A Wrangler for Wynonna

by Amelia C. Adams

  Wynonna gave Jack a smile and nod, then turned and followed her friend back the way they’d come. Rowena broke away and came with them, all three of them leaving their escorts behind.

  “I can’t wait until Miss Green arranges for our passage out of here,” Fiona said as they rounded the last bend toward the stables. “I just don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

  “That bad?” Wynonna asked.

  “Worse. I don’t know what Mr. Denton was thinking, but he spent every last minute of our ride trying to tell me what to do—as if I hadn’t already explained that I’ve been around horses since I was tiny. I’ve never been patronized so much in my entire life.”

  “I’m sorry,” Wynonna told her. “How frustrating—who’s that?”

  Up ahead, they saw an older man slamming the door of an outbuilding as he strode outside carrying a satchel. He tied the handles of the satchel to his saddlebags and then mounted his horse. Dust clouds kicked up behind him as he galloped away.

  “That was probably the old cook,” Rowena said. “He didn’t look very happy.”

  “I’m glad we didn’t run into him,” Fiona replied. “I’m not sure I’d want to introduce myself as his replacement.”

  “I can understand that.” Wynonna brought her horse to a walk so the cook would have plenty of time to make his exit before they arrived at the stables. “So, are you ready to tackle this new challenge?”

  “I’d better be,” Fiona replied. “If I’m not, we just sent that man galloping down the road for no reason.”

  “We’re here to help,” Rowena told her. “Let’s go see what you have to work with.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jack watched Wynonna gallop away with her friend, a little bewildered. He’d thought this was going to be a nice, leisurely morning ride and that they’d get along like they had the day before. Instead, he’d said a bunch of wrong things and offended her, and he wasn’t even sure if he could put his finger on what had happened.

  Mike rode up next to him and pulled his horse to a stop. “I’ve never met such a stubborn woman in all my days,” he said. “She didn’t want to hear one word outta me—she just wanted to talk about how much she knows about horses and how many bales of hay she’s lifted in her life and how experienced she is. I kept tryin’ to tell her that the horse she’s on has a sensitive mouth, but she didn’t wanna hear it, and before I knew it, she’d taken off halfway across the meadow from me and then yelled at me for not warnin’ her.”

  “Maybe we should switch out women for the rest of the time,” Jack replied. “I don’t think Miss Wynonna and I are such good friends anymore.”

  “I don’t suppose we can just get back to work and forget they’re even here.” Mike wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “It’s not like they have any reason to want us around, and we’re getting ready for breedin’. We don’t have time for this.”

  Jack nodded as he urged his horse to walk. “We all have things we could be doin’ right now. This was likely a mistake—if we were gonna send for brides, maybe we shoulda sent for ’em closer to home so they’d already know what it means to live on a ranch and wouldn’t be so underfoot.”

  “You think we should try again once these are gone?” Mike asked.

  Jack shrugged. “I dunno. I’m feelin’ a little worn out on women at the moment. I wonder if that matchmaker’s guarantee included givin’ us our money back.”

  “Sure hope so. This took a big chunk of my savings.”

  “Mine too.”

  After a moment of riding, they happened upon Billy, who was also heading back toward the stables. “Hey,” Jack called out. “How’d your morning go?”

  “Like having a tooth pulled,” Billy replied. “Darned if I know how to talk to women—all she could go on about was the flowers. Like I’m supposed to know the names of every plant that grows around here—I’m a mite busy for things like that. Then she wanted to know where I’m from and how I feel about things.” He shook his head. “I thought the girls were supposed to have all the feelin’s.”

  “We’ve all had it rough,” Jack said. “Let’s go back and try to save the rest of this day with some hard work. We’re runnin’ behind because of all this nonsense, and I bet Mike here would like to see us make up for some of that time.”

  “You know, I think I would,” Mike said with a grin. “Maybe Zeke and Tenny have had better luck, though.”

  As they approached the ranch buildings, they saw Zeke and Tenny sitting out front of the bunkhouse, and Jack laughed. “I’d say they’ve had the same kind of morning we have. Look at those long faces.”

  “Every one of us, then,” Billy replied. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but we somehow did it.”

  They took their horses to the stables, unsaddled them, then walked over to the bunkhouse and sat on the log benches out front near their friends.

  “So, when do they go home?” Tenny asked.

  “Soon as they hear from their matchmaker lady,” Jack replied. “Hard morning?”

  “The worst. That Miss Cora . . . She’s scared of everything, and I mean everything. I’ve never met such a skittish female in my life. She doesn’t belong on a ranch—that sort of woman should be tucked away in some fancy house somewhere with a whole staff assigned to protecting her from the real world.” Tenny scuffed his boots in the dirt. “Frustrating girl.”

  “Well, at least you weren’t tryin’ to have a chat with Miss Helen,” Zeke replied. “She has definite feelings about how each and every thing should be done. Whoever marries that one had better prepare himself to be henpecked mornin’, noon, and night. Probably the middle of the night, too. She’ll wake him up to rearrange the pictures on the wall ’cause they’re a quarter inch too far to the right.”

  “Sounds like she and Miss Fiona are cut from the same cloth,” Big Mike said.

  “Well, look here,” Billy said. “It’s Old Sully, come to cheer us up.”

  Jack looked up to see Sully making his way across the compound toward them. “So, you all ready to help me with the breedin’ come tomorrow mornin’?”

  “Of course, but we need to have a word with you first.” Tenny reached inside the bunkhouse, grabbed a wooden chair, and plunked it in the dirt near the benches. “Have a seat, Sully.”

  Sully lowered himself onto the chair and looked around. “What’s goin’ on? You look like a congress of owls sittin’ here.”

  “First place, I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about. Second place, it’s these women you’ve brought here. Nothin’ but trouble, every one of ‘em.” Tenny shook his head. “I don’t think we’re cut out to have women around here, Sully. We’re not sissified city men—we’re horsemen and cattlemen. We don’t sip tea or prance around parlors—we get in the dirt and we’re sweaty. Just how it is.”

  “Someone call you sweaty?” Sully asked.

  “Miss Cora indicated that she thought so,” Tenny replied. “She was too much of a lady to say it outright, but it was in the air.”

  “Maybe in more ways than one,” Sully replied, scrunching up his nose. “Yes, we’re men, but that doesn’t mean we need to smell like ’em.”

  “Well, how’re we supposed to help it?” Tenny wanted to know. “If I’m gonna be out there workin’ with cows, doesn’t it stand to reason that I’m gonna smell like cows?”

  Sully raised a finger. “I actually meant a parliament of owls, not a congress.”

  Tenny puffed out a breath. “Tarnation, Sully, I’m tryin’ to have a conversation with you. Is it time for us to round up them books of yours and start a bonfire?”

  “Let’s not get mean here, fellows,” Jack said, holding up both hands. “We’re all uptight because of how this mornin’ went with the ladies, but let’s not turn on each other because of it, all right?”

  Tenny paused for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. We can’t let those women get under our skins. We’ll just survive the rest of the time they’re here, and then we’ll get back t
o business.”

  “What if they didn’t leave, though?” Sully asked. “What if you worked out whatever’s ailin’ you, and they stayed?”

  Mike was shaking his head before Sully even finished his sentence. “I’d sooner try to marry a bobcat,” he said. “It would be twice as cuddly, and not nearly as opinionated.”

  “Your children might look a little strange, though,” Billy said, and Mike took a fake swing at him.

  “I’m just sayin’ that you should leave a little possibility in there for somethin’ to happen,” Sully went on. “Remember how we were talkin’ about fate and destiny and whatnot?”

  “That was before our outing this mornin’,” Jack replied. “Things are different now.”

  “I don’t see how. You just got off to a rough start is all. You think Captain Fitzgerald hit it off with his lady love on the very first page?” Sully dug in his pocket and pulled out a novel. “He had to prove hisself over and over again before things worked out between them.”

  “Captain Fitzgerald isn’t a real person,” Mike said. “You can’t compare his situation to ours.”

  “He might not be a real person, but he knows a heap more about love than any of us,” Sully shot back. “And if you ever expect to get married, you’ve gotta get your advice from somewhere, don’t ya?”

  “So, what does Captain Fitzgerald want us to do now?” Jack asked. He was tired of all the debating and just wanted a clear idea. He didn’t like sitting around jawing when there was work to be done.

  “He’d give those ladies another chance. He’d be patient with ’em and understand that they came from the city. They aren’t used to how things are done out here—we need to teach ’em.”

  “We need to teach ’em, or Captain Fitzgerald does?” Mike asked, and the men laughed.

  “Seein’ as how the captain isn’t here, I expect you need to.” Sully hoisted himself back up onto his feet. “Let’s head out. I have a feelin’ lunch is about to be served.”

  “Why are you soundin’ so excited about lunch?” Tenny asked.

  “Because Wade sent Cookie packin’, and Miss Fiona’s cookin’ for us until we get a replacement,” Sully replied.

  “Likely she’s poisoning our food,” Mike grumbled, but Jack was already headed for the dining room. Even if she did poison the food, it couldn’t be any worse than what Cookie had been feeding them.

  ***

  “I think I’m going to cry.” Fiona stood in the center of the kitchen adjacent to the bunkhouse, her face a picture of horror. Wynonna felt exactly the same way. The place was absolutely filthy—how could anyone work in here, let alone eat the food that came out of here?

  “Margaret let you come work in a kitchen like this?” Cora asked.

  “She didn’t come in with me—she just showed me where it was,” Fiona said. “I’m sure she doesn’t know how bad it is—she would never stand for it.”

  “What are you going to do?” Cora’s eyes were wide. “You can’t cook in here—it’s impossible.”

  “I’m surprised the men haven’t all died from some sort of horrible intestinal disease,” Helen added.

  Fiona pressed her lips together, then straightened her shoulders. “I made Margaret a promise, and I intend to keep it. I’m going to feed these men, but I’ll need to borrow the kitchen in the main house to do it. I’ll scrub up this place once lunch is over.”

  “You can’t mean to clean all this by yourself,” Wynonna said. “It would take you quite possibly the rest of your life. We’ll help you.”

  “We will?” Cora said, then swallowed. “Yes. We will.”

  “Thank you. I imagine that some elbow grease will work wonders. First off, though, I need to talk to Margaret.”

  The five girls crossed the compound and found Margaret in her parlor mending some socks. “Hello,” she said, looking up with a smile. “Were you able to find everything you needed?”

  Fiona glanced at Wynonna for encouragement. Wynonna gave her a little smile. “Could we speak with you?”

  Margaret looked from face to face. “Oh, dear. This sounds serious.” She put her mending to the side. “What’s the matter?”

  Fiona clasped her hands together on her lap. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of . . . certain things.”

  “Certain things . . . like what?” Margaret asked.

  “Like . . . how filthy things are around here,” Fiona replied. “The kitchen is just horrible. I won’t describe it because no one should have to hear that, and with you expecting . . .”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.” Margaret smiled faintly. “And . . . what else?”

  “We told you that Mike did a good job of changing out the beds, and he did,” Helen said. “But this morning, we discovered that all the dirty linens had been shoved into the closet, along with a huge pile of dirty clothes. The door just popped open and everything came tumbling out.”

  Margaret shook her head. “The men are supposed to do their own laundry,” she said. “I believed they were staying on top of it. It’s difficult being the only woman on a ranch of men—for propriety’s sake, I don’t go into their sleeping areas, and I thought Cookie was taking care of the kitchen. I’m sorry for being so blind—I really should have done a thorough inspection of the place, but we’ve been so busy since Wade took over.”

  “We understand, and we don’t mean to blame you for anything,” Wynonna interjected. “We’d like to know how we can help.”

  “You’d like to help?” Margaret seemed shocked. “You’ve been here less than a day, and you’re our guests. You aren’t expected—”

  Helen lifted a finger. “Here’s how we see it,” she said. “We don’t know how long it will take to hear back from Miss Green. Mr. Watkins probably hasn’t even reached Topeka yet, and who knows how long it will take for the Philadelphia office to deliver it on that end. Yes, we could go stay at the hotel, but we’d have nothing to do. At least while we’re here, we could make ourselves useful, and if we could take a burden off you, we’d love to try.”

  “I . . . I honestly can’t tell you how much that means to me,” Margaret said. “I haven’t felt well these last several weeks, and it’s been difficult with Wade’s new responsibilities and moving from the foreman’s house over here.”

  “We honestly don’t mind,” Wynonna replied. “The tricky part will be deciding where to begin.”

  “Oh, that’s not tricky,” Helen said. “First, we make lunch. Fiona was thinking that we might use this kitchen for now.”

  “We could still serve in the bunkhouse dining room, but we can’t possibly prepare food there until it’s been scrubbed top to bottom,” Fiona explained.

  “That’s perfectly all right,” Margaret replied. “Whatever you need.”

  “Then, after lunch, we’ll clean the kitchen,” Helen went on. “From there, we’ll do laundry—that will probably be tomorrow. We’ll need a lot of soap and a lot of hot water. Do you think one of the men would be willing to help us carry water? Not one of the five who sent for us,” she hastened to add.

  “Why not one of them?” Margaret asked, looking curious.

  “We spent some time with them this morning, and it didn’t go very well,” Rowena said carefully. “We discovered some personality conflicts that made things difficult.”

  “I see,” Margaret said, a faint smile on her lips. “And you’d rather not interact with them for a little while?”

  “That’s exactly it,” Rowena continued. “They’re . . . well, they’re uncouth.”

  “And unbathed,” Cora added.

  “I see,” Margaret said again. “All right, I’ll find you some men who aren’t planning to marry you any time soon. I imagine you’d like several buckets of water for cleaning the kitchen?”

  “Yes, please, right after lunch.”

  “I’ll arrange it, and please help yourself to anything you find in the kitchen here.” Margaret paused. “Aside from their lack of bathing and their uncouthness, was anything else
amiss?”

  “Their sheer stubbornness,” Fiona said. “Hard-headedness. Unwillingness to bend.”

  Margaret smiled. “You realize, those are traits they need to have in this line of work. They have to be even more stubborn than those cattle if they want them to move, and it takes determination to stick with a task like fixing a dam.”

  “I’m sure it does, but the last time I checked, we’re not cattle or dams,” Helen replied with a chuckle. “Come on, ladies. Let’s help Fiona make lunch.”

  ***

  An hour later, two men stuck their heads into the kitchen of the main house, and one of them cleared his throat. “Excuse me,” he said. “Miss Margaret sent us—said we belong to you for the afternoon or some such thing.”

  Wynonna looked up from slicing corn bread and grinned. “Hello. Yes, please—we’re glad of the help.”

  “I’m Irish, and this is Frisco,” the man said, motioning to the other. “How can we help?”

  “We could use help carrying the food out to the dining room,” Fiona said. “I have some trays here, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Our pleasure,” Frisco said, picking up the first tray on the counter. It was heavy, but he didn’t seem to mind. Irish picked up the second one, and they crossed the compound to the dining area with relative ease.

  “I hope this will be enough plates,” Cora said, pulling the last of them from Margaret’s cupboard.

  “It will have to be. I’m not using one dish from that other kitchen until they’ve all been washed—and most likely boiled.” Fiona took the stack of plates from Cora and placed them on a new tray.

  With everyone going back and forth, it was only a few minutes before everything for lunch was set up in the dining room, and Fiona rang the dinner bell. Within seconds, thirteen pairs of boots were stamping across the porch and into the room, where they grabbed plates and heaped them with corn bread, beef stew, and pie, elbows flying every which direction. They were all talking so loud, Wynonna couldn’t hear what Fiona was saying.

  Once they fell to eating, she turned to her friend. “I’m sorry—what were you trying to tell me?”