She finally realized he was looking at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. Leah opened her mouth to respond, but she had no idea what to say.
“You’re… offering me a ride? In your wagon?” Her voice squeaked like a schoolboy.
“Yes’m. Plannin’ to leave out at first light tomorry.”
Leah surveyed the man, realizing he was serious about the offer. But was he trustworthy? How would she determine that?
“I…uh…I have two trunks I’ll need to take with me.”
He reached a nubby finger to scratch through his beard. “Reckon’ that’ll be fine. We can tie ‘em on top.”
He dropped his hand to his lap and cocked his head as if pondering something. “I don’t usually carry folks with me as a rule, but God kept a’nudgin’ me sayin’, ‘Ol’ Mose, you go on an help this girl now, ya hear?’” He threw up his hands. “So, here I sit.”
When Ol’ Mose flashed a slightly-toothless grin, Leah wanted to reach over and hug the man. Instead, she smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Mose. I would be honored to ride in your freight wagon.”
“No, ma’am. The name’s Mose or Ol’ Mose. No mister about it. My Pa, he was a mister but not this young son of a gun.” And then he flashed his toothy grin again.
Chapter Eight
Near Butte City, Montana Territory
June, 1874
Woosh. Thwak!
Gideon heaved the ax back over his shoulder, then slammed the blade forward into the ice.
Woosh. Thwak!
He was close to water, he could feel it in the softness of the ice.
Woosh. Thwak!
A mighty crack split the air as his ax sank deep into liquid.
The lowing of the cattle behind him grew louder and more insistent as the animals smelled the water. Gideon hacked the edges to widen the hole, then jumped to the side as the cattle surged forward.
Leaning against the ax, he stopped to catch his breath and watch the animals jockey for position. Winter had lasted longer than normal this year, with the final snowstorm a couple of weeks before. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to break ice for the cows much longer before summer heated things.
He kept a careful eye on the latest calves, still wobbly on their feet. It would be easy for one of the little guys to get knocked over and trampled as the cattle pushed forward to the water.
The Bryant Ranch was up to about fifty head of cattle now. Not anything like the big ranches he’d heard about in Texas, but their little herd was growing. If at least most of the calves came with no problems this year, they would have close to seventy head.
How will I take care of seventy head of cattle by myself, now that Abel’s gone?
The now-familiar ache cut his breath short. Scenes from the horrific grizzly attack that had killed his brother the week before flashed through Gideon’s mind. He scrubbed a hand down his face in an effort to clear them. He couldn’t get bogged down in this now. He missed his baby brother with a physical pain, but that wouldn’t bring him back. It hadn’t brought any of the others back.
He needed to deal with reality for now. He could manage the work, at least for the summer months. He may need some help with the haying, but that would be it. Especially with Miriam taking on most of their brother’s chores around the cabin.
His baby sis had always worked her fair share. Like when Pa died. She had shouldered much more than her half of the housework. Then when Ma took sick and died, too, Miriam took over everything.
As much as he hated to admit, he’d married Jane partly in hopes she would help Miriam with the house and garden and cooking. Jane had tried, really she had. Deep down, though, he knew she’d hated mountain life. She was afraid of it, with the harsh winters and wild animals constantly lurking about. And maybe her fear had been well-founded, because it was one of those wild animals that finally took her life. Then Miriam had gone back to running the household on her lonesome.
Gideon picked up his ax and headed back to the little barn he’d built in the valley to store hay and animal supplies. He needed to check on the broodmares, too. The grey mare looked to be within a week or two of foaling.
He now understood how Miriam must have felt for all those years, shouldering the load by herself. Abel had always been his partner with the ranch. The brothers had worked together so long, they could read each other’s minds, not to mention reading the weather and the animal signs.
Abel was the one who’d first found the gold on their property, too. They never mined much of it, just enough to restock supplies every few years. The gold allowed them to keep most of the cattle and build up the herd. Someday, they would have a vast herd with hundreds or even thousands of cattle. Someday…
Which led him back to his original conundrum—what he would do when the winter months hit again? It would be a challenge, for sure, to keep the cattle watered and with enough food in the deep snow. With no garden through the winter to supplement their food supply, he would need to hunt more. The constant snow on the ground made work harder and slower.
Should he start panning for gold again as soon as the weather warmed? He’d probably need the dust to pay a hired hand. But if he was mining, he really would need someone else to help with the cattle and haying. “Grrrrr…”
The dog at his feet whined and inched forward on his belly until almost touching Gideon’s boot. He reached down to scratch behind a black ear.
“Sorry, boy. Didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
Drifter accepted the apology by licking Gideon’s sleeve.
~
Every muscle, bone, and joint hurt beyond what Leah had ever felt, as she half-climbed-half-fell from the wagon. She dragged herself toward the tree line bordering the road in search of a little privacy.
“Jest don’t wander off too far. An’ can ya bring some logs and sticks back fer the fire?” Ol’ Mose called as he started pulling things from the wagon. Riding for ten long hours in the jolting, creaking wagon didn’t seem to bother him in the least.
Leah nodded, her need too great to stop as she stumbled through the trees until she was a safe distance from the campsite. She needed a necessary house, but of course there wasn’t anything like that in this primitive wilderness.
On her way back to the wagon, Leah picked up some logs as Ol’ Mose had requested. With her arms loaded down and her hair mussed from the pull of branches, she stepped through the tree line into the clearing. Ol’ Mose was hunkered on his hands and knees over a pile of sticks. He appeared to be blowing into them as a thin stream of smoke curled up into the sky.
Leah dropped the logs in a heap nearby, and Ol’ Mose leaned back to reveal a small flame. He surveyed the logs she’d brought, then looked up at Leah with a twinkle in his faded brown eyes.
“You ain’t never picked out logs fer a fire ‘afore, have ye now?”
Her face grew warm. Was it that obvious? “No, sir.”
“Well, then.” He rose to his feet more gracefully than Leah would have expected for a man his age. He appeared thin and frail, but he must have muscle by the way he was able to maneuver around the wagon and camp.
Ol’ Mose stopped in front of the heap at Leah’s feet. “See here.” He picked up some small sticks. “These are good for when the fire’s little. They’re nice and dry and small, so they’ll catch easy-like. That one over there is too wet to use for anythin’. An’ the big’uns there.” He pointed to the thick round logs she’d struggled with. “These have a few strikes against ‘em. They’re green so it’ll be hard for ‘em to catch, they won’t put out much heat, and they’ll smoke like the devil ‘imself is sittin’ with us.”
Leah was trying to follow him, but he’d lost her when he said the wood was green. Those logs were as grey in color as the sky before a storm. Is Ol’ Mose color-blind? She supposed it was possible.
Suddenly the old man let out a cackle and slapped his thigh. “I bet I stumped ya when I said the wood was green, didn’t I? That means it was just growin’ and didn’t have a chance to dry out yet.
The dry stuff is what we want fer a fire. Oak and maple make good fires, not too many sparks but plenty o’ coals for cookin’.”
Leah nodded, locking that tidbit in the back of her mind for later. Thankfully, Ol’ Mose didn’t require much from her as he unhitched the mules, and grabbed a few items from the wagon. But dread settled in when Ol’ Mose returned with two leaf- and dirt-covered blankets.
“Fer your bed,” he said, tossing them at her.
She could do this, she just had to set her mind to it. Still, the thought of her goose-down mattress back in Richmond flickered unbidden through her mind.
When the old fellow began cooking their dinner, Leah tried to pay close attention. She’d loved the times as a girl, when she could sneak down to the kitchen to help Cook make dinner or bake desserts. Cooking and baking had always fascinated her, although she’d rarely been allowed to practice. Thankfully, Mose liked to chatter, and talked through everything he was doing.
“We’ll get these beans a’started right off, since they take the longest to cook. Then, once some o’ the coals get white hot, I’ll mix up cornbread in yonder skillet and we’ll have a real feast on our hands.” He apparently believed his statement, too, from the grin showing in his eyes.
“Ere you a good cook, Miz Townsend?”
“No, I’m afraid I’ve never had many opportunities to cook. I’ve enjoyed it when I was given the chance, though.”
“Pshaw. I figure a pretty little lady like you would have all the opportunities ya wanted.”
Leah didn’t have the energy tonight to explore that statement completely, but it sounded wrought with irony.
“Ere ya from the East, then?”
“Yes, sir. From Richmond, Virginia.”
He let out a low whistle. “Yer parents must be awful worried about ya travelin’ so far. And methinks it’s a might rougher here than what yer accustomed to.”
“Both of my parents have died, sir.” Tears didn’t immediately spring to her eyes anymore, but it was still hard to talk about them. She missed Mama and Papa so much it ached.
Ol’ Mose was quiet for a moment. “Awful sorry to hear that, ma’am.”
Leah cleared her throat, ready to change the topic. “So tell me about yourself. Have you always run a freight wagon?”
“No, ma’am. Used to be a trapper back in the day. Ran with the best o’ the mountain men, I did. Jedediah Smith, Jim Clyman, an’ that ol’ coot Hugh Glass. Now there’s a story worth tellin’. D’ya ever hear it before?”
Leah shook her head, never having heard of any of the men he mentioned. But she knew from the tales he’d told in the wagon that Ol’ Mose was a master story-teller. So she settled back against one of the green logs and prepared for a good one.
“Well, ol’ Hugh was on one of Mr. Henry’s trappin’s.” His eyes came to life. “Hugh had gone on ahead and got in a tussle with a she-bear protectin’ her cubs. He finally got the upper hand with only his knife, but by the time the she-bear was layin’ on the ground, so was Glass. He was knocked out an’ bleedin’ an’ on his last breath when the rest found him.
“Well they kept awaitin’ fer the ol’ coon to die, and the Injuns was gettin’ closer. Finally, Mr. Henry asked fer a couple men to stay with Glass and bury him proper once he finally expired. Said he’d give them an extra six month’s pay. Bridger was just a young tike then—seventeen I think—so he and Fitzgerald volunteered.
“The Injuns got closer an’ those boys got nervouser an’ ol’ Glass just kept on barely breathin’. They went ahead an’ dug his grave and finally decided to lay him in the hole, cover him with the bear hide, and save their own necks.”
Ol’ Mose positioned a skillet on the rocks at the edge of the fire, then poured a thick batter into the pan.
“When ol’ Hugh woke up, he found hisself under that hide without a stick o’ clothes or gun or knife, either. He had a broke leg and was missin’ so much skin ya could see clear through to his rib bones in spots.
“He was awful sick, too. But ol’ Hugh didn’t let that keep ‘im down. He set his own broke leg and wrapped hisself in that hide and started crawlin’. Took him six weeks, but he crawled all the way to the Cheyenne River. Ate berries an’ roots an’ whatever meat he could scare t’other animals away from. Said the only thing that kept him goin’ was the thought of gettin’ back at those two varmints that left ‘im in that grave to die. Anyways, when he made it to the river, he sailed right down to a Sioux camp, an’ they doctored him up. Finally made it to Fort Kiowa a bit later.”
Silence settled over them. In the pan, the batter began to turn golden. Finally, Leah asked, “Did he ever find the men that left him for dead?”
Ol’ Mose breathed a soft chuckle. “Funny thing that. He found both the men separately, but didn’t end up killin’ either one of ‘em. He gave reasons why he didn’t, but I’d like to think it was God workin’ on his heart, softenin’ him up for forgiveness.”
Leah glanced at her new friend. He’d mentioned God a few times through the day, but this was the first time he’d said anything overtly religious. She gently prodded, “You sound like you have some experience with forgiveness.”
“Yes, ma’am. I ain’t always had the nicest things done to me, but I ain’t always done ‘em to others, neither. God gave me an awful lot o’ forgiveness, then softened me up so’s I could learn how to pass it on.”
For a few minutes, they stared at the fire in silence. Then Mose reached to pull the frying pan from the coals and began dishing out plates of beans and cornbread. He didn’t speak again until he handed Leah a tin plate and spoon.
“So you said you’re here to stay with some friends, did ye?”
How much should she tell him? She trusted this man, and something about him made her suspect he wouldn’t think badly of her for answering a newspaper advertisement for marriage. She might as well be honest.
“In a way. I’ve responded to an ad for a young rancher seeking a bride.” She found herself rushing through the words to get them over with.
Ol’ Mose looked thoughtful as he munched a mouthful of beans. “What’s his name? Might be I know him an’ can tell ya if he’s a good sort.”
Not only did he not judge her, but he was offering to help. Relief washed over her. “His name is Abel Bryant of the Bryant Ranch. Have you heard of him?”
Ol’ Mose’s beard split into a grin. “Sure do. Gideon an’ Abel run the ranch now that their pa’s passed. Couldn’t find better boys in the whole Montana Territory.” He nodded with a certainty that made Leah release a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She even felt her own face answer his grin.
Chapter Nine
The mules plodded into the clearing as Leah absorbed her surroundings with wide-eyed interest. In the evening dusk, she saw two wooden structures. One was obviously the barn, with fences fanning out on three sides. A well-worn path ran from the barn to the other building, which looked like a log guest cottage. A covered porch spanned the front, but neither the porch nor the steps had a handrail, only occasional log posts that supported the roof. White ruffled curtains could be seen in both of the windows that flanked the front door.
The door opened and a little blonde wisp of a woman stepped out. She wore a bright smile and wiped her hands on the greyish apron at her waist. As the wagon pulled to a stop, the woman hurried forward, and Leah realized she was actually no more than a teenager, fifteen or sixteen at most.
“Oh, I’m so glad to see another woman I could just hug you.” For a moment it seemed the girl might actually follow through with her words, as the little magpie bounced around to Leah’s side of the wagon.
“Please do come in and have supper with us.” She looked over at Ol’ Mose. “Gideon will be back from the cattle any minute, and he’ll be pleased to see you.”
Leah’s heart skipped a beat. If Gideon would be coming back from the cattle, surely Abel, her possible future husband, would be with him. Ol’ Mose had said they worked the ranch together.
Leah climbed carefully from the wagon. Her muscles had toughened after five days of jolts and jarring. She pressed both hands to her skirt, inhaled a breath for fortitude, and turned to face the girl with her most pleasant expression.
“Hello, I’m Leah Townsend. I believe Mr. Abel Bryant is expecting me.”
Leah waited for the look of recognition to come over the girl’s face. It did, sort of. Recognition mixed with… horror? Her eyes widened big as silver dollars, the green illuminated in the centers. Her face became deathly pale. Within seconds, those green eyes clouded and, for a moment, Leah thought she would break into tears. Or swoon. Leah impulsively reached forward to slip a gentle hand around the girl’s shoulders.
She seemed to catch herself quickly, and pulled the dirty apron up to wipe her eyes.
“I’m sorry, I…” She looked up at Leah with the most mournful expression in her wide emerald eyes. “Abel died about two weeks ago. Gideon sent a wire tellin’ you not to come, but I guess you didn’t get it…” Her voice drifted off with the last few words.
It took a moment for the words to register, then they released a torrent of emotion in Leah—shock, disbelief, and sadness for the man she had come to appreciate in her imaginings. But at the pain etched on the young girl’s face, Leah forgot her discomfort as a deep sympathy flooded her.
On another impulse, she leaned forward and embraced the girl. Leah knew all too well what it was like to lose someone she loved. She felt the girl’s slender arms wrap themselves around her as if she was starving, and human touch the only thing that could feed her. Leah couldn’t define what passed between them during that hug, but she felt a connection with this girl she’d never felt with anyone except Emily.
Finally, the girl stepped back, wiping at her eyes again. She looked at Leah, suddenly shy. “I’m Miriam, Gideon and Abel’s little sister.”
Leah smiled through her misty vision. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miriam.”
Mountain Dreams Series: Books 1 - 3: Mountain Dreams Box Set 1 Page 6