Blue Moon Promise

by Colleen Coble

  When he reached Larson, he stopped at the saloon and pushed inside. Childress was there, as he’d expected. He was talking to Curly Milton, a ranch owner from the other side of the county.

  Childress flushed when he saw Nate and the men behind him. His hand went to his holster, but he paused when Nate pulled his gun first.

  “No need for gunplay.” He held out his splayed fingers to show he held no weapon.

  “Not this time, maybe,” Nate said. “But I won’t say the same if you dare come near my wife again.” It was all he could do not to grab the man by the throat and throttle him.

  Childress laughed, but it was forced and without humor. “I got no reason to seek out the pretty lady, Stanton. I merely stopped to help her out of the mud. If she says I did more than that, she’s lying.”

  Rage tightened Nate’s throat. He seized Childress by the collar and hauled him to his feet. “My wife doesn’t lie,” he snarled. “I’m giving you just one warning. Stay away from Lucy.” He turned to the rancher. “This man manhandled my wife, Curly. You don’t want his kind around your pretty daughters.”

  The man’s bald head went pink and his brows drew together. “In that case, I’ll take my leave of you two.” He stood and tossed some coins onto the table where they rolled against the plate and stopped.

  “Hey, what about my job?” Childress called.

  “I’m not interested in hiring you.” Curly clapped his hat on his head and strode out of the saloon.

  Childress’s lips drew back in a snarl like that of a rabid dog. “You’ll pay for this, Stanton. You and that so-called wife of yours.” He jerked out of Nate’s grip and ran from the building.

  Nate shouted and took off after him, but the varmint had vanished. Frowning, Nate ran for his horse. He would have to be more vigilant with Lucy.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The Red River, swollen from spring rains, rushed along beside their picnic spot in a tumble of water and flotsam. Lucy watched as Nate tossed a ball with Jed and Eileen. Since he’d come back from confronting Childress two weeks ago, things had been pleasant between them. Too pleasant. His gaze was admiring and gentle, but it was as though he was waiting on a sign from her. Several times she’d opened her mouth to talk to him about their relationship, then closed it just as quickly.

  They had family devotions each night, and Lucy was impressed at the amount of Scripture Nate knew and at the depth of his wisdom. She’d wanted Jed to have a godly role model, and he adored Nate. They attended worship every Sunday, making the drive to town like a normal family. But when she had looked around at the other families who filled the pews, she knew they were like none of them. She longed to be like the other wives, secure in a husband’s love. She looked at Nate playing with the children and smiled. God had been good to them so far. He would bring them the rest of the way to the fulfillment of all he planned for them. She could hold on to that certainty.

  Nate’s sandy blond hair fell across his forehead as he laughed and feinted away from Jed. Eileen squealed and threw herself against his leg. A smile tugged at Lucy’s lips. She caught her breath at the wonder of her feelings. For the first time, she loved him as a wife should love a husband. Looking at his masculine arms, she desired them around her. He looked at her, and she felt the heat of a blush on her cheeks. Did he know?

  Nate reeled over with Eileen still clinging to him and collapsed on the quilt beside her. He closed his eyes. “I’m beat. We’re supposed to be resting up before starting the roundup tomorrow, but I don’t think this is the way to do it.” He scooted over and put his head in Lucy’s lap.

  Lucy ran tentative fingers across his forehead, then lightly touched his thick hair. Nate’s eyes were still closed, and for that she was thankful. She stroked his hair, enjoying the feel of it between her fingers. She didn’t want to think about the roundup. Especially the branding. Her stomach congealed with dread at the thought. But Nate needed all the help he could get.

  “What time do we start tomorrow?” she asked.

  “I told the boys to meet at the south pasture at six. Lord willing, we’ll be done by suppertime on Wednesday. Since we’re starting so early, Pa suggested we bring Eileen to him tonight.”

  “She’ll keep him running.”

  “It was either that or he’d insist on helping with the roundup. At least this way he feels useful, and Percy will help him. Eileen will be fine.” Nate sat up and sighed. “I reckon we should be going. Pa is expecting us for supper, and Bessie will be caterwauling to be milked.”

  Their idyllic day was at an end. She gathered up the remains of their dinner, then folded the quilt. Jed carried the things to the wagon.

  That night she could hardly sleep for worrying about the coming three days. What if there were spiders when they slept out on the ground? And what if the ranch hands realized she was a tenderfoot and despised her for it? She wanted Nate to be proud of her. Lucy sighed and rolled over. She could hear Nate’s soft snore above her head in the loft. He obviously wasn’t worried about the roundup. And why should he be? He wasn’t the one on display, the one everyone would be judging. An image of Margaret, tall and competent, floated before her like a gray cloud in the sky. Margaret would know how to handle herself on a roundup. All Lucy could do was disappoint.

  The rooster crowed at five, but Lucy was already awake. She hurriedly dressed in a pair of Jed’s dungarees and one of his flannel shirts.

  Nate’s brows lifted when he saw her attire, but he grunted in approval. “Glad to see you showing some sense about it,” was all he said.

  She fixed breakfast while he loaded the bedrolls into the wagon. The three of them ate in silence. Lucy kept stealing glances at Nate’s distracted face. He already had the cattle in his mind. After breakfast she followed him and Jed outside. The wagon was laden with the supplies for meals. At least part of her day would be spent with something she knew and loved. Bridget jumped into the wagon to join the fun.

  The scene at the roundup was already chaotic. Cattle bellowed, and thick clouds of dust hung in the air. The air was fetid with the scent of cattle and manure. Lucy felt faint and nauseated, and the real work was yet to begin.

  The men began to herd the longhorns together. Lucy mounted her mare and found her horse knew what to do better than she did. The mare cut and wheeled among the melee of horses and cattle while Bridget followed, nipping at the heels of the calves who tried to get away. They cut out the unbranded calves and herded them toward a corral the men had built.

  Lucy took a deep breath as Rusty, the Stanton foreman, knelt to drop the branding irons in the fire. A movement to her right caught her eye, and she turned. Margaret O’Brien, her generous curves evident in her dungarees and shirt, laid her hand on Nate’s arm. His head was bent attentively to her.

  Jealousy, hot and unexpected, swamped Lucy. What was Margaret doing here? She looked completely at home in those clothes. She laughed and tilted her head coquettishly to listen to something Nate said, then walked toward the branding fire. Picking up a branding iron, she nodded for Rusty to ready the first calf.

  The calf bucked and tried to run, but the two men holding it bore it to the ground. Margaret walked to the calf and applied the Stars Above brand. The calf bawled, and the sound smote Lucy’s heart. She bit her lip so hard she could taste blood. The calf bawled again, and bile rose in her throat. Lucy turned to run, but her feet wouldn’t obey her. A mist blocked her vision, and the ground rose up to meet her.

  “Lucy!”

  Hands shook her, but she kept her eyes shut. She didn’t want to wake up. It was too early. She would just sleep a few more minutes, then get up to fix breakfast.

  “Lucy, wake up.”

  Gradually she became aware of the hard chest she rested against and the feel of gentle hands holding her. The sounds around her penetrated her consciousness. Cattle lowing, men yelling above the din. Lucy opened her eyes and blinked. Nate’s anxious face swam into focus. Over his shoulder she could see Jed, and just past him, Marga
ret’s concerned face.

  Memory flooded back. That calf, the awful bawling, and the stench of burning hair. She felt faint again and closed her eyes. Tears stung and slipped from her closed lids.

  Nate’s strong arm lifted her to a more upright position. “Would you like a drink of water?”

  She nodded. Anything to avoid looking at the pity in Margaret’s face. Pity for Nate, for the burden he carried having such a sissified wife. She sneaked a peek at his face through her lashes.

  “Here, take a sip of water.” He held a canteen to her lips and she gulped it, then coughed as it went down the wrong way.

  “Careful.” He held it to her lips again, and she took another drink before she swiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

  “Thanks.” She finally dared to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry, Nate,” she whispered.

  “Sorry for what? It’s a bit overwhelming the first time. You’re doing fine. I told you to stay home but you were insistent on coming.”

  “The calf.” Lucy gulped and broke off.

  “I know. But the calf is fine. Look.” He pointed to the little blaze-faced calf on the other side of the fence. It nuzzled its mother, then scampered off to play with a friend.

  Relief filled her, but the entire procedure still left a bad taste in her mouth. She let Nate help her to her feet. Wooziness rushed over her again, and Nate caught her or she would have fallen.

  “Hey, Boss, ’spect you’ll be having a little one scampering about, huh?” One of the men laughed, and heat flooded Lucy’s face. If they only knew.

  Nate ignored the impolite comment and escorted Lucy to the wagon. She sank weakly onto the ground and leaned against a wagon wheel.

  “You should have married Margaret,” she muttered. She sensed Nate go still.

  “What’s she got to do with this? Are you upset she’s here? She always helps with our branding, and I help with theirs. She’s just a friend, Lucy.” His voice was stiff. “If you don’t know I’m an honorable man by now, you don’t know me at all.”

  She winced and was suffused with shame. “It’s not you, it’s me. I’m useless as a ranch wife. Margaret wasn’t just watching, she participated. I will never be able to do that, Nate.” Her shoulders slumped, and she buried her face in her hands.

  Nate knelt beside her and his breath whispered on her neck. His big hands took hers and pulled them from her face. “Lucy, I never asked you to do that. You’re the one who’s so determined to prove yourself. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

  She stared into his gray eyes doubtfully. “You said I was little and puny, that I couldn’t be a good rancher’s wife.”

  “I was angry then, and wrong. Size doesn’t matter—heart does. And you’ve got the biggest heart I’ve ever seen.” His eyes were tender, and his hands cupped her face.

  Her heart surged with hope. Did he mean it? His face came nearer, and her eyes fluttered shut. She held her breath and lifted her face. His breath touched her face. She waited in almost unbearable anticipation.

  “Is she all right, Nate?”

  Lucy’s eyes flew open at the sound of Margaret’s voice. Nate rocked back on his heels, then stood.

  He held out his hand to Lucy. “She’s fine, Margaret. Thanks for your concern. I’d best get back to the men.”

  His warm palm left Lucy’s with obvious reluctance. She forced herself to smile at Margaret. The other woman watched Nate as he strode back to the dusty, noisy scene. She tore her gaze from Nate’s back and smiled distractedly at Lucy.

  “I’d better get back too.” She dashed off without waiting for Lucy to reply.

  Lucy turned her back on the commotion and began to sort through her supplies. She would not watch the woman ogle her husband. God would not be pleased at her jealousy. Nate said he was happy with her the way she was. She would cling to that.

  Dinner was nearly ready when a buggy came rolling across the field. Shading her eyes, she waved at Henry and Eileen. Henry stopped the buggy at the chuck wagon and hoisted his bulk to the ground. Lucy went to get Eileen.

  “Couldn’t stay away, could you?” Lucy asked Henry with a teasing smile.

  “In all the years we’ve been ranching here, I’ve never missed a roundup. I’m not going to start now.” Henry’s color was good, and his eyes were bright with excitement. “I think I’ll go see if my boy is doing it right.” He strode eagerly toward the men and animals.

  “It smells.” Eileen wound her arms around Lucy’s neck and wrinkled her small nose.

  “I know, sweetheart. But we’ll stay here and get dinner ready.” She put Eileen on the end of the wagon and stirred the stew one last time. She heard Eileen gasp and whirled to see what was the matter.

  A Comanche, dressed in buckskin and moccasins, stood by her sister. His brown hand was touching Eileen’s shining golden locks. Eileen’s blue eyes were wide, and tears trembled on the ends of her lashes.

  Lucy sprang to her side and thrust her body between Eileen and the Indian. “Would you like something to eat?” she asked in a shrill voice.

  The Indian’s dark eyes narrowed, and he touched Lucy’s blond hair with a curious hand. Lucy flinched away, and he frowned.

  “How much?” He gestured at Eileen. “I give two fine horses for girl child.”

  Lucy put her sister behind her. “No! She is not for sale.”

  “I give you five horses.” He reached around Lucy for Eileen.

  “No!” Lucy knocked his hand away. Trembling inside, she was determined not to show her fear. Where were the men? Didn’t they see the danger?

  The Indian scowled and stepped back. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Ten horses.”

  “No, not for a hundred horses.” She scooped Eileen into her arms and dashed toward the safety of the men and cattle. Was he following? Risking a glance back, she didn’t see a rock in her path. Her foot struck it, and she went tumbling through the air. Lucy desperately tried to hang on to Eileen and to protect her with her own body.

  Twisting as she fell, her arm hit the ground first, and she felt a sickening jerk inside. Crushing pain and nausea dimmed her sight to a pinpoint. She held Eileen against her with her good arm. A moan escaped.

  Eileen began to sob and wail. Moments later Nate knelt beside her.

  “What happened? Are you all right?”

  “My arm. The Indian,” she babbled.

  Nate ran his hand over her arm, and she cried out when he touched her elbow. “You’ve dislocated your elbow. I’ll have to put it back in place.” He stood and waved. “Margaret, could you help me?”

  Lucy gritted her teeth. They wouldn’t hear her cry out. She would show them what stuff she was made of.

  Margaret held her hand while Nate took hold of Lucy’s arm, one hand on either side of her elbow. “Ready?” Beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead.

  “Yes,” Lucy whispered. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together.

  Nate jerked, and Lucy thought she would be sick. A scream hovered on her lips, but she refused to let it out. The pain was excruciating, and her vision wavered for several long moments. Then the pain began to ebb until it was a manageable dull throb.

  “You’re a brave woman.” Nate helped her to sit. “What happened?”

  Peering past his shoulder, she realized the Indian was gone. Her shoulders eased and she sighed. Eileen was safe. She told Nate about the Indian’s offer for Eileen.

  He sucked in his breath, and his face went white. “You’re both beautiful and rather exotic looking to him. I’ll have the men keep an eye out, and I want you to stay close to me.”

  He smiled, but his expression seemed forced to Lucy. She shuddered. He wouldn’t have to tell her twice to stay close.

  He stood. “You rest that elbow. Margaret can see to finishing dinner.”

  “I can do it.” Lucy managed to get to her feet. Margaret wasn’t taking over her job. She knew this competitive spirit she had toward the other woman was a sin, but she couldn�
�t seem to help herself. Her elbow throbbed, but she pressed it against her side and hurried to finish dinner. She would prove to Nate she was a better wife than Margaret if it was the last thing she did.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Nate limped a bit as he walked toward the campsite. A blister had formed on his heel, his back felt like someone had stuck a pitchfork through it, and his left hand throbbed from a burn left by the branding iron. His bedroll was going to feel mighty good tonight.

  The sight of the firelight on Lucy’s golden hair made the glow of the campfire even more welcome. Her radiant hair fell to her waist. What would she do if he walked up and plunged his hands into that glorious mass? Scream, probably. He was filthy and he stank of cattle.

  But he was blessed to call her his wife. His bemused grin faded. Unfortunately, that’s all she was. A woman he called his wife. He’d watched for a sign from her that she was ready to move forward into a deeper relationship with him, but just when he thought there might be hope, she stepped back again.

  She looked up as he approached. Her blue eyes were shadowed, but he didn’t think it was from the pain of her dislocated elbow. She seemed to be using that arm a bit.

  “I heated some water for you,” she said. “Jed already washed up and went to bed.”

  “He worked as hard as a man today. You’ve done a good job with him.” Nate thrust his hands into the kettle of hot water, splashing it over his face and neck. “Whew, that feels mighty good.”

  “I brought a piece of pie from the chuck wagon. I thought you might be hungry.”

  “I’m almost too tired to be hungry. But pie sounds good.” He took the pie from her outstretched hand and gulped it down in four bites. All he really wanted to do was crawl into his bedroll and rest his weary body.

  The air was muggy, even as late as it was. Staring into his wife’s lovely face, Nate felt all thought of sleep leave him. He pushed a log over to the fire and sat on it, then patted the spot next to him. “Let’s jaw awhile. I’m not as tired as I thought I was.”