by Linda Ford
Rose turned to contemplate the other animals. “Now, if only they would come as easily.” Then realizing it sounded as though she meant to ask them to help, she smiled at Billy. “Thanks for your help.” She turned to Duke. Her breath stuck halfway up her throat at his wide smile and flashing eyes. Must he look so handsome? So happy? So appealing?
“Thanks for your help, as well.” She managed to squeak the words out.
“Thank me when we’re done.” He held her gaze a moment, then turned toward the other milling sheep. “Billy, do you suppose you could call them in?”
“I’ll try... Come, sheepie. Come.”
A couple trotted toward him but the rest acted as though they couldn’t hear.
“Stupid sheep,” Rose muttered as she marched around the furthest one—the headstrong ram—hoping to head it in the right direction. Of course it ran the opposite way.
Duke ran around the animal, waving his arms. “Shoo. Shoo.”
The sheep skidded to a halt and looked around for a way of escape.
“Shoo. I said shoo.” He jerked his hands toward the sheep.
The sheep baaed and lowered his head. Should she warn him about how the ram reacted to being chased?
But before she could, Duke jumped toward the ram. She stared at the way the animal backed up, still bleating his protest. He turned tail and trotted toward the pen, never once losing his voice.
Duke hurried after the ram. “Shoo. Shoo.”
A cowboy on foot chasing a sheep! Who would have thought she’d ever see the day? When she told Lilly, they would get a good laugh out of it.
Grub, their flop-eared, useless but well-loved dog, loped toward the sheep. Until now he’d been supervising Ma and Pa unloading the wagon, hoping for a handout.
He ran straight into the midst of the sheep, scattering them every which way.
Duke’s eyes grew wide. “Stop. Shoo. Shoo.” He waved his arms madly at the sheep.
Rose started to giggle.
Duke pulled to a halt at her side. “Share the joke.”
She shook her head, not because she didn’t want to but because she wondered if he might be offended.
He nudged her with his elbow. “No fair. I like a good joke.”
“Very well.” She fluttered her hands toward the sheep who’d decided to ignore Grub and follow the ram. “Shoo. Shoo.” She tossed her head like an annoyed sheep. “Baa. Baa.”
No doubt seeing in her actions how silly he looked, he grinned at her and then a chuckle rumbled from him. They held each other’s gaze as they laughed.
“They’re all in,” Billy called.
Rose pulled the gate closed and secured it firmly, as she did each and every time.
“How did they get the gate open?” Duke asked.
“Not by themselves, you can be sure.” She slowly came about to face him. “And I think you know it. This is another of the Caldwell tricks.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. His expression grew fierce. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Oh, come on. Since we moved here, the Caldwell cowboys have harassed us endlessly.” The injustice of it burned a hot path through her thoughts. “Cows stampeded over the garden. Sheep turned out.” She waved at the tracks through the snow. “This fall a lamb drowned.”
Billy gasped.
“And my pa was injured when cows were run through the yard this fall.”
“I had nothing to do with it,” Duke averred.
“You’re a Caldwell.” She faced him squarely, her eyes burning with her raw feelings.
He studied her for a moment. Shock gave way to indifference. “Come on, Billy. It’s time to go.”
Without another word, they returned to their horses.
“Thanks for your help,” she said, reluctant to end the afternoon on such a sour note. For a few minutes they had worked together and laughed together.
Too bad it couldn’t be like that more often. But the land feud put them at enmity. That fact burned up her throat.
“Tell your father that the Bells aren’t leaving.”
* * *
“Rose is a pretty lady,” Billy said.
“She sure is.” In the year he’d been away, she had blossomed from child to woman. Not that she’d ever been ugly. He’d known her most of his life, attended the same school and the same church. But ever since he’d turned eleven years old they’d been separated by a wide chasm.
His father had never, nor would he ever, accept the mistake that had allowed the Bells to start a farm jutting into the boundaries of the Caldwell Ranch. Father resented the Bells taking advantage of the clerical error. The honorable thing to do, he’d insisted throughout the years, would be to stick to the spirit of the law rather than the letter of it. Worse still was the fact that the intruders were sodbusters who broke the land and put up fences. But the worst of all was that the Bells refused to budge despite every offer to buy them out and numerous attempts to drive them from the land. The whole disagreement had grown over the years until it had become a feud that made no sense.
“I like her,” Billy continued.
“Me, too.” He always had, though he hadn’t been able to express it properly when they were kids so he’d teased her. She’d gotten all prickly but beneath the prickly thorns was a beautiful Rose. He’d always known it but it had never been more evident than today.
He sat back in his saddle, reliving every moment of the afternoon. Rose, her face flushed from her exertion. Rose, her green eyes flashing as she laughed at him chasing the sheep. He grinned. He didn’t normally chase things on foot, but it had been worth it for those few moments of shared laughter.
His pleasure was cut short. She held him at least partially responsible for the feud simply because he was a Caldwell.
This feud should have ended years ago. His father had no call to try to drive the Bells from their land. It had to stop before someone got seriously injured. He’d noticed Mr. Bell limping the few times he’d seen him in town. He’d put it down to age. His teeth clenched. Instead, Rose held the Caldwells responsible. He knew Father would say it was an accident. Not the Caldwells’ fault in the least. But Duke knew Rose was likely correct—Caldwell cowboys had done it. And next time it might not end so well.
He rode up to the ranch house and dismounted.
“Billy, can you take care of the horses?”
Billy grinned as he took the reins of both animals. “I’ll brush ’em really good, Boss.”
Duke chuckled. Normally he wouldn’t have been so eager to take care of the animals, except all the cowboys were away, so no one would tease him. He’d met Billy in Philadelphia and, when he realized the young man had no family, had brought him back with him. Billy hadn’t started calling him “boss” until they’d arrived at the ranch and Billy had realized Duke’s family owned the place.
Still chuckling, Duke entered through the kitchen door. Mrs. Humphrey slipped cookies from a baking sheet onto a cooling rack.
“Mmm. Cookies. Smells good.” He snagged up two as he passed and bit into one. “Hot.”
Mrs. Humphrey shook a towel at him. “They just came out of the oven. What did you expect?”
“I sure did miss your cooking while I was away.” He crossed toward the sitting-room door.
“Glad to have you back, Duke,” she called.
“Not half as glad as I am to be back.” He’d enjoyed meeting his grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins in Philadelphia but every day he’d missed Montana.
He stepped into the sitting room and stared at the traveling bags lined up. Mother laid a coat across a nearby chair.
“You going away?”
“Governor Toole has sent your father an invitation to attend some meetings. Your father thinks he might be asked to work on a com
mittee.”
“I need to speak to him before he goes.”
“You’ll find him in the office.”
Duke crossed the room and stepped into his father’s office. Father gathered papers together and slipped them into a satchel.
“Can we talk?” Duke waited, hoping his father would give him his undivided attention. He didn’t.
“By all means. I’m leaving you in charge while I’m gone.”
Duke’s chest swelled with anticipation. Since his return, he’d wanted to take on more responsibility.
“Not that there’ll be anything requiring attention. Ebner has things under control.”
The foreman. Duke’s chest deflated. Would his father ever see him as capable? It was ironic. Father—the one person who should value him as a Caldwell—didn’t, while others couldn’t overlook it.
He’d experienced it many times over his life. Like the time when Duke was fourteen and a man befriended him. Duke soon learned it was only so he could approach “Mr. Caldwell” for a favor.
Then there was Jane Johnson, a gal he’d courted for a very short time before his trip to Philadelphia. She’d expected gifts and tokens, and when he’d failed to bring them she’d claimed surely a Caldwell could afford to win her affections that way. He wasn’t interested in her anymore.
In Philadelphia, being a Caldwell had brought the ladies flocking to his side. He’d thought they were truly interested in him. Especially Enid Elliot. She’d hung on his every word. Made him feel ten feet tall. They’d even discussed marriage. He’d been about to offer his hand when he’d overheard her talking to her friends.
“He’s a Caldwell. His name and money are worth overlooking the fact I find him a bit loutish. All he talks about is his horse and his ranch.” She’d made a dismissive noise. “I have no intention of living out west. He’ll soon come to see my point of view.”
He’d come to his senses rather quickly after that and the offer of marriage had never been made. In hindsight, he considered himself fortunate to have discovered the truth beforehand, but it hurt to know her attention had been for such a selfish reason.
To Enid, being a Caldwell meant she could benefit from his name.
To Rose, being a Caldwell meant he was her opponent.
He wished he could just be Duke and have someone care about him for his sake alone.
He sucked in a long breath and focused on what he meant to say to his father. “I’ll manage everything.” He sank into a chair in front of the big mahogany desk. How often had he tiptoed into this room when Father was away and sat in Father’s chair, taken up pen and paper and pretended he was in charge? He’d planned the things he’d wanted to do, the changes he’d like to make. He’d implement a new breeding program with imported bulls. He’d put up hay for the winter—
Now was not the time for dreaming. “Father, could you sit down a moment?”
His father gave him a distracted look, then sat. “I don’t have long. We’re planning to leave first thing in the morning.”
That would give Father plenty of time to listen to Duke’s request and to act on it. “Father, I happened to ride by the Bells on my way home and found their sheep had been let out of the pen.”
“They should have better fences.”
Father and son studied each other, measuring, assessing. Duke would not blink, would not show any sign of weakness in front of this powerful man who considered his word to be law.
“Their fences and gates are perfectly adequate and I think you know it. Someone opened the gate and let the sheep out. Just like someone purposely drove the cattle over their property and did a number of other destructive things. Father, the land is theirs. We have no right to harass them. It’s wrong.” Knowing his father meant to go to Helena to see the governor, Duke saw how he could use that to his advantage.
“Governor Toole would not view it as appropriate. Don’t you think it’s time to end this?”
Father tented his fingertips and looked thoughtful.
Duke pressed his point. “Inform the cowboys to end their harassment before you go, then you can go to Helena knowing you’ve done the honorable thing.”
“Son, I think you’d make a good politician.”
Duke would be happy being a good neighbor.
Father pushed back from the desk and got to his feet. “You have a point. I’ll deal with this before I leave.”
Duke got up, too, and offered his hand to Father. They shook.
The feud was over.
He’d tell Rose himself.
* * *
He’d fine-tuned his plans last night and rose Sunday morning eager to start the day. He knew the Bells didn’t work on Sunday, so that afternoon would be a perfect opportunity to pay them a visit.
His parents left early for Helena as he and Billy prepared for church. They rode their horses into town, many greeting him as he swung down and strode toward the church steps.
The Bells were already seated in their customary place. He studied the new husbands some. They looked like nice enough fellows.
The Caldwells always sat on the left side of the church, two pews from the front. But today he chose a spot across from the Bells, in a back a row where he could watch Rose without appearing to.
She wore her rich red hair braided and wound around her head in a fetching way. Strands of it had escaped to hang down in little curls that brushed her neck.
His hands curled with an urge to lean across the aisle, capture a strand and let it drift through his fingers.
She turned and caught him staring. Her eyes widened.
He jerked his attention to the front and pretended he hadn’t been looking at her.
But as soon as she turned forward again, his gaze returned to her. Why had he never before noticed her slender neck and her high cheekbones?
Pastor Rawley stepped up to the pulpit and called them to worship.
It took every ounce of Duke’s self-control to concentrate on the service. As soon as it ended, he stood and waited for Rose to acknowledge him.
The two Sundays he’d attended since his return he’d been with his parents and they’d always avoided the Bells. Duke had no intention of doing so today.
Lilly approached first, introducing her husband, Caleb, and the little boy, Teddy. Then Cora introduced her husband, Wyatt, and his brother Lonnie. Mrs. Bell welcomed him home.
Mr. Bell, moving slowly as if in pain, shook his hand and greeted him pleasantly enough.
Only Rose passed by him without a greeting. She met his eyes steadily, pink blushing her cheeks as if she saw him through the eyes of a woman and not the eyes of an adversary. He hugged the knowledge to him.
Wouldn’t she be pleased when he told her that the Bells need no longer fear being hurt or having their property damaged by the Caldwells?
Other worshippers stopped to greet him.
Pastor Rawley spoke to him and asked about his parents.
Slowly he made his way down the aisle and reached the yard in time to see the Bells leave in three wagons. It appeared the whole family gathered together after church.
He considered riding over later, so eager was he to see Rose’s response to his announcement. But no, he’d delay until the next day when he could see her alone.
The rest of Sunday passed slowly, though Billy enjoyed it. They rode into the hills, where Duke showed the other man some of his favorite places—a grove of trees where he’d camped out several times, the buffalo wallow where he’d found several buffalo bones, the pond where he used to swim.
It was good to be home. It would be even better when Rose knew the feud was over and done with. How would she show her gratitude? He realized he stared into space, lost in dreams of possibilities, and forced his attention back to the here and now...
Fi
nally, Monday arrived. He decided to wait until early afternoon, when she’d have her chores done.
“Billy, how about we go pay Rose and her family a visit?”
“Oh, I’d like that.”
“Let’s go saddle up.”
Billy rushed ahead of him. The young man loved animals and the horses responded to his entrance into the barn with welcoming nickers.
A few minutes later they rode across the prairie toward the Bell place. Duke took in a deep breath, full of fresh air the likes of which he had not breathed the whole time he was in Philadelphia. He pulled his horse to a halt so he could drink in the surroundings. The mountains were draped in white. The pine and spruce were almost black in the distance. Nearer at hand, the snow-dusted hills rolled to the river where the willow and poplar had shed their leaves and stood like quiet skeletons waiting the renewal of spring.
His gaze returned to the mountains. “You never saw anything like that back in the city, did you, Billy?”
“No.” Billy stared at the mountains. “Can we go there someday?” His words were round with awe.
“We sure can. But maybe we’ll wait until spring.”
“Okay. Are we almost to where Rose lives?”
Duke chuckled. “Are you anxious to see her?”
Billy ducked his head. “She’s pretty and nice.”
“How can you tell she’s nice?”
“I could tell by her voice when she talked to me.”
“I suppose you could.” The young man likely had more experience than most with hearing different tones in voices. As Duke well knew, people often mocked him. A kind voice would be refreshingly different.
“We’re almost there.” They crested a hill and looked down on the Bell farm. There was a new barn since he’d seen the place last year. The fruit trees had grown some and, if he wasn’t mistaken, there were more of them.
Pigs grunted in one pen, sheep milled about in another. He smiled as he recalled helping Rose chase them in. She’d made him laugh. He liked that.
Three milk cows chewed their cuds in another pen and a horse drowsed in the afternoon sun. It jerked awake and neighed at their approach.