Golden State Brides

by Keli Gwyn

  “Easy, boy. You’re all right.” Squeezing his knees, he asked the horse to walk out.

  With much head-tossing and sidestepping, he obeyed, but when they got near Joshua and the racket began again, he fought the bit and skidded backward.

  “Whoa.” Caleb brought him to a halt, calmed him, and tried again. This time, though the horse hastened his pace, he kept going in the circle. By the fifth time, the animal continued on without changing course, though he kept an eye on Joshua.

  Finally, Caleb dismounted and motioned the boy to come over. “Here, unsaddle him and walk him out a bit to cool him down, and then give him a drink.”

  Joshua set the bucket and pipe on the ground near the gate. He rubbed his hands on the back of his jeans and took the reins. “I figured it out.”

  “Did you?”

  “You’re sending these horses into battle where there will be lots of loud, sudden noises. You’re getting them used to it so they don’t bolt into trouble.”

  “I knew you were a smart boy. And having you here makes it so much easier. I was stacking up buckets and cans and knocking them over as I rode by, but this is a lot more effective.”

  Joshua shrugged. “I should’ve seen it right away. But banging on a bucket is a long ways from cannon fire. How’re you going to get them ready for that?”

  Caleb opened the gate so Joshua could lead the horse out. “I guess we could always blow something up and see how they react.”

  Joshua stopped. “You can’t—” He grinned ruefully when he realized Caleb was teasing.

  “All right, we can’t blow up anything, but we’ll do the best we can. The bucket, a shotgun, a nice big smoky fire. We’ll put them through their paces as best we can, then when we turn them over to the military, they can take it from there. If we’ve already conditioned them not to jump at loud noises or get spooked over a little fire and smoke, they’ll be well on their way to making cavalry mounts.”

  The boy nodded and led the horse away.

  Caleb headed toward the water trough, dragging his hat off and dunking his head into the cool water. Straightening quickly, he flung droplets into an arc over his head. Rivulets ran down his face and neck, soaking his shirt but already beginning to evaporate. He swiped his forearm across his brow and resettled his hat. Time for some rest.

  Because Joshua had his back turned fifty yards away, Caleb went ahead and gave in to the ache in his ankle and limped over to the shade of the front porch. Dropping down into one of the chairs, he dug his fingertips into his left calf above the boot and kneaded. On days like today, when the ache persisted no matter if he was resting or working, wearing his brace seemed more and more attractive.

  And yet, he knew he wouldn’t. Not even when he was alone. If he didn’t use his leg, it would atrophy worse. And if anyone saw him in the brace, he’d be the object of pity, and that was something he refused to stomach.

  The new boots would help. The note from Doc Bates said they would arrive in a month or so, about the time for him to take a string of horses in to meet the train.

  Thinking of Doc Bates made his insides squirm. He’d never meant to reveal anything about his past, especially not his father, but something about Doc’s patience and acceptance made Caleb want to spill everything. Up to and including all about Patricia.

  His mind balked. Not Patricia. Never Patricia. He never wanted that name to pass his lips again. He certainly didn’t want to blab about it to Doc.

  Which reminded him, he’d best stop letting his mind wander to Meghan, too. He had more than enough evidence that his future held no place for a woman in it, and he was foolish to even daydream about a girl like Meghan. If she ever found out he was crippled, she’d run as far and as fast as Patricia had. So he had to make sure she didn’t find out, and the surest way to do that was to stay away from her.

  This Friday, when he went to town, he’d go to the station and deliver the horses, and head home. The hotel, the lunchroom, and Meghan Thorson were strictly off limits.

  “You’re sure he won’t mind us cutting through his property?” Meghan held her hat on her head as the hotel car bounced and jounced along the rutted road. Girls laughed and jostled, talked and sang all around her, but all Meghan’s thoughts were on Caleb McBride. The minute the excursion to the river had been voiced, she knew she would go along. Cajoling Natalie to join her had been the most difficult part.

  “He won’t care. We probably won’t even see him. We didn’t last time. Anyway, Doc comes out here to fish all the time, and he said Caleb wouldn’t care if we picnicked by the river.” Jenny turned in her seat and waved to the automobile behind them. Sunlight flashed off the windscreen and paintwork, as well as the twin rails of the railroad tracks parallel to the road.

  “I wonder what came over Mrs. Gregory to up and give the whole lot of us the afternoon off.”

  Natalie, a picnic basket balanced on her knees, dodged Jenny’s elbow. “She said the three-thirty had engine trouble and wouldn’t be coming through today, so we might as well have the time off, though she did promise at least half of us would have to help with the breakfast prep when we got back.”

  Jenny shrugged. “Who cares? A whole afternoon to paddle in the river, lay about in the shade, and be lazy. Look, there’s the turnoff.”

  They bumped over the railroad tracks and followed a narrow drive toward the smudge of green bushes that marked the riverbank.

  A plain, single-storied house came into view, drab and gray, with a rusty tin roof. A wide porch shaded the front of the structure, and miles of corral posts and rails wove in and around the house. Open-sided shade shelters stood at various angles, and horses dozed, lazily swishing their tails, heads down, standing still. Trying not to be obvious, Meghan took in as much as she could as the car bumped through the farmyard.

  She tapped Jenny on the shoulder. “Shouldn’t we stop and at least let him know we’re here?”

  “There’s someone.” Jenny pointed toward a low outbuilding. Meghan craned her neck, but the figure emerging from the building wasn’t Caleb. Blue-black hair and a slouching, lean look. Too young to be Caleb. She quelled her disappointment.

  The driver, one of the porters from the hotel, honked the horn. Jenny waved wildly, half rising from her seat. The young man waved back, and the car bounced on.

  The road dipped down into a cut with sandy walls rising on either side. Brushy trees and scrub bushes clung to the earth walls, obscuring their view of the house and corrals a few hundred yards away. A sandy spit of beach opened before them, and everyone piled out of the cars. Girls in high spirits continued to talk and tease as they unloaded blankets and baskets and belongings. Meghan took out her handkerchief to wipe the dust and grit from her face while she surveyed the beach. The river slapped against the bank in lazy, breeze-induced waves. Her spirits lifted at the sight of the water, and she couldn’t resist walking right down to the edge and trailing her fingers in the lukewarm liquid. The picnic area was in a small cove carved out of the sand, like sitting in a bowl. From here, they couldn’t see the house or very far up or downstream.

  “I’m going wading.” Jenny plopped down on the sand and tugged at her shoelaces. Her stockings followed, and she lifted her hem and strode into the water. “Ah, heavenly. I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks.”

  Several of the girls followed, but Meghan, mindful of her fair skin, headed back to the safety of the shade.

  Natalie joined her on a blanket, drawing her legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees. She covered a yawn. “I could stretch out right here and sleep the afternoon away. That’s what I was going to do before you talked me into coming out here.”

  Slight guilt skipped through Meghan’s heart, but she bumped shoulders with Natalie. “It’s cooler by the river than upstairs in our room. At least there’s a breeze.”

  Natalie nodded, stretched out on her side, and pillowed her head on her arm. “Wake me up when it’s time to go.”

  The girls laughed and splashed
. Another carload, this time of railroad men, joined the party, swelling the numbers to nearly twenty. Flirting and boisterous jesting became the rule of the day.

  Meghan rose and tugged Jenny away from a brawny switchman. “What are they doing here? What would Mrs. Gregory say? We’re forbidden to mix with the railroaders.”

  Jenny shrugged. “Who cares? Mrs. Gregory isn’t here. She said we could come to the river. If other people show up at the same time, we can’t be blamed, can we? Don’t worry so much.”

  When the men began splashing the girls, accompanied by shouts and screams, Meghan wandered upstream and around the jutting bank to get away from the noise. Natalie must be exhausted to slumber in spite of the activity.

  A hundred yards upstream, she found a patch of shade under a twisted juniper tree that hung over the water. Lifting her hem, she divested herself of shoes and stockings and poked her toes into the water. Her eyes closed, and a deep sigh relaxed her. Meghan loved being around people, but after awhile, she needed to be alone to let her soul fill up again. She sniffed the warm desert air, inhaling scents of water, mud, and tangy juniper. Sand trickled through her fingers as she breathed a prayer of thanks for this time alone.

  The ground thudded, and her eyes popped open. Coming toward her on her left, a horse and rider flew along the shallow edge of the river, sending up sheets of water. She yanked her feet back as the rider pulled the horse up a few yards away.

  Though his hat shaded his face, she knew him instantly.

  “Mr. McBride.” She tugged the hem of her skirt down as far as it would go, though it didn’t cover her bare feet and ankles. Deciding to stand, she pushed herself up and brushed the sand from her dress.

  He nudged his horse out of the water and slid to the ground, his eyes wide. “What are you doing out here? Are you lost?”

  She wet her lips and tried a laugh, but feared it didn’t sound natural. He was more handsome than she remembered. His worn shirt stretched across his shoulders, and he’d rolled up the sleeves to reveal muscular forearms. He had the long legs and lean waist of a natural horseman, and his face would turn any girl’s head for another look.

  “I’m not lost. There are a few of us from the hotel and rail yard having a picnic just around the bend.” She motioned toward the south. “You don’t mind, do you? I asked Jenny if we shouldn’t stop at the house and ask permission, but she said you wouldn’t care.” Her hands twisted in front of her, and she was very conscious of her bare feet.

  He looped his arm over the saddle and leaned into the horse, putting all his weight on one foot. “I don’t mind. You just surprised me, that’s all. I wasn’t expecting anyone along this stretch.” He patted the horse’s rusty-brown neck. “I was just taking the edge off this fellow. He had a long, tedious afternoon in the corral learning to respond to voice commands, and I thought he needed some of the cobwebs blown out with a good run along the river.”

  She edged forward and brushed the animal’s velvety nose. He whiffed her fingertips and submitted to a few pats before tossing his head and sidestepping away. “He’s a beauty, Mr. McBride.”

  “Smart and capable. He’ll be a good mount. And call me Caleb.” A smile quirked his lips. “How come you’re up here by yourself and not with the rest of the picnickers?”

  “It was getting pretty loud. I just wanted some time away from all the people and noise.”

  A shadow passed over his face, and he backed up a step. “I don’t mean to intrude. I’ll leave you alone then.”

  Her hand shot out and touched his arm, warm, masculine, with a dusting of blond-brown hair. “Please. I’d like you to stay.” Heat at her boldness crept into her cheeks, but she looked him in the eyes.

  He tilted his head, studying her for a moment, then, as if making up his mind, he tied the reins to a juniper branch and lowered himself to the sand.

  Meghan sat beside him, a few feet of sand between. “Have you always lived in Needles?”

  He shook his head, plucking a stem of long, dry grass from a clump under the juniper and breaking it into small pieces. Tossing them into the water, one by one, he watched them bob and drift. “No, I’ve only lived here a few months. I hail from Vermont originally. I live here because of the horses. The army rented the place because it was a good location along the railway.”

  “What do you do with the horses?”

  “Work them, condition them, train them.” Another inch of grass stalk voyaged southward. “Then I ship them east so the army can feed them to the war machine.” His face hardened. “This stupid, endless, murderous war.”

  “You don’t approve of the war?” Her eyes widened. Was he a German sympathizer?

  “Should anyone really approve of war?” His glance flicked toward her and then back to the river. The horse lowered his head to drink, making the bit jingle.

  “Well, no, but when it becomes necessary, it is our duty as citizens to stand up and fight the oppression of our allies. We cannot let the Kaiser overrun sovereign nations on a whim. He must be stopped, and it is the duty of every American citizen to do what they can to help reach that goal.” Her shoulders straightened, and her back stiffened.

  He laughed. “You sound like a recruitment poster.”

  Heat flooded her face, and a pebble of pride lodged in her throat. “And you, sir, sound like…like…” She faded to a stop.

  “Now, don’t take offense. I didn’t mean anything by it. Of course I think everyone should do their part to help America win the war. I save my paper, grease, and peach pits, just like everyone else.”

  Steering away from the topic of war, she asked, “Do you miss Vermont?”

  “I miss the green, and sometimes when it’s hot enough to melt rocks out here, I miss the snow.”

  “Not your family?”

  Again his face hardened, and she knew she’d touched another nerve. “I have no family to speak of.”

  “Not anyone?” She couldn’t comprehend what that must feel like. What would her life be like without having her parents and her brother; her aunts, uncles, cousins, even her grandparents back in the old countries?

  “Nobody who claims me, nobody I lay claim to.” He shrugged and threw the rest of the grass into the water.

  The isolation in his voice tugged at her. “That must be lonely.”

  He shrugged again. “Loneliness isn’t the worst hurt a man can endure.” Pushing himself upright, he stumbled and grabbed onto a low-hanging branch to steady himself. Stepping out of the shade, he judged the angle of the sun. “You’d best get back to the others. I imagine they’ll have eaten all the food by now. Anyway, I doubt your lady-boss would approve of you wandering off by yourself and keeping company with the likes of me.”

  Meghan gathered her shoes and stockings. This whole conversation had been so unsatisfactory somehow, and she wasn’t ready to let it go. Everything about this man intrigued her—his face and form, his mind, and above all, the bewildering sense of strength and vulnerability that tangled around him.

  “Will I see you again?”

  “I don’t go to town much. In case you hadn’t noticed, Needles doesn’t take too kindly to strangers. It’s like an island in the desert here. If you work for the hotel or the railroad, you can come from anywhere and be accepted, but if you come for any other reason, you’re measured by a different stick.”

  The thought of not seeing him left an empty place in her heart. He was a puzzle she needed to figure out, and somewhere inside him was a wound she felt compelled to heal.

  “There’s a social coming up on Friday to raise war funds. A dance at the hotel. I’d love it if you would come. The whole town is going to be there. Perhaps, if you came, the people of Needles would get to know you better and begin to accept you.”

  He chuckled and shook his head, loosening his horse’s reins from the tree. “A dance? At the hotel? I don’t think so. But thanks for the invitation. I’d best be getting back to the house before Joshua thinks I drowned in the river.”

&nb
sp; Swinging the horse around so the animal stood between them, he gave a one-legged hop and swung into the saddle. Touching his hat brim, he sent the horse flying along the water’s edge once more in the direction from which he had come.

  Meghan stood there watching him ride out of sight, wondering what it was about him that so intrigued her.

  Chapter 6

  It’s going to feel good to be dressed up for once and not in that uniform, don’t you think?” Meghan laid her primrose gown out on the bed and studied it. Organza, with barely off-theshoulder sleeves of ruffled lace, the dress had been her graduation gift from her parents.

  Natalie nodded without looking up, twirling a curl around her finger and reading a letter she’d received that day.

  Meghan tried again. “You’re going to look lovely. I wish I could wear pink, but alas, as a redhead, that is one color that is definitely off limits. My hair turns bright orange, and I look like I got sunburned. Redheads have to be so careful about the colors they wear. You, on the other hand, look stylish no matter what.” She sighed and picked up her own letter from home. “Mama wants to know if I can come home for a visit anytime soon or if I have to wait the whole six months. She says the mill is doing fine. The crops are growing well, and Papa is practically living at the mill. Lars sent another letter. I wish he’d write to me. I sent him my address. Still, I suppose when you’re a soldier, it’s all you can do to get one letter written from time to time, and he knows Mama will send along any news. He’s probably somewhere in France; that’s all we know. So much of his letter was redacted, it’s impossible to tell just where he is for sure.”

  “Hmm.”

  Meghan set her letter aside and went to the mirror to brush her hair. “A whole evening of dancing. Isn’t that wonderful? I haven’t danced since last fall, and that was a barn dance put on by the local farmers’ association. Tonight won’t be anything like that. Did you see the decorations? All those banners and bunting. Flags everywhere. I hardly recognized the loggia. I’ll tell you something, Mrs. Gregory might be a tartar when it comes to following the company rules, but she sure knows how to get things done. She’s more organized than an accountant and more vigilant than a Victorian governess. How many dances do you think there will be? And how many partners? Too bad that train full of soldiers pulled out. If they were here, I bet we’d be danced off our feet most of the night. Though it would seem wrong to take dimes from the very soldiers we’re trying to raise money for, wouldn’t it?”