THE RANCHER TAKES A COOK
Misty M. Beller
Copyright 2015 Misty M. Beller
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover Art by Joan Alley
Editing by Paula Mowery
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are the product of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Published by Prism Book Group
ISBN-10: 1943104115
ISBN-13: 978-1-943104-11-6
First Edition, 2015
Published in the United States of America
Contact info: [email protected]
http://www.prismbookgroup.com
DEDICATION
To Nana and Pop.
For the love, wisdom and kindness you share with everyone you meet.
I’m honored to be your granddaughter, and I treasure everything you’ve taught me.
I love you more than words can say.
“Cast your burden on the Lord,
And He shall sustain you;
He shall never permit the righteous to be moved.”
Psalm 55:22 (NKJV)
CHAPTER ONE
Columbia, South Carolina
February 17, 1865
The acrid air was thick and hazy as nineteen-year-old Anna Stewart struggled to sit up in bed. Confused and disoriented, she looked around. What woke her? Her mind refused to focus.
“Anna…” The voice was distant, as if coming from another world. Why is it so hot in my room? Edward must have put too much wood on the fire before bed. She tried to focus on something—anything—but her mind was thick mud and her chest ached.
Need air. The craving consumed her. Bolting from her bed, she ran toward the doorway. Thud. Clang. Her hands hit rough wood and warm metal. Scrambling to her right, she tripped and fumbled for something familiar. Panic rose in her chest. The darkness slowed her down like a sea of murky water, then Anna’s shin struck solid metal and she lost her balance. The floor rose up to meet her, and she landed hard, a moan escaping between gasps.
“Anna.”
Edward’s voice broke through the smoke like the sun parting the clouds. Or maybe it wasn’t her brother, but God calling her home to heaven. The fog in her mind suffocated every thought. And then strong arms lifted her like a limp sack. Thick, smoky air whispered across her skin as she was jostled down the stairs.
* * *
Air. Anna gulped in a blessed breath then forced open her stinging eyes. Her chest was on fire and a coughing fit seized her. Sucking in another breath, she looked around in the dim light. She lay on a rough blanket in the grass, with people scurrying around. Confusion muddled her mind as she struggled to sit up.
“Edward?” She croaked past the shooting pain in her lungs.
“Here, sis. I’m here.”
Relief flooded her and she twisted around. Concern etched her fifteen-year-old brother’s youthful face as he knelt beside her.
“What happened?” Anna rasped.
“It burned, Anna. All of it.” Edward’s voice cracked. “All of Columbia’s been burned to the ground by them heathen Yanks.” His words tumbled faster as his brown eyes grew wide.
“Our candle shop?” Her heart thudded faster as she waited for his answer.
“Gone. Everything we own. And Emmett’s Dry Goods, too.”
“Thank God Mrs. Emmett is away visiting her sister,” Anna mumbled. Her mind ached as she forced it to focus on the words her brother uttered.
“Thank God? Thank God? How can you thank God when people are homeless or dead all around us? We are homeless.” The vehemence in Edward’s voice wrenched Anna’s heart as she stared at the ache in his wide brown eyes.
She pulled him into an embrace and his body went limp. Her little brother… How she wanted to make his hurt go away. But, what now? Surely not all of their things were burned. With Papa away in the war, would God leave them totally stranded?
Taking a deep breath, Anna sat back and tried to turn on her soft southern drawl that always seemed to soothe. “C’mon, honey. Let’s go home and see what’s left.”
As she rose, a breeze tickled Anna’s ankles. She glanced down at her cotton nightgown, coated in soot and grime and a bit worse for the wear. To maintain a scrap of modesty, she crossed her arms in front of her.
Anna glanced around to get her bearings. People milled around the small grassy area. Most of those present were huddled in little groups—some crying and some appearing to be in shock. Remnants of smoke still clung to the air, shrouding the atmosphere in a dismal cloak.
“This way.” Her brother led the way down the muddy street. As they walked, they passed black skeletons of buildings—charred remains sticking out in jagged angles with smoke still rising from their midst. The buildings looked eerily familiar, like dear friends who were disfigured almost beyond recognition.
Edward paused in front of a structure that was almost unrecognizable in its horrid condition. The candle shop and their home. Nothing was left. No bright red sign over the door announcing Stewart’s Candle Shop. No second story windows with the pretty blue curtains where their home had been. Just two stairs leading up to the porch and black smoldering ashes. Her heart sank and tightness pulled in her chest. What now?
CHAPTER TWO
Seguin, Texas
August 14, 1865
The stagecoach shuddered and swayed as it had done for five days now. Wincing at an extra-hard jolt, Anna stared out the window at the group of cows grazing on scattered patches of brown grass. These cows were rather funny looking—scrawny, with long legs, colorful hides, and an immense set of horns that appeared to be almost as long as the cow itself. They were so different from the round, healthy milk cows on the plantations at home.
Home… Anna pushed their former happy life out of her mind. Had it only been a few short years ago when Papa left to fight in General Hampton’s cavalry? Now, not only had she lost Mama when she was eleven, but the War had stolen Papa, their home, and everything she cared about in the world. Except Edward.
He slouched against the side of the stage and glared into an unseen distance. His glazed eyes looked like he had passed boredom long ago. Poor fellow. Edward was used to scampering about Columbia, not sitting locked in a stage for days on end.
Attempting a smile for her brother, she forced a tone more cheerful than she felt. “You hungry? I think there are biscuits left from lunch.”
His head shot up like a dog who had just got a whiff of the aroma of meat. Anna pulled a small, paper-wrapped bundle from her reticule, and Edward nearly pounced on it. He scarfed down the dried bread, and his enthusiasm brought a genuine smile to her lips. He still resembled an overgrown boy, despite how he’d been forced to grow up these last few years. The baggy cotton shirt, too-short woolen pants, and cloth suspenders, only enhanced his lanky limbs and boyish awkwardness. The clothes had been a donation from a neighbor after all their things had burned in the fire. Something was better than nothing.
Anna shifted to look out the window again. The driver called, “Whoa,” and the coach slowed. A tickle of anticipation fluttered in her chest. Had they made it to Seguin at last? It would be such a relief to see
Uncle Walter and Aunt Laura again. And this would be her chance to start fresh. Create a new life for herself and Edward.
They entered a pretty little town with white-washed buildings and normal-looking people going about their normal lives. Anna caught a glimpse of a pair of blue uniforms and shivered, shrinking back from the stage window. Yankee soldiers. Would she ever be able to look at that awful color without a tremor running down her back?
Anna drew a deep, muggy breath to reinforce her courage then turned from the window to gather her things. She cringed at the needles shooting through her legs, but her seat muscles were still numb. Recent experience had taught her the pain would come later, after the brain-jarring bumps stopped and her muscles had a chance to wake up. A sigh sneaked out before she could catch it.
The stagecoach pulled to a stop next to a tall, two-story building made of the same solid, whitewashed material that covered many of the structures they’d passed. Magnolia Hotel was painted in faded red letters over the canopy shading the front door. As Edward helped Anna step down from the stage, the front door opened and their uncle stepped outside, a pleasant-faced man in his fifties. He was followed by their aunt, a willowy woman of about the same age, dressed in a white shirtwaist and lavender skirt. When his eyes met Anna’s, the man’s face broke into a grin and his voice boomed, “Well, if it isn’t the Stewart family.” Uncle Walter’s smile was infectious, and her mouth pulled into a responding grin.
As Edward stepped forward to shake his uncle’s hand, Anna was engulfed in Aunt Laura’s warm embrace and the sweet scent of roses. The tenderness caught her off guard and left a burning sensation behind her eyes. How long had it been since she’d felt such a motherly embrace?
Stepping back to hold her at arm’s length, her aunt’s dark brown eyes twinkled as they gazed into Anna’s. “Welcome home, my dear. It is so good to see you.” She tucked Anna under her left arm and turned to the lanky boy standing next to Uncle Walter. “And, Edward, if I didn’t know better, I would have thought you were your father. You’ve grown so tall. We’ll add some meat on your bones, and you’ll be the talk o’ the town.” Aunt Laura’s eyes crinkled around the edges, as they appeared to do often by the deep smile lines etched in her face. “Now let’s get the two of you home. Supper’s on the stove, and I bet you haven’t had a decent thing to eat in days.”
Uncle Walter grabbed their single carpet bag with a wink. “The store is just down the street a ways. You won’t get to see much of the town now, but you’ll have plenty o’ time to get a look at things later.”
Aunt Laura slipped her arm around Anna’s waist as they strolled down the rough board sidewalk. The clang of iron echoed from the livery on their right as a blue-uniformed man stood with his shoulder cocked against the doorway. He glared a haughty scowl as they passed then turned away. Across the street, a young woman exited a shop carrying a toddler in one arm and a basket in the other. A wagon passed them with a golden-colored dog perched on the seat next to a hunched old man, straw hat pulled low to shade his face from the scorching sun.
Uncle Walter stopped in front of a light green building with the words Stewart Mercantile painted over the door. “Here we are, folks. Welcome to our humble home.” He opened the door for them to step inside.
As they walked through the store, Uncle Walter nodded at a tall, broad-shouldered cowboy standing by the front counter. “Howdy, Jacob. You gettin’ all set for the fall drive?” The man caught Anna’s attention. It wasn’t just his unusual attire that made her stare, but his clear blue eyes framed by wavy brown locks. They were breathtaking. If this is what Texans looked like, it might not be that difficult to live here.
* * *
Over the next week, Anna and Edward settled into something of a routine in their new lives. Anna took on most of the cooking duties for Aunt Laura and helped with the housework, too, while Edward picked up odd jobs around town. The townspeople seemed friendly enough, and Uncle Walter was a respected member of the community, but all the soldiers milling about made Anna nervous. The War was over and the North said it was trying to re-unite the country. But were the Union soldiers really ready to put the hard feelings behind them? Power had a way of going to a man’s head, and some of these men had lived through some gruesome battles. They may not be ready to forgive a town full of Southern sympathizers.
Anna stepped outside the mercantile and squinted in the bright sunlight. Her wide-brimmed bonnet helped, but this Texas sun was a scorcher. She gripped the package for Reverend Walker’s wife in her left hand and recounted the directions Uncle Walter had given her. Right on Crockett Street. Left on Milam. The Walker home was on the corner of Elm and Milam. She enjoyed helping with occasional deliveries for the store, since it gave her a chance to breathe the fresh air and see a bit more of this pretty town.
Making her way down the street, a stirring by the livery caught her attention. Anna squinted to make out what was happening. Three figures in blue pushed something back and forth between them. A gasp slipped from Anna’s throat. Not something, someone. She hurried toward the crowd beginning to form around the men. As she neared the group, Anna’s chest clamped like a vise. The form these soldiers were tossing back and forth like a rag doll looked alarmingly familiar. Edward.
Rushing forward like a bull, Anna charged through the crowd and planted herself in the middle of the three jeering men. “What are you doing?” she demanded, hands planted on her hips. She drew back her shoulders and forced a hardened look onto her face. “Leave him alone.”
The man holding Edward let him drop to the ground in a lanky heap and stepped closer. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Edward scrambling back. At least he was still conscious. She turned her focus back to the man…and almost cowered. He had a big mop of thick, almost-black hair that swooped down over his eyes, and a full-grown beard. If she could have likened him to an animal, he would have been a bear.
“Well, lookee here, boys. We got us a female to play with, too,” the man growled. He reached toward Anna and grabbed her arm with his big paw. She struggled, but his grip was a solid clamp.
In an instant, Edward grabbed the man’s free arm to pull him away. “Take your hands off my sister!”
A flash of annoyance crossed the man’s face as another of the soldiers snatched Edward and dragged him back. “Sister?” the bear-man sneered, keeping his attention focused on Anna. “You mean your father was a yellow-livered Johnny Reb, too?” Gripping both of her arms, the man jerked Anna to his massive chest. “That’s too bad, pretty little rebel. ’Cause we were gonna have some fun with you.” The man’s tobacco-laced breath clouded her face, and her lungs refused to fill, despite the galloping in her chest.
“Private, unhand that woman.” The sharp command forced Anna’s captor to look up, thrusting her away from him. Anna wheeled around to face the new threat. Another man clad in a blue uniform sat astride a chestnut horse. His jaw clenched tight, and fire radiated from his glare.
“Corporal. I, uh, was just, uh, reprimanding a civilian, sir. She and her brother were being insolent toward our men, and I was letting her know that behavior would not be tolerated.” Some of the bully left the man’s tone, but he kept one giant hand clenched around Anna’s upper arm.
“I said release her,” the corporal snapped. The soldier obeyed at last, shoving Anna so she had to scramble to stay on her feet. “I think you’ve made your point. You men can be on your way, and I’ll make sure this woman and her brother don’t cause you any more trouble.”
The look the Corporal gave her when he said ‘this woman’ made Anna’s blood run cold. His penetrating gaze started at her face then roamed down her body and back up again, hovering everywhere it shouldn’t. Anna wanted to wrap herself in a big lumpy blanket, despite the scorching Texas sun.
The bear-man turned with a “hmmph” under his breath and stomped off.
“The rest of you folks, go on about your business,” the Corporal said to the crowd that had gathered. “There’s noth
ing more to see here.”
Anna spun to find Edward and gasped at his face. Blood trickled from a cut on his lip and another on his right cheekbone. Dirt and hay clung to his mussed hair, giving him a pitiful look.
Grabbing his arm, Anna whispered, “C’mon, let’s get out of here. “ She glanced back at the Corporal to make sure his attention was distracted then pulled Edward into a group of men that ambled in the direction of the Mercantile. She prayed they could blend with the crowd until they were far enough away from the Yankee Corporal not to attract his attention again. Anonymity was a welcome relief at the moment.
CHAPTER THREE
A few days later, Anna stood in Aunt Laura’s kitchen, elbow-deep in hot, sudsy water. The pungent odor of lye tickled her nose. The repetitive action of scrubbing kept her body focused, while her mind had opportunity to examine topics she’d pushed aside.
She wrung out Edward’s brown work shirt and handed it to Aunt Laura to hang on the line they’d rigged across the kitchen. The patter of raindrops on the roof had forced them to keep the laundry duties inside for the day, but Anna didn’t mind as long as she wasn’t out under the scorching sun that seemed to be a Texas standard. She wished it was as easy to escape her worries.
The memory of Edward being tossed back and forth between the soldiers, face covered in dirt and blood, was imprinted in her mind. And why had they done it? For no better reason than because he was the son of a Confederate soldier. A man who had taken action to stand for his beliefs, the same way these soldiers had. Of course, her father was much nobler than these good-for-nothing ruffians. He never would have pushed around innocent women or children. Her insides seethed all over again. Were all Union soldiers so mean-hearted? Papa had always said there were good and bad men in every lot. She and Edward would need to be careful to mind their own business until things settled down.
The two women worked side by side, the silence between them companionable. At last, Aunt Laura spoke. “You’re not happy here are you, my dear.” It was a statement, not a question. Aunt Laura had always been intuitive, and her caring nature made her an easy confidante.
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