by Norah Hess
Willow debated for a minute, then smiled at Corrie Mae. "Thank you, friend. It sounds like just what I need."
"Good," Corrie Mae said, beaming. "You go on to bed now and get a good night's sleep. I think you ought to get an early start in the morning. Leave before the men are up. I'll have a hot breakfast waiting for you, and directions how to get to the cabin written out."
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Willow referred often to the map Corrie Mae had drawn for her as the mare climbed higher and higher up the mountain. Thank goodness the directions are clear, Willow thought, or I'd have been hopelessly lost after leaving the foothills.
The first instructions said she was to turn left at the lightning-blasted pine. Then a mile later she would come to a spring whose water trickled from within a cave. She was to turn right then and ride in a straight line until she came to a jumble of loose boulders. There she was to turn left again and ride to where she'd see a stand of pines growing off by themselves. And in the center of these trees she would find the little cabin.
Willow sighed as they continued to climb. She had passed the lightning-struck pine, the spring and the boulders. She was almost at the top of the mountain. Surely the cabin wasn't far away.
The mare continued upward for another half hour before Willow gave a sigh of relief The stand of pines she had been looking for stood a few yards ahead. Her back was tired and the mare was becoming winded.
She steered the little animal into the thick growth, its hoofs making no noise on the thick carpet of pine needles. She uttered a little cry of delight when she saw the sturdy cabin half hidden by the tall pines. Corrie Mae was right, she thought. She would find her solitude here. The only thing that would disturb it would be the birds flitting among the trees, or maybe the hoot of an owl at night. That wouldn't bother her, though. She loved both those sounds.
Willow was dismounting when she wondered where to put the mare. Corrie Mae had said there were wolves about. Then she spotted a corral and a horse shed adjacent to the cabin. When she led the mare into the pen and carried the saddle into the shed, she discovered a pile of hay and a keg of oats. Her mare would do just fine.
She walked stiffly to the cabin then, excited to explore it inside. Pushing the unlocked door open, she stepped inside and could only make out the dim shapes of furniture. Of course, she thought, the shutters are closed. When she swung them open, she spun around to survey her new quarters.
The cabin consisted of one large room. Her eyes sparkled at the coziness of it. One wall was taken up by a huge fieldstone fireplace. It had a wide mantel with a couple of pictures on it, and a rifle hanging at arm's reach over it. The hearth was raised, an inviting place to sit and stare into the flames. The makings of a fire lay on the grate. Taking a match from the mantel, she struck it and held it to the shredded bark that lay beneath the logs.
When they burst into flames and burned brightly, she turned her attention to the rest of the room. In front of the fireplace was a brown, leather-covered couch with a table and lamp beside it. On the other side of the table was a rocker.
Against the opposite wall a bed sat in a corner with a small chest of drawers beside it. In a corner of the same wall was a cookstove. On one of the shorter walls was a table and two benches. The door and a window took up the wall across from the table.
Colorful Indian and Mexican rugs were scattered about: one in front of the hearth, one beside the bed and a large one in the center of the room.
Willow went to the kitchen window and looked outside. The red flash of cardinals and the blue of jaybirds flying about brought a smile of contentment to her lips. She was going to love the wild solitude here on this mountain. Here she could get her muddled thoughts together and make up her mind about Jules. And whatever she decided, she would stick to it. There would be no more switching back and forth like a March wind that blew first one way and then the other.
Willow walked back to the fireplace and added more wood to the fire she had lit. When she straightened up, she noticed a framed picture on the mantel. She took it down to look more closely at it, and gave a start. Three smiling faces looked out at her. A big man and a pretty woman posed behind a young girl, who looked ten or twelve years old. The girl looked like Corrie Mae.
What had happened to those parents, she wondered, and what had put their daughter on the path she now traveled?
Willow put the picture back, understanding a little the sadness she sometimes glimpsed in Corrie Mae's eyes. She sighed and picked her saddlebag off the floor. Life wasn't easy for women, especially those living on the western frontier. Too many times they were at the mercy of some uncaring man.
When she had put away four changes of underwear, two pairs of woolen socks and three clean flannel shirts, and laid her gown and robe on the foot of the bed, her attention turned to the clock on the mantel. She gave it a tight winding, then checked the time on the small watch broach pinned to her shirt. She moved the hands to read quarter to three and set the pendulum to swinging.
Willow walked to the door then and took down her jacket. She had close to an hour before the sun started going down. She would take a short walk outside and discover where the woodpile was, as well as the water source for the cabin's use.
She picked up the wooden pail sitting on the table and stepped out into the biting cold. Walking behind the cabin, she came upon the wood and a spring of clear water trickling from beneath a large boulder. Someone had walled up a wide, deep basin with rocks. It held a good supply of water before spilling over and disappearing into the ground. She dipped the pail into its depth and earned the full container to the porch, where she set it down.
She stood a minute, and then struck out walking. Her footsteps took her out of the pines and onto the mountain proper. Earlier she had been intent on looking for landmarks that would lead her to the cabin, but now she was free to gaze at the magnificent beauty that surrounded her.
Willow sighed softly as a great peace came flowing over her. The solitude of the mountains would help her to think through problems, come to the right decisions, and heal her broken heart.
It was near sundown when a sudden, sharp wind came up. Willow shivered and retraced her steps to the cabin. She picked up the pail of water and carried it inside. The big room was in shadow, but the dancing flames in the fireplace lent it a warm coziness.
She nevertheless lit the lamp on the table after she took off her jacket. Her empty stomach growled, and she started a fire in the kitchen stove.
Willow's next act was to go through the supplies stowed in a tall cupboard. She took from it a smoked, sugar-cured ham, two potatoes, a can of beans and a piece of hardtack. When she had placed the items on the table, she filled the clean coffee pot with water from the pail she had brought inside.
While it heated, she took a coffee grinder and a bag of coffee beans from a shelf next to the stove. As she ground the hard little beans, a delicious aroma wafted through the room. When she poured the grounds into the boiling water, she could hardly wait for it to brew.
The coffee taken care of, Willow sliced a thick slab off the ham, then peeled and sliced the potatoes. When she had started them frying, she opened the can of beans, and dumping them into a pan, set them on the stove to heat.
Twenty minutes later, when Willow sat down to eat, she felt sure she had never before eaten anything so good or drunk better-tasting coffee.
As she washed and dried and put away everything used in preparing her supper, she could hear the wind growing in volume. When she went to the other side of the room and sat down in front of the fireplace, the rising wind swirled down the chimney, causing the fire to smoke and ashes to fly onto the hearth. She wasn't frightened, though. The little cabin was sturdy and could stand against rough weather. Even the chilling yowl of a wolf didn't bother her.
It was still early in the evening when Willow banked the fire and got into her gown and crawled into bed. She curled up in the feather bed, and for once her dreams of Jules were s
weet and loving all night long.
Jess secretly watched her nephew as he sat staring moodily into the fire. There were signs of dissipation beneath his eyes and at the corners of his mouth, and a heavy stubble of whiskers covered his jaw.
For the past two nights one of his men had had to help him into the house and into bed. He was so full of raw whiskey, he couldn't walk alone. The old woman remembered the times she had railed at him, claiming that some day a woman would come along who would bring him to his knees, and that she hoped that female wouldn't have anything to do with him.
She took the pipe from her mouth and sighed. Her prediction had come true, and her nephew was hurting more than she wished him to. If he didn't stop his drinking and carousing, something bad was going to happen to him. Her greatest fear was that some night when he was riding home full of drink, he would pass out, fall from his horse and freeze to death. She thanked God that they hadn't had a blizzard yet.
Jess was wishing that she could help this nephew who was like a son to her when Jules stirred and stood up. "I'm going to take a ride into town," he said, his tone warning her not to give him an argument.
Helpless tears glittered in Jess's eyes when she heard the kitchen door close behind him. Would he arrive safely back home tonight? She wished that she could talk to Willow, tell her that Jules was slowly killing himself.
Corrie Mae sat at the long table in her kitchen, a cup of coffee in front of her, an envelope in her hand. Jimmy had brought it from town yesterday. It was addressed to Willow, a letter from her mother.
The big woman lifted her head and stared out the window. The letter gave her an excuse to ride up to her cabin. She wanted to see how Willow was doing, alone on top of the mountain, but mostly she wanted to tell her what was going on with Jules, that the rancher was on the path to ruin. If the heartsick girl could see him now, she would have no doubt in her mind that the man lying in Corrie Mae's quarters loved her desperately.
Corrie Mae shook her head, remembering being awakened by a heavy thud on the cookhouse door around three o'clock that morning. As she left her warm bed and slid her feet into a pair of slippers, she wondered which of the cowhands had a little lovin' on his mind.
She opened the door and exclaimed, "Oh, dear," when Jules fell inside. He was passed out and half frozen. As she managed to drag his big body far enough into the room so that she could close the door, he kept mumbling, "Is Willow home yet? I gotta talk to her. I have to tell her that she has to marry me."
As Corrie Mae grabbed him by the ankles and started dragging him toward her room, she said wryly, "If she could see you now, she would never marry you."
It took her about five minutes to lug Jules onto the bed, remove his jacket, boots, and gun belt, then pile blankets on his shivering body.
The last time she'd looked in on him, the shaking of his body had stopped and he was snoring. She hated to think how sick he was going to be when he woke up.
Corrie Mae brought her attention back to the envelope, her mind made up. She was going to make the climb up to her cabin. At some point in her conversation with Willow, she would mention how much Jules was drinking.
As Willow had done, Corrie Mae saddled her big gray and rode away from the ranch before anyone was awake.
Willow pulled the mare in when she came to a gap in the trees. Away in the distance she could see the range land stretching out of sight. She couldn't make out the ranch buildings, but she knew that somewhere down there were Jules's and Aunt Jess's holdings.
Since arriving at the cabin, she had ridden all over the mountain, and the beauty and solitude were now old and familiar friends. In her exploring of nature's wonders, and the long evenings spent in front of the fireplace, she had retraced in her mind every day from the time she'd met Jules. She recalled how it had been with them at first: the time spent together on the cattle drive once they stopped fighting and began to love. She realized now that Jules had used his body to show her how much he cared for her. If her stubborn pride hadn't stood in the way, she would have accepted his proposal, and maybe by now she would have heard those three words that had once seemed so important to her. Now, just knowing that he loved her was enough.
She wasn't going to make it too easy for him though. After all, he had caused her much mental pain with his pretense of sleeping with Corrie Mae. She would let him stew a few more days and then ride out to his ranch. She would pretend that she'd come to visit Aunt Jess. All she would have to do then was give Jules one tiny smile, and he would be all over her.
"Let's get back to the cabin." Willow patted the mare's neck as she looked up at the clear blue sky. There had only been that one spell of wind to mar her otherwise perfect days.
She was just entering the clump of pines when she heard her name called. She frowned as she turned her head to look over her shoulder. Who was invading her solitude?
Her furrowed brow smoothed out and Willow smiled. Corrie Mae. Her cook had come to check on her, no doubt. She reined the mare in and waited for the big woman to join her.
"Well, you're looking mighty good," Corrie Mae said by way of greeting. "This old mountain can cure a person of whatever ails them, can't it?"
"It sure can," Willow smilingly agreed. "I can't remember ever feeling so relaxed and at peace with myself What brings you up here? Were you afraid that by now I'd burned your cabin down?" she asked on a teasing note.
"Well, you never know what a loco woman might do," Corrie Mae said with a grin. "But I've climbed this mountain to bring you this." She pulled the envelope from her jacket pocket. "A letter from your Ma, I think. I figured you'd want to read it as soon as possible."
"Thank you, Corrie Mae." Willow's eyes lit up. "Let's ride on to the cabin and warm up with a cup of coffee."
Willow took the time to unsaddle and stable the mare before following Corrie Mae into the cabin. Her cook had poured coffee already, and as soon as she shrugged out of her jacket, she sat down at the table and began to read Ruth's letter.
Dear daughter,
My prayer is that someday you will find the happiness that I have with Rooster. I still can't believe that marriage to the right man can bring so much happiness and contentment to a woman.
We only arrived yesterday, and you can imagine the work Rooster and I have ahead of us. But we will enjoy every minute of it as we work together to bring the ranch up to its full potential.
Rooster is waiting to take this letter to town, sol must get it to him. Don't work too hard, dear heart. My thoughts and prayers are always with you.
Love,
Mama and Rooster
As Willow put the single sheet back into the envelope, Corrie Mae said, "I can see by the smile on your face that everything is well with your ma."
Willow nodded. "Finally Ma has found happiness. She adores Rooster." She picked up her cup of coffee, took a sip, and then asked, "Is everything going all right at the ranch? Are the boys behaving themselves?"
"Things are running smoothly. Jimmy misses you. He rags me every day about where you went. I can't convince him that I don't know where you are. I told him and the others that you left me a note saying that you'd be gone for a few days and not to worry about you. I knew that if I didn't tell them something, they'd be out scouring the range for you."
"That was good thinking, Corrie Mae. I never considered that they might worry about me."
"They are all very fond of you, Willow. Especially that Jimmy. He looks on you as a big sister." Willow's lips stirred in a soft smile. "I couldn't wish for a better brother."
"So, has the mountain helped you, Willow? Has it straightened things out in your mind? You have lost that harassed look. There's a serenity about you now."
"You were right about me coming up here. The solitude I needed so badly has worked wonders for me. I've been able to think things through where Jules and I are concerned. I have plotted a new life for myself one that I'm going to start working on as soon as I return home."
For a moment Corrie
Mae idly stirred a spoon in her coffee. Then, looking up at Willow, she said, "I hope you're coming home to let Jules know where he stands. Good or bad. He's killing himself with drink. Although he probably doesn't deserve it, I think you ought to let him know once and for all what you really feel for him."
Jules's disregard for his health was added proof to Willow that he did truly love her. Guilt gripped her for a minute that she was causing him so much grief. She couldn't help remembering then that he had done the same thing to her many times. But it was time they both stopped hurting each other.
Willow spoke none of her thoughts to Corrie Mae. She only remarked, "I'll be home tomorrow. I want to spend one more night here. I may never again feel the peace I've been experiencing up here."
"I know what you mean," Corrie Mae agreed. "I always hate having to leave here. I look forward to the day when I can get myself a rugged old mountain man and settled down in the cabin for keeps." She sighed and stood up. "I've got to get back down the mountain and start supper for the men. They'll be as hungry as wolves."
Willow walked with Corrie Mae out onto the porch and waved good-bye to her until she disappeared into the pines.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
"Where have you been all day?" Jules complained when Corrie Mae walked into the cookhouse, her cheeks and nose red from her cold ride down the mountain.
"I had to go see someone," Corrie Mae answered as she took off her jacket and then held her hands over the hot cookstove.
"He must be a very important fellow to bring you out on such a cold day. It's freezing out there."
"It is that," Corrie Mae answered and said no more on the subject.