by Kit Morgan
“Don’t wander too far off,” Anson warned as Lucius headed out of the barn. “If yer late for supper, ya’ll miss my brother’s famous rolls.”
Lucius turned to face Anson as he walked. “I’m not likely to be late after hearing that.”
“Most people ain’t,” Anson said with a wide grin.
Lucius smiled as he turned and continued walking. He circled the barn, went past the house and onto the small lane that led to the main road. It was a beautiful day, and he wanted to kick himself for sleeping through so much of it. But he’d obviously needed it. There was something about the Whites’ stage stop the made him feel at peace. He couldn’t put his finger on what, but he knew he liked it.
Lucius went on his way, but soon wondered what time it was. He felt foolish for not bringing along his pocket watch.
“You’d best turn around or you’ll be late,” came a female voice.
It had to be Miss Branson. Lucius turned to look behind him … but no one was there. “What the …?” he muttered.
“Mrs. White doesn’t like anyone to be late to her table,” the voice added.
Lucius looked up – oh! “What the Sam blazes are you doing in a tree?” And how had he not seen her? He must still be tired.
“I had a few moments to myself, so I thought I’d spend them up here. Anything wrong with that?”
Lucius put a hand on his hat as he gazed up at her. She reminded him of a wood nymph, sitting high up in the branches of a huge oak. He’d noticed the oaks when he first rode in, the only ones in the immediate area. Who knew how they got there? “Nothing, I suppose,” he said. “Unless you get stuck up there.”
“I never get stuck,” she said, her chin raised in indignation. “I’m too good a climber.”
He let go of his hat, shook his head and chuckled. “Been climbing long?”
She shrugged from her perch. “A while now. Long enough not to fall out of one, if that’s what you mean.”
“I wasn’t criticizing your climbing abilities. I simply wanted to make sure you could get down.”
“I can get down just fine, thank you very much.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “All right. Let’s see you do it.”
Her eyes widened a fraction as her eyebrows knit together. “Not with you watching!”
“What’s the matter with me watching? Are you afraid you’re going to fall?”
“That’s not it at all!” she huffed.
“Then what’s the problem?”
She closed her eyes as she sighed. “My petticoats.”
Lucius couldn’t help laughing. “What about your precious petticoats?”
“Well, if you must know, it’s not easy to look ladylike climbing down a tree.”
He thought about that for a moment and had to concede the point. “I see.”
“So if you’d just go back to the house, I’ll be along in a minute. Supper must be nearly ready by now.”
He studied her a few moments in silence. He hoped she did turn out to be Emma Carlson. At least she’d be entertaining on the trip back to Cutter’s Creek.
“Well? Aren’t you going to leave?” she asked tersely.
“And miss such a wondrous spectacle?” he said. “I think not. I’m staying.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t!”
“Why don’t you come down here and stop me?”
“Well, I ought to … ohhhh, that’s not very nice! Stop teasing me and go back to the house. You hardly know me, and it’s not gentlemanly to tease someone you don’t know.”
“I promise that I will be a perfect gentleman as you climb down,” he said formally. “Or at least do my best, and I’m not sure of all the etiquette regarding tree-climbing.”
“Well, all right.” She fidgeted on the branch. “Turn around. Now.” She made a circular motion with her finger.
He nodded slowly to himself and turned away. “This isn’t going to take a long time, is it? I’ve been warned not to be late for supper.”
“The only thing that will make us late is if you keep flapping your gums!” she huffed. He heard her begin to scrabble down the trunk.
Lucius laughed to himself. This was fun! Jack Carlson had one pistol of a sister … that is, if it was her. He again discovered he hoped she was. The girl had spunk, and he liked that in a woman.
“Ahhhh!” There was a scream, followed by the sound of tearing cloth and a thud. He spun on his heel to find Miss Branson face down on the ground, her derriere in the air with her petticoats flipped up and over her head. “Miss Branson?” he called in alarm. He hurried to where she lay, trying not to stare at her underthings, now in plain view. He knew a storm was coming – if she was all right, that is.
There was movement from beneath the pile of skirts and a hand popped out and clutched at the grassy ground, followed by the other as she moaned.
“Miss Branson!” he said again, louder this time. He grabbed a handful of fabric and tossed her skirt and petticoats over her upturned posterior. “Miss Branson!”
She raised her head a few inches. “You didn’t see that, did you?” she rasped.
“No, but at the moment that’s the least of your worries.” He knelt next to her, hoping she hadn’t broken anything. “Can you stand?”
“I … I don’t know …”
“Here, let me help you,” he said gently, rolled her onto her back then got her into a sitting position. “Just sit for a moment. That fall had to have knocked the wind out of you.”
“Maybe so. I’ve … never had that happen before.”
“Falling out of a tree? Or getting the wind knocked out of you?”
“Both,” she groaned as she tried to get up.
He put a hand on her shoulder. “Not yet. I don’t think you’re ready.”
“But we’ll be late,” she protested.
“All things considered, I don’t think Mrs. White is going to be upset with us.”
“Henry and Anson will eat all the rolls.”
Lucius chuckled. “Those must be quite the rolls.”
“Oh, they are. Some people come here just to eat them – they’re not even traveling anywhere.” She took a deep breath, as if testing herself. “I think I can get up now.”
“Okay, but take it slowly.” He carefully helped her to her feet. Her knees buckled, and he caught her. “Whoa, easy there. I don’t think you’re ready to go anywhere yet.”
“I think there’s something wrong with my ankle. I hit the ground feet first.”
“Congratulations – better your feet than your head.”
“What are we going to do?” she croaked, clearly upset. “How am I going to get back to the house?”
“That’s easy,” Lucius said, putting his arm around her back to support her. “The real question is, what Mrs. White will do once we get there …”
5
“Land sakes, child, wha’happened to ya?” Mrs. White cried as she set a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. Oscar, Henry and Anson were already seated.
“She fell out of a tree.” Lucius carried Emma – whom he still knew as Taloa – to a green tufted sofa and gently set her down.
“A tree!” Mrs. White exclaimed as she hurried over. “Anythin’ broken?”
“No,” Lucius answered. “But she twisted her ankle pretty bad.”
Henry stood and peered at them over the table. “Which tree?”
Emma blushed. Mrs. White had no idea she liked to climb trees. It was one of the things her father and brother had never let her do while she was growing up – too dangerous, they said. Well, she was showing them now! Mrs. White undoubtedly would think the habit very unladylike. Henry, on the other hand, had climbed a few with her.
Mrs. White glanced between Emma and her son. “That’s a good queshion, Henry.” She turned to Emma. “Which tree? To which I’ll add, what were ya doin’ in one in the first place?”
Emma shrugged. “I like to climb trees. I always have.” She glanced at Mr. Judrow, and co
uld still feel the touch of his warm arms and hands as he’d carried her back to the house. My, but he was strong!
“I don’t think it’s anything too serious,” he said. “But no sense taking any chances. I thought it best I carry her.”
“’N ya’d be right, Mr. Judrow,” Mrs. White said. “Much obliged.” She turned to her sons as Oscar got up from the table. “One o’ya fetch my doctorin’ bag.”
“Already thought of it, Ma,” Oscar disappeared into the kitchen. Within moments he returned with the satchel.
“Thank ya, son.” Mrs. White went around the sofa, pulled up a chair and sat next to her patient. “Up a tree. Ya oughta be ‘shamed o’ yerself. Ladies don’t climb trees!”
“This one does, Ma,” Henry said from the table.
Emma tried not to glare at him. So far he was making general statements and not outright saying they’d gone climbing together. But a moony-eyed Henry staring at her from a branch had quelled any further adventures with him. He’d still pined after her ever since, interrupted only when female travelers came through and his adoration temporarily switched to them. Thank Heaven for that.
“Ouch!” she yelped as Mrs. White poked and prodded at her ankle.
“Ya twisted it awright. Ya gonna hafta stay off it fer least a week fer it to heal proper.”
Emma’s eyes darted to Mr. Judrow and back. “But Mrs. White, what about my chores?”
“Anson ‘n Henry can see to ‘em. The ones that involve walkin’ ‘n standin’, anyway. Ya can still do the mendin’.”
She sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Could be worse,” Mr. Judrow said. It was all she could do not to melt into a puddle at that deep voice. “It could’ve been broken.”
Emma shuddered. He had a point. “Thank Heaven it’s not.”
“You’re lucky,” he said. “Maybe if you hadn’t been so prudish about climbing down in front of me, you wouldn’t have taken such a tumble.”
Mrs. White glanced between them with her one good eye. “Prudish?”
“She didn’t want me watching her climb down from the tree, in case I saw something I shouldn’t. I turned away, and …” He shrugged and indicated her injury.
“Ohhhh,” Mrs. White said. “Well, I’ll give ‘er that. But ya ought not climb trees at yer age, Taloa Branson.”
Emma sighed again. For some reason, she suddenly wished she could use her real name. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Ya promise?” Mrs. White asked.
Emma grimaced. She’d discovered a freedom she’d never known since leaving St. Louis. Promising Mrs. White she wouldn’t climb trees (at least while she was in the woman’s employ) was the least she could do. “Yes, I promise.”
“Good,” Mrs. White said. “Now that’s settled, let’s siddown to supper.” She looked at Emma. “’Cept you – I’ll fix ya a plate and bring it over.”
“Thank you, Mrs. White. I appreciate it.”
“I’ll even bring ya two rolls, so ya won’t hafta fight Henry ‘n Anson fer a second.”
Emma smiled and caught Mr. Judrow glancing at the table. “They really are that good,” she assured him.
“Then I’d best sit myself down, hadn’t I?”
“Yes, you’d better. I think Anson has snuck one already.”
“Anson!” Mrs. White snapped, her hand on her hip. “We ain’t said the blessin’ yet!”
Mr. Judrow began to chuckle, then looked at Emma with a weary sigh. “I’m glad it’s only a twisted ankle. It really could’ve been much worse. Hold to that promise you gave Mrs. White.”
Emma felt herself blush. “I will.”
He nodded, removed his hat and went to the table.
He’d no sooner reached it when someone came bursting through the front door. “Good heavens, am I late?” asked a man.
Emma and Mr. Judrow studied him. She suspected this was Preacher Dan, though he looked more like a mountain man than a preacher, with a bedraggled buckskin jacket over his shirt, trousers held up by frayed suspenders and boots filthy and worn.
“Nossir, Preacha Dan,” Mrs. White said with a smile. “Yer just in time. Have a seat. Now that yer here, ya can say the blessin’!”
Preacher Dan took off his worn hat. “I’d be glad to, Mrs. White. Anything for you.” He looked at Emma and Mr. Judrow. “I didn’t notice a stagecoach outside.”
“That’s ‘cause there ain’t one,” Oscar said.
“Oh?” said Preacher Dan as he looked Emma and Mr. Judrow over a second time. “What’s a fine, young couple like you doing passing through these parts on your own?”
“My goodness!” Emma exclaimed as her belly did flip-flops. Preacher Dan thought they were married! She sighed at the thought. Well, at least she could dream of it.
“Begging your pardon, Reverend, but the young lady and I are not a couple,” Mr. Judrow informed him with a vigorous shake of his head. Drat.
“Ah, I see,” Preacher Dan said, sounding disappointed. “I guess my old eyes are getting older. Judging from the look on your face, son, I thought perhaps that little lady was your wife – or at least your intended.”
Emma watched him for any reaction. Was Mr. Judrow turning pale?
“She’s our hired help,” Henry said with a grin. “She mends my socks.”
Preacher Dan stared at Emma a moment. “Does she now?” He looked at Oscar, who was poking a serving spoon into the mashed potatoes, then turned to Mrs. White. “Does she belong to one of yours?”
Henry’s arm shot up. “Me!”
Preacher Dan did a double take, quickly glanced between Emma and Henry, then raised an eyebrow in disbelief at Mrs. White.
“Henry, b’have yerself!” Mrs. White admonished. “Naw, she don’t b’long to nobody, far’s I know. She came through with a wagon train a few months back. I needed the help ‘n Miss Branson offered to stay on. Ain’t that right, Taloa?”
Emma didn’t answer, too busy staring at Mr. Judrow with moony eyes. Probably because he was staring back with an intense look she hadn’t seen before. Maybe he liked her.
“Taloa!” Mrs. White huffed.
Emma started and snapped to attention. “What did you say?”
“Oh, never mind,” Mrs. White said with a shake of her head. “Ya hafta excuse her, Preacha Dan. She had a li’l accident earlier. Think maybe she bumped her nugget.”
“Accident? What sort of accident?”
“She fell out of a tree,” Mr. Judrow explained.
“He got to carry her all the way back to the house,” Henry said, his eyes downcast. He looked at his mother. “Can we eat now?”
“Yeah, Henry. Just soon as Preacha Dan says the blessin’.”
Emma watched Preacher Dan clasp his hands in front of him and bow his head. “Oh Lord, I thank You for a safe journey here and for Mrs. White’s new help to have a speedy recovery from her accident. We thank You for this food and may You bless it to our bodies. Amen.” He shot out a hand and grabbed two rolls before anyone’s “amens” so much as left their lips.
Emma giggled. The man was clearly very familiar with Oscar’s rolls – and perhaps half-starved besides.
Mrs. White fixed her a plate and brought it to her. She ate in silence, stealing quick glimpses at Mr. Judrow to see if he’d turn his head in her direction. The man didn’t disappoint, glancing at her several times. In fact, unless her eyes were playing tricks on her, he looked at her with serious intent.
Oh happy day – he was interested! Her stomach flipped again at the mere thought. She would have to settle herself down or risk doing something silly, like sighing or flirting. What would Mrs. White think of her then? Bad enough she’d flirted with him while she was up a tree.
Yet it was no great secret to Mrs. White that Emma had marriage on her mind. Marriage to someone of her choosing, however, not her brother’s. The problem, of course, was how to find a husband while working for Mrs. White. Handsome travelers such as Mr. Judrow weren’t going to fall for her overnight. If she wanted a hus
band, she’d have to go to Oregon City or points west to find one.
Too bad Mr. Judrow wasn’t going to Oregon City …
“Taloa, ya finished with yer supper?” Mrs. White asked.
She gave no response.
“Taloa!”
“Oh! Yes!” She was definitely going to have to do something about her assumed name. Especially since she couldn’t seem to remember what it was.
Mrs. White got up from the table to retrieve Emma’s plate. “Ya sure ya didn’t land on yer head?”
“No, ma’am. I mean, yes, ma’am, I’m sure.”
“Land sakes, ya’d think ya didn’t even know yer own name.”
“That reminds me of that nice little gal that came through here years ago with one of the ranch hands from the Triple-C,” Preacher Dan said with a smile. “She couldn’t remember anything.”
“Yeah, we were just talkin’ ‘bout her the other day,” Mrs. White said.
Preacher Dan took on a far-off look. “Now that’s what you call a romantic tale.”
Emma perked up. She loved romance. “Really?”
Preacher Dan turned in his chair to face her. “Oh yes. I wanted to marry them, but the poor thing couldn’t remember her name. She didn’t even know how old she was.”
Mr. Judrow straightened in his chair. “So you never married them?”
“No, they were married by the preacher in Clear Creek. You could tell they loved each other, though. She didn’t realize it at the time, but he sure did. Or was it the other way around?”
“What happened?” Emma asked, intrigued.
“She got scared and ran off. Met me at the main road the morning I left and begged me to take her to Oregon City.”
Henry chuckled. “But ya didn’t, did ya, Preacher Dan?”
“No, Henry, I certainly didn’t.”
Henry laughed. “Preacher Dan trussed her up and left her on the side of the road for that fella to find!”
Emma’s eyes went wide as her jaw dropped. “You did what?”
“He … did come along, didn’t he?” Mr. Judrow asked.
“Of course he did,” Preacher Dan said. “How else would they have gotten married?”