Homespun Hearts

by Caroline Fyffe

Each time he said the word “aunt,” Faith noticed his jaw clench and release. Whatever was wrong with him?

  “Why do you ask such a silly question? Of course I know her well. She’s sweet and kind and gentle. She has brown hair and beautiful big eyes, and…I love her dearly.”

  “Hmm. I see,” he said, his eyes reflecting dangerously in the moonlight from above. “And, does she usually prefer oat, alfalfa or clover hay?” He’d dropped his arms to his side and stood glaring.

  It took a moment before she realized what he’d just said. Gathering all her courage, Faith advanced on Luke and his anger. “You big”—she planted her hands in the middle of his chest and shoved with all her might—“ox!”

  He didn’t go flying like she hoped he would, merely stepped back and caught his balance. That made her even madder.

  “‘Poor Faith,’” she mimicked Ward. “‘She’s so upset over Samuel’s death. Poor Faith, she doesn’t know what she’s doing!’”

  Nudging up his hat with his thumb, Luke stared at her all the harder. As she tromped back and forth in anger, an amused look came to his face.

  “Don’t you dare look at me like that, Luke McCutcheon. Don’t you dare.” She stomped her foot. “I won’t take it, do you hear?”

  “Look at you like what, Faith?” he asked slowly.

  “Like I’m a child,” she said. “No, like I’m addle-headed or crazy. I’m not. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m talking about.” She sighed, tired and defeated. What was the use? She calmed herself and said, “I want to explain to you why I was out this morning with Ward. When I woke up Colton was gone and I’d feared Ward had taken him. I was trying to find the livery stable so I could tell you. I got lost and that’s when he showed up and offered to carry my bag and walk back with me.” She shrugged. “Ward is a threat to me, Dawn and Colton. That’s all you need to know. If you don’t want to believe me, well…don’t.” She was through fighting. She just wanted to go back to her wagon and lie down. She turned to go.

  “Wait; don’t go away mad,” Luke said, reaching out and catching her by her arm. He was behind her and stood only inches away. “I didn’t mean to get you so worked up. I guess I just want to know more about you than I do. I think it’s because I helped deliver Dawn. I’m sorry.”

  Those two little words flowed over Faith like thick, warm honey. Samuel had never said them. She closed her eyes and just stood there, absorbing the way they made her feel inside. He leaned in close. His mouth was just a breath away from her ear, and his hat seemed to close them both off from the rest of the world.

  “You’re a wildcat,” he whispered, a hint of humor in his voice. “I never would have guessed it.”

  “And, I suppose you’re a little lamb?” she replied, working hard not to enjoy his nearness.

  “Depends.”

  There was a world of meaning in that one little word. Her feet were rooted to the spot. If Lucifer himself rose up before her, she wouldn’t be able to move an inch. From behind, Luke wrapped his arms around her and pressed his cheek to hers. They stood like that, enjoying the respite.

  Faith wished she could open up, but she knew that way lay disaster. It seemed like Luke already believed Ward. What if Ward told Luke she killed Samuel, or went to their sheriff? Would Luke accept it as truth? She couldn’t risk the Browns getting custody of Colton and Dawn. She either married Ward, giving them her father’s farm, like they wanted, and be subjected to an unthinkable life for her and her children, or they’d go to the judge in Kearney and she’d hang. If that were the case, they’d be raising her children anyway, without her being there able to shield them. Both outcomes were absurd. Escape was the only answer.

  After a moment, Faith pushed Luke’s arms down and stepped away from his comforting warmth, the action unmistakable. They stood for an instant in awkward silence. “I’ll walk you back to your wagon.” His voice was hard, the warmth and teasing gone. Faith understood the change, and regretted having to drive him away. He wanted her to confide in him so he could help. Little did he know there was no help for her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Crossing the river took most of the next day. Luke came and drove Faith’s wagon across early, not saying more than a handful of words the whole time. She knew he must still be annoyed with her from last night. She longed to tell him that she hadn’t disliked his affection; that in actuality it was wonderful and exciting. But her memories of Samuel were hard to break.

  Safely on the far side of the river, she and Colton watched as the men brought the herd over slowly. Chance, Ike and Ward held the remuda close by, for the men needed fresh horses often. Faith looked over at Ward but whipped her attention back to the river when she found him watching her. Oh, it galled her how he’d been able to worm his way into a job. At least Luke’s men seemed to be avoiding him.

  The river was wide and shallow for the most part, but for thirty or forty feet in the middle it ran deep and swift. Several men atop their horses were stationed in the shallow waters, directing the cattle along the course Luke had picked out. When the cattle hit the rushing water, most got nervous and balked, refusing to take the plunge. A lead rider would have to swim his horse out across in front so that the herd would follow; then they would exit one hundred feet downriver from Faith’s wagon, and Smokey, Francis, John and Matt received the wet and frightened animals.

  Colton had put up a fuss about having to stay in the wagon with her. He’d wanted to ride Firefly as soon as they were on the opposite side of the river. Luke had flat out said no. Colton was to stay with Faith and keep an eye on her and Dawn.

  “I don’t have a single man to spare today, Colton,” Luke had said in a no-nonsense voice. “I really need you here to watch after your mother. Can I count on you to stay put?”

  The boy’s gaze went longingly to his small mare tied to the back of the wagon. “Yes, sir,” he agreed reluctantly.

  That had been several hours and many hundreds of bovine ago. Faith wondered just how many cattle were left to cross.

  “Look, Ma.” Colton pointed to the far riverbank. “Mark is taking the swimming spot.”

  Luke’s brother gigged his black-and-white paint, pushing the hesitant horse forward. It shied and snorted, not wanting to go into the chilly water. Mark got him in, though, and Faith watched as he joked and teased each tired and worn-out man as he passed. She couldn’t hear his words, but admiration shone from the other men’s eyes.

  Luke was on the far bank atop Chiquita. Faith had a hard time watching anyone else. He crossed the river every once in a while to check the footing for the animals and the condition of his men. Moving closer, he cupped his mouth with his hands and shouted something to Mark, and his brother waved back while waiting for the next bunch to reach the deep channel. The group plodded closer. Mark’s horse pawed the water and snorted again, shaking his head. Moments later, Mark plunged him into the current.

  “That looks scary, Ma.”

  “Yes, it does,” Faith said, glancing back toward Luke. “It’s plenty dangerous.”

  “I bet Firefly could do it,” Colton said. “She’s real good at everything.”

  Just then a shout went up from Pedro, the man stationed closest to the receiving end of the deep channel. He waved madly and pointed to the front of the herd, where Mark had been riding. He was now nowhere in sight. The paint surfaced a second later several feet downriver. Mark clung to his neck, gasping for air. He leaned forward, giving his mount its head. Then a steer rammed him, sending both horse and rider under a second time.

  On the shore, Luke sprinted his horse down along the riverbank, following his brother’s path. He passed a treacherous rock bed and jumped a log before he could plunge her into the swift current. Mark’s paint was there, but his brother had disappeared.

  Faith stood up onto the wagon seat, grasped the wagon’s bows for balance and held her breath. She watched Luke’s head turn from side to side, scanning the torrent.

  Jeb, Roa
dy and Sam were on the opposite side now, spurring their horses in and swimming out to meet Luke. Roady pointed and shouted, his words lost to the thunderous roar of the icy water. Luke pressed his mare farther into the torrent. She seemed to take the challenge bravely, her head held high, nostrils scooping the air. Faith, her heart in her throat, was sure no man or animal could survive that madness for long.

  Too long! It was taking too long! Luke reined Chiquita directly into the deepest part of the channel and started swimming her downriver for all she was worth. Somehow he’d missed Mark, let his brother slip by. Had Mark vanished forever?

  Up ahead a flash of red caught his eye, then was instantly gone. Mark bobbed to the surface, unconscious, swirling downriver like a cork in a whirlpool, his arms outstretched, his head facedown. Luke spurred his exhausted mare onward, demanding everything from her. Her sides heaved, sucking in air. She faltered once and then steadied herself. An instant later her head went under, drenching Luke up to his shoulders.

  Another ten feet and he would be alongside Mark. “Hang on, filly,” he shouted above the drone of the river. At the sound of his voice he felt her gather her flagging energy and rallied.

  By some miracle, he found himself next to Mark’s lifeless body. Luke struggled to pull him out of the water but the extra weight sent Chiquita into a panic. She almost crushed his brother with her powerful hooves, but he held tight, trying to keep both Mark up and his horse from going down.

  From the corner of his eye Luke saw a horse racing along the riverbank. It pulled alongside and then, in a burst of speed, passed Luke and Mark. Without hesitation it plunged into the river and swam out to meet them. The rider reached for his brother’s unconscious body. It was Ward Brown.

  Luke tightened his hold, shocked. “Get a good grip,” he yelled. They had to get his brother out.

  “I’ve got him now, McCutcheon! Let go!”

  It was the hardest thing Luke had ever done, trusting Mark’s life to someone he knew nothing about. Beneath him he felt Chiquita floundering, and he knew she couldn’t possibly last much longer.

  “I’ve got him,” Ward yelled again over the roar of the mighty river. The three of them careened downstream and Luke had no choice but to release the grip he had on Mark’s belt. Ward pulled Mark over the pommel of his saddle and turned his horse back to the bank.

  In the next instant, a log smashed into Ward’s horse’s right side. Ward cried out as his mount went under. Luke prayed the man wouldn’t let his brother fall. Roady was swimming his horse up to help.

  Chiquita’s leg struck something under the water and she took a nosedive, plunging Luke back underwater. Luke tried to lift himself out of the saddle, to ease his weight on Chiquita, but she was struggling wildly. The last thing he wanted to do was slip beneath her thrashing hooves.

  They reached a sandbar and the mare found footing. Luke leaped out of the saddle and pulled the reins, trying to help her to the river’s edge. It worked. At last on solid ground, Chiquita’s legs gave way and she collapsed to the sandy loam, her head flopping down like a sack of potatoes. The cannon bone of her right foreleg was contorted at an ugly angle, her eyes wide.

  Luke stood frozen, hand on his side, chest heaving. His face and hands were blue from the cold and he gripped his teeth tightly together to keep them from chattering. With clumsy, frozen fingers he pushed his sodden hair out of his eyes to give Chiquita a long look; then staggered up the river’s edge and started toward the group huddled on the bank.

  Chance and Smokey parted instantly to let Luke through. Luke sank to the ground by Mark’s side where his brother was stretched out on the sand. “Is he breathing?” Luke wheezed, then coughed up a mouthful of water. He hunkered down and put his ear to Mark’s mouth.

  “Not yet,” Matt answered.

  The two brothers grabbed Mark’s arms and hefted them over his head in an effort to rid his lungs of water. When nothing happened, Matt rolled Mark over and drove his knee into the center of his back. Mark gagged, then water gushed from his mouth and lungs, making him cough and choke. Several times he contorted, but at last he lay spent, exhausted. A collective sigh of relief was breathed by the men.

  Faith hurried all the way downriver to where the men were gathered. She threaded her way through the throng and fell to her knees at Mark’s side. Luke’s brother, conscious now, looked at her and smiled wearily.

  She looked up at the men, not daring yet to smile. “He’s alive.”

  “That he is, missy,” Lucky said. “Thanks to Ward and Luke.”

  All the men laughed, slapped each other nervously on the back, all talked at once. Some shook their heads in disbelief while others told what they’d seen of the dramatic rescue. Luke just stood shivering uncontrollably. He couldn’t pull his eyes from Faith.

  After a moment, he went and collected John’s dry Colt .45 from its holster. He walked back to Chiquita, hating what he was about to do. She labored for every breath. Steam rose from her heated body, and pink foam, laced with bright red blood, bubbled from her nostrils. He knelt by her head and stroked her sodden neck several times.

  He loved this mare. She’d given him her all from the moment he’d swung onto her back the very first time. She was genuine. Her eye clouded with pain. He stood and raised the gun. Pulled the trigger.

  Luke stared at his horse. Matt appeared and slung a blanket around his shoulders. “Sorry about your filly,” he said, rubbing Luke’s shoulders and arms. “I know you loved that animal.”

  Luke nodded. A feeling like a fist had a stranglehold on his throat. Several moments passed as he stared across the river. “Yeah, I did. She was special.” He glanced over at Mark, who was now sitting up, a blanket tucked around his shoulders, too. His gaze continued around the group to Ward, who was having an injured leg tended by Lucky.

  “Roady, Sam, Jess, Smokey! See what you can do about rounding up and settling the herd already on this side,” Luke shouted. “The rest of you boys go back over and let’s get the remainder of the cattle over here. I want to be at the ranch by nightfall.” He went about unsaddling Chiquita and removing her bridle.

  Ike rode up, leading a gelding. Luke was in the saddle again almost immediately, like nothing unusual had happened. He rode over to where Ward still sat, his leg wrapped from foot to knee.

  “Thanks, Brown,” he said, looking over the man’s head toward the distant mountaintops. “You can ride with Lucky in the wagon the rest of the way to the ranch. We’re indebted to you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  As the herd entered the upper pastures of the Heart of the Mountains ranch, the three McCutcheon brothers rode side by side at their head. Luke was pleased to finally be home, herd intact and each man alive and well, everything considered, though the constant lowing of the cattle attested to their uneasiness from crossing the river and then being pushed hard to their final destination.

  He reined up, followed by Matt and Mark. Lifting his arm and gesturing, Luke gave the command to circle up and settle down the weary cattle.

  “You did well, little brother,” Matt said affectionately, giving Luke a nod and then looking to the herd. “If it hadn’t been for your fast action, Ma would be heartbroken tonight. And Amy would be a widow.”

  Luke grinned and looked at Mark. His brother had been unusually quiet the whole ride back, and Luke wondered what he was thinking about. There was something strange between Mark and Amy, his wife. Things weren’t quite as they should be between newlyweds. He knew it troubled his ma and Flood greatly, watching the sparks fly, or not fly, between the two. Why, it troubled the whole clan, if he were honest. What affected one McCutcheon usually affected them all.

  He joked, “Honestly, I was only thinking of myself. Ma would’ve had my hide pinned to the smokehouse door if we returned without him.”

  “That’s a fact, Luke,” Matt agreed. “And we’d have had to hear scripture from here till kingdom come.” He glanced to Smokey, who was signaling that the circling had begun. “Let’s
let the men finish up here and get down to the house. The two wagons should be there by now, and I’m hankering to get my arms around Rachel. It’s been a long drive.”

  Mark perked up. At the mention of his pregnant sister-in-law, a spark of humor brightened his somber face. “If you can still get your arms around her. She was pretty circular when we left. I can’t picture what she must look like now.”

  “I’ll manage,” Matt said with a wink. “You don’t know Rachel the way I do.” And with that, Matt’s horse took off like a shot. Luke and Mark rode hot on his heels.

  The brothers clamored into the yard, past the bunkhouse where all the ranch hands lived and reined up in front of the barn. Matt and Mark finished in a dead heat, Luke followed by two horse lengths.

  Francis ran from the barn, excitement on his face. “They’re all waiting for ya in the house. You should’ve seen your ma’s face when she spotted Faith and the baby,” the youth said, smiling. He sobered, his forehead creased with worry. “I hope you don’t mind, Luke. I spilled the beans about how you rescued Mark.”

  The ranch house door flew open, smacking against the giant log-and-chink wall with a thud. Charity, dressed from head to toe in fringed buckskin, strawberry blonde hair flying, dashed from the house and vaulted into Luke’s arms. He swung her around playfully in a bear hug and set her down.

  “Where’s your skirt?” Luke scolded his sister. “You promised when I got home you’d be wearing one.”

  “I tried, Luke, really I did,” she laughed. “I just can’t get used to all that fabric hanging around my legs. Trips me up every time.”

  Luke laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “What are we going to do with you?”

  Charity went over to Matt and Mark and hugged them and kissed them both on the cheek. Finished with her greetings, she shook her finger in the air. “It’s about time you boys got home. You’re late,” she admonished. The men had handed their reins over to Francis and were walking toward the ranch house. “Ma was starting to fret and drive us all crazy. I’m going with you next time, and you can’t stop me.”