The Rancher Inherits a Family

by Cheryl St. John

  The bell over the door chimed and Seth stepped back, breaking the tension. The black-haired young man who had taken Seth’s supplies to the ranch the day before removed his hat. “Mornin’, ladies. Halloway.”

  “Thanks for your help, James,” Seth said to the newcomer.

  “James, this is Miss Brewster, our new schoolteacher,” the doctor said. “Marigold, this is James Johnson.”

  “How do, miss.” He inquired about their bags and carried them outside.

  The door opened again and a slender older woman wearing a small gray hat with red ribbons flowing down the back stepped in, her gaze darting to Seth. The hem of her red-and-gray plaid dress swished when she hurried toward him. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m good. A little banged up, but I’ll be fine.”

  The top of her head only came to his collarbone, but she rested her head against his chest and he gently hugged her with one arm. “I couldn’t wait to see for myself. There were so many injured. Thanks be to the good Lord no one died.” She stepped back and turned her attention to Marigold. “And you must be Miss Brewster.”

  “Yes.” She stood, setting down the poultice, and let the older woman give her a brief embrace, the delicate scent of lilac water drifting to her nostrils.

  “I’m Evelyn. Seth’s mother. I’m so sorry about this difficulty and so relieved you weren’t seriously injured.”

  His mother...of course. He had her dark hair and eyes. “Your son came to our rescue or it might have been much worse.”

  “I don’t want you to worry about anything,” she went on. “I’ve made arrangements for you to stay at White Rock. We have plenty of room, and what with the news that we’ll have three little ones, two in school, it will be convenient to transport you to town in the morning with the children.”

  “White Rock?” she asked.

  “Seth’s ranch,” his mother explained. “You’re coming to stay with us.”

  Chapter Three

  Marigold rolled that announcement around in her mind for a moment. She was going to be staying with the Halloways? She’d had no idea where she’d be staying, except that her room would be at a student’s home and likely change occasionally. But this arrangement had her thoughts spinning. Seth, too, looked every bit as surprised by his mother’s revelation as she felt.

  She had her reservations about going home with this family—especially with the children. She’d been drawn to them, felt compassion for them, offered them care and concern...as long as she knew this was a temporary occurrence. After today she’d believed she wouldn’t meet them again until they showed up in her classroom. But now she would be living with them?

  “When did you make this arrangement?” Seth asked, echoing her mental question. Marlys handed him a vial holding a clear liquid and a glass of water. He drank both and gave her a nod.

  “After young James explained the situation and all the upheaval in town. I rode in early this morning and spoke with Will and Daniel,” his mother explained.

  The lady doctor turned to Marigold. “Will Canfield and Daniel Gardner are two of the town founders and formed the city council,” she explained. “They help arrange the bride trains to aid the establishment of Cowboy Creek.”

  “You’ll be able to see Daniel and Leah Gardner’s house from the schoolhouse,” Seth’s mother said. “He owns the stockyards. Leah arrived on a bride train, and she’s a midwife and—” Evelyn Halloway shook her head. “Sorry, I got ahead of myself. You’ll have plenty of time to know everyone in town.” She gave Marigold a smile. “The important thing is, the city council took a quick vote this morning and agreed it was logical for you to stay with us. James located the rest of your belongings and has them loaded. The boys didn’t bring much, I hear?”

  Marigold experienced the sensation of being swept along in a swift-moving current. “No, only two small bags of clothing, and Mr. Johnson already took one, along with mine.”

  Marlys gestured to the window. “Sam took the other last night. He should be bringing the children any minute.”

  “How much do I owe, Dr. Mason?” Seth asked.

  “I’ve been notified that all medical care, food and lodging for anyone involved in the train accident is being picked up by the railroad,” she replied. “I imagine Will Canfield had some pull arranging that.” She turned to Marigold. “Will has aspirations for the Kansas governorship, and has influential friends.”

  Marigold had much to learn and a lot of people to meet.

  “Thank you for tending to me,” Seth told Marlys.

  “It was my pleasure. Do let me know if I can be of any assistance with those boys. There is going to be an adjustment period for them.”

  “I must admit I was taken aback by the news,” Evelyn said. “But now that they’re here, I can’t wait to meet them. Do they look like Tessa?”

  “Like both she and Jessie, I’d say,” Seth answered.

  As though on cue, the bell over the door rang and Sam Mason ushered in all the boys. Little John removed his thumb from his mouth and ran straight for Marigold.

  Seth and his mother looked as surprised as she felt. She kneeled and wrapped an arm around the three-year-old’s sturdy little body. “Did you sleep well last night?”

  Little John nodded. “Da book’s in our bag.”

  Is it wise to be living with these children? The warning echoed in her thoughts, making her stomach feel a little shaky. She smiled at the little boy. “Thank you for taking care of it for me.”

  “We slept in a big bed in Mr. Mason’s upstairs,” Tate told her. “A comfortable one.”

  “Peony and I slept in a bed in Dr. Mason’s back room,” she told him with a smile. “A very comfortable bed, as well.” Pausing over her last words, she released Little John and stood. “Mrs. Halloway, I’ve brought my cat with me. I understand that’s too much of an imposition, and I’m happy to go wherever the council had originally planned.”

  The lovely woman blinked and gave her a smile. “We have cats and dogs at the ranch. I don’t see one more as a problem. Cats keep the mice population down.”

  “Well, Peony is a house cat. I don’t know what she’d do if she got outside unattended. And I doubt she’d know what to do if she encountered a mouse.”

  “I see. Well, I’m sure we can accommodate your Peony. I’m going to be thankful for your help.” She patted Marigold’s hand. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had children around, and what with Seth laid up...well, I’ll appreciate another hand.”

  As reluctant as she was to get any more involved, Marigold couldn’t possibly decline to help. It was because of Peony that Seth had gone back into that debris, rather than immediately getting to safety. It was for her sake he’d been in that position in the first place. But all of this was more of the same—life was still happening to her, even though she was attempting to forge her own path. With a sick feeling in her chest, she resigned herself to going along with this family.

  “It’s the least I can do,” she said and meant it. As soon as Seth was able to tend for himself, do chores and help with the boys, she’d make her excuses and find another place. Her meager salary wouldn’t afford her the luxury of Aunt Mae’s, and she didn’t want to live off her savings, but food and lodging was in her contract.

  “I’ve given Mr. Halloway herbs for pain,” Dr. Mason explained to his mother. She picked up a small canvas bag from a nearby counter and extended it. “Mix a half teaspoon of this powder with water and give it to him with an additional glass of water every six hours.” She cocked an eyebrow at Seth. “If he’ll accept it.”

  “I’ll take the herbs if I need them,” he said.

  “Thank you for all of your help and the good night’s rest,” Marigold told Marlys. She took her crumpled bonnet from her bag, nodded to the boys and led the gathering outside.

  James had their belongings nestled i
n the back of a buckboard with wood sides, along with what looked like a few purchases Mrs. Halloway must have made. He’d formed a couple of makeshift stairs with crates and stood to the side while Seth made the climb into the rear. After only a few muffled groans he seated himself on another crate, which had a nest of blankets behind. James then ushered Seth’s mother up to the wagon seat, while Marigold and the boys scrambled up.

  “That’s not ours,” Tate said, pointing to their stack of belongings. “That train. It isn’t ours.”

  The item he referred to appeared to be a small wooden train engine with a couple of cars attached.

  “It belongs to the other children on the train,” Harper agreed.

  Marigold remembered seeing the toy during the trip to Kansas. “There were no other children on the train, Harper.”

  He nodded and gave her a wide-eyed look of sincerity. “There was. And that’s theirs.”

  She glanced at James. “Are you aware of any other children arriving, Mr. Johnson?”

  “No, miss. Only these here boys.”

  Marigold raised an eyebrow at Tate and Harper, but then she shrugged. If they’d made up imaginary friends to pass the time, she wasn’t going to create a disturbance over their play. “Well, we’ll take it along until someone else comes for it.”

  James loaded the makeshift steps and, with an agile leap, seated himself and clucked to the horses. “I’ll take you in a roundabout way out of town, Miss Brewster, so you can see a little more of Cowboy Creek.”

  “That’s thoughtful, James,” Evelyn told him.

  His route first took them east to Lincoln Boulevard, where he turned the team left and headed north past the schoolhouse and an elegant two-story home.

  “That’s the Gardner place,” Evelyn said. She narrated the tour as they went as far north as Sixth Street, then turned south onto Eden, the main thoroughfare. She pointed out everything from the grand opera house to the bakery, where the enticing scents of cinnamon and yeast drew sighs from the boys.

  Only once they passed Aunt’s Mae’s boardinghouse did Marigold get her bearings. Then, after a few more blocks of seemingly thriving businesses, they headed south, out of town.

  “It’s so flat here,” Tate said. “Where are the trees?”

  Marigold had thought much the same for days while the train crossed the prairie with little more than short grasses in sight.

  Seth reclined against the blankets, his forearm crossed protectively over his side. “You’re right. What you see for miles and miles is little bluestem and buffalo grass. They withstand drought.”

  “What’s drought?” Harper asked.

  “No rain,” Seth explained.

  Marigold studied the terrain from beneath the brim of her bonnet.

  “A couple of horticultural societies started up recently, teaching Kansans about forestry,” Seth told them. “It’s possible to grow trees, but it’s not easy. The dogged wind makes the soil all the drier.”

  Tate held onto his hat as a strong gust threatened to take it.

  “You’ll see a few trees when we get to the ranch.”

  His effort to talk to the youngster touched Marigold. She glanced at him, and when his gaze met hers, she quickly looked away. She’d thrust herself into the midst of strangers in a peculiar land, and now she had to make the best of it.

  * * *

  She hadn’t known what she’d expected, but White Rock Ranch consisted of acres of spring grasses, freshly plowed fields and pastures with grazing horses. Barns, corrals and a dormered two-story house with covered porches along two sides came into view. A row of eight-foot elms stood to the west of the house.

  “That’s a big house,” she said to no one in particular.

  “It came with the ranch,” Seth told her. “There’s a soddy out behind where the previous owners lived until they built this one. My brother told us about the land as soon as the rancher came to him for help selling.”

  “Did you plant those trees?” Tate asked.

  Seth sat forward and inhaled sharply. “I did.”

  James lowered the tailgate and jumped into the back of the wagon to assist Seth. He and Mrs. Halloway helped him down to the ground.

  “Until we get more beds, I’ve given the boys your room with the bigger bed,” his mother told Seth. “Miss Brewster will have the far bedroom, and you’ll be sleeping in the room off the kitchen for now.”

  “Sounds busy.”

  She raised an eyebrow and smiled. “It’s convenient.”

  “I’d prefer a bed out here.” He made his way up the porch stairs to a rocker and sat.

  “I’ll arrange it.” Evelyn reached the door and gave Marigold a resigned smile. “He’s made up his mind. I’d be wasting my breath to argue.”

  “I’ll help you with the beds and the cooking.”

  “There’s plenty of room,” she assured Marigold, “but the rooms aren’t all furnished yet.”

  James carried in Marigold’s and the boys’ bags and left them as directed. Marigold carried Peony’s carrier into the room she’d been assigned. She sat on the narrow bed, lifted the cat out onto her lap and squeezed her eyes shut. Only a year ago she was living in the comfortable home her parents had left to her and her sister, teaching in a well-appointed school, helping care for the niece she adored. Memories of her sister, Daisy, and her niece, Violet, assailed her. They’d been on their own because Daisy’s husband had contracted gold fever and disappeared for months at a time, but they’d had each other. With both of them working, they’d been able to support themselves and care for Violet. Life would never be like that again. She might as well resign herself to the unfortunate fact.

  She could have stayed in her family’s home. She would have managed. But every room, every corner, every furnishing had held bittersweet memories. The reminder of her loss was too great to bear. She’d cared for her parents until their deaths, and because Daisy had never had a home of her own, Marigold had been thankful for her company and happy to help care for Violet. After Daisy’s death, she and her niece had clung to each other—until Violet’s father had come for her.

  Marigold had no legal right to her sister’s child. Violet had cried, and Marigold had encouraged her to be brave when all she’d wanted to do was cry herself. Later, she’d done plenty of that in the hollow house in which she’d been left alone.

  It had been time to leave. Start over. Make her own decisions. The teaching position in Cowboy Creek had sounded like a grand adventure.

  She glanced around. The room was clean, the quilt-covered bed comfortable enough, the pine chest of drawers and washstand adequate. She would meet new students and be up to the challenge of teaching them. Teaching brought her joy.

  She had much to look forward to.

  * * *

  “Ain’t neither caterpillars.”

  “Are so.”

  “No, they ain’t. Caterpillars ain’t brown.”

  “Some are. Go on, touch ’em.”

  Seth listened to the loud whispers, wondering what the boys were talking about. He’d been dozing on the narrow daybed his mother had instructed James to set up on the porch. She and Miss Brewster had made it up with crisp fresh-smelling sheets and a thick quilt, and he’d succumbed to Dr. Mason’s herbal concoction and the rigor of the ride home.

  His lip tickled, and he swatted at it. The tickle under his nose came again, and this time when he swatted, he came away with a skinny arm. He opened his eyes to find he’d captured Harper Radner. The boy’s wide dark eyes stared back, but his fascinated gaze was fixed on Seth’s upper lip—specifically his mustache.

  “What are you boys up to?”

  “Harper said you got caterpillars on your lip. I said nuh-uh.”

  Seth grinned. “Well, you’re right smart, Harper. What fella would want caterpillars on his lip? What if they fell into his sup
per?”

  The five-year-old scrunched his face into a mask of distaste. “Ewwww!”

  From the other side of the porch Tate guffawed.

  Seth released the boy’s arm. Harper backed up, spotted an empty bucket, which he turned over for a stool, and sat a few feet away from Seth’s bed. “I’m gonna sit here and watch for a while.”

  “I have a chore for the both of you. There’s a shed out behind the house. Go back there, leave the door open for light and find me a couple of lanterns. I’ll want them when it gets dark.”

  “To see your way to the privy?” Harper asked.

  Seth nodded. “And to read. Where’s Little John?”

  “Inside with Miss Brewster.” The two turned and darted around the corner of the house.

  The screen door opened ten feet away, and Miss Brewster exited the house carrying a tray. Little John walked so closely beside her, Seth hoped he didn’t trip her.

  “We heard you talking to the boys. Your mother sent your lunch.” She set the tray on an upended crate and moved it closer to him. “Do you want to sit up a little more?”

  “I reckon one more cushion.”

  She leaned across him to tuck the padding behind him, and her citrusy scent enveloped him. The unique zesty scent suited her—it wasn’t heavy or floral, but bright, like her hair and eyes. She wore a pale blue shirtwaist with lace trim down the front and an apron over a blue-and-white checkered skirt. The fabric rustled as she moved. Standing, she handed him a plate of food and smoothed her hand over her hip in an unconscious nervous gesture.

  Looking at the bruise on her delicate jaw made him wince each time he saw it. Her face was flushed and her eyelids seemed pink. The day wasn’t uncomfortably warm, which made him wonder if she’d been crying. The thought disturbed him more than he’d have liked. “Have a seat.”

  She glanced behind her and lowered herself onto a cushioned twig chair.

  Little John immediately leaned against her knees, and she lifted him onto her lap. He stuck a thumb into his mouth and rested back against her. His untrusting gaze bore into Seth’s.