“Of course, ma’am.”
“I’ll find you in the morning and we’ll decide what’s to be done.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” And with that Pete was gone.
Ruth headed down the hall to talk to Lucas. “I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to misinterpret things when I tell Pete he won’t have to put up with Jackson anymore. I don’t want you to think I’m not grateful, but we’ll be taking Jackson with us when we leave in a couple of days. I know we’d talked about his staying, but—”
Lucas frowned. “Why would you change your mind about that?”
“Well, Pete thinks Jackson isn’t cut out for ranch life. He’s miserable. And it isn’t fair to expect Pete to put up with a child who—”
“I think what Pete was probably trying to tell you is that Jackson’s been raised by a woman who has protected him too much. And it shows.” Lucas held up his hand. “Now, before you start blustering about how I haven’t raised a child, I’ll agree with you. I don’t know anything about raising children. But I do know what it takes for a man to survive out here. He has to be able to handle himself. There’s no reason for Jackson to be afraid of horses or cattle. He should respect their strength, certainly, but when a man falls off, he just gets back on—”
“If he can,” Ruth said, staring at Lucas’s leg.
“Now, I’m not the subject here, but since you brought it up, I should have known better than to try to ride Hannibal that day. He was still riled up from the trip here, and he didn’t know where he was or who was handling him. But I got a burr under my saddle about showing off. And I nearly got killed for it. That’s not what I’m talking about with Jackson.
“Sam doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. Jackson could lay down on the ground underneath that pony, and he wouldn’t move for fear of stepping on him. As to working cattle, Pete’s the best there is, and if Jackson will pay attention, he can be the best there is someday. If that’s what he wants. Even if he doesn’t want that, he’s going to be plain miserable if he doesn’t learn how to get along with the critters around him.”
Lucas paused. “Life out here isn’t a dime novel, and real cowboys aren’t anything like Texan Joe. Jackson’s learning that. Leave him here, Ruth. Let Pete and the boys—and me, when I can finally get out of this cursed bed—let us all grow him up a little.”
“I hate the thought that he’s afraid.”
“Then tell him what I’ve just said about learning to respect what you fear and overcoming it—in that nice, tender way you have—” He smirked. “Give him a chance to face it and get over it.”
Ruth sat down. “If I do that—if I leave him with you—what will that mean for Jackson? Exactly?”
“Well, Pete will keep him in the saddle until he knows what he’s doing. He’ll get so sore he can hardly walk before that’s done. The boys will continue to tease him and make fun of him until he cries into his bedroll at night and wishes for his mama. Then he’ll either buck up or he’ll tuck his tail between his legs and come running home. But my guess is he’ll buck up and you’ll have yourself the beginnings of a man.”
Later that evening, as she and Hettie were getting ready to turn in, Ruth asked Hettie, “What do you think I should do?”
Hettie shook her head. “I am the last person on earth you should be asking that question.”
“Just because you haven’t raised a son doesn’t mean you don’t have an opinion,” Ruth said. “You know Jackson. And, frankly, you know me better than anyone else right now.”
Hettie pulled her nightgown over her head and stepped out of her skirt. She draped the skirt over a chair and began to let her hair down. Ruth followed suit, and presently the women were standing side by side looking into the dressing table mirror.
“Do you trust Lucas and Pete Mills?” Hettie asked.
“As much as I trust any man. Underneath the strutting veneer, Lucas is kind and generous. I suppose my opinion of Mr. Mills is based on the fact that Lucas trusts him, so I can’t see a reason not to.”
Hettie nodded. “I feel the same way.”
“But how can I knowingly give them permission to make Jackson miserable?” Ruth laid a handful of hairpins on the dresser and reached up to massage her scalp.
“Well,” Hettie said, “maybe you should think of it as a kind of military school. I imagine the General had occasion to make cadets miserable in the interest of making them better soldiers and, ultimately, keeping more of them alive.”
“So,” Ruth murmured, “for Jackson to learn the things he says he wants, a short time of being miserable should be worth it—if he truly wants it.”
“Exactly. And even if he doesn’t want to live out here the rest of his life, I’d think learning he can do things even when they frighten him is a lesson that will do him good no matter what he faces in life.” Hettie paused. “That being said, I don’t know if I could make a child of mine go through it.”
“I suppose this is my fault. I’ve been so afraid of what might happen for so long—”
“Things were hard. You did what you thought best.”
“I did what was best for me because I was too afraid to do anything else.” Ruth looked at herself in the mirror. “But I’m my true self again. I’m that woman who can drive a buggy across the prairie at night.”
“The woman who threatened to handcuff Lucas Gray to his bed and got away with it.” Hettie smiled.
Ruth nodded. “Yes. That’s the Ruth Dow my General knew and loved.” Her eyes filled with tears. She took a deep breath. “And that’s the Ruth Dow who is going to find Pete Mills in the morning and tell him to give her son what he needs to become a man.”
“Now, you know you have to keep off that leg for another week yet,” Hettie said as she and Ruth prepared to leave on Saturday.
“Yes, ma’am, I do. And I will.” Lucas was sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs in front of the window in his bedroom with his leg supported on a row of pillows. They all had a view of one corral, and just now Jackson was out there trying in vain to wrestle a calf to the earth for branding. Trying and losing the battle. Ruth’s hand went to her collar.
“It’ll be all right, Mama,” Lucas said. “Pete thinks he’s ready.”
Ruth sighed. “I know. I just hope when he heads out on the spring roundup—”
“Pete could fix you up with a pony and a pair of boots and a hat all your own, and you could trail right behind the boy and make sure things go all right. If that’d make you feel better.”
“Are you making fun of me, Mr. Gray?”
“Wouldn’t think of it, Mrs. Dow.” He winked, then grew more serious. “You’ve made the right choice. He will thank you. As soon as his sore muscles harden a bit and the blisters on his hands heal.”
“He barely spoke to me when I went to say good-bye this morning,” Ruth said. “I found him mucking out stalls. The charm of being a cowboy has completely worn off. He’s exhausted. Pete’s been working him hard. But I suppose it’s good for him. Even if we only stay out here for five years, he needs to know how to ride.”
Lucas nodded. “He’ll be a better man for staying behind. I guarantee it.”
“I’m trusting you to be right about that.” Ruth turned to Hettie. “Any last-minute instructions for the patient?”
“Just don’t be stupid. Leave the bandage in place. We’ll be back in a week, and if everything still looks good, you’ll be able to start walking—with a cane. Weight-bearing starts gradually, Mr. Gray.”
“Do you need a dictionary so you can look up the word “gradual,” Lucas?” Ruth added.
“For your information, Mrs. Dow, I know the meaning of the word. And it won’t be a problem, as most ranchers ride through their workday.”
Hettie spoke up. “Can you ride without standing in the stirrups?”
Lucas rolled his eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I believe I can.”
“Then it’ll probably be all right. But I have to warn you, another injury to that same
leg, and you won’t likely be so lucky as to keep it.”
“I’ll be good.” When Ruth snorted in disbelief, Gray scowled. “It is possible for me to be good. And I resent the implication of that snort. I have future plans that do not include an early grave.” Suddenly serious, he cleared his throat and said, “There is no way for me to thank you both for what you’ve done. But I will continue to look for ways.” He motioned toward the door. “Wah Lo will escort you ladies outside to my first thank-you. There will be more.”
Ruth bent down and kissed him on the cheek. “Behave,” she said, and was then caught by surprise when he took both her hands in his and, pulling her close, kissed her back. He released her quickly and winked at Hettie. “I promise to be your star patient, ladies.”
The buggy they’d driven from Ermisch’s livery was waiting outside, and two wranglers were on their mounts alongside it. “Ma’am.” Each one touched the brim of his hat with a finger by way of salute. “We’ll be followin’ you home.”
Wah Lo interrupted. “Mr. Gray has paid Mr. Ermisch. The buggy and horse are yours now. Johnny and Del will see you home safe.” He pressed a small packet wrapped in brown paper into Hettie’s hand. “Make this tea every morning. Good for baby. Johnny and Del will come get you in one week. Don’t try to come alone. That would upset Mr. Gray, and he must heal, not worry. Right?”
Ella might have worked a farm before, but she’d never marched out on a piece of virgin prairie and claimed it. It was at times overwhelming. There was just so much to do.
By the end of the first week with Ruth and Hettie back, they’d set out over a hundred cabbages. They planted onions and carrots, parsnips, beets, and peas. Nancy Darby brought them tomato seedlings, and they planted those close to the house inside wire cages lest a jackrabbit nibble the tender plants off. They planted lettuce and radishes, turnips and cucumbers.
Amazingly enough, Caroline Jamison knew how to clean the rabbits she occasionally shot, and joked that maybe she’d bring home a deer carcass one day and impress them all.
“What would you do with a deer?” Sally teased.
“Hang it from the corner of the barn. Gut it and skin it and carve it up.” Caroline grinned. “Y’all would have to cook it, though. I’ve got no notion of how to do that.”
“We could have us a deer roast. And a dance. And invite all the neighbors. Let ’em see the place all finished.”
“First,” Ella said, “we finish planting.”
Everyone groaned in mock protest, but still they planted. A row of Osage orange trees and Russian olives to the north and west, tiny seedlings not even visible above the prairie grass. Caroline ripped a yellow apron to shreds so they could tie little flags on the twigs lest they forget they were there and trample them down. They dug up seedlings from the cottonwood and transplanted them along the front of the house all the way to the corners of each bedroom. They planted until every seed was gone, every seedling marked…and then they began to haul water to keep it all alive.
The prairie had awakened further and wrapped Four Corners in color. Wildflowers bloomed yellow and white, lavender and pink, dancing in the wind and bobbing up and down. If Ella hadn’t known better, she would have thought God had sent his angels robed in a rainbow of petals to rejoice with the ladies who’d formed an unlikely alliance to create an unlikely life in an unlikely place.
The evenings had become warm enough for the ladies to move their chairs outside, where the breeze wafted the scents of the spring past, and the yapping of coyotes and the chirping of crickets melded together in a song Ella was learning to love. One evening when the stars came out and they were all still sitting outside, Mama murmured, “‘When I consider thy heavens…the work of thy fingers…what is man that thou art mindful of him?’” And then she added, “A person looking for God comes face-to-face with him out here. With such a sky and so much space…it all speaks of the smallness of man and the largeness of…something else. Someone else.”
As Ella lay in her bed that night and her mind raced from one thing that needed doing to another, she reminded God that he had promised to be mindful of them. “There is so much I can’t control,” she whispered. “The wind. The rain. The temperature. So many things can go wrong.” Insects could decimate the garden. Any number of illnesses or diseases could attack cattle and horses. The grip of fear clutched at Ella’s midsection. Don’t let me fail them, God. Please. Don’t let us fail.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
PROVERBS 3:5
Ruth knew from past experience that the way to overcome emotional turmoil was through hard work, and during the days after Lucas summoned Caroline to his bedside, Ruth did everything she could to work things through by working. She was up before anyone else every single morning, and she made certain to never linger in Caroline’s vicinity. As a result, even if Caroline had been inclined to take Ruth aside and confide whatever it was Lucas had said during their private time together, there was no opportunity. Ruth made sure she was too busy for such things.
Ruth’s attempts to talk herself out of her own attraction to Lucas didn’t stop with busyness. All the while she was working long hours, Ruth maintained an internal dialogue about the matter. She reminded herself regularly that Lucas’s wanting a private conversation with Caroline clearly meant there was something between those two. She replayed the way Lucas Gray had shown an interest in Caroline on the train, and dismissed his compliments to herself as little more than mild and meaningless flirtation. She took to reading Scripture late at night when her mind simply would not stay occupied with topics apart from a certain charming rancher. And she worried about Jackson’s safety and how his latest adventure might distract him from the dream of an education—if that was even his dream. At times she thought it might just be hers.
Thanks to her working so she wouldn’t worry, and then worrying her way through the work, Ruth was exhausted when the promised wranglers arrived at Four Corners to escort “the doc and Mrs. Dow” back to the ranch to check on Lucas and Jackson. And, she realized, all of her efforts to talk herself out of her attraction to Lucas had failed to bear fruit, for when Caroline declined to ride with them, Ruth was ashamed by her own response. No amount of inner scolding could change it, either. She was glad.
The drive to the ranch felt like it took forever. When the ranch house, and then Lucas himself, lounging on the front porch, his leg propped up on pillows, finally came into view, Ruth renewed her efforts to take herself in hand. You must stop this girlish nonsense. There is absolutely no reason for you to feel this way just because a man smiles in your general direction. He’s smiling at Hettie, too. She forced herself to make certain that the first words out of her mouth were about Caroline. Caroline sent her best and regretted that she hadn’t been able to come along, Ruth assured Lucas, even as she concocted an excuse on Caroline’s behalf.
Lucas only nodded. “Jackson’s lunging one of my horses in the corral next to Hannibal’s. Ignore the stallion, and don’t worry about the gelding your boy is working. Dakota’s spirited, but he’s absent the killer instinct Hannibal seems to have acquired. I believe you’ll be pleased to see just how well Jackson’s survived this past week without his mama.” He nodded Hettie’s way. “If she-who-is-not-a-doctor gives me clearance, I just might hobble out and join you in a minute.”
When Ruth first caught sight of Jackson, the boy did little more than nod her way. The chestnut gelding at the end of the lunge line responded to his every “chirrup” and “hup” with fluid grace. When he finally said “whoa,” the horse pulled up instantly. As Jackson walked toward the animal, he looped the rope through his gloved left hand. The horse pivoted and faced him. Jackson kept up a running commentary about how he was a good boy and had worked hard and deserved a treat. Which the horse obviously expected, because when Jackson got close, the animal lipped his shirt pocket.
“Now, you just mi
nd your manners,” Jackson said, and tapped the horse on its muzzle. The animal pulled back and shook its head, whickering and stomping the earth in an equine version of a two-year-old demanding candy at the general store. “All right,” Jackson said, “since you insist.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a peppermint. The animal took it, bobbing its head up and down with pleasure as it crunched the candy. Jackson laughed.
“I’d say you’ve learned quite a bit about horses in only a week,” Ruth said.
Jackson shrugged as he stroked the horse’s neck. “I still don’t ride very well.” He walked toward her then and, after kissing her on the cheek, said, “And that’s why I want to stay. Please, Mother. Pete says it’s all right with him, and Mr. Gray—Lucas—said it was up to you. So…may I please stay awhile longer? I know you need me to work back at Four Corners, but I’ll be of more use if I learn how to do these…western things.”
When Ruth said nothing—mostly because she was distracted by the sight of Lucas hobbling their way with the help of a cane and Hettie’s arm—Jackson kept going. “Pete says we’ll be checking in the canyons for stragglers. And then there’ll be roping and branding and…everything.”
When Ruth still didn’t respond, he tried another tactic. “Sam’s a good pony, Mother. He’s sure-footed and as tame as they come. And cattle aren’t really dangerous. You just have to know them. Know the signs when they’re getting ready to bolt and things like that. I don’t really know the signs yet, but Sam seems to.” Jackson smiled. “Actually, Sam’s a lot better with cattle than I am. Pete says I can learn a lot from Sam.” He ducked his head and made her look at him. “Mother? Are you listening?”
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