by Linda George
“We eat beef a lot at home. It comes with living on a ranch.”
They ate in silence for a while. Their lull in conversation didn't feel uncomfortable in the least.
Tom forked the last bite of steak into his mouth, mashed the napkin against his lips, then pushed back from the table. “I get tired of it sometimes and crave chicken or pork. My father figures if we raise cattle, we ought to eat beef. Trina used to fry chickens now and then. Or, she'd make chicken and dumplings. I always looked forward to chicken night.”
“We've never had cattle. Lord knows I've seen many of them, though. When the herds come into Ft. Worth, we almost choke on their dust. It takes hours for them to get settled in the stockyards.”
“Do you have any other livestock?”
“My father owns five horses. One of them is really fast. They're fine stock. He's been offered a lot of money for the horse he races, but he would never part with any of them. I used to feed and groom them.” She stabbed a bite of steak with extra emphasis, remembering how her father had placed higher value on those horses than on his own daughter. This bite of steak seemed tougher than the rest.
“But you don't anymore.”
She smiled reluctantly. “Not anymore.” She pushed her plate back. “I can't eat another bite. Would you care to finish my steak? It would be a pity to waste it.”
“No, thanks. I'm full to bustin'.”
“Perhaps Josh would not be offended if we gave it to him to finish.”
“Great idea!” He pulled out his pocket watch, flipped the lid open and stared at the face for a second before pocketing the watch. “It's still early. Would you care to go for a walk?”
“That would be lovely.”
Tom paid the waiter and asked him to wrap the leftover steak in some brown paper, which he did. Tom pushed the bundle into his pocket, then offered his arm to escort Rosalie outside.
He knew he ought to take her back, since they'd finished eating, but he couldn't stomach returning to the Acre so soon after supper. He was tempted to rent a room for her at the hotel and send for her things later, or maybe he’d send Josh to fetch them. But with buying that new bull, and Paw's having to borrow the money to do it, Tom had no extra money to spend on this trip. In a few more days, they'd leave for Denver. Not a day too soon for Tom, and, he suspected, for Rosalie, as well.
Their walk was pleasant, in spite of lingering heat from the day. Tom pulled at his collar when sweat trickled down the back of his neck. Others out for an evening walk tugged the same way, proving Tom wasn't the only one sweating tonight.
“Is it always so blasted hot in Texas in the summer?”
“Always. Actually, this isn't as hot as usual. Only a hundred degrees today. In the shade.”
“A hundred in the shade? And you expect it to get hotter?”
“Quite a bit. August is always our hottest month. Before long, it'll reach a hundred and five, or more.”
“All the more reason to get to Denver as soon as possible.”
“Is it cooler there?”
“Seldom gets over eighty, and not so much of this blasted dust.” He swiped at his brow with one sleeve. They walked in silence a few steps. “I noticed your paw calls you Rosie.”
Her cheeks pinked. “I've asked him not to, but he persists. My mother's name was Rose Elizabeth. He called her Rose. I've always felt Rosie made me sound like…” She fussed with her sleeve.”
“Like one of the dance hall girls?”
She nodded. Her cheeks flamed.
“Believe me, no one would ever mistake you for a soiled dove.” He ducked his head, avoided her eyes.
“What is it? I can tell you were about to say something else.”
“Well, I apologized to you earlier in my mind, but I guess I'll do it again. When I saw your house in the Acre, I first suspected—” He took a deep breath. “That is, I didn't know for sure if you might not be—”
“I understand. It's perfectly all right. It's the very reason I've pestered my father for years to move to the northern part of Fort Worth. I can't stand being mistaken for...one of those unfortunate women.” Rosalie smiled. “As he told you, my father hates the word, 'proper.' He's heard it from me too often, I'm afraid.”
“I'll say it again. There's no chance of mistaking you for anything but a proper lady.” They stopped walking for a moment. The evening breeze was still uncomfortably warm. “I'll admit I wasn't wild about coming to escort you to Denver. But my father asked me to do it, and whatever he asks of me, I do.”
“That speaks well of you.”
“I've changed my feelings now, though.”
“Oh? How is that?” She took a deep, trembling breath, knowing what she wanted him to say.
He started to touch her arm, then hung both thumbs in his pockets instead. “I'll do whatever I can to get you out of the Acre and into Denver, where you can be a lady and live without having to explain who you are, or aren't.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she whispered.
They walked a few steps further.
“Tell me about your sister. I'm looking forward to meeting her.”
Tom laughed out loud. “Trina McCabe Hart. How can I describe her to you? Maybe it's best I don't. I'll wait and let you form your own opinion, then you can tell me what you think.”
“Fair enough,” she said quietly. “Thank you again for letting me go with you. It's been so long since I've visited someone...that is, someone nice.”
“I know what you mean. You'll like her, I promise. And she'll like you, too.”
“I hope so. I really should be getting back. I promised I'd tend to Mary.”
“Sure.” They started back toward the restaurant.
Tom helped her into the buggy and thought, for a minute, that he felt her tremble when he touched her arm. The sensation went all through him. Felt damn good, too.
When they neared The Yellow Rose, Sadie came running toward them, breathing hard, her face streaked with dirt.
“Rosie, you have to come right now. She's bleedin' bad.”
Rosalie's stomach knotted with the fear Mary might die because she hadn't been there. She'd only been gone an hour and a half, though, and this was Mary's first baby. First babies rarely came in less than a full day. “How far apart are her contractions?”
“Almost constant now. Worse labor I've ever seen.”
“Try not to worry. I'll know what's happening as soon as I've had a chance to examine her.”
Rosalie and Sadie hurried inside while Tom tied the horse. He didn't feel comfortable going inside, but they might need him for something. What, he had no idea.
He felt his way down a dark, stinking hallway, heard screams coming from the room at the far end and stopped just outside the door. The screams ceased abruptly. In a minute, the door opened and Rosalie came out, her face pale and wet with tears.
“What happened?”
“From the looks of it, the baby was dead inside her for at least a week. Poisoned her whole system. She bled to death.” She pushed past him, rushed down the hall and outside. He heard her retching. The sound of weeping women came from the death room.
Outside, Tom handed Rosalie his handkerchief to wipe her mouth, then gathered her into his arms to cry.
“If I'd been here earlier, then maybe I could have done something to help her.”
“Sounds like something even a doctor couldn't fix. You shouldn't blame yourself.”
“Of course I should. Instead of coming here, to be with her, I chose to go to supper with you. I should've been here, even if there was nothing I could do. These women depend on me.”
Rosalie dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief and tried to stop crying. She'd been through this so many times, it shouldn't bother her as much as it did. But, inflicting her grief on Tom McCabe was unforgivable.
“Rosalie, sometimes things happen whether you're there or not. Her death isn't your fault.”
&nb
sp; “You're right, of course. There's no one to blame. It's just how things are when you live in hell.”
Chapter 4
Tom came for Rosalie in the buggy just before daybreak the next morning. It wasn't far to Gabriel's ranch, but Tom had never been there so he wanted plenty of time to find it, with daylight to spare. As though daylight might ever be sparse in Texas. When the sun came up, the temperature jumped from a heavy eighty-five into the nineties. They could expect a scorcher for sure.
“Now, tell me about your ranch.”
Tom grinned. Rosalie hadn't stopped talking since they'd left Fort Worth. Cattle, horses, Texas weather, Indians, cowboys, she had opinions on everything. Surprisingly, Tom agreed with most of what she said.
“The McCabe Ranch. Twelve hundred acres. Horses and cattle. Miles of fence that always needs mending.”
“So, your land is fenced.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Some ranchers are offended by other men's fences.”
“That's certainly true, but finding cattle that have wandered halfway to Wyoming takes more time than we have. Besides my two brothers and me, we have a dozen hands. Still not enough to keep strays rounded up outside of our own land.”
“Do you ever find your fences have been cut or damaged?”
“Sometimes.”
Rosalie didn't press. He didn't seem interested in talking about his ranch. His reluctance piqued her interest. It would be impolite to prod a man into talking when he wasn't of a mind to. But an opportunity like this couldn’t be ignored.
“You don't seem enthusiastic when you talk about your ranch. Forgive me for asking, but why is that?”
Tom stared straight ahead for a long moment before he answered.
“I told you about tick fever taking a sizable portion of our herd, including both our bulls. There isn't money to buy another bull. My father will have to borrow the money. We already owe the bank a pretty big chunk from herd expansion during the past two years, so losing a lot of those new cows to this damn...excuse me, ma'am...this blasted fever is putting us in a real bind.” Tom hung his head and shook it slowly.
She saw immediately how distressed he was. “I'm terribly sorry. I never should've asked such a personal question.”
He grinned. “Don't worry yourself about it. I'm just wondering why I answered the way I did.”
“I don't understand.”
“Never mind.”
They rode along in silence for a while. Tom tried to figure out why he'd told her the whole truth. Normally tight-lipped about the running of the ranch, people accused him sometimes of being downright unfriendly. But he considered McCabe business to be McCabe business, dammit! That is, until Rosalie Kincannon asked why his enthusiasm had run dry. Damn. What could he have been thinking, to tell her all that? She'd think they were dirt poor, which they weren't. And what she thought about him mattered. He wondered for a moment why it mattered as much as it did.
He shifted on the hard seat. Sitting so long on a buggy seat always made his butt go to sleep. He preferred a saddle for a long trip any time.
“How did you get here, Tom?” Her cheeks pinked at the familiarity her use of his given name suggested.
He liked the sound of his name on her lips.
I rode the train from Denver to Lubbock. Paw has a friend there he's known for the better part of forty years who has a bull we want to buy. I went to make arrangements to bring that bull to Denver. Then, I came on south to Fort Worth.”
“It would certainly help if the railroad came straight from Denver to Fort Worth, wouldn't it?”
“No reason to go that direction from Fort Worth. Railroad is primarily for transporting cattle north.”
“I know. Don't you think, though, the railroads will eventually go everywhere? I've dreamed of the day when I can board a train and see every major city in the country, coast to coast, without skipping a single one.”
“I reckon you could do that now. You just couldn't go straight to Denver from Fort Worth. Not yet, anyway.”
“Soon, maybe.”
A far-away look came into her eyes. Tom understood why she dreamed of leaving Hell's Half Acre. He thought about all the cities he’d been to and wished he could show all of them to Rosalie. The thought made him happy in a way he couldn’t remember feeling before.
<><><><>
They arrived at Gabriel's ranch way before noon. Tom spied the house when he crested the hill overlooking the ranch. There, in the front yard hanging clothes on a line to dry, stood a woman with red hair and a huge belly.
“Trina!” Tom urged the horse into a faster trot.
“Tom!” She hurried around the back of the house as fast as a pregnant woman could hurry and came back with Gabriel in tow just as the buggy pulled up out front.
Trina hugged Tom until they were both breathless. Gabriel shook his hand a dozen times, grinning like a possum.
Tom remembered his manners, finally, and motioned for Rosalie to come forward and be introduced.
“Trina, Gabriel, this is Miss Rosalie Kincannon. I'll be escorting her to Denver. Rosalie, this is my sister, Katrina McCabe Hart, and her husband, Gabriel.”
Trina grinned until Tom wondered if her face might freeze that way. Why hadn't he anticipated her reaction to his showing up with an unmarried woman? She'd jump to conclusions for sure, just as she'd done her whole life.
Gabriel tipped his hat to Rosalie. “Welcome to the Hart Ranch, Miss Kincannon.”
“I'm pleased to meet both of you. I hope my coming won't inconvenience you. I'm certainly willing to help with chores or cooking.”
“Hells bells, that's music to my ears! With this baby due any minute now, it would be a pleasure to set the table while someone stirs the soup. Gabriel has helped a lot, but having another woman around…” Her cheeks turned as red as poppies.
“No need to rattle on and on, Trina.” Gabriel nudged her elbow. “It's no secret that I'm no cook.”
Rosalie saw in his eyes and heard in his voice that his scolding came not from anger, but from a deep love for his wife. Rosalie envied Trina McCabe Hart so intensely, tears filled her eyes.
“Oh, my, he didn't mean it. Look what you've done, Gabriel. She thought you were serious.”
“No, that isn't it at all.” Rosalie hurried to explain. I just...that is, you seem to...to love each other so much.” Rosalie pulled a hanky from her bodice and dabbed at her eyes. “I just filled up with happiness for you and it spilled out my eyes. I apologize.”
Trina grabbed her arm. “Come into the house. I can see you and I have a lot of talking to do. Gabriel, help Tom with the horse and buggy, and bring in some water when you come, please.” She leaned toward Rosalie and confided, “I can't tote that heavy bucket without sloshing water all over this big belly. Would you like some tea? It's all right if I call you Rosalie, isn't it? You may call me Trina, of course. I noticed Tom is calling you Rosalie and not Miss Kincannon. How long have you known each other?”
Gabriel and Tom watched the women disappear inside.
“Hasn't changed a bit, has she?” Tom shook his head.
“Nope. Thank the Lord. Let's tend to your horse.”
In the barn, Tom brushed the horse down while Gabriel prepared a stall with fresh hay and water and a bucket of oats. Tom didn't quite know how to talk to his brother-in-law. Gabriel had stayed at the McCabe Ranch while waiting for word that Blackburn, the man he'd been hunting, had been spotted. After Blackburn died, Gabriel turned his whole heart and soul toward Trina. Two weeks later, resisting all suggestions they should wait longer and go through the normal round of parties and preparation, they got married and headed for Texas. During those weeks at the ranch, Tom hadn't had much of a chance to get to know Gabriel better. Other than cattle and a certain redhead, they didn't have much in common.
They left the barn and came inside to get cleaned up for dinner. Delicious smells filled the huge kitchen Gabriel had added to the house. Trina had written to them about it at
least three times. The women fussed over setting the table, stirring whatever bubbled on the stove, giving off that mouth-watering aroma, and filling glasses with water from the well.
“Chicken and dumplings. My favorite,” Gabriel said. “Yours, too, Tom, to hear her tell it.”
“Yep. Haven't had decent dumplings since she left.” Tom gave his sister a wink.
“Supper will be ready in a little while. You can wait in the front room.”
They sat on a leather couch facing the fireplace, which wouldn't be used for months. In Denver, they'd be having morning fires in September, but not here. Tom surveyed the room and found signs of his sister everywhere. Crocheted blankets and doilies, covering furniture Gabriel probably had in the house before they were married. The furniture he and his first wife, Hannah, God rest her soul, had put in the house. Books seemed to be everywhere, on shelves and stacked on the floor beside Trina’s rocker. Wherever Trina went, books would never be in short supply.
“Tom, the last letter we got said you'd lost a lot of cattle.” Gabriel spoke with concern. “How many do you have left?”
“Barely enough to keep the ranch alive, if we had a bull.”
“I'll gladly give you the first bull calf that's born next spring. We have only the one right now. But the next one is yours.”
“Thanks, Gabriel.” Trina had married a good man. “Paw has a friend in Lubbock who's willing to sell us a bull. He'll cost aplenty, though. We're having to borrow the money.”
“Any problem?”
Tom shook his head. “We've been banking with Richard Strickler for twenty years. He's already told everyone he's leaving the bank this year, turning it over to one of his sons, but our loan will be in place by then, and, with any luck and diligence on the part of that bull, we ought to be able to pay back every penny in two years.”
Trina appeared at the door to the front room. “Dinner's ready. If you don't come now, that pig out back is going to be mighty grateful to have chicken and dumplings tonight.” She didn't have to call them twice.
They sat down. Trina said grace, then Gabriel dished the chicken and dumplings into bowls and passed them around. Rosalie pulled a pan of hot biscuits from the oven, tipped them into a basket then covered them with a dish cloth to keep them warm. The basket was passed around, too, then they dug into the feast.