oleson returned with her food. Instead, exhaustion quickly dragged her deep into slumber.
Flames leapt around her. The smell of acrid smoke filled her nostrils, almost choking away her breath. She had to get away, but no matter how hard she tried to move, some kind of force held her back. She called out to Mike to come help her, but no one answered. Over and over she called until her voice was about to give out, and the flames crept closer. When she’d about given up all hope, the click of the door opening aroused her from her terrible dream.
“Here, now.” Carrying a tray, Mrs. Oleson bustled through the doorway.
Steam curled from the spout of a china teapot ringed with pink roses, and the smell of warm biscuits wafted toward Lorinda. Her stomach let out a loud growl signaling her hunger. She blushed, hoping Mrs. Oleson didn’t hear the sound. If she did, the kind woman never mentioned it.
After setting the tray on a table beside the window, the older woman came to the bed. “Do you want to sit up and eat, or should I bring your food to you in bed? I can put more pillows behind you.”
“I can get up. That chair by the table looks comfortable.” Lorinda sat up and swung her legs over the side of the
mattress.
Mike’s boots rested on a rag rug nearby. She wished she had put on her own shoes before she escaped from the burning cabin. She didn’t want to clomp around this house, sounding like a thundering herd of cattle.
Mrs. Oleson went to a chest that sat against the wall opposite the bed. She opened the top drawer and pulled out something knitted. “Here are some warm, woolen socks. You can wear them instead of the boots if you’d like. Those look far too large for your dainty feet.”
Dainty? No one had ever called her that. “Thank you.”
“Let me help you.” The older woman knelt beside the bed, making Lorinda feel uncomfortable. “It’ll be easier for me than for you to reach so far with the wonderful blessing you’re carrying.”
Was this baby a blessing? Lorinda hadn’t even thought about anything like that. Yes. She would consider the child she and Mike had created to be a very special blessing.
If only the rest of her life weren’t such a mess.
Franklin paced across the great room of the ranch house. He’d told Mrs. Oleson he wanted to talk to her after she’d taken care of the Sullivan woman. Maybe his housekeeper would have an idea about some place they could take her.
Even though it had been over three hours since they arrived at the house, he still missed the feel of Mrs. Sullivan cradled in his arms. A feeling he couldn’t afford to enjoy. Not if he was going to protect his heart. The sooner the woman was out of his house, the better. He’d get back to his settled lifestyle and forget her. At least, he hoped he could.
Footsteps approached from the hallway that led to the two bedrooms on this floor. Finally. Now he could get this taken care of and return to ranching. Running a spread the size of his took all his concentration.
“There you are, Franklin.” His housekeeper stopped in the doorway. “I’m assuming you want to check on our guest.”
“Of course.” He waved her inside and dropped down on the long sofa covered in cowhide.
A Heart's Gift Page 4