by Lynn Donovan
Dr. Meadows wiped his hands on a brown cloth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any harm. The boy was curious… he’s a smart lad, and I planned to examine all of the stock before the event, to be sure there weren’t any horses or cattle that needed to be pulled from the competition.”
“First of all, Chanc-- my colt and his mother will not be in the competition, Dr. Meadows. Second, I’d appreciate you keeping your opinions to yourself about my children. Third--” Her chin shot up higher and she turned on the ball of her boots and stomped from the barn, muttering to herself. “How dare he. Who does he think he is?”
She slammed the door as she entered her kitchen. Jaxon stood behind his place on the bench. Sonya was dishing up his plate for breakfast. Jewell stood on her tip toes, sliding her plate into the dish tub.
“Sit down!” Hope barked at her son. Jewell misunderstood and dropped the plate on the floor. It shattered as she jumped away from the broken clay and ran to the bench to sit down. Sonya gasped, but didn’t say anything.
“Momma? I eat.” Tears streamed down Jewell’s face.
Hope’s heart broke into a thousand pieces for the terror on her daughter’s face. “I- I’m so sorry, baby. Momma didn’t mean you.”
Sonya set the plate in front of Jaxon and stepped back. Hope picked up the shattered plate her daughter had dropped and lifted apologetic eyes to Sonya. “I’m sorry, Sonya, you too, son. It scared me when I couldn’t find you this morning. Please don’t go outside while all these strange men are here, unless I” --she glanced at Sonya-- “or Sonya tell you it’s alright.”
Sonya took the broken plate from Hope with an empathetic smile.
“But, Momma, I like Dr. Meadows. He’s real nice.”
Hope stared at her son. Obviously, he missed his papa. “You’re not old enough to make such judgements, Jaxon. Please do as I say.”
Jaxon hung his head and scooped eggs into his mouth. “Yes, Momma.”
Hope closed her eyes. She hated the way she had reacted to her son being with Dr. Meadows. The man really hadn’t given her any cause to mistrust him. So why did she feel she couldn’t… trust the man? She had no idea. Truth be admitted, she had ridiculous school-girl feelings in her tummy whenever he was around. A chuckle escaped her mouth. What would Mrs. Casterton think of that? She was barely out of widow’s weeds.
Roland patted Prince’s head to rouse him from his sleep. The two of them walked out of the horse stall, leaving the colt with the mare. His heart felt heavy. He’d made Mrs. Ledbetter mad and for some reason, he couldn’t explain why, that troubled him. Roland had noticed the new colt and thought it right to examine him and the mare since he was there.
The boy just showed up and had been curious. He asked a lot of questions. Roland saw no harm in teaching him the ways of veterinary medicine. But the fury in his mother’s eyes --the golden flecks lit up like lightning in those stormy emerald eyes-- caused something unfamiliar to stir in Roland’s chest.
She was beautiful.
Especially when she was angry.
No. He shook his head as if it would knock loose that way of thinking. How could he allow such thoughts? He simply could not entertain such ideas, and he could not stay here past this event. He was a man on the run. Who knew what horrors awaited him when the bounty hunter figured out where he had gone. Life in prison, or worse: hanged. A shiver traversed his spine. He needed to keep to himself, tend to the animals, and stay out of sight as much as possible until he got paid for his services, then move on. But he needed the money to afford his life of reclusiveness.
He walked out into the barnyard, searching for Mr. Garcia. Roland needed a horse so he could go examine the stock in the field. He’d separate any he thought were unfit for the rigors of the competition and ask when the steers and calves would be brought to the ranch. He covered his brow with his hand to shade his eyes from the morning sun and searched the pasture for Garcia. The crew was working diligently out to the north and Garcia worked alongside them.
The horse Roland had ridden in on was legally stolen from the livery Sister Mary Margaret had spirited him to. But in some way, Roland felt the horse had been given to him by Saint… whichever one it was the Sister had called upon to help Roland escape. He had let it mix in with the Ledbetter herd, but should he continue to claim it as his own? The young steed had no brand, or identification to place him belonging to anyone else. Out of all the horses in the pasture, surely they wouldn’t realize one more had joined the livestock. With any luck--
He rubbed the Saint Christopher metal that permanently hung around his neck, hoping he wasn’t overly dependent on whatever amount of luck that had been allotted to him at birth. So far it had kept him alive -- and free. He began walking in the direction of the fence-mending crew. He didn’t want to take a horse without permission and he knew better than to ask Mrs. Ledbetter after this morning’s encounter.
Although, the thought of calming those stormy emerald eyes appealed to him. He glanced at the back door of the house. No. He couldn’t. She’d be safer knowing as little about him as possible. He drew in a deep breath. He should keep clear of her son, too. That thought saddened him to his core. But it was how it had to be.
He continued toward the north pasture. He’d go talk to Mr. Garcia, and hopefully get a horse assigned to him. He’d make something up about his ride. It was borrowed? It ran off. He clinched his jaw. Mr. Garcia would never fall for that.
Roland stopped in his tracks. Mrs. Ledbetter never saw him with his horse. She would be unaware how he got on the ranch. Maybe his best bet would be to ask her instead. He closed his eyes. He was new to this plotting and staying ahead of bounty hunters or whoever Sheriff Grayson might have sent after him.
This was a bad idea and yet, it was the least bad idea he could come up with. Roland knocked on the door and stepped back. His gut churned with anticipation of gazing into those green windows to her troubled soul. The door opened and he lifted his eyes. Disappointment washed over him. A sun-darkened woman stood at the opened door. “Yes?”
“Uh.” Roland never thought about a house servant. “Is Mrs. Ledbetter available?”
The woman let her eyes travel down to his boots and back up to his eyes. She didn’t look pleasant or inviting. “You’re the animales doctour?”
Roland yanked his hat from his head. “Yes ma’am. I was wondering if a horse could be assigned to me. I-I came here”--he sighed and cringed at the same time. These lies were getting easier to utter, but he hated it all the same-- “on foot.”
The woman leaned out the door and looked into the barnyard. “Where is my abuelo-- uh, grandfather? He will help you choose a caballo.”
Roland pressed his lips. “Yes ma’am. He’s out with a crew, mending fences.”
She searched the pasture, and having spotted her grandfather, returned her gaze to Roland. “I see. And you’re just now deciding you need a mount?”
“Well, I was checking the stock that is here in the barn, now I’m ready to go to the horses out in the field. I want to be sure only the sturdy ones are used in the competition.”
She stiffened. Roland paused. How had he ruffled her feathers? “I thought it would be less trouble to Mr. Garcia if I go to the stock, rather than asking him to round them up and bring them to me. I’m sure you and the Ledbetter Widow don’t want any preventable injuries… to man or animal.” He lifted one eyebrow and grimaced a slight smile.
The woman looked angry. “May I give you some advice, Dr. Meadows?”
He nodded as he swallowed the façade of confidence.
“Don’t refer to Mrs. Ledbetter as ‘widow’ anything. She’s a strong woman and knows her station in life, but don’t use that term around her. Ever. Second, the Ledbetter stock is the finest you’ll find in these parts. There’s not a weak one in the herd. Hope, er uh, Mrs. Ledbetter makes sure of it. You’ll be good to keep these two things in mind if you speak to her again.”
Fire shone in the woman’s eyes. She was more than a h
ouse servant. She was a friend, and interesting how her broken English improved when she was riled. She must be a really good friend to Mrs. Ledbetter.
Roland resigned to himself that he needed to think through his words before he blurted them out. “Yes ma’am. Thank you for the advice.” He glanced over his shoulder and back to her. “So, do you think Mrs. Ledbetter will allow me a horse? Just temporary. I don’t aim to keep it.”
The woman stepped out on the porch. “My grandfather will assign--
“Sonya?” Mrs. Ledbetter’s voice came to Roland like an angel calling through a garden of spring flowers. “It’s alright. I’ll give the doctor a horse. After all, he did help me when I needed it.”
She stepped up behind Sonya to peer over her shoulder. Sonya stood her ground. Mrs. Ledbetter placed a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. “It’s alright, Sonya. Thank you.”
Sonya stepped back, albeit reluctantly. “Abuelo will be back soon, he can--”
“That’ll be all, Sonya.” Mrs. Ledbetter gave her a stern look, but from the surprise on Sonya’s face, it was an uncommon occurrence.
Roland waited for Miss Garcia to walk away, then he chanced meeting those stormy eyes. “Hope” --he swallowed-- “Uh, Mrs. Ledbetter, thank you for your kind hospitality. I hate to bother you… but I’d like to be able to ride out to the pasture and examine the herd. May I borrow a horse?”
At last he knew her name. Hope. It was as beautiful as she was.
She stepped out on the porch and turned her face toward the pasture. She shielded her eyes with her slender hand. “You keep learning things about me that I have not revealed. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.” She turned to him slightly, cutting her eyes to the corner of their sockets to capture him in her sight. “You’ll have to wrangle one from the herd anyway, why don’t you tell Señor Garcia I sent you and I said you can have whichever one you feel is most appropriate for your needs.” She turned back to the pasture.
He smiled. “Thank you, ma’am. I’m much obliged.”
“Of course.”
He stepped toward the edge of the porch.
“And, Dr. Meadows?”
He turned to her.
“I’m sorry about this morning. I’m not used to not knowing where my son is. Having all these cowboys on our ranch, me not knowing anything about them, I feel extra protective, and yet, he’s extra curious. The two don’t mix. I’d appreciate you keeping an eye on him when he wanders out of my sight like he does. Just be sure he don’t get himself into any trouble.”
Roland put his hat on his head. “I’d be happy to, Ma’am. He’s a fine boy. You should be quite proud of him.”
“Oh, I am, Dr. Meadows. I also worry a lot about him. He’s the type of child who never met a stranger, just like his father, but he’s too young to discern good from bad, I mean when it’s safe to get close to a person.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Roland stepped off the porch. He felt lighter than air. She trusted him to look out for her son. Maybe there was a chance for him to settle in around here.
No! He had to stop thinking like that.
SEVEN
A few days later, Hope stepped off her back porch to go milk the cows and gather eggs, but was awestruck by the changes on her ranch. Sure, the house was in terrible shape, and the barn too, but repairs were being made. The corral had been reinforced with slats taken down from her grandparents’ original barn, which somehow still stood south of her home. Their original home was nothing more than a rock outline of the foundation and a crumbled hearth. But the barn wood was good enough to extend the corral boundary and make release chutes. Somehow, Nick had managed to gather some wood that was good enough to build bleachers, or had he bartered for it?
The cowboys had kept to themselves and not been a bother to Hope. Jaxon, of course, wanted to watch everything, especially the events. For the first time in his small life, he got all his morning chores done before the afternoon events began. Hope had no interest in going into town for the street festival. Besides, seeing all those people made her shudder. It was bad enough they all came out here of an afternoon. Thank goodness decorum kept them from knocking on her door. She generally stayed inside and prayed Jaxon wouldn’t get into trouble.
Jewell was excited about the events, too, but she was young enough to keep home with a word. Hope lined up little sewing projects for her and Jewell to do together to keep her active daughter occupied. By the end of the week, they would have built a little rag doll. Jewell seemed excited to work on her new dolly.
Hope’s heart felt conflicted, knowing only one of her children was out among the visiting cowboys gave her a small sense of peace, but guilt ransacked her heart for keeping her little girl away from the hustle and bustle out north. Every morning she promised herself she’d take the child to at least one event, but by afternoon, the fortification of her strength to face all those people withered. She’d put Jewell down for her nap and by the time she woke, Hope would tell her it was nearly over. Sonya, on the other hand, would slip out and be gone all afternoon. Seemed she had caught the eye of a cowboy and wanted to watch his event or sit in the stands with him afterwards.
A pang of jealousy plagued Hope as she sat in her rocking chair darning while Jewell napped. Her mind wandered to the mysterious but handsome veterinary doctor that had captured her son’s attention. She had to be honest, he’d captured her attention, too. There was something intriguing about him, he was kind, patient with a curious little boy who wanted to question everything, gentle with her daughter, and oh so attentive to the animals’ needs. Her papa probably would have liked him. A smile lifted the edges of her down-turned mouth. What secrets did he harbor? If it were not secrets, then what did he keep hidden from his past? There was something. She could see it in his eyes. But it wasn’t any of her business to pry.
Yes, a lot had changed at Hope Ranch over the past several weeks.
Would Sonya want to attend the barn dance? Hope considered the possibility of attending, too. What would it be like to dance with Dr. Meadows? But she couldn’t. If Sonya attended, there’d be no one to watch her children. She was better off staying in her home and avoiding the crowded barn, anyway. She sighed. Besides, she wasn’t ready to entertain the idea of pursuing another husband. Jude had only been gone two years.
She sighed heavily. Two years--
How long would be long enough? Wasn’t the whole idea of this competitive event to bring men into their town -- potential husbands? Why not consider Dr. Meadows for a future husband?
Because he had no interest in her. She reprimanded herself. What on earth was she thinking?
Roland couldn’t concentrate during the events. An undeniable awareness that someone was watching his every move caused his skin to crawl, but when he scanned the crowd of cowboys and onlookers he couldn’t determine who might be the one causing the sensation. Determined to attribute it to his fear of being hunted by Sheriff Greyson, he tried to stay in the darker recesses of the stock corral all through the competitive events.
From his position in the shadows of the corral, he could easily observe the animals in case any got hurt. He tried to keep his attention on the cowboys inside the release chutes, to make sure they weren’t being overly rough or cruel. He wasn’t needed for anything other than the injuries. So he had a lot of idle time on his hands and his mind. Hope Ledbetter filled that idle space, even though he seldom saw her.
The Ledbetter boy could be found among the competitors. Señor Garcia generally kept the boy under a watchful eye, as Roland assumed was a common occurrence since Mr. Ledbetter left for the War. Roland couldn’t help but to feel a need to ensure the boy was safe, also. After all, Mrs. Ledbetter had asked him to help keep the boy out of trouble. He enjoyed him coming to him and asking a multitude of questions that a curious boys asks. A smile forced itself on his face when Jaxon and Prince played a game of tag or wrestled around. Prince followed the boy around most of the time until Roland whistled and th
en his companion would be by his side. Roland even tousled the boy’s hair from time to time as if they were close friends. As if there was a chance he might could be this boy’s father someday.
Roland stepped back from the corral rail. He had to wrangle those thoughts and put them away for good. He couldn’t follow his heart on this. She was a beautiful woman, her children would be so easy to love. The boy, so curious, learned quickly and could follow in his tracks to learn veterinary medicine. The girl, so sweet and shy, strung his heart. He could see himself wrapped around her little finger in no time. How he wished things were different. But they weren’t. He put his boot back on the rail and leaned forward. He needed to do his job, collect his money, and move on.
Each day was the same as the one before, only with a different event. Roland kept a keen eye on the livestock, mended cuts and scrapes as needed, and avoided the Ledbetter widow and her children as much as possible. That sensation of being watched came and went. He would scan the crowd as discretely as possible, but had never met anyone’s blazing scrutiny. He sighed, hoping it was just paranoia.
With each passing day, he had become familiar with Hope’s routine. She rose early to milk the cows and gather eggs. Because Roland slept in the hayloft, he had a secluded vantage to quietly watch her work. The day ended with her returning for the evening milking.
Perhaps she had forgotten he bunked in the loft, she seemed oblivious to his presence. He loved to hear her voice as she spoke to the two cows while she drew their milk. Her tone was soft and her words were difficult to distinguish in his loft perch, but he knew she poured her heart out to the two milk cows.
A longing gnawed in his chest to be the one she confided in with her thoughts. How he wished he could sit across the table with her at supper and discuss both of their days’ events.
The week was coming to a close and the final day was focused on getting the barn cleared out for the final event, the barn dance. Roland gathered his bedroll and prepared himself to leave the ranch on foot. Walking alone across the prairie to another town was not ideal, but it was his only choice at this point. He whistled for Prince and together they stepped out of the barn. Hope scurried across the barnyard.