Willow

by Norah Hess

  As Willow had hoped, the animals separated. In their alarmed state, some of them lost contact with the main herd as they ran blindly in all directions. Willow pulled her horse to a walk. "We'll give them time to settle down, then see if my plan works. You go to the left and I'll ride right." As Willow had hoped, she soon spotted a young burro now grazing peacefully on the green, lush grass. She dismounted about five yards away from the youngster. With a rope in one hand, and leading the old burro with the other, she slowly approached the little animal.

  It looked up at her, then shifted its gaze to the old burro. It twitched its ears at the sound of the tinkling bell. Willow couldn't believe her good luck when the little fellow trotted up to the old one and nudged his head against the old one's shoulder.

  "Okay," she whispered, "let's see if you will follow your new friend."

  She turned the old one around, and wanted to shout her elation when the little gray donkey followed after him.

  After a couple of hours of riding the area, Willow had four burros following the tinkling bell. When she and Brian met at the spot where they had separated a few hours earlier, he had three more. In his case, however, the captured burros wore ropes around their necks.

  "I could have caught more if I'd had more ropes," he bragged, very pleased with himself.

  "Turn them loose and we'll see if they will follow the bell also," Willow suggested.

  When the three were freed, they fell right in with Willow's four, and as if they had done it all their lives, followed along behind the tinkling bell.

  "Well, Brian," Willow said, pleased at their catch, "we know how to do it now. You must bring more ropes with you tomorrow."

  The days were getting shorter, and it was near sundown when Willow and Brian let down the bars of the corral nest to the barn, and the old burro led the young ones inside.

  Willow and Brian stood a moment, their arms resting on the top rail, watching the shaggy little animals milling around in their new home, sniffing out the corners. They noted, however, that the burros never stayed away too long from the one who had led them there.

  "Seven in one day isn't too bad, is it?" Willow said.

  "We can get three times that many a day when Jimmy and Sammy get back. They'll really enjoy rounding up the little devils."

  Willow nodded in amusement. She could see the three teenagers whooping and yelling, making a game out of capturing the little animals. "I'm about starved," she said. "I imagine that by the time we wash up, Corrie Mae will have supper ready." She missed seeing the excited gleam that flashed in her young companion's eyes.

  When half an hour later Willow and her mother walked toward the cookhouse, a displeased frown settled over Willow's features as Brian and Corrie Mae's laughter floated to her through the open door. She liked her genial cook a lot, but the woman's morals bothered her. It was none of her business how many men the woman took into her bed, but it was her concern if the cook started luring the teenagers there.

  When she stepped inside the cookhouse, she found Corrie Mae's kitchen in its usual spotless condition. The floor was swept clean, and the lamp chimney sparkled, shedding its light on the red-and-white checkered tablecloth.

  Corrie Mae looked up and smiled at Willow and Ruth as she forked steaks from a skillet onto a platter. "Brian tells me that you had a very successful day with the little donkeys."

  "Yes, we did," Willow answered as she and Ruth took a seat at the table. "And an exhausting one, too, I might add. I'm sure that Brian, like me, will want to go to bed as soon as he finishes his supper." She looked across the table at the young man. "Right, Brian?"

  "Absolutely," Brian agreed solemnly. But when Willow looked away, he exchanged a conspiratorial wink with Corrie Mae. The fast glance they gave each other said that Brian would be going to bed early, but not in the bunkhouse.

  "I hope that Rooster and the boys are eating as well as we are," Willow said, enjoying her tender piece of meat. "Jimmy is not the best cook in the world," she said, laughing. Then, looking at her mother, she asked softly, "Aren't you feeling well, Ma? You're not talking much."

  "I feel fine, honey. I guess I miss Rooster sitting beside me." Willow patted the small hand lying on the table. "He'll be back before you know it," she reassured her mother. When she resumed eating, her thoughts were sad. She was thinking of all the wasted years her mother had endured married to a man she called husband, a bullier of women and those weaker than himself.

  She wondered why some men were mean-spirited, why others were caring and giving of themselves. Did it have anything to do with the way they were raised, or were they just bad seeds from the day they were born?

  She remembered her Grandfather Ames often saying that his son had always been a bad one, that he was glad Otto's Maw never lived to see how mean he had turned out.

  Willow shook her head sadly. Her mother would never be able to find real happiness with Rooster. Although Otto Ames didn't love his wife, he would never allow her to divorce him.

  I'm no better off, Willow reminded herself What were her chances of a happy marriage? Jules would never marry her, and she didn't think she would ever love another man.

  When Willow climbed into bed, she was still asking herself the same question. Was it possible for her to love again? Jules's strong face and laughing eyes swam before her and her feelings for him were as strong as they had been before. She would never love again, but maybe someday she might find a man she respected and liked, whom she could consider marrying. She did want to have children. What Jules had offered hadn't included them.

  As she drifted off to sleep a fleeting picture of handsome Thad Wilson passed in front of her eyes.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The cattle had been driven into a circle, and most had been lulled to sleep by the songs Sammy and Rooster sang to them as they rode along, keeping watch over the herd.

  A mare with a bell suspended from her neck kept Jules's horses together beneath a clump of birch growing beside the river where they were camped.

  The two campfires had winked out about an hour ago; voices had faded and silence had closed in. Jules lay in his bedroll listening to the lap of the river hitting the riverbank, his thoughts, as usual, on Willow.

  And, as usual, he was wondering if Thad Wilson was courting her. And if he was, was the randy farmer still visiting Corrie Mae? "I bet my string of wild horses he is," Jules said to himself.

  As he dreamed on about Willow, longing to feel her softness against his hard body, he realized suddenly that it wasn't only that he wanted to make love to Willow, he also missed seeing her around his home, the graceful way she moved as she cooked his meals. He missed the long talks they'd had out on the veranda in the evenings. He had told her things he had never told anyone else.

  Would it be so hard to be married to her? he asked himself Other women no longer appealed to him.

  Before Jules could decide on an answer, the stillness was suddenly broken by the quick yelp of a coyote. He jerked erect, the bedroll falling to his waist. There was something about the sharp yowl that didn't quite ring true. He sat, listening for other sounds in the darkness. He jerked his head to the right when his horses began to snort and paw the ground. What had disturbed them? A bear? A coyote? A man? Perhaps an Indian.

  He stood up, ready to go investigate, then quickly jumped behind a large boulder near the river.

  The sharp, shrill war whoops of Indians rang out on the still night with yells fiendish enough to paralyze a man. As the men from both camps came running up, guns drawn, an unearthly din filled the air. There was the neighing of horses, drumbeats and a discharge of guns.

  In the dim moonlight Jules saw the half-naked bodies of the Indians dashing about. He took aim at two of them, but was afraid he might hit his horses. When no shots were fired by his men, he knew that they had come to the same conclusion. Almost at the same time he realized that the Indians hadn't fired at them either.

  It became clear to him then that the Indians' aim
was to stampede the cattle so that they could steal some of them.

  "No, you don't, you bastards," he yelled. "Willow needs every head of those cattle." This time, when a brave dashed past him, he took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. The Indian went down.

  The men began following his lead and guns popped all around him. Suddenly then, as quickly as they had appeared, the Indians were racing their horses across the river, one having rescued the fallen brave.

  Everyone's attention turned to the cattle then. The longhorns were on their feet, nervous and bawling as they milled around. It looked as if they might start running any minute. Jules ordered four of his men to mount and start riding around them, to push them into a tighter circle. It took about a half an hour before the animals settled down. Jules went to check on his horses and found that seven of them were gone.

  But I didn't lose any of Willow's cattle, he thought as he rolled up in his blankets once again. Tomorrow they would arrive at the stockyards on the outskirts of Wichita. The cattle would be somebody else's responsibility then.

  It was around noon the following day when the horses and cattle were delivered at the loading pens.

  While Rooster saw to the selling of Willow's herd, Jules met with a man from Montana and finalized a deal with him.

  Jules and Rooster ran into each other at the ranchers' favorite saloon, and had a conversation for the first time since Rooster had left Jules's employment.

  "I got a good price for Willow's cattle," Rooster led off after a bottle and two glasses were put in front of them. "She's gonna be pleased. She worked like a little slave, fattening them up. She's determined to make a success out of Miss Jess's ranch."

  Jules made no response. He was of two minds how he felt about Willow being able to bring the ranch around so that it was making money. On the one hand, he wanted her to succeed; on the other hand, if she failed, maybe she would come back to him.

  But did he want her to return to him out of necessity? he asked himself.

  The answer was a firm no. He wanted her back only when she wanted to return to him. "When she was ready to accept his terms.

  He switched the subject to his success with his horses. "The buyer from Montana was pleased with my wild ones and wants more. I signed a contract with him to deliver another hundred head next spring."

  While Rooster was congratulating Jules, their cowhands came in, rowdy and eager to spend their money on whiskey and saloon women. When Jimmy and Sammy squeezed in beside Rooster and said that they'd have a glass of whiskey to settle the dust in their throats, Rooster shook his head at the bartender.

  "They'll each have a bottle of sarsaparilla."

  "Sarsaparilla!" the teenagers exclaimed in unison. Then they pointed out that they had worked as hard as the older hands had and that they should get the same treatment.

  "You'll be paid the same as them, but Willow would have my hide if I let you guzzle down raw whiskey."

  Rooster saw the pair exchange a look that said they would buy a bottle after he had left for home. He waited until the boys drank their soft drink, then picking up his change, said, "Let's get goin', boys. We have a long ride ahead of us."

  "But we plan on stayin' in town with the rest of the fellers," Jimmy protested in an agitated voice.

  Rooster shook his head. "Not this time. Maybe in a couple years."

  Amusement twitched Jules's lips as he watched the two sullen-faced teenagers follow Rooster out of the saloon.

  It was dusk a week later, and Willow and Brian had just put eight more burros in the corral, when they saw Rooster and the teenagers riding their horses up the mountain. Their faces beaming, they ran to the front of the barn, waiting to greet the three.

  Sammy and Jimmy were off their horses first, the wide smiles on their faces saying that they were happy to be home. They each took a turn giving Willow a bear hug that almost squeezed the breath out of her. And they thumped poor Brian so hard on the back, he went down on his knees.

  With a grin and a shake of his head, Rooster dismounted. When he had exchanged greetings with Willow, he asked, "Everything go all right while I was gone?" Then his gaze went to the house. "Your Ma is all right?"

  "She's fine. She's been missing you, though."

  "I sure have missed her."

  "Well, tell me, how did the drive go? Did you lose any of the cattle?" This last was asked anxiously.

  "Nary a one. Let's get up to the house and I'll tell you all about it. Also"—Rooster patted his vest pocket—"give you this check."

  After Rooster had handed over his horse to Brian, Willow followed him to the house. Ruth was sitting in front of a low-burning fire, a pair of knitting needles flashing in her nimble fingers as she knit a cuff for the wristband of a glove she was making for Rooster. Its mate lay finished in her yam basket.

  She looked up when Willow and Rooster entered the room, and the joy the flooded her face made Willow want to cry, for Rooster wore the same look. It was clear how desperately they wanted to run to each other, to embrace. But both were honorable people, so they only stood, smiling at each other.

  When Willow and Rooster had shed their hats and jackets, the three sat down and Rooster told the women of the long drive and their encounter with the Indians. When he was finished, he took the check from his vest and handed it to Willow.

  "I think you'll be pleased with its amount." He smiled at her.

  Rooster and Ruth, watching Willow's face as she looked at the check, knew by her expression that she was more than pleased. She was ecstatic. "Oh, Rooster," she exclaimed, "I never dreamed the cattle would bring so much."

  "We had a little luck there. The thing was, there hadn't been that many fall herds brought in, so the buyers were paying top dollar for those that were there."

  "Ma," Willow exclaimed, "even after I split the profit with Aunt Jess, we will have enough money left over to see us through the winter." She looked at Rooster. "When Brian was in Bitter Creek last week, he brought home a newspaper. I read an ad in it that was placed by a miner in Colorado who is looking to buy burros. The ad said that if a person had a hundred or more for sale, he would send someone to collect them."

  She gave her foreman a big smile. "I guess you know what our main priority is now." Rooster grinned at her enthusiasm. "We'll get on it the first thing tomorrow."

  "The first thing I have to do tomorrow morning is go to town and cash this check, then take Aunt Jess her share," Willow said, standing up. "Right now I'm going to get into some clean clothes. Corrie Mae will be announcing supper pretty soon."

  "Will Thad come calling on you tonight?" Ruth looked at her daughter. When Willow gave her a blank look, she reminded her, "It's Friday night, the night he rides over to visit you."

  "So it is. I'd forgotten. I'd better get a move on. Is there warm water in the reservoir?"

  "Yes, dear. It's full to the top. I laid out clean clothes for you. With the air cooler these nights, I pressed your blue woolen. It will keep you warm if you go for a walk."

  "Thank you, Ma," Willow said woodenly on her way out of the room.

  "Is the farmer courting Willow?" There was a hint of a frown on Rooster's craggy face.

  "Yes, he is, and I'm real pleased about it. He started coming over the Friday night after you left on the cattle drive. He's a very pleasant young man, and a hard worker. He's good husband material, I keep telling Willow."

  "You can't always tell what a person is like by the face he shows the public. Sometimes a handsome, genial facade is not what it seems to be."

  "You sound like you don't like him, Rooster. Is there a reason for that?"

  "I only know him to nod at in passing. It's just that I've heard some rumors about him."

  "What kind of rumors? Something bad?"

  "Not bad. Nothing that would have the law looking for him. I guess he's pretty much a womanizer. And it's said that it doesn't matter to him whether the woman is single or married."

  "The way I look at that, the women are ju
st as guilty as he is." Ruth rushed to defend the man she secretly wished Willow would marry. "I'm sure Thad would never force himself on a woman."

  "No, I don't think he would. He wouldn't have to. He'd sweet-talk her until she willingly fell into his arms."

  "I'm sure he would stop romancing women once he was married."

  After a short silence, Rooster asked, "Did you ever wonder why Wilson only comes to visit Willow on a Friday night? Why not on a Saturday or Sunday, which is normal for a courting man to do?"

  "I admit it crossed my mind a couple of times. He seems so enamored of Willow. I decided that he works so hard all week, he needs to rest up on the weekends."

  "I guess so," Rooster said and dropped the conversation about the young farmer. Let somebody else break Ruth's bubble about the man she so admired. Sooner or later someone would tell Willow about the woman who lived a few miles out of Coyote. That Thad Wilson spent his weekends with the woman and the five-year-old son he had sired on her. He hoped this person would tell her that this woman was crazy jealous of Wilson and that if she learned he had a romantic interest somewhere else, all hell would break loose.

  When Rooster left Ruth to get cleaned up himself, he cussed Jules out for being a damned fool.

  Corrie Mae had made supper a gala affair: a celebration of the sale of the longhorns. In the center of the cloth-covered table sat a sliced, ten-pound roast, and on either side of it were bowls heaped high with steaming vegetables: smooth mashed potatoes, the last string beans from Thad's garden, baked squash and sweet potatoes. A full gravy boat sat in front of the roast, ready to be ladled over the potatoes and hot biscuits. Waiting on the work bench were four pies, two apple and two pumpkin.

  Willow looked around the table, smiling fondly at her boys, her mother and dear Rooster. All her loved ones were there. She had enough money to see her through the winter and a good start on rounding up a hundred burros. So why wasn't she enjoying the evening like everyone else?

  She knew the answer. Jules wasn't sitting beside her. He never would be. It was time she began planning a life without him in it. Half an hour later, coffee had just been poured when Thad stepped into the kitchen. Willow gave him a smile that was warmer than any she had ever given him before.