The Montana Widow's Husband (The New Montana Brides)

by Susan Leigh Carlton

  “Thank you, Mr. Simpson. Judge, will you need for me to bring my marriage license in? It’s recorded in court.”

  Judge Baker cleared his throat. “No, that won’t be necessary. I’m entering a writ of mandamus declaring you the proprietor of the Flying A Ranch. Henry, here will give you the paper necessary to authorize the bank to change the assets to your name. You’re now the official owner of the Flying W Ranch.”

  Emma clasped the judge’s hand in hers. “Thank you Judge, now I can pay my ranch hands.”

  “You’re quite welcome. Be sure to remember me, and vote in the next election,” said the judge”

  “Thank you again, Mr. Simpson, you too Carter.

  “Sam, let’s go back to the bank and get the payroll,” Emma said.

  At the bank…

  “Mr. Ingram, I believe this is all you need to put the accounts in my name,” Emma said.

  Ingram took the paper that had been prepared in the clerk’s office. “Yes, this will do it. May I ask how you accomplished this so quickly?”

  Emma said, “It was with the help of a friend.”

  “Yes, well, I’ll take care of this immediately,” Ingram said. “You will have access to the account shortly. I wonder if I might speak to you on another matter.”

  “Yes, of course. What is it?” she asked.

  He nodded toward Sam, “Privately?”

  “Mr. Ingram, Sam has been foreman of the Flying W since my late husband was a child. He is a party to all decisions regarding the Flying W. This is about the ranch, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, well… mm… Have you considered the possibility of selling the ranch? It must be difficult for a young woman, with all of the decisions that have to be made, and everything.”

  “It is difficult, but with Sam’s help, we are managing quite well. The ranch is not for sale, Mr. Ingram.”

  “If you change your mind, the bank stands ready to help you,” Ingram said.

  Six months later…

  Emma was in Jared’s bedroom, when she heard a rapping at the back door. When she opened the door, she found Clete. “What is it, Clete,” she asked the young cowboy standing there.

  “It’s Sam, Miss Emma. Something’s wrong with him, you better come take a look at him.”

  She followed Clete to the small rock house where Sam lived. Sam was on the bed. One look and Emma knew this was bad. Sam’s face was ashen, the color of dirty snow. The five ranch hands were crowded around the bed.

  “Stand back,” Emma ordered. “Give him some air.” She touched his neck and felt a thin pulse.

  “Clete, get the buckboard, we need to get him to the doctor.”

  “Yessum,” Clete said. Ten minutes later, he was back. “It’s all set, Miss Emma,” he said.

  “One of you get the quilts from the bed, and put them in the wagon, and Charley, you and Buck put Sam in the wagon. I’ll get Jared. Clete, you can handle the horses better than I can, you drive and let’s get him to the doctor. Come on, boys, hurry. His life may depend on it. The rest of you get back to work at whatever you were doing.”

  The sound of authority spurred them into action. Five minutes later, with Clete holding the reins, and Emma in the back with Sam and Jared, they were on the road to Helena, leaving a rooster comb of dust behind them.

  A trip to Helena normally took just over an hour, but with Clete yelling, and cracking the whip over the horse’s head, they made it in forty-five minutes.

  When they arrived at the white clapboard house on Rodney Street that served as Carter’s office and home, Emma hopped out of the wagon and ran to the door, and into the office. “Elizabeth, where’s Carter? Something is bad wrong with Sam. I think it’s his heart.”

  Elizabeth said, “Bring him in and put him on the bed. I’ll get Carter.”

  Dr. Carter Palmer was with a patient when Elizabeth opened the door and said, “Carter, we have an emergency.”

  He hurried to Sam’s bedside, and took one look and asked, “What happened?”

  “Clete, you were there. Tell him what happened,” Emma said.

  The young cowboy had never had need of a doctor and was nervous in the presence of one. “We were branding some calves, and Sam, he grabbed at his chest and fell over, almost into the fire. We took him to the bunkhouse and got Miss Emma.”

  Sam was conscious, his breath was coming in short, rapid pants. “How do you feel Sam?” Carter asked.

  “Like a horse is on my chest,” he responded.

  “Emma, let’s talk outside,” Carter said.

  “I think he’s had a heart attack. His breathing is shallow, and the weight on the chest is classic.”

  “Is he going to live,” she asked.

  “I don’t know. The treatment is bed rest, and if it is really bad, digitalis. I don’t have any of that, but I can telegraph an order. For now, I’m going to say bed rest and see if he responds to that. There’s not many proven treatments for this yet.”

  “Can we take him back to the ranch?” she asked.

  “I’d like to keep him in Saint John’s for a few days where we can keep a close eye on him,” Carter said. “That way, I can see him daily and can get to him in a hurry, if necessary.”

  “Do we just take him there?” she asked.

  “Yes, and tell them I’ll be over when I’ve seen my last patient,” Carter said.

  Who’s The Boss

  Emma had a problem. All of the ranch hands were young, with limited experience; all of it was as a cowboy. None of them was able to determine what needed to be done and when. Sam had provided all of their work direction.

  The morning after Sam had been admitted to the hospital, Emma went outside, after preparing breakfast for Jared and herself. Three of the cowboys were still in the bunk house, while Clete and the other one were in the corral.

  “Why are you still here?” she demanded of the men in the bunkhouse. They just looked at her. “Nobody told us to do anything,” one of them said.

  “Did you finish the calf branding?” she asked.

  “Not all of them,” the same man answered.

  “Well, don’t you think you should finish it up?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am, I guess so.”

  “Do it.” she said.

  At the corral, she said, “Clete, a word with you please.”

  “Yes ma’am?”

  “Why are you still standing around?”

  “Sam always told us what to do, and Sam ain’t here.”

  Exasperated, she said, “Do you know of things that need to be done?”

  “Yes ma’am, Sam said we needed to move the herd to the north pasture,” Clete said.

  “What else did Sam say,” she asked.

  “He said we had to round up the strays and get them back with the herd,” Clete said.

  “Clete, I need your help. I need for you to help keep things going. I don’t know if Sam will ever be able to work again. Even if he is, it’s going to be a while,” she said. “I need for you to tell me what needs to be done.”

  “Miss Emma, I don’t know nothing about figuring what needs to be done,” he said.

  “I think you underestimate yourself. Just give me what you feel comfortable with and I’ll take it from there,” Emma said.

  As she headed back to the main house, she saw two of the three men from the bunkhouse, saddling their horses. “Thank you, fellows,” she said. “Just so you know, I’m holding Sam’s job open for when he comes back. If he can’t come back, then I’ll be hiring a new foreman. In the meantime, if you see anything that needs to be done, do it. If you have any questions, come ask me. I appreciate your help. It’s going to be hard with Sam missing, but we can get through it.”

  “Where’s the other fellow that was in the bunkhouse earlier? His name was Steele wasn’t it?” she asked.

  For a few seconds, there was no answer, then, “I don’t know,” one of the men mumbled.

  “Is he still in the bunk house?” she asked.

  “I
don’t know,” the same man answered.

  Realizing what was not being said, Emma headed for the bunkhouse, opened the door and stood in the entrance. Steele was still on his bunk. “If you want to be paid, get to work,” she said.

  “I don’t feel like working today,” he said.

  “Then you don’t get paid,” Emma said.

  Steele stood, hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and swaggered toward her. “Little lady,your problem is you need a man, and I might just be the man to satisfy you.” He continued to walk toward her.

  “That’s it. Pack your belongings and come to the back door for your pay. You get nothing for today. She turned and hurried to the house. Once inside, she retrieved the Navy Colt pistol Caleb had kept in the house. She checked it to make sure it was loaded, and put it into the large pocket of her jacket. Next, she went to the small office and took out enough money to pay Steele for the week and a half he had worked, not including today.

  She went back to the back porch. “Buck, could you come over here for a minute, please?’

  Buck, had been saddling his horse, and with the horse trailing behind, he walked to where she was. “Just stand here for a few minutes,” she said.

  Steele came out of the bunkhouse carrying a blanket roll that contained his belongings. He sauntered over with a smirk on his face. “You ain’t gonna fire me,” he said.

  “I just did,” she said. “Here’s your pay. I want you off the Flying W within the hour.”

  “Are you going to be the one that makes me, or is that what this here boy is for?” He reached for the hand holding the money, but instead of taking it, he grabbed her wrist.

  “I’m going to give you what you need, little lady,” and pulled her closer.

  She removed her other hand from her pocket. The hand holding the pistol. “Let me go,” she said, or I’ll shoot you right in your manhood,” she said in a voice that held no hint of the fear she felt.

  “You ain’t going to shoot anyone,” he said. She pulled the trigger and fired at his feet.

  “That was intentional,” she said. The next one will be intentional and it won’t be at your feet. Now, get off my property.”

  Steele stepped back, realizing he had just narrowly escaped being shot. “You ain’t heard the last of me,” he snarled.

  “Buck, pass the word to the rest of the men if they see Steele on Flying W property after this, he is to be shot on sight, and there will be a reward.

  “Also, put the word out, the Flying W is hiring.”

  “Yes ma’am,” he said.

  “Leave the horse, Steele. It’s carrying a Flying W brand, If you take it, I’ll have the sheriff after you for horse stealing. Now, get moving.”

  Steele hoisted his saddle to his shoulder, turned and started walking away. “Buck, follow along and make sure he leaves.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Buck said.

  Emma turned to leave and saw Lem Chandler, the cook and part-time wrangler in the doorway of the bunk house. He was holding a shotgun. “What were you going to do with that, Lem?” she asked.

  “I don’t rightly know, Miss Emma, but I would have probably shot him if he had caused any more trouble.”

  “Thank you, Lem,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

  Lem had been on the Flying W payroll when she and Caleb had been married. He had been thrown against a corral post by a horse he was breaking and had damaged his knee. It limited what he could do, other than cook. A thought occurred to her.

  “Lem, you’ve been here a long time, haven’t you?” she asked.

  “Yessum, I reckon I have.”

  “I know you can’t ride much, but until we know whether Sam is coming back, can you help me lay out the work that needs to be done?”

  “I reckon I can do that, Miss Emma,” he said.

  “Good. Thank you, Lem,” she said, turned and went into her house.

  Once inside, the adrenaline rush wore off, and she stood there, shaking from the confrontation she had just endured.

  Jeb Calhoun

  The 4th US Cavalry Regiment operated out of Fort Concho, near San Angelo, Texas. Its mission, assigned by General William T. Sherman, was to put down the attacks by the Kiowa and Comanche along the Texas frontier. Parts of the regiment were also assigned to Fort Richardson, near Jacksboro.

  Jeb Calhoun graduated from West Point in 1868 and was assigned to the 4th US Cavalry at Fort Concho. For the next six years, his unit Texas pursued the raiders across the entire region. In 1874, General Philip Sheridan ordered the 4th to put an end to the raids.

  After fighting off an attack by Comanche warriors, they trailed them to the base of the Palo Duro Canyon, where they destroyed five villages of the Comanche, Kiowa and Cheyenne tribes. They captured almost 1,500 mules and horses and slaughtered over 1,000 of them at the mouth of the canyon.

  Sickened by the senseless killing of so many animals, Jeb resigned his commission as a captain and left the Army. He decided he had enough of the broiling heat of the Texas plains and made his way northward, eventually landing in Helena, Montana.

  Jeb had gone into the Last Chance Saloon, to wash the trail dust from his throat. He was wearing remnants of his Army uniform. “What outfit were you with?” asked the barkeep.

  “4th US, down in Texas,” Jeb said. “Did you serve?”

  “Yeah, I did,” said the bartender. “I was in the 7th. Custer’s outfit. I got tired of chasing the Sioux all over Montana and Wyoming.” He extended his hand. “Sid Lathrop.”

  “I hear you there,” laughed Jeb. “It was the same in Texas, only it was Apache, Kiowa and Cheyenne. And it was hot. It was the heat that drove me in this direction.” He shook Sid’s hand. “Jeb Calhoun. Pleased to meet you.

  “Say, any of the ranches hiring around here?” he asked.

  “I heard the Flying W is looking to take on a couple of hands,” Sid answered.

  “Where might I find the Flying W?” Jeb asked.

  “It’s about five miles northwest of town,” the bartender said.

  Harry Simpson got up from his seat in the corner and came over. “I’m Harry Simpson,” he said. “I’m the proprietor of the Last Chance.”

  “Sid, give Mr. Calhoun one on the house.”

  “Yessir, Mr. Simpson. Let me draw another,for you too.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Simpson, but I’ll pass, I’m not much of a drinker. One’s my limit,” Jeb said.

  “Might I have a word with you, Mr. Calhoun?” Harry asked, and indicated his recently vacated table.

  “Sure thing, Mr. Simpson,” Jeb said.

  “I heard Sid telling you about the Flying W. It’s run by Mrs. Walker. She lost her husband some time back. Struck by lightning, Caleb was. We think a lot of Miss Emma here in Helena. I would hate to think you might cause her problems.”

  “Mr. Simpson, you have no call to think that way. I was an Army officer until a few months ago, a West Point graduate. I served honorably in the 4th US, until I got tired of what the Army was doing. I came up this way to get away from some bad memories, and the infernal heat of Texas.”

  “I meant no offense, Mr. Calhoun, It’s just some people would take advantage of a widow, If you’re looking for honest work, the Flying W would be a good place. Her foreman got crippled up and she’s struggling a mite now.”

  “None taken. You can tell by my outfit, I need a job, and I give a good day’s work for a good day’s pay.”

  Harry said, “Call me Harry, Jeb was it? The Flying W would be a good place to work. She can use a hand with some experience. Most of her hands are just young cowboys. Tell her you spoke with me. Of course, she doesn’t come in here, but I recently had the opportunity to do a favor for her. As I said, I like her.”

  “Thank you, Harry. I’ll be going out that way today. Much obliged.” He drained his mug of beer, and said, “I think I’ll head that way now.” He turned back to the bartender, “Thanks for the information, Sid.”

  Sid touched his eyebrow with two fingers in th
e form of a salute.

  I think I’ll clean up a bit before I go looking for a job, Jeb thought. Wouldn’t want them to think I always smell this way. He led his horse down the street to the barber shop. He took a change of clothes he had recently washed in a creek, went inside and paid the barber two bits for a bath and a shave. Clean and refreshed, he mounted his horse and rode northwest, in search of the Flying W ranch.

  Emma saw the stranger ride in through the gate near the southeast boundary of the Flying W. Wonder who that is?

  When the stranger rode into the yard, Clete came out of the barn to meet him. They exchanged a few words, and Clete pointed toward the house. Emma went to the door to meet him. When she opened the door, she found a ruggedly handsome man standing there,

  “Are you Mrs. Walker?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m Emma Walker,” she replied.

  “They told me in town you were hiring,” he said.

  “We might be,” she said.

  “I’m Jeb Calhoun. I just got into town today. Sid, the bartender at the Last Chance told me you were hiring, and I’m looking for work. Harry Simpson said I should tell you I talked to him.

  “What is it you do, Mr. Calhoun?” she asked.

  “Most of my experience is fighting Indians,” Jeb said.

  “I was a captain in the Cavalry, down along the Texas border. Since I was in the Cavalry, I’m a good horseman. I know animals, and I’ve commanded men,” he said. “I’ve led them into battle. I graduated from West Point three years after the war ended, and south Texas was the only game in town.”

  He certainly looks like he could handle himself. And he is handsome. Emma Walker, be ashamed of yourself, thinking like that, her inner voice said.

  “Why did you leave the Army?” Mr. Calhoun.

  “It’s not a pleasant story. Do you want the unvarnished truth, or should I dance around it?” he asked.

  “The truth would be nice,” she said.

  “We were chasing some braves that had raided a ranch and killed a family. We caught up to them, and killed them. Then we were ordered to destroy five villages, and in the process, some women and children were killed. If that wasn’t enough, we were ordered to destroy over one thousand mules and horses. I thought it was senseless and resigned my commission.