Robin

by Julane Hiebert

  Robin clenched her fists. “You can stand out here and growl and grumble all you like, but by what I observed in that kitchen, you have a lot of work to do. Now, if you don’t mind, me and Jacob here have a barn to clean. We’ll be in at noon for lunch. If there’s gonna be bread for the table you better get it measured out and starting to rise. And since I made a trip to town yesterday, the washing didn’t get done. Take care you don’t throw Jacob’s white shirt in with your dirty pants. It’ll need to be scrubbed separately.” Her pulse raced, but she faced him eye to eye.

  “You tryin’ to shame me, girly? You think I ain’t scrubbed clothes before? I done washed a whole lot more clothes than you’ve made straw piles, I’ll have you know.”

  “You haven’t scrubbed boy’s clothes or woman things. Before I came, I would imagine you lived on biscuits and pickles. And Emma probably gave you the pickles.” She grabbed for the pitchfork. “Give that to me, Uncle John.”

  John gripped tight. “Nope, not gonna do it ‘til you put on somethin’ decent.” He pulled on the fork.

  “Then we can stand here and do this all day because I’m not changing clothes.” She yanked the fork from his hands, turned her back so he couldn’t reach it again, and plunged it into a pile of straw and whatever else was under there.

  “So now what’cha gonna do, girly? That there load is heavier than you.”

  Robin withdrew the fork and realigned her hands. “I can handle it . . . Just you watch.” She would show him she could work as hard as his ma. Bless her soul. She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “Yeah, well—you best be the one what’s watchin. Some of that stuff is still fresh . . .”

  She swung her arms back along her side, then with all her strength lunged with her left foot as she brought the fork forward. Oh dear, that was the wrong thing to do. She scolded herself as her foot slid on the loose straw. Her bottom hit the ground, and her teeth clamped onto her lip. She tasted salty blood. The strings around her neck choked her when the hat flew off, and her hair tumbled around her face like a mane. The fork, full of . . .debris, flew over her shoulder. Uncle John moaned.

  Papa’s oft-quoted admonition flew through her mind so fast she wanted to duck. “Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.” Today she fully understood the meaning. She guessed the Lord would rather remind her of her failing than answer her prayers.

  “Uncle John?” Did the pitchfork hit him? Had she killed him with her stubbornness?

  “Jacob? Where are you? Can you see Uncle John? Is he hurt?”

  Two eyes peeked over the wall of the nearest stall, and his fingers gripped the splintered boards.

  “Answer me, Jacob.”

  One finger wiggled.

  She swiveled on her bottom and came face to face with her uncle, sitting on the barn floor behind her.

  Muck covered her uncle’s face. Clumps of dirty hay stuck in his hair and draped across his shoulders. His hat lay at his feet, flattened. He spit out a piece of straw. “You can handle it, eh? Just watch, you said. Well, missy, look what ya done did. I oughta turn ya over my knee and give you a good whuppin’. That’s what I oughta do.” He heaved himself to his feet.

  “You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”Ohh! Wrong thing to say.

  His eyes darkened. “I wouldn’t dare? I won’t back away from nobody’s dare. But never let it be recorded that John Wenghold paddled a gal while she was down. Let me help you up and then, by jumpin’ bullfrogs, we’ll see how high and mighty ya sass me.” He grabbed her hand.

  “Stop it!” Jacob butted with his head to get between them and kicked at John’s shins. “Stop it. You’re mean. You can’t hit my mama!” he screamed. “I won’t let you hurt my mama no more.” He pummeled John’s stomach with his fists and continued to kick. Tears ran down his face.

  “Oh, Jacob.” Her heart lurched. “Your Uncle John—”

  “What’s going on in here? Miss . . . Miss Wenghold? Is that you? Do you need help?” Anna Blair stood in the doorway armed with a pitchfork. “I’ll keep the old man busy, you crawl away as fast as you can.”

  As though frozen in midair, Jacob stood with one foot ready to kick, his small fists doubled against John’s chest while Robin’s uncle held her arm by the wrist.

  Robin jerked free from John’s grasp. The last thing she needed was Miss Blair paying an early morning visit—in the barn—while she sat in a pile of straw. Wearing britches. She attempted to get her feet under her, but the slick soles of her new boots slid on the loosened muck.

  “Miss Wenghold? Should I get help?” Anna gripped the fork with one hand, while she pinched her nose with the other.

  Robin couldn’t blame her. She shared the same sentiment––the aroma was less than that of roses.

  Robin gulped and willed the lump in her throat to go down along with the pride she was forced to swallow. So much for praying. “No, Miss Blair. What you witnessed is not at all how it appears.”

  Robin’s hair hung in her eyes, but to swipe it away would mean turning loose of the mess she clutched in her hand. She shrugged and wiped the remains on the leg of her men’s britches.

  Anna offered her white glove-encased hand then quickly withdrew it.

  “Miss Blair, if you would like to go to the house, I will join you shortly. Perhaps we could have a cup of tea.” Robin glared at her uncle. “Mr. Wenghold is relieving me from my present duties, you see.”

  Miss Blair seemed relieved for an excuse to exit.

  “Well, now,” John muttered when she was gone, “likely the whole town of Cedar Bluff is gonna hear about how John Wenghold’s niece was found sittin’ in a pile of muck, dressed like a man.” He held out both arms for leverage and helped Robin to her feet.

  “I imagine my being dressed as a man is the least of your problems, Uncle John. Now, if you don’t mind keeping Jacob busy, I will attempt to entertain Anna Blair. Perhaps there will be a redeeming quality to this day yet.”

  “I don’t want to stay here with him.” Jacob pointed at Uncle John. “He’s mean.”

  Robin sighed. She didn’t have the time nor the energy to have this argument. “Jacob, Uncle John is not mean, and you will stay with him. Don’t fuss with me.”

  Big tears swam in the boy’s eyes. “But he was gonna hit you.”

  The older man knelt in front of Jacob. “Oh, son, I would never hit Robin. Never.”

  “But you said . . .”

  “I know what I said, but it was an old man talkin’ when he should’ve kept his mouth shut.” He nodded at Robin. “You go on in and attend to Miss Blair. Me and Jacob will finish this man’s work.”

  Robin squinted against bright sun when she stepped out of the barn. How had she managed to get herself into so much trouble in such a short amount of time? Her stomach growled in protest of the skipped breakfast.

  Breakfast. Robin rubbed the back of her neck. To get even with Uncle John, she’d chosen to leave the kitchen in shambles––the kitchen Miss Blair was no doubt perusing at this very moment. Would she ever learn? How much more humiliation could she take?

  She pried off her boots on the porch, stepped into the house, and answered her own question—not a whole lot.

  Anna stood on a chair, a voiceless shriek emanating from her beautiful, contorted face. Beneath the table, feasting on bread crumbs, sat the fattest rodent Robin had ever laid eyes on. The critter seemed unperturbed by the commotion going on around it. She had complained to Uncle John that she’d seen signs of the pesky things. But he’d scowled.“This ain’t Chicago, missy. Them creatures come in and make themselves to home both spring and fall. I’ll try to plug the holes they’s coming in, if I don’t forget.”It was rather obvious, at the moment, that he forgot.

  “But they’re dirty,” she’d argued, “and if someone sees them in here they’ll think I’m dirty, too.”

  John shook his head. “Every woman on this prairie has them things coming and going, and it don’t have nothin’ to do with dirty or no
t. They’s field mice what wishes they were a house mouse.”

  Robin stomped her stockinged foot exasperated by the audacity of the creature, the silly behavior of Miss Blair, and her uncle’s neglect. The thing skittered behind the cupboard.

  “Was that . . . a rat?” Anna’s gaze darted around the room.

  “Miss Blair, I have no idea whether it’s a fat mouse or a small rat. But no matter what it is, I’m so very sorry you had to encounter the intruder.” Robin reached to help her guest from the chair.

  Anna shrank from her grimy hands. “Oh, thank you, but I—I don’t need help.”

  Robin stuck her hands in her pockets. With luck, the dirty crumb-eater would stay hidden.

  “I can’t imagine what you must think of us, Miss Blair. Let me assure, you, this is not a typical day. To explain would only confirm your worst imagination, so I won’t even try. But do sit down—that is if you can find a spot that isn’t occupied by debris of some sort.” She pushed the remains of breakfast to one side of the table then went to wash her hands.

  “Robin? You don’t mind if I call you Robin, do you?” Anna brushed something off the chair before sitting. “I came this morning, wishing to become better acquainted. I . . . I very badly want to be your friend. And I need your help.”

  Robin dried her hands and set a plate of cookies and the teapot on the table. At least she had pretty teacups, thanks to Emma. “I don’t mind at all. And I could use a friend, myself. But I can’t imagine why you would need my help doing anything, Miss Blair.”

  Anna removed her gloves and ran a delicate finger around the rim of the teacup, a small frown resting between her eyebrows. “I do hope you won’t think I’m being presumptuous, Robin. But Henrietta Harvey assured me you would be the best person to ask. I’m sure you’re aware that Ty and I will be married at Christmas. Unless, of course, he insists he simply cannot wait that long.” She smiled.

  Robin shrugged so her shoulders wouldn’t sink with her heart. No. She was not aware of that little piece of news but couldn’t trust herself to utter a reply. A shrug would suffice.

  “I’ll be so busy planning and purchasing my trousseau, and seeing to ever so many small details. I fear I won’t have the time nor the energy to sufficiently prepare the big house on Ty’s ranch for my arrival. With no woman on the place since Grace Morgan’s death, I’m certain it’s in need of a thorough cleaning.”

  “And you’re wanting my help with that?” Had the woman not taken a good look around her?

  “I was hoping you would agree to do it––without my help.”

  Robin sank into the chair across from Anna. Her hands shook too much to do more than fold them in her lap. “I’m sorry, Anna. I wouldn’t feel at all comfortable being in Mr. Morgan’s home with no other woman present.” It didn’t help to look down—all she could see were men’s britches.

  Anna pushed her cup to one side, contents untouched. “I’m sure no one would think any less of you for helping a neighbor and a friend. Of course, you could take the boy with you, if that would make you more comfortable. As far as Ty is concerned, I doubt he would even notice you were there.” She stood. “Mother agrees to pay you well for your labor.”

  Robin swallowed. “And when would you want this accomplished?”

  “I’ve not yet told Ty, but he does so love surprises. Mother and I are planning a big Fourth of July picnic at the Hawk. We’ll announce our engagement then, although it will hardly come as a surprise to anyone around Cedar Bluff. We’ve been promised since we were small children, you know.” Anna turned the ring on her finger. “That would give you at least six weeks. Would that be sufficient? I know so little about such things. We’ve always had a housekeeper, you see.”

  “I don’t think—”

  Tears welled in Miss Blair’s eyes. “Please don’t refuse me, Robin. I have no other friends who would even listen to such a plea. It would mean so much to both of us.” She kissed Robin’s cheek. “Thank you.”

  Robin stared, unblinking. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and refused to let words pass. So the beautiful Anna Blair had no friends who would stoop to such a menial task? And Ty would hardly even know she was there?

  Robin followed Anna onto the porch as the lovely, soon-to-be Mrs. Ty Morgan picked her way past one barn cat and three old hens that had somehow managed to escape their confines. She would need to remind Jacob again about latching doors behind him.

  “Thank you, Robin. I’ll tell Ty he can expect you,” Anna called as she climbed into her buggy.

  Robin covered her mouth with her hand as she observed a large chicken feather stuck to bottom of the pretty lady’s dainty shoe.

  Perhaps the day had been redeemed after all.

  FOURTEEN

  Ty removed his hat and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. The morning sun already burned through his shirt, but he wanted to check one more waterhole before heading back to the house. A swirl of dust advanced his direction, and he shaded his eyes to determine the origin. Who could be in such a hurry? Knowing a stranger lurked the hills made him wary. He gripped the reins with one hand and reached for his rifle. He relaxed when the dust settled enough for him to recognize his new cowhand.

  “Hey, Boss.”

  “You’re riding like something’s on fire, Sam. You have trouble?”

  Sam grinned. “No, but you might have. Was you expectin’ company today, sir?”

  “I don’t ever expect company. You know something I don’t?” Ty liked this cowpuncher. Hard worker. Looked you in the eye. If only he knew a little more about him, instead of having to wait and find out in bits and pieces. He smiled to himself when Sam leaned from the saddle to tell his big news—like he had a secret.

  “Rusty had me choppin’ burrs out in the horse pen, and I seen me this buggy a comin’ down the lane. It drove straight up to the house, and a real fancy lookin’ lady got out and went in like she owned the place. I thought you oughta know.”

  “A fancy lady? And how would you know, Sam? You’ve seen a lot of fancy women in your day, have you?”

  He blushed. “No sir. Leastways not like this one.”

  “Did she have a boy with her?” Maybe Robin had forgiven him after all.

  Sam shook his head. “No sir. She was all alone. But she didn’t act like she was no stranger. Walked right in. Didn’t knock—anyway, not that I could see.”

  Ty hung his lariat over the saddle horn. “Well, friend. I reckon we better go see who this fancy lady might be, and what she’s doing in my house acting like she owns it and all.” He grinned. “Thanks for the warning.” He clicked his tongue, and Tag responded with his slow, easy walk.

  Sam rode beside him. “Ain’t ya even gonna hurry?”

  Ty winked. “Nope. If she’s as familiar with the place as you say, then she’ll still be there. And if she’s gone—well, I don’t think there’s a buggy Tag can’t outrun.” Maybe he should consider getting a dog. He didn’t much like the idea of anyone coming onto the place and into his house uninvited.

  When they reached the house Sam leaned toward Ty. “Don’t you want me to go in with you, Mr. Morgan? Or maybe I should go ‘round back in case she tries to escape.”

  Ty dismounted and handed Tag’s reins to the other man. “I recognize the buggy, Sam, and I can pretty much guarantee I won’t need any help.” He grinned. “You mind watering this animal for me? Then you can go back to choppin’ those burrs.”

  Sam’s shoulders drooped. “I don’t mind tellin’ ya, it’s a prickly job.”

  Ty brushed his britches with his hat. “Yeah. Well, I have me a feeling I’m about to step into a right thorny situation myself.”

  He opened the door, and Anna appeared to float down the open staircase, a vision of sunshine with her yellow dress billowing around her.

  “Hello, Ty.” She rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  He stepped away from the embrace. “Anna, what are you doing here?”

  �
��Is that any way to greet your future wife? The Ty I remember would sweep me up in his arms and twirl me around and around.” She folded her hands at her waist. “Aren’t you even a little happy to see me?”

  He shook his head. “Did you honestly believe you could waltz back into my life, Anna? Surely you don’t expect us to take up where we left off? If you’ll remember, that little scene involved you walking away from me.”

  “I told you Sunday, I was wrong.” She brushed at her cheek, but he saw no tears. “I still have your ring, Ty. And, if you recall, you told me that night you would always be here. I would know where to find you. You would never stop loving me.” She crossed her arms and stepped forward. “Yes, I do expect us to resume our relationship.”

  Ty grasped the stair rail. “It’s not that easy, Anna. A year is a long time. Things change.”

  Anna drew nearer. “And have things changed so much that you can honestly look me in the eye and tell me you no longer love me?” She laid her palms on his chest.

  Ty’s heart beat like a war drum at her touch. Could he tell himself he didn’t love her? Had his pride been cut and peeled? After all, she left him behind to try to explain her sudden departure to everyone who thought they were a couple—and he couldn’t. And he most certainly didn’t know why she chose now to return. But the temptation to pull her to him flowed hot through his arms.

  “May I assume your lack of words means you’re thinking? Do you even see me, Ty?”

  His gaze met hers and her beauty took his breath away. How often they’d stood in such an embrace—his arms encircling her tiny waist, his cheek resting on her head—while they talked of a life together. But now, when he looked at her, he questioned his heart. What was wrong with him? What did he want? One move her direction and he could claim his dream—a life with the one woman who’d occupied his mind for most of the past year. But things had changed.