She suddenly had so many questions and uncertainties. Yesterday when she awoke it had simply been her goal to make it through another day of entertaining a fussy toddler with cabin fever. Now…
What was she going to do?
Should she pack up and head south to California and try to find her parents? What if they had moved after she had left with John? Would she be able to find them?
She could stay here. She glanced around at the rundown ranch. John had been a good rider, and he had known cattle and horses, but it seemed he had known nothing about managing a ranch. Nicki had spoken to him several times about fixing up the buildings and the corral, but he had always said he would get to it in time. He didn’t want to spend money that they didn’t have.
They had lived here for two and a half years, and John had not made one improvement to the ranch buildings or central holding pens except to finish roofing the bunkhouse.
The bunkhouse was made of logs that had wide gaps between them, but John had refused to chink them when she had suggested it, saying it was an unnecessary expense.
Frosty winds gushed through the gaps, making the bunkhouse bitterly cold on most winter nights. Consequently there was only one hand who had been with them the whole two and a half years they had lived here, and that was Ron Hanson.
Ron was in his late fifties with a deeply tanned leathery face and crinkle lines around his usually smiling gray eyes. His once dark hair was now liberally sprinkled with gray, but it was invariably covered by his gray flat-topped Stetson. He’d had offers from other ranchers in the area but, for some reason, he’d chosen to stay and work for the Hanging T—John’s brand. Nicki knew, however, that Ron had not stayed because the accommodations and food were so good. It was his relationship with Christ and a sense of loyalty that had kept him here when there were jobs that offered much more in the way of material comforts nearby.
Nicki’s gaze moved on to the little sod shanty that served as the ranch house. Dug back into the side of a hill, all that could be seen of it from this vantage point was the chimney pipe sticking up through the snow-covered dirt, the wooden door, and the one small window that John had consented to on Nicki’s behalf. It wasn’t much, but it was warm, and for that, Nicki was thankful.
It was the only home Sawyer had ever known. With that thought, her stomach tightened. Could she take her son away from the only home he had ever known in search of her parents, when she had no idea where they were? What if she gave up this place and went to California, only to fail in finding her parents? What would become of them then?
She glanced around the rundown place once more and realized that her mind had been made up even before she had begun this debate with herself. She would stay. It would be so good to see Mama once more, but she couldn’t risk it.
Ron interrupted her thoughts. “Ma’am, are you all right?”
Nicki came to with a start. “Oh. Yes.” She cleared her throat and glanced at Conner. Her voice was low and raspy when she spoke. “Conner,” she cleared her raw throat again, “I need you to ride over to the Snow place and let them know what has happened and ask them if it’s okay if Tilly stays here for a couple of days. Um, tell them two, for sure, and maybe three days if we can’t get the minister for the…for the…before then.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Conner touched the brim of his hat as he moved off to saddle up, but Nicki caught the gentle compassion in his green eyes before he turned away. A lump tightened her throat. Whatever happened, she could depend on Conner and Ron.
Conner was young and had only been with them since the summer before, but he attended Sunday services in Farewell Bend with her and Ron every Sunday. She didn’t doubt that he truly loved the Lord.
This thought brought another wave of sadness, for try as she might, she had been unable to convince John to join them on Sundays. He had always had something that was more important: a sick cow, a lame horse, a trip around the ranch perimeter to make sure all the fences were intact because he couldn’t afford to lose stock to a neighboring spread. There had always been something that needed tending. Something more important than church. Something more important than God.
Blinking back tears, Nicki turned her face away from Ron’s fatherly inspection and folded her arms against the bitter wind that had begun to blow. “Ron, I am planning on staying. Now is not the time to discuss things, but I would appreciate it if you would stay long enough to fill me in on some of the things that I don’t know about this place. Other than that, you are free to leave anytime you choose. I’m sorry I don’t have the money to pay you right now, but if you stop back by someday, I will be more than happy to make it up to you.”
“If it’s all the same to you, ma’am, I’d like to stay. You will need a good hand and someone who knows a little o’ the workin’s o’ the place.”
“I don’t know when I will be able to pay you.”
“All a man needs is a place to sleep and some food in his belly.”
Nicki turned tear-filled eyes on him. “You are an angel in disguise, Ron Hanson.” Throwing her arms around the surprised cowhand’s neck, she gave him a gentle squeeze. She felt him stiffen before he awkwardly patted her back with one hand while the other hand remained stiffly at his side.
What would I have done if he had chosen to leave? Gracias, Lord.
Holding Sawyer in her arms, Nicki stared bleakly down into the dark hole that waited to receive the body of her husband.
The voice of the minister droned in the background, but somehow she could not bring herself to focus on his words. She felt numb.
All around her friends and neighbors stood in somber silence. Some listened intently to the minister. Others watched her with strange sympathetic expressions. Women held onto the hands of their husbands more tightly. Little boys glanced at Sawyer and then up at their own fathers, stepping closer to wrap small arms around strong, steady legs.
William Harpster stood to her left and Ron Hanson to her right.
Nicki closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the toddler’s. What was she going to do without John? He had been her sole means of support. Could she really run this ranch by herself? Lord, I don’t think I can do this.
Swiftly the verses she had read only moments before John had been brought in wounded jumped to mind. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.”
Lord, I’m in that valley. Help me to know that You are here with me.
Comfort me. What am I going to do without him, Lord? I never realized that I cared for him so much, but I miss him. Help me, Lord, because I will never be able to make it through this without You. And please be with Sawyer. Don’t let this be too traumatic for him. He has already been asking for his papa. Help me to know how to explain to him that his papa’s not going to be here anymore.
Opening her eyes, Nicki suddenly felt lightheaded. She shook her head against the dizzy spell, taking a small step backward. She adjusted Sawyer to a more comfortable position in her arms. When was the last time she had eaten? She gave her head another little shake. She couldn’t remember.
Out of the corner of her eye she noted Ron studying her worriedly, and William reached out to take Sawyer from her. She smiled at Ron to reassure him, then folded her arms against the chill that seeped into her bones, thankful to be free of the baby and rest her arms.
Exhaustion weighed heavy on her shoulders, even as hunger pangs cramped her stomach. A strange, almost guilty sensation crept over her that she should be feeling anything at all when John lay so cold and still in a coffin only feet away.
Another dizzy spell hit her and she reached out, taking Ron’s arm to steady herself. She needed to eat. But when the ceremony ended and Ron ushered her into the small church and set a plate before her, all she could do was pick at it.
The neighbors had rallied together in support of Nicki and an abundance of food graced a long table at the back of the church. Fam
ilies caught up on news from neighbors they hadn’t seen since the last community event, which had been a barn-raising for Jacob and Jenny Ashland. Nicki glanced over to see Jenny proudly showing off Jake Junior’s latest accomplishment…walking. He’d been a newborn at the raising. The baby was giggling and smiling at everyone who made eye contact and even coaxed a tired smile out of Nicki herself when Jenny came to express her condolences.
“I’m so sorry, Nicki. If I can ever do anything for you, all you have to do is ask. You know I’m not too far away. I’d be happy to watch Sawyer for you if you ever need someone to watch him.”
Nicki nodded. “Thank you, Jenny.”
Jenny set a package of home-baked goodies on the table and, with a gentle squeeze to Nicki’s shoulder, made her way to Jacob’s side.
And that was how it went. Everyone came over to express their condolences and to wish her well, and everyone left something on the table beside her.
The Coles owned a large ranch on the other side of Farewell Bend. Mrs. Cole, who had lost her first husband in much this same way, had tears in her eyes as she gave Nicki a hug and set a basket of food on the table.
Mrs. Pringle had a few choice words to say about Dr. Rike, but the Pringle baby had died the winter before when Dr. Rike hadn’t been able to do anything for him, so Nicki let the comments slide and simply thanked Mrs. Pringle for the food.
The next woman to come over was the newest member of the community. Mr. and Mrs. Jeffries had just moved to a small homestead only a couple of miles from the Hanging T. Nicki knew they didn’t have much, but Brenda Jeffries, with her six-year-old daughter, May, at her side, set a small bundle wrapped in brown paper on the table.
“I’m right sorry to hear ’bout yer man. I be hopin’ that all goes well fer ya. God, He be knowin’ all about yer pain. Ya just take it all to Him, now.” She reached out and laid a work-roughened hand across the back of Nicki’s, giving it a little pat. “If it be all right, I’d like to come in a couple o’ days and see if there be anything I can do for ya. That be okay?”
Nicki smiled tiredly. “That would be just fine, Brenda.”
“Good. I’ll be seein’ ya then.”
Mrs. Jeffries started to move off, but May tugged on her sleeve. Nicki dropped her eyes to the little girl’s pixie-sweet face. Straight blond hair framed a heart-shaped face with a pair of the biggest blue eyes Nicki had ever seen.
May stepped close and whispered, “I’m sorry your daddy died.” Nicki blinked back tears and bit her lip, unable to say a word.
“I have a daddy.” The little girl brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and held out a finger, pointing out her father across the room.
Nicki glanced at him and then nodded, pressing her lips together to suppress the sob that threatened to escape.
“He’s real nice. Ya could borrow ’im sometime if ya need ’im.”
The sob escaped and Nicki pulled May into her arms, resting her chin on the little girl’s head. May wrapped her slender arms around Nicki’s back, and gently patted out a comforting rhythm. When Nicki trusted herself to speak, she pulled back, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and gazed down at May. “Thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone has done for me in a long time.”
“I’m sorry I made ya cry. I didn’t mean to do that.”
Nicki ran a trembling hand over the child’s silky blond hair. “Some days are days of crying, little one. But know that you have made me very happy on the inside. If I need your papa, you can be sure I will come calling, okay?”
May nodded, giving Nicki one more quick hug before she turned and took her mother’s hand. Brenda Jeffries smiled kindly, blinking to keep her own tears at bay, and then mother and daughter made their way across the room to stand by Rolf, Brenda’s husband.
Nicki was just recovering her composure when Suzanne Snow, Tilly’s mother, approached and set a large basket full of canned goods on the table. Suzanne pulled Nicki into a long embrace.
Nicki squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that threatened to overflow once again as memories rushed in.
John had never told Nicki where he got the money, but after he had purchased her, he made a number of extravagant purchases—several fine horses and the ranch being a couple of them—and then the money seemed to run out.
Missing her family, Mama especially, Nicki had been very lonely those first months until she had met the Snows. Ron had brought her to church with him and Suzanne reminded her so much of her own mother that Nicki had immediately been drawn to her. Suzanne had taken Nicki under her wing just as if she had been her own daughter. And now, more than ever, Nicki was thankful for her friendship.
Neither Suzanne’s nor Mrs. Jeffries’ gifts had appeared out of the ordinary at first but later, when Nicki got home, she found that Mrs. Jeffries’ paper-wrapped package was a beautiful lace tablecloth crocheted in the most intricate of designs. Much too fancy for the soddy. And in the bottom of Suzanne Snow’s basket of canned carrots, tomatoes, and green beans was an unpretentious looking book. The title brought fresh tears to Nicki’s eyes. Ranching in the West: How to Make It Pay.
Suzanne had known she would stay.
Clutching the little book tightly to her chest, Nicki heaved a shuddered sigh. She had been strong all day, refusing herself the comfort of many tears. Making sure her neighbors knew she was going to be fine. Trying to convince herself she was going to be fine. But now she was alone. Just her and Sawyer.
Tilly had ridden home with Conner after promising to come back in a day or two. William had left for his ranch, promising to check on her often. Ron had gone to the bunkhouse for the evening.
Nicki could finally let down her guard. She glanced around the room at John’s few things, still as he’d left them: his rifle on its pegs above the door, his extra pair of boots, a shirt hanging above the bed, the partially carved toy truck sitting on the mantle that he’d started for Sawyer a couple weeks ago.
How was it that she could miss a man who had walked into her life out of the brazen heat of a California summer and forced her to marry him?
“Papa.” Sawyer banged two blocks together and looked at her as he shoved the corner of one into his mouth.
Tears coursed down Nicki’s cheeks. She sank down onto the rag rug next to the bed and pulled Sawyer onto her lap. Leaning her head against the quilt, she finally gave in to the deep sorrow. Sobs shook her body as Sawyer happily banged his blocks together.
4
A knock on the soddy door awoke Nicki the next morning. She opened her eyes and glanced around the house, momentarily confused. She was on the floor, and her neck was stiff and sore. She groaned and pressed one hand to her forehead. She frowned at the dirt ceiling above her. Why did she feel so spirit-heavy today?
A flood of memory rushed in. The funeral had been yesterday, and she had fallen asleep on the floor.
Sawyer! She sat up quickly, glancing around the dim interior of the house, and couldn’t help but smile in relief when she saw him curled up on his side on the bed. Dark curls clung to his head in an angelic halo. His long, dark lashes rested against chubby cheeks rosy from the refreshment of sleep. He must have crawled from her lap the night before and somehow managed to climb up onto the bed.
Poor child, his diaper hadn’t been changed for hours. But he was sleeping soundly so she decided to leave him where he lay.
The knock sounded again.
Rubbing the back of her neck, she raked her fingers back through the long, dark tangles of her hair and made her way to the door. A chill breeze swept into the house as she opened it.
“William?” She took in his appearance, wondering what he was doing here so early in the morning. He wore an impeccable long-sleeved white shirt covered by a black and white cowhide vest that gave him a rancher’s air of casual confidence. His denim-clad legs ended in well-polished, black boots that were hand-tooled with an elaborate design.
His immaculate attire made her self-conscious. She had fallen asleep in this dr
ess the night before and knew, without looking down, that it was wrinkled beyond imagination. Her hair knotted in a tangled mess around her face, and her eyes felt puffy from last night’s crying.
She folded her arms, hoping she didn’t look as bad as she felt. A touch of irritation traced its way through her. Well, he’s the one who showed up at this hour of the morning.
William was not put off by her less-than-friendly stance. He tossed her a smile, though Nicki noticed he clutched his black hat in front of him like it was a lifeline. “Good morning.” Nervousness edged his voice. Nicki raised one eyebrow and stepped back, gesturing him into the house. “Come in. I will put on some coffee.” She wondered what he wanted. And why is he acting so strange? William was always calm and self-assured, so what had set him on edge?
As Nicki stoked up the fire and added grounds to the water in the coffee pot, William pulled out a chair at the table. He glanced at Sawyer. “Little guy’s all tuckered out from yesterday, huh?”
Nicki smiled fondly at Sawyer. “Sí,” she responded quietly. She gazed at the sleeping child for a moment, then turned to find William assessing her, a strange light in his eyes.
She blinked and pulled the coffee into the center of the stove, where it would heat the quickest. “Did you forget something here last night?”
“No.”
She looked at him pointedly. Questioning.
“Come sit down, Nicki. I have something I want to talk to you about.”
She moved slowly to sit across from him at the table. An apprehensive foreboding gripped her. What could he possibly have to discuss with her? He and John had become good friends in that first year, but recently she had sensed in John a tension whenever William was near. Not that he had ever confided anything to her.
William made small talk with her for a few minutes about the weather and how it might affect the cattle if the snows didn’t clear up soon, but Nicki knew that was not what he had come to talk about. Soon the conversation lulled, and she asked, “Why are you here, William?”
High Desert Haven (The Shepherd's Heart) Page 4