Skidding and sliding, the stage careened, tilted to the right. The wheels on the left lifted up off the ground. The coach canted.
“We’re not going to make it.” Beth prepared to grab Alex and somehow the driver, too, and jump.
“Throw your weight left!” Alex shouted, pinned to the right side by his need to hang on to the brake.
Beth leaned so hard and fast to the left she nearly lost her seat.
The stage wobbled, yawed upward right, then suddenly snapped down onto all four wheels. The curve straightened and leveled off. With the growl of wooden wheels scraping on rocky soil, they brought the stage to a halt.
Dust swallowed them up. Beth concentrated on breathing for just a second and swallowed a lungful of dirt.
In the blinding cloud of Texas topsoil, Alex rasped into her ear, “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
Beth turned and was close enough to look right into her husband’s eyes.
He was only inches away, surrounding her, his legs along the length of hers. His arms, now that the stage was stopped and the brake locked, wrapped around her. Although, judging from the fire in his eyes, this might not be a hug so much as a handy chance to throttle her.
“I didn’t realize how serious the situation was until I was up here.”
“And you got up here how? Exactly?” Alex scowled.
“I just swung myself up. You know I can do that.”
Alex’s arms slid from where they were wrapped around her shoulders, down to her protruding belly. “I didn’t know you could do that now that you’re almost ready to have a baby.”
“It was a little more trouble than usual, but I managed.” Beth realized several things at once, primary among them she wasn’t in the mood to be scolded by her husband. She leaned forward and kissed him. “I’m sorry. I should have at least told you the driver was in trouble.”
The next thing she realized was that the stage driver needed help. “I wonder what happened to him.” Beth studied the man who was stirring. She saw a trickle of blood on his head that looked like … “Is that bruise on his face in the shape of a horseshoe?”
Alex released Beth and clambered up to examine the man.
Beth looked at the team. “I suppose one of the horses threw a shoe and it knocked him insensible.”
And the last thing she realized was that she was going to have this baby a little sooner than she’d expected. “Can you handle things up there on the roof, Alex? It’s not that far to Mosqueros and I’d like to get on into town.” Truth be told, Beth was seriously tempted to turn the stage off the trail and head overland to her ma’s house. But it might constitute a crime, what with the mail pouch and all.
“Go ahead. I’ll just stop the bleeding and we can ride up here. It’s only a couple of more miles and he can lie flat out here better than inside anyway.” Alex didn’t even look at her, as he was so busy tending the man. And he wasn’t looking to Beth for strength either. He had his own these days. Strength of will, the strength of his health, and strength of soul. He’d made his peace with God and man, the past and future and—himself.
Beth loosed the brake and called to the horses, which all four moved out with a good will, considering what they’d been through in the last few minutes.
It was only minutes later that Beth heard stirring behind her and glanced back to see Alex easing the awake but groggy driver through the open door of the stage.
Then Alex came up and sat beside her on the narrow seat. “So how far apart are the contractions?”
Beth smiled. The man was too sensitive for his own good. “I just had the first one a few minutes ago. My water broke, though. I guess it’s time.”
“It’s a little early.” Alex didn’t sound too worried. The baby wasn’t early by much. “I know you’re tough, but you really should have sent me up here to do this job. You’re going to have to cut back once the baby’s here.”
“Of course I’ll cut back. I’ve been cutting back since we first found out I was expecting, haven’t I? Just like you’ve told me to?”
Alex snorted in a completely rude way, but Beth didn’t take exception, since, if anything, she’d been working harder than ever before.
Then they drove into Mosqueros.
Beth saw the parson first thing. “Hi.” She shouted and waved.
Parson Radcliff made a beeline for them, his arms loaded with his now almost two-year-old son, the one Beth and Alex had delivered their first second back in Mosqueros. “Beth, Alex, welcome home. We have missed you.”
“Parson, could you find someone to ride out to the ranch and fetch my ma into town?” Beth rested one hand on her currently rigid stomach. “The baby’s coming and I’d like Ma to be here for it.”
The parson looked momentarily stunned, then nodded. “Can I help you down from there?”
Alex had already jumped down, rounded the stage, and was reaching up to assist her. “I’ve got her, Parson. But the real stage driver is inside the stage and I need to get him and Beth to our office.”
As the parson hurried off the do their bidding, Alex turned suddenly. Since Beth was just ready to let him catch her, she almost fell to the ground. Fortunately, she had kept a firm grip on the seat and was able to scamper down herself with little trouble.
“Is the office still there?” Alex looked at the row of buildings lining the town. Beth’s eyes followed in the same direction and she smiled to see that, yes, Mosqueros had saved the doctor’s office for them.
Alex turned back, reaching up, looking up to help her, then started and dropped his eyes to where she stood beside him. “You should have waited for me to help you down. You could have fallen.”
Beth didn’t roll her eyes through sheer practice, born of being married to a man she reckoned. “You get the driver.” She patted Alex on the arm. “I’ll go see to finding a place to rest him and myself.”
Alex nodded and Beth walked on. She realized that while Alex liked to observe the niceties of manners and liked to scold her for overdoing, the truth was he treated her with more respect than Beth had ever known possible. He didn’t even hesitate to let her walk off alone. He knew she could handle most anything and, perhaps more importantly, knew that she’d be honest if she couldn’t handle it.
She walked toward home, pausing to let another labor pain come and go. Probably not even five minutes between them. This baby would come fast, and Beth had a lot to do before she could lie down.
Alex caught up to her before she reached the office and, with one arm slung around the bleeding stage driver, who leaned heavily, beat Beth to the door and opened it for her, allowing her to proceed.
She smiled as she passed him.
And he smiled back.
She’d never seen one second of regret that Alex had sold his share of his father’s railroad and walked away from his chance for a vast amount of power. He’d done it now, just as he’d done it in his youth, to meet the calling God had laid upon his heart.
Her husband had survived torment and nightmares and emerged a strong, wise man of faith.
A man with his own strength, who knew hers, who accepted and loved his wife and worked joyfully beside a doctor in petticoats.
Discussion Questions
Women have very different expectations today than in the 19th century. Talk about Beth’s wish to be a doctor. How often did women back then really go against societal expectations?
Alex Buchanan had Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Did you ever know anyone from WWII or the Korean War who was “shell shocked”? Talk about how differently we handle mental illness now.
Did Alex’s journey to mental health seem reasonable? Explain.
Alex drew strength just from looking in Beth’s eyes. Have you ever had someone in your life that made you feel like a better person, who lifted you to a higher place, mentally, spiritually, and physically?
You didn’t expect Sophie McClellen’s daughter to grow up to be quiet little things, did you? If you read Petticoat Ranch, talk a
bout what you remember about the girls in that book.
Did you like switching to Mandy’s story and back to Beth’s? Is that a style of storytelling you enjoy? If not, explain.
Which story did you like more, Beth’s or Mandy’s? Why?
If you’ve read The Husband Tree, or any of the books from the Montana Marriages series, did you like it that Belle Tanner and her family made a cameo appearance in this new series? What do you like or not like about Belle?
Was Alex too weak at the beginning? Does such a deeply troubled hero appeal to you? How does your ideal hero behave?
Do women have a need to “save” troubled men as Beth did Alex? Do you think this particular storyline is maybe not such a good one for women, even though it’s fun? How should a woman approach a relationship with a flawed man?
There really were bounties on deserters from the army, and death was a possible punishment. Desertion was mostly overlooked though. Talk about some of the scars left on this country from the fight to settle the West.
Wrangler in Petticoats
One
Montana Territory, 1882
Sally McClellen fought to control her temper and her horse.
But her horse wasn’t the problem. It was her temper upsetting the horse. He wouldn’t have been acting fidgety if it weren’t for her testy grip on the reins. So any trouble Sally had was all her own doing.
“None of this gets me one step closer to Mandy. She needs me.” Sally was so anxious to get on down the trail she thought she might explode.
They rode around the curve of a steep mountain trail and in the distance caught their first glimpse of a river lined with high banks of stunning red rock.
“Sure it’s a pretty sight, but—”
“It’s more than pretty. It’s beautiful.” Paula McGarritt, Sally’s traveling companion, looked at her and smiled. “Admit it. It was worth riding out here.”
Mrs. McGarritt knew full well how impatient Sally was, but Mrs. McGarritt, sweet and friendly as she was, didn’t let anyone push her around. The colonel’s wife sat her horse sidesaddle in a proper riding dress. She had made her opinion known early and often about Sally’s manly riding clothes and her habit of riding astride.
“It is beautiful.” Sally stifled an irritated sigh. They were here now, staring at the rocks. As if none of this group had ever seen a rock before. They all lived in west Texas or New Mexico. Their whole world was pretty much made of rocks.
Sally relaxed her grip on the reins to spare her restless horse. They’d be at Mandy’s in a few days. Less because they’d abandoned the trail and gone cross country. But Colonel McGarritt had agreed to the shortcut because he had a hankering to get out of the train and see some wild country. When Pa had asked if they’d see Sally safely to Mandy’s house, the colonel had studied the area and decided he’d like to see several places along the trail—this canyon among them.
He’d have just stayed on the train, though, if it wasn’t for Mandy living in the middle of nowhere with her no-account husband. So, Sally took the detours that interested the colonel and his wife in the best spirit she could manage. Griping didn’t help and it made everyone else miserable.
Which wasn’t to say she hadn’t done plenty of it. But still—the group had voted. She’d lost. This was America. “Thank you for insisting we ride out here.”
“You’re welcome.” Mrs. McGarritt grinned at Sally, not one bit fooled by her forced politeness. The older lady reached out her hand and Sally clasped it.
“Spectacular,” Colonel McGarritt said. “Absolutely stunning.”
Sally tore her eyes from the view to intercept Mrs. McGarritt’s smug look. Paula was too polite to say, “I told you so.” But Sally caught the superior look and didn’t even mind.
Much.
The crimson bluffs were magnificent. But was it worth the time they’d wasted abandoning the most direct path? When Mandy might be in trouble? She was at least suffering from terrible homesickness. Her last letter had been a poorly concealed cry of loneliness. But with a third baby on the way and no womenfolk within fifty miles, she really needed the help as soon as possible.
No, this wasn’t even close to worth it.
Only by sheer force of will did Sally keep her hands loose on her reins and a smile on her face. They had plenty of time to get to Mandy’s before the baby came. And Sally knew, from the map Mandy had sent, that the site of her new home was going to take this party a long way out of their way, and the group had all gone along with it; and they’d been a sight more mannerly about it than she was being.
Mandy would soon have her third baby in three years of marriage. She needed help. A woman’s help. Luther and Buff did what they could, but they had no place at the birth of Mandy’s baby. Sally offered to go.
Ma and Pa had a dim view of Mandy’s husband and they’d relented, though they’d made a fuss over losing another daughter to Montana. But Sally had promised not to let Montana keep her. She’d promised it wouldn’t be forever. A year at most. Sally would help with the babies. Probably end up spending the winter with Mandy and no-account Sidney, then head home.
And now, instead of making the best time possible, here she sat staring at the admittedly beautiful canyon and river God painted with a blazing crimson brush.
She and Paula McGarritt rode with six men. All but Sally were making their way to Seattle. The group had been forming before Sally had gotten the idea to travel to see Mandy.
Pa would have never allowed Sally to travel so far alone. But once Pa had heard of this group of sturdy men, and the stalwart Mrs. McGarritt who would act as chaperone, he’d relented. Now the travelers were slowing Sally down.
She was well aware she should be ashamed of herself. Then she noticed she’d tightened her hands on the reins again and her horse was tossing its head. Sally relaxed and sat with the most patience possible beside Paula, who wore a prim riding skirt, her gray hair neatly hidden beneath her bonnet, her spine ramrod straight.
Sally knew about tough and considered herself as tough as they came. But she had to admit, the nearly sixty-year-old Paula McGarritt could keep up with her. Maybe not in a footrace, but the woman was frontier born and bred, and she was at home in rugged conditions. And these were rugged indeed.
Though Mrs. McGarritt had clung to her proper clothing to take this ride, Sally had slipped away once they’d left the train and changed into her wrangler clothes. Mrs. McGarritt had scolded, but Sally, already chafing under the delay, refused to change back, so Mrs. McGarritt had relented and allowed Sally to wear chaps and ride astride with a rifle strapped on her back.
Sally had won that small battle but lost on the sightseeing trip. Now here they were looking at pretty rocks when they should be making tracks for Mandy’s house.
Mrs. McGarritt said, “Let’s ride down closer. I want a better look.”
Sally didn’t like it, but she said nothing, resigned to the delay. Now she rode along to take a closer look than their bird’s-eye view from a mountain crest. They funneled down the narrow trail.
The trail made its serpentine way down the mountain. Sally admitted it felt good to be on horseback again after the long train ride. They wove around a curve.
Sally looked at the sheer drop to her left and swallowed hard. They were as far out in the wilderness as a body could get. And this side trip down to those red rocks served no purpose. Food to hunt, cattle to round up, fine. But to stare at rocks, no matter how pretty? Sally shook her head but remained silent.
The land dropped off for a hundred feet on her left. The horses’ hooves scratched along on the loose dirt and round pebbles. The trail was a steep slope downward, which meant slick even on this bone-dry day in June.
As the trail twisted, Sally saw the end of this dangerous stretch only a few yards ahead and breathed a sigh of relief to pass this particularly treacherous section of the trail. Now with only a few more tortuous yards to cover, Sally relaxed. “Mrs. McGarritt,” she called out, wanting to tease
the dear lady again about dragging Sally along on her joyride.
Paula, below Sally on the trail, gained nearly level ground. The cliff no longer yawned at her side. She turned in her saddle, smiling. “You can thank me later, girl. When you’re dressed like a proper young lady again.”
Thank her? Not likely and well Mrs. McGarritt knew it. The two of them exchanged a warm smile. Mrs. McGarritt really was a sweetheart, for a tough old bird.
Once she looked away, Sally gently brushed her fingertips over the front of her broadcloth shirt and felt the ribbon beneath the rough fabric. No one knew of Sally’s fondness for ribbons and a bit of lace. She went to great lengths to keep her little bows and frills hidden, pinning them on her chemise when no one was around, removing them before laundry day so even Ma wouldn’t see.
Admiring pretty things felt dangerous to Sally, so she didn’t speak of it. Pa loved having her at his side on roundups and working the herd. For some reason, Sally felt certain that if she went girly on her pa, he might not love her as much. Oh, he’d always love her. She trusted in her pa’s love. But he might not love her in the same way. With Beth and Mandy gone, Laurie owned Pa’s heart as the princess. Sally’s place was beside him riding the range.
Trusting her horse to manage the steep trail, Sally pondered this spark of womanly weakness that drew her to lace and frills and such nonsense. Her foolish daydreams ended with the sharp crack of gunfire.
Paula McGarritt slammed backward off her horse.
Sally’s world slowed down and focused sharply as it always did in times of danger. Her hand went to her rifle before she spun to face the shooting.
Another bullet sounded, from above. Someone shooting from cover.
Smelling the burning gunpowder, hearing the direction of the bullets, Sally’s gun was firing without her making a decision to aim or pull the trigger.
Sophie's Daughters Trilogy Page 31