“Heard you’re from Kansas?” Nolan turned to the speaker. Harrison Dunn and his foreman, Habakkuk Pendell stood together by him.
“Yes, near Ellsworth. Have you heard of the cattle town? It was famous for shipping thousands of cattle back in the early 70s.”
“I’ve heard of Abilene, Kansas,” Pendell, the older man remarked.
“Ellsworth shipped Texas longhorn cattle from about ‘72 to ‘75 after longhorn herds were banned from Abilene.”
“Where did all those cattle stay while waiting to be shipped out?”
“All over the countryside. I was about twelve or so when the herds started to arrive in the spring, but I remember seeing cattle in every direction as far as you could see. Drovers tried to keep the herds separate and drove them down to the Smoky Hill River or the creeks in the area to water them.
“When it was the herd’s turn to ship out, they drove the cattle into town, right down Main Street to enter the railroad stockyards to ship out. Took most of the spring and into summer to ship them all away by rail car.”
“Those cattle stocked the west though, so they didn’t all ship back East.”
“There were millions of Texas Longhorns driven up from Texas, and some walked clear up to this territory and on west to stock ranches.”
“I remember those days when herds came up this way. Some outfits would show up again the next year, with the same big old steer leading the way,” the older man said.
“What do you mean, the same Longhorn?” Campbell asked in surprise.
“There would be a calm animal, usually a steer instead of a cow, practically a trained pet. Its job was to be in front of the herd, heading north—or whatever direction the herd was to go. It’d be first to cross creeks and rivers, stop the herd for rests and overnight,” Pendell explained.
“There’s a family, the Hamners, now settled near Ellsworth, who brought cattle up from Texas every year for about a decade. They’d talk about their trips, and they had a head steer,” Nolan added.
“Since you’re from Kansas, did you ever help on a drive?” Campbell asked.
“I did a few springs before I joined the military. There are two big ranches in our area, the Cross C, and the Bar E Ranches, who sold and drove cattle to ranches. It would be small herds, usually under a thousand head, a remuda of horses, a chuck wagon, cook and about six to ten riders.
“For a young man, it was an adventure, especially since I grew up in a café instead of the range. Some of the preacher’s boys were along, too. We’d end up saddle-sore, sunburned, and scared out of our wits a few times, but it was fun for us young bucks.”
Nolan thought of the Reagan boys, wondering what the six of them were up to now that they were all adults. He hoped some of them still lived around Clear Creek so he could connect with them again. The oldest boys, Angus and Seth, had been his best friends growing up.
“When I first moved up to this territory, I saw more different cattle breeds than I expected.” Nolan thought of the differences he’d seen between the ranches in Montana Territory and in Kansas.
“Actually, to begin with, most of the ranches in the territory were small, often times started with cattle traveling on the Oregon Trail. The cattle, often times a dairy and meat breed, like Shorthorns, would go limp or worn out from the trip. A rancher would trade one animal from his own herd, for two worn-out animals from the traveler. That’s how they built their herd.” Pendell said.
“Between the forts and the miners in the area, there was a steady need for beef, so ranchers brought in more cattle, like the Texas Longhorns over time,” Campbell added.
“Ranch sizes have exploded in the past five years now that the Indians are contained on the reservations.”
“Yep, cattle roam the territory where it used to be big herds of buffalo.”
Nolan’s mind wandered as the two men talked. Where was Holly and who was she talking to? He looked around and saw her back to him, helping move food dishes around to make room for another dish. Nolan had never guessed he’d be so lucky with good food on this layover, even though he had to cook some of it himself.
“I believe everyone is here, so I’ll say grace so we can partake of this meal,” Reverend Nelson raised his voice to be heard over all the conversations.
“Dear Heavenly Father, please bless this food we are going to enjoy and the meaning of this meal. Please watch over Myrtle and Holly as they travel to Billings and start the next chapter in their lives. In thy name, we pray, Amen.”
“Amen,” echoed through the room as everyone raised their bowed heads.
“Ladies of honor, you go through the line first,” the reverend insisted although Myrtle balked until someone gently pushed her forward.
Nolan noticed that Holly hung back as no one urged her to go next. He winded his way through the people to reach her elbow.
“I think we should eat next. There’s a lot of kids in this room eyeing that plate of fried chicken, and I want to get my favorite piece.”
“Oh yes, fill your plate, Holly, and Nolan,” Polly said now that she turned away from visiting with someone.
“Ladies first,” Nolan handed Holly a plate from the stack at the end of the table, and then picked up another one for himself.
“Anything to avoid?” Nolan leaned close to Holly to ask.
Holly quickly turned around to stare at him but understood the meaning of his quiet question seeing his smirk. She turned back to the table laden with bowls and platters of food and quickly glanced at the food. Holly would know who brought what since she helped put the food on the table.
“Beans in the white bowl, pickles in the first jar,” she said under her breath. Nolan liked her quiet warning.
“Thank you,” he whispered before raising his voice. “All this looks delicious, so I’ll have to go through the line twice to try everything.” He nodded to the line of women watching him.
Nolan’s hand paused over each dish before reaching spoons or forks to scoop a portion on his plate. He’d been to enough church potluck dinners to know what to do to make all the cooks happy. Nolan had swallowed his fill of bad food while smiling, too.
Nolan chuckled at a memory. He’d been about eleven or twelve, standing at the end of the dessert line with his friends at the summer picnic after church. Mrs. Reagan appeared, looked each of the boys in the eye, and quietly said. “You boys take a slice of that cake which hadn’t been touched, and you will enjoy it, every bite. And you will thank the baker...sometime today, not all of you at once...that you appreciated her making it.”
Old Mrs. Jimston might have been a good baker at one time, but her white cake was deflated, lop-sided, and skimpy on the frosting. They dutifully took a slice each—except Mack Reagan who always took two of everything—and ate every bite. Already knowing how to bake, Nolan knew she’d forgotten to put in the baking powder, and then baked it too long, making the whole cake dry to the point of tasting burnt.
And the frosting was made with sugar, butter, and unfortunately, curdled milk.
But Nolan did go over to Mrs. Jimston later and had a good visit with her. She played the piano in the church until her eyesight and arthritis made her give it up. Mrs. Jimston probably knew what Mrs. Reagan had done, but never said anything, just enjoyed the attention the boys had given her that day. After that day, Nolan made a point of always saying hello to her in the church until she passed.
“Shall I sit with you, or do you want to sit with the ladies? I assume everyone will divide up like they do at most potlucks?” Nolan asked as they walked away from the serving table.
“You’ve been to a few community functions in your day, haven’t you?” Holly teased.
“Yep, and there is a protocol to follow.”
“Then you better go talk to the men.” Holly turned toward the table where Myrtle was already seated and walked that direction.
Nolan enjoyed the next couple of hours of visiting the Miller Springs community. It seemed like a tight-knit communi
ty and one he might have been tempted to settle into if not for the fact he needed to go home.
People finally started saying their farewells, gathering their dishes and heading for their homes. Nolan dreaded the news Sheriff Matters was waiting to tell Myrtle, but at least he was able to wait until the company was gone. It was sure to be the talk in church next week, but the women were spared the gossip today.
He noticed Holly starting upstairs and stopped her.
“Can I help you get something?”
“I was just going upstairs to get our wraps. We need to go outside to the necessary.”
“I laid them on the settee,” Nolan said before stepping back, hoping that’s the only room she’d go in for now. He hoped he’d straightened up Holly’s room back to normal, but he wasn’t sure.
Nolan took the wraps from her when she descended the stairs and helped Holly on with hers. “I’ll walk out with you to be sure Myrtle gets safely there and back. Don’t want her to fall again before she leaves.” And he wanted to be with them when they saw the outside door when they walked back to the café.
“What happened, Nolan?” Holly asked as he ushered them back into the café after a few minutes outside.
“Sheriff Matters will explain what he knows.”
“I’m sorry, ladies, but I didn’t want to ruin your party. Your apartment was broken into during church, and the robbers left town with a couple of the livery’s horses.”
“Oh, my word! What did they do upstairs?” Myrtle had her hand on her chest as if she was about to have a heart attack.
“Just looked through your clothing trunks. Did you have any money hidden in there or anything else of value?” Nolan assured her.
The women looked at each other. “We talked about this before we went to church, being the two men had been hanging around. We kept all our money and jewelry on us, so they didn’t get anything then.” The sheriff looked relieved at Myrtle’s words. He still had to send word around about the horse thieves, but at least the women’s savings were safe.
“Holly, one of your portraits was damaged though, although I hope we can repair it,” Nolan hated to give her the news, but he didn’t want her to open the trunk and find them as they were.
“They were on the bottom of the trunk!”
“Your trunk had been dumped and the intruders...ripped a photograph in half. I put everything back in the trunk, so you need to repack it and see if anything else is missing.”
“My violin!”
“Luckily it was with you today,” Nolan laid his hand on her forearm to calm her down.
Holly shut her eyes and took a deep breath, then looked up at him with teary eyes. “Yes, it was safe today— because of you,” and awkwardly moved to hug his chest. Nolan wrapped his arms around her and gladly enjoyed her warmth until she pulled away. What would it feel like to have her hug him every day? He was starting to sense he’d like that.
“Nolan will stay with you tonight in case you need anything. I’ll be over here in the morning to help get your trunks to the depot. Good afternoon, ladies, Nolan.” They watched the sheriff walk out the door, leaving him with the upset women.
“Um, I’ll clean up the dining room and kitchen while you go upstairs.” He knew the women would go through everything they packed, checking to see if anything was missing.
“Whenever you want leftovers for supper, please come downstairs.”
“Nolan, about the walk to the cemetery…” Holly reminded him about Myrtle’s request to walk to her husband’s grave.
“Oh, we don’t have to...” although Nolan knew Myrtle would regret it later if she didn’t see Fred’s gave before leaving town.
“That’s right. I promised, Myrtle, so we will do it. After I clean up in the café, I’ll go shovel a path to where Holly pointed to the stone. I need some exercise after eating that good meal anyway. It won’t take long to shovel the path, and by then you’ll be ready to walk over.
“Anything else you want to do before we leave tomorrow?”
“The back door lock?” Myrtle was thinking of the damaged doorframe that must be fixed.
“Just minor damage the sheriff said he’ll take care of later. Just be sure to give Sheriff Matters the key to the front door before we leave town tomorrow.”
Nolan watched Holly walk behind Myrtle up the stairs, patiently guiding her up the stairs. He’d be glad when they arrived in Billings tomorrow. The older woman needed her daughter’s help and attention.
And what did Holly need? About everything, and why was Nolan wishing he could be the one to provide it for her?
Chapter 7
Holly tried to discretely wipe the tears, which kept streaking down her face. But Nolan still noticed them. His worried face showed he felt bad for her, but didn’t know what to do about it.
She had bit her lip constantly as they helped Myrtle to the depot and into a seat on the train this morning. The woman cried saying goodbye yesterday to her friends, and then about her late husband as they walked to the grave and back. Holly could hear Myrtle crying on and off all night, but she didn’t change her mind this morning to stay.
Myrtle walked around the apartment and café this morning, touching and reminiscing, talking to herself as much as to her and Nolan. Her tears started again when Myrtle personally locked the front door of the café for the last time and didn’t stop as she hugged the sheriff and depot agent goodbye.
At least exhaustion and the swaying of the train car had lulled Myrtle into a nap. She’d be in a better state of mind, looking forward to seeing her family this afternoon when she awoke.
Holly didn’t feel like she should feel emotionally attached to Miller Springs since she’d only lived there a year. But the town, especially the café, was where she’d mourned the loss of her father and learned to live alone. Well not alone since she was with Myrtle. Now she’d be living alone in Billings, although she hoped she’d be welcome to visit Myrtle in her daughter’s home.
She dabbed her checks again, wishing she’d run out of tears. What was wrong with her? She had some savings due to the generosity of Nolan and the biscuit contest. Sheriff Matters had even pressed a double eagle in her hand when she was about to board the train, so she wasn’t destitute, yet. She had no idea how large Billings was, but surely, she could find a job in a café or a washhouse. The only problem was her looks. Most places didn’t hire a woman who looked like she should be living on the reservation instead of among white folk.
“What’s your favorite Christmas carol? Holly?”
Holly looked across at Nolan, realizing he must have asked her something, but she was caught in her misery and hadn’t heard him.
She had been looking out the window, watching the white scenery go by. The train would travel through a wooded area, then across an open area before going through snow-covered pines again. She’d kept her cloak around her because of the cold seeping through the window against her shoulder, and trying to ignore the world around her.
He pointed to the end of the car, and she turned around to see a mother and two young children singing “Jingle Bells.” She’d been lost in her own world and hadn’t heard them.
“What’s your favorite Christmas carol?” Nolan asked again when she turned around.
“It has always been ‘Silent Night.’”
“I love to sing them all, but ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’ has always been my favorite. It might have been the first one I learned for our Christmas pageant in church back in Missouri. I barely remember having a cedar tree set up in our parlor, just for a few days, probably the twenty-fourth through the twenty-sixth or seventh.”
“And when you moved to Kansas?”
“No room in the dugout, but we started the tradition again once we had a house in Clear Creek.
“Did you celebrate Christmas since your mother was Cheyenne?”
Holly shut her eyes thinking back to when she was little. Their army quarters were small, so they didn’t have a tree, but there was
one in the mess hall.
“There was a party in the mess hall each year, but I remember my mother talking more about the Winter Solstice than the birth of Jesus.”
“I hadn’t thought of it now, but I assume you speak the Cheyenne language, too?”
She nodded, knowing the language because of her parents, but she hadn’t said a word aloud in years.
“My father also spoke German. I loved when he sang ‘Silent Night’ in German.” That’s when she accompanied him on the violin, and probably why it was her favorite Christmas melody.
“Soldiers sang Christmas carols during the whole month of December, whether as a solo while being the sentinel at the fort gate or in the mess hall. Everyone was missing home and family, and singing favorite tunes made them feel a part of the celebrations at home,” Nolan reminisced.
“That’s how it was when we lived on the forts, too.”
“And we would have both been singing in ‘79 at that party in Fort Ellis.” Nolan cocked his head while smiling at her. He looked different in his new vest and trousers while sitting on the train. He’d laid his cavalry overcoat and hat on the bench beside him so that reminded her of the fort life they’d both experienced.
“I assume you can play all the Christmas carols on your violin?”
“Yes. I learned the tunes when I was young.” The last Christmas carol her father played was “It Came upon a Midnight Clear” when the miners were together for Christmas. Could she play it this year in memory of him without weeping? She knew she couldn’t, especially since she’d be alone this Christmas.
“Maybe you can attend the same church as Myrtle’s family and play there,” Nolan suggested.
Holly wiped her face again with her handkerchief. Her tears had stopped when talking about Christmas songs, but they filled her eyes again thinking of being alone this year.
“When was the last year you were with your family for Christmas, Nolan?” She wanted to pull the attention away from herself, and she knew Nolan loved to talk.
Grooms with Honor Series, Books 7-9 Page 17