* * *
On Wednesday afternoon, the branding was finally complete, and Jacob was worn out. He finished tying down his bedroll onto Marshall’s saddle and stopped to look around. The other hands appeared to be just as beat as he was, dragging themselves through the work necessary to clean up camp and pack the wagon.
“The boys’ll be glad we finished up early today. Looks like they wore themselves out.” Monty strode up next to Jacob, his reins in one hand and a bedroll in the other.
Jacob nodded. “Yep. Did we get a final count on the cattle?”
“’Round about twenty-three hundred, I think.” Monty’s brow furrowed a bit.
Jacob nodded, pinching his lips as he did a mental calculation. “That’s a bit less than I’d estimated. We must have lost more than we thought in the snow…or from rustlers.”
They stood in companionable silence for a minute while the hands made quick work of the campsite. Anna scurried around, directing the packing of the dishes, supplies, and bedding into the wagon. She seemed to be everywhere at once, moving twice as fast as the men. Did she never tire?
As if reading his mind, Monty spoke up. “She’s quite a gal, ain’t she.” It was a statement, not a question, spoken in an almost reverent tone. “She can cook like the Lord himself, doctor a bloody wound, work all day and into the night, and still looks fresh as an angel.”
Jacob stiffened. Hearing his own thoughts come from Monty’s lips didn’t sit well. He glared at his friend. “Stay away from her.”
Monty raised a brow, one corner of his mouth twitching. “And why exactly should I do that? She’s not spoken for yet. Leastways not as far as I’ve heard.”
Jacob was being goaded, but that didn’t help his rising temper any. “She’s off limits.”
“Really? Appears to me she’s single, no one payin’ court to her. Maybe she’s looking for a good, honest cowboy to love. If you plan to claim her, you better git to it before someone else does.”
Jacob’s hand balled into a fist, but before he could start swinging, Monty clapped him on the back and sauntered away.
Jacob was left standing with his mind whirling. Did he plan to claim her? The ranch had always been his priority. A cowboy’s life was hard and lonely, with long nights on the range and not much time left for a wife or a family. He’d always shied away from females, knowing they would only hold him back and mess up his focus from what was really important.
Anna was different, though. She was part of the ranch. Helpful. Supportive. But was he ready to make her his wife?
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The next week, Anna watched with a lump in her throat as Jacob and three of the other men left to help with the community round-up and branding. The first evening the men were gone, Mr. O’Brien filled the void left by Jacob’s absence by regaling the women with stories of the times he’d joined in on the round-up.
Sitting back in his overstuffed chair with a mug of coffee, his eyes searched the distance. “Yep, all us local ranchers used to gather south of the Guadalupe River at Gus Konde’s place. Each daybreak, the men saddled up and fanned out, pushing through the brush, herding cattle to the agreed holding pen. The calf that followed a cow was branded accordingly. Yearling strays that had escaped the branding iron or wild, full-grown longhorns would be divided equally among the cowboys making the round-up. The boys called ’em Mavericks.” A twinkle touched his gaze as he winked at Anna. “I liked to call ’em walking twenty-dollar gold pieces.”
Each day Jacob was gone, Edward took over the morning milking. And while Anna enjoyed seeing her brother’s tousled hair and sleepy face first thing each morning, they didn’t make her insides flutter like Jacob’s blue eyes and strong chin covered by a day’s growth of stubble.
The men had been gone for five days, and Aunt Lola predicted they’d be back today or tomorrow. This was the perfect time to make a cinnamon cake using the precious white flour that was so expensive in town. She usually reserved it for a special event or an occasional Sunday dinner. But having the men home would be a special occasion. Anna hummed as she measured out the cinnamon.
She’d missed Jacob more than she thought possible. Over the past couple of months, he never failed to show up for coffee in the mornings, but other than the occasional hand on her elbow as he helped her in or out of the wagon, he never touched her. And he hadn’t kissed her since the day Edward had been tied and left for dead by the cattle thieves. It was as if he were keeping his distance on purpose. Did he feel nothing for her? He’d shown he was attracted to her physically. It was magnetic any time they were near each other. Maybe that’s all it was, just physical attraction. Maybe he felt no stronger emotions and wanted to keep her from getting hurt.
Anna swallowed the lump in her throat. It was awful, this unrequited love. Maybe she should leave the ranch. But what about Edward? This seemed to be the perfect place for him. Could she leave Edward here alone? She didn’t really want to leave. Even if Jacob never loved her, she still enjoyed his company. He had become a treasured friend.
A commotion drifted in from the yard. Anna poured the cake batter into a pan, placed it into the oven, and wiped her hands on a towel. Male voices called to each other, along with the whinny of a horse and the barking of a dog. A dog? The Double Rocking B didn’t have any dogs, a fact she had lamented on more than one occasion. Aunt Lola seemed to have a grudge against the animals, so none were allowed on the property.
She strode through the house and stopped inside the front door, touching a hand to her hair. A few stubborn baby tendrils always loosened around her face, but everything else seemed to be in place. She glanced down at her apron. She hadn’t done the laundry yet this week, so she’d reused the same apron from yesterday. It was looking a bit battle weary, covered with smudged fingerprints and spackles of food. Oh well, not much she could do about it now.
Squaring her shoulders, Anna pulled open the door. The yard was full of their ranch hands, most of them dismounted and in various stages of unsaddling horses. Anna’s eyes were drawn to Jacob emerging from the barn, saddle bags in one hand and bedroll in the other. A yellow dog jogged at his side, tongue hanging out in a jolly expression. Every few steps, the dog would lick Jacob’s hand. The second time it happened, Anna glanced at Jacob’s face to gauge his expression. It held a look of amusement, not the annoyance she’d expected. She couldn’t help but grin. He was such a good man.
As man and dog approached the house, Anna stepped to the edge of the porch and offered a warm smile. “Welcome home.”
Jacob stopped at the bottom of the steps and removed his hat, uncovering his tousled brown hair that could stand a trim. The dog kept charging up the stairs and bounded right to Anna, rubbing against her skirts to demand attention. She complied, bending down to stroke the animal’s golden head. The dog gave her a look of adoration, tongue lolling to the side in a contented pant.
“I think she likes you.”
Anna looked up at Jacob, still caressing the dog’s soft coat. “What’s her name?”
“Abigail. One of the ranchers on the other side of town was trying to make her into a cattle dog. She’d always bark at the worst times and almost caused a stampede once. I offered to take her off his hands so he didn’t shoot her.” Jacob shook his head. “She’s still just an overgrown pup, but I think she’ll be fine once she mellows out some. May not make a good cattle dog, but not too bad around the house.”
Anna gave the dog a final pat and rose to her feet. “Do you think Aunt Lola will mind?”
Jacob shrugged, trudging up the stairs. His shoulders slumped and dark skin under his eyes cast a grayish tint over their normal blue. “I’m not sure. I hope she’ll understand.”
Jacob stopped on the porch just a few feet from Anna, and his nearness triggered butterflies in her stomach. In an effort to keep her emotions under control, she avoided his gaze, looking instead at the dog that had sprawled itself at her feet. “How did the round-up go?”
“All righ
t, I guess. We brought home about two hundred head. The rest of the ranchers headed out with their herds on the trail toward the market towns. It’s awful nice to be home, though.” Anna peeked up. A teasing grin spread cross his face. “Looking forward to eating something other than beans, cornbread, and hardtack.”
Anna couldn’t hide her own smile. “Come in and have some fresh coffee and a snack. Supper’ll be ready soon, but I have Irish apple pie left that’ll hold you over.”
“Sounds like heaven itself.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. The stubble there had grown thick enough to almost be considered a beard. “Think I should get cleaned up first. You don’t want a mangy saddle-bum sitting at your table.”
Anna almost said, “You look good to me,” but stopped herself just in time. Although, warmth rose to her cheeks anyway. As if he could read her thoughts, Jacob took a step forward and caught Anna’s gaze with a look that held more than a little heat. Her stomach flipped at the intensity in his eyes.
After a moment, he grinned and tapped a finger to the tip of her nose. “Looking forward to that pie.” He winked then turned to disappear inside the house.
When he was gone, Anna let out a wistful sigh, and glanced down at the dog still lying at her feet. “Well, Abigail, we’d better go finish the food. The boys are home.” With a light heart and a spring in her step, Anna headed toward the kitchen.
The dog turned out to be a favorite with everyone. Aunt Lola pretended to be affronted and ignored the animal at first, but Anna sometimes caught the two together in the afternoons. The hardy Irish woman would stroke the dog’s soft fur and murmur sweet nothings while Abigail sat and gazed at her with undying devotion.
Abigail was a sweet animal, to be sure. She became a part of the household, bounding from one cowhand to the next when they came in for meals. She always made her way back to Anna when they sat down and would lie between Jacob and Anna’s chairs. Her loyalty was most likely due to the fact that Anna fed her the kitchen scraps. It was nice to have such a devoted companion, even if a little bribery was involved.
* * *
The arrival of June brought with it the oppressive heat and humidity for which Texas was known. The scorching sun forced Anna to do gardening during the morning hours before the heat became overwhelming. She enjoyed tending the variety of vegetables and herbs, and often Aunt Lola would come out to help with the picking. Anna was amazed at the wealth of knowledge she held, not just about anything related to the plants and their needs and growing habits, but also about life itself. The woman held a strong faith that shone through in her outlook on all parts of life.
On Saturdays, Anna always skipped her time in the garden in favor of a nice long ride on Bandita. They would usually share an exhilarating canter to the river, where Bandita grazed while Anna picked blackberries and huckleberries from the many plants that grew in the fertile soil. That made them move more slowly on the ride home so the berries wouldn’t sustain injuries. Her efforts always resulted in a blackberry pie or cobbler on Sunday afternoons, and the men were quick to voice their appreciation.
On one such Sunday afternoon, Mr. O’Brien set his fork down after finishing off a second large portion of pie. Leaning back with a hand over his growing girth, he spoke across the table. “Anna, dear, I must commend you on your efforts. At the end of every meal, I decide I’ve finally found my favorite dish. Then you up and make something even better the next time. I don’t know how you do it, but I am surely thankful. You’re a rare treasure, to be sure.” The last words were spoken with a wink and a proud smile that reminded her of the way Papa used to look at her when she’d help him in the candle shop. The memory tightened Anna’s heart, but at least it didn’t evoke tears this time.
“I heard Jared Thomas speaking to the Mayor after church today,” Mr. O’Brien continued, capturing the attention of everyone at the table. “It seems the town is planning to expand the Independence Day celebration this year, in hopes it’ll foster more of a sense of unity and national pride in the people.”
A snort came from one of the men on the left side of the table. Several of the cowboys stared down at their hands with furrowed brows and pinched lips, so she couldn’t tell from whom it had come.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Aunt Lola spoke up. “I know there’s still a lot of grievin’ people from the war, but I, for one, think it’s high time we all got together for some fun. Just friends and neighbors enjoyin’ each other’s company.” Several heads bobbed around the table in agreement.
Mr. O’Brien nodded. “It does sound like they’re planning a day full of fun. In addition to the regular picnic, we’ll have a shooting match, horse race, pie baking competition, and then a dance that night.”
That statement finally brought a few grins, and the bantering began as the men one-upped each other to decide who would win the shooting match or the horse race. Bo finally settled things when he announced with a suave grin, “Ya’ll can win all the fancy ribbons ya want, but I’ll be havin’ more fun dancin’ with all the prettiest gals in Guadalupe County.” He ducked the elbows and playful punches that issued from all directions. “Don’t worry, boys, I’ll let the rest of ya’ll have a girl or two when I’m not dancin’ with ’em.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
As her excitement over the Independence Day celebration grew, Anna finally convinced herself a new dress would be the perfect way to celebrate. At the mercantile, she found a yellow muslin, the color of the yellow roses that had climbed the rail of their porch stairs in Columbia. Anna had already sketched a design for the dress, but her sewing now began in earnest. The gown needed to be practical enough for everyday use, as she only had three dresses, and her gray one was so thin she could see through the material if she held it up to the light. It really needed to be read its last rites.
Anna planned to make sure the new dress was long enough to wear both of her petticoats underneath, giving some of the fullness she used to wear back in South Carolina. Sometimes, she still longed for just one of her fashionable gowns that had burned in the fire. With Papa being only a candlemaker, she never dressed in the height of fashion like the daughters of the plantation owners. But they’d lived very respectably, and Papa let her make two new dresses each year. She’d also become quite adept at making over her old dresses to keep up with the current styles.
Out here in Texas, though, style didn’t seem to be a concern to most people. If the dark colors and simple lines were any indication, the local ladies only worried about practicality. But Aunt Laura had been saving copies of Godey’s for Anna, so she had a few ideas for the design.
Despite her sewing project, the next couple of weeks seemed to drag by in the stifling heat. She dreaded cooking on the wood stove because of the warmth it added to the kitchen, and she discovered creative ways to serve cold meals to the men.
But as the day of the celebration drew near, she focused her efforts on putting together an amazing menu for the picnic. She and Aunt Lola killed several of the young roosters to make fried chicken, a rare delicacy but one both Jacob and his pa seemed to appreciate. She planned to prepare a mixture of Mexican and American foods, including potato salad, baked squash covered with cheese, buttered carrots, corn on the cob, sourdough bread with apple butter, bell peppers stuffed with beef and tomatoes, tamales filled with a variety of meats, chess pie, pound cake with a sweet glaze, and several kinds of fruit tarts. It was quite a variety of foods, but she wanted to have at least one favorite dish for each of the men.
Dawn of July Fourth, Anna scurried around the kitchen, sprinkling grated cheese over the tamales, shifting pans on the stove, and packing last minute supplies.
Aunt Lola drifted into the room with a couple of the cowhands and planted a wrinkled hand on each hip. “Now what be goin’ on in here?”
Anna didn’t stop moving as she answered. “The carrots are cooling now, the peppers are about ready to come out of the oven, and I’m just waiting for the cheese to melt on the tamales. I nee
d to slice the bread still and …”
“Out.” Aunt Lola shooed, pushing Anna toward the door. “I’ll take care o’ the bread and the rest of it looks fine. These boys’ll load the food while you go make yourself presentable.” She didn’t allow Anna to turn back but pushed her right into the hallway.
Miguel tipped his hat as Anna passed. “You go on, Miss Stewart. We’ll take care of this.”
It didn’t seem she had a choice, but the yellow gown upstairs softened the sting of her exile from the kitchen. Anna released a martyr’s sigh for anyone who might be listening then headed toward the staircase.
Once in her room, Anna slipped out of her old gray dress, layered both of her petticoats, and pulled the new gown over her head. The shiny muslin almost looked like silk and fit perfectly as it tucked in at the waist and flared into a full skirt, drawn up at the bottom on each side to reveal an under layer of the same material. She’d sewn white ribbon around the collar, sleeves, and bottom edges for just the right amount of contrast. She twisted more of the white ribbon into her hair and tied it in a bow at the nape of her neck. Stepping back to examine herself in the mirror over the bureau, she smiled at her reflection. She’d forgotten how much fun it was to dress up.
Abigail barked outside, and Anna reached for the vanilla scent Aunt Laura had given her, dabbed a bit behind her ears, and hurried down the stairs. She grabbed her bonnet from the coat rack in the hall and stepped outside.
Mr. O’Brien sat on the seat of the loaded wagon, and Jacob helped Aunt Lola onto the bench beside him. The rest of the cowboys were already mounted on horses. Anna stopped on the porch to tie on her bonnet. Why hadn’t she made one to match her new dress?
After finishing with his aunt, Jacob turned around and stared as Anna approached the wagon. He reached to boost her into the wagon, but held her on the ground for an extra moment before lifting. The pause was enough for her to lose herself in his gaze and the strength of his hands at her waist. In the morning sun, his eyes appeared bluer than normal as he lifted her onto the seat.
The Rancher Takes a Cook Page 14