A Family for the Rancher

by Louise M. Gouge

  “Can’t I go for you, Ma?” Calvin followed her outside.

  “Just help me hitch up the wagon.” Her stepson would find out soon enough about the trouble she was bringing home. She needed to be present when each one of her children met Uncle.

  As she drove toward Little Horn, her pulse raced, and her heart filled with dread. If she’d been swept away in the flood this afternoon, Uncle might have come out to her ranch and taken over the children’s lives, as he’d tried to do to hers years ago. Might still try to do. She would fight him all the way, but who knew what he’d throw at her. She’d decided not to mention the necklace to him. Would let him do all the talking, then figure out how to deal with whatever scheme he had up his sleeves.

  Sure enough, he stood on the rain-soaked platform, frowning as he checked his pocket watch and tapping his foot impatiently. He was just as she remembered him, although with considerably more wrinkles on his pasty round face. As stout as he’d always been, he wore a rumpled tan suit, a white shirt and a black string tie. Straw-like gray hair stuck out from beneath the broad brim of his white hat. A red tapestry carpetbag sat at his feet, and, as always, his silver-headed ebony cane hung on his left arm. Lula May’s back ached at the memory of the few times he’d used it on her. If he tried to use it on the children, she didn’t know what she’d do, but she’d stop him one way or another.

  “Well, there you are.” He scowled at her and emitted a curse word she hadn’t heard in eleven years. “Look at you, girlie. What a disgusting sight. But I didn’t expect anything better of you. Don’t you ever take a bath? Don’t you even own a dress?”

  For the briefest instant, Lula May couldn’t figure out what he was talking about. Then she looked down at her muddy trousers and mismatched boots. Felt the tangled, mud-caked strings of her hair hanging over her shoulders. More memories of his past cruel remarks rose up to taunt her, accompanied by the bile rising up in her throat. For another brief instant, she started to answer in kind to this despicable man. Started to tell him to take the next train out of town and never try to come back into her life.

  But what if he carried out his threats? What if he could have her arrested and put in jail? A quick glance down the street revealed Sheriff Fuller going door to door, probably checking up on everyone after the storm. If given the right evidence, even if it was a lie, would he arrest her?

  Lula May swallowed hard and glared at Uncle. “Where’s the rest of your baggage?” She might have to endure his presence, but she didn’t have to be pleasant to him. At least not until they got to the ranch, where she’d need to set an example for the children.

  “Hey, Miz Barlow.” Amos Crenshaw, the middle-aged stationmaster, emerged from the depot and gave her his usual friendly smile that crinkled his deeply tanned complexion. “This fine gentleman tells me he’s your uncle and he’s come to live with you.” His hazel eyes were lit with good humor, as always. “You’re a lucky lady, being a widow and all, to have a close relative come out here to help you.” He tipped his round black stationmaster’s hat at Uncle and then placed the carpetbag into the back of the wagon. “Mr. Jones, I’ll have that trunk loaded into Miz Barlow’s wagon as soon as I find my helper.” He hurried off.

  Lula May snorted. Uncle was still the same fine gentleman who’d always put on airs and fooled people into believing he was good to the bone.

  “Where did you learn such an unladylike sound?” Uncle climbed into the wagon, huffing out heavy breaths. “From the local cowboys?” In spite of his condemning tone, he opened his arms as if to embrace her.

  Lula May instinctively pulled back. “Don’t touch me.”

  Uncle’s expression turned uglier than usual as he lowered his arms. “Had no plan to touch you, girlie, filthy as you are.”

  “Here you go.” Mr. Crenshaw and his son, James, lugged the round-topped trunk along the platform and hefted it into the back of the wagon. “Y’all have a good day, y’hear?” He lifted that round hat in another salute.

  “Much obliged, sir.” Uncle’s face grew jolly. “You have a good day, too. And may the good Lord bless you.”

  Lula May’s churning stomach twisted even tighter. While waiting for her to arrive, Uncle must have learned that Mr. Crenshaw was a church deacon and now sought to impress the man with his own “saintly” ways. Knowing Mr. Crenshaw, by nightfall he’d have it all over town how fortunate she was to have a godly relative come to take care of her.

  Pasting on a smile, she waved at the two men on the platform and then turned her team toward the road out of town.

  “Girlie, you manage these horses just like a man, but don’t you dare take that as a compliment. Ladies should never soil their hands with driving wagons.”

  As if a day hadn’t passed since he’d seen her, Uncle launched into his old habit of criticizing everything and everyone. She’d brought a wagon instead of a proper buggy, and riding in a wagon was beneath the dignity of a man of his importance. From the looks of the town, he didn’t think it was fit for decent people to live in. He was ashamed to be seen with her because she looked like a drowned cat.

  She held back another snort. He had no idea how close that last insult came to reality. Rather than defending herself or explaining what had happened during the storm, Lula May clamped her mouth shut and prayed for grace to endure whatever Uncle planned to dish out for however long he planned to stay.

  * * *

  After Edmund learned from Abel, his foreman, that all the cattle had weathered the storm without injury, he washed the mud off his hair and clothes at the newly refilled water tank by the barn. Then he went inside, changed into a fresh outfit and headed into town. He was too tired to fix a meal, yet hungry as a bear from all of that activity during the storm. Lula May’s cooking had spoiled him, so he’d made up his mind to eat at Mercy Green’s café. At least this way he’d have something decent for supper. He couldn’t do it every night, but it would give him a chance to check up on Mercy’s son, Alec. For a boy raised in the city, Alec had done pretty well last week in spite of a twisted ankle on Saturday. To his credit, he hadn’t cried as Edmund checked it for a possible break. With his father working for the railroad and gone most of the time, the boy had eaten up the attention Edmund and his hands had given him.

  Up ahead of him on the road, a wagon lumbered into view coming from town. Even at a distance, it wasn’t hard to make out Lula May driving the horses or that a man was seated beside her. Edmund’s heart dipped a bit. Maybe she’d been so quiet about her life because she’d taken another mail-order husband. The thought was so unexpected and so depressing, Edmund turned his horse off into a side road and hid like a coward behind a stand of trees.

  As soon as they’d passed by, he wanted to kick himself. From the way Lula May leaned away from the portly old man, she wasn’t pleased to be in his company. Was she in danger? Should he ride after them?

  No, that would be a mistake. Lula May didn’t seem scared, just...well, disgusted. Maybe the man had brought bad news. Whatever the reason, Edmund still felt called of the Lord to watch out for her, at least from a distance. Except in this situation, he had no idea what to do. It wasn’t like he could barge into her house and demand to know who the old coot was.

  Whoa. No need to insult the man when he could very well be a fine, upstanding citizen. One would think Edmund was jealous. Well, he wasn’t. No sir. Lula May could have company anytime she wanted to, and it was none of his business.

  As he turned Zephyr back toward town, his appetite didn’t seem quite so sharp. He gazed up into the evening sky and shook his head. “Lord, are You sure I’m still supposed to be watching out for Lula May? Or did You just want me to stick around until I needed to pull her out of that arroyo today?” For which she hadn’t managed so much as a simple thank-you. Not that she’d had a chance, but still— “If You’ve sent a replacement protector, please let me know before I make a foo
l of myself.”

  In truth, from the way his heart had dropped just seeing her with another man, it was already too late. He was forced to admit that he cared about her. Cared about her a whole heap. But maybe this was best. He’d never planned to court her. Now there was probably no danger of that happening accidentally.

  “Whew! See what I escaped?” He leaned down and patted Zephyr’s neck. “No, sir. I have no plans to court Lula May or any other female.” He thought about her stubbornness, her peevishness, for a moment. “Especially not Lula May.”

  The stallion responded with a toss of his head and a hearty whicker. If Edmund actually believed his horse understood him, he’d think he’d just been scolded.

  * * *

  As Lula May reined the horses toward the house, the children came out to greet her, just as she’d known they would. All the way home, she’d tried to think of how to protect them from Uncle’s cruel words. She couldn’t be with each one of them as they went about their various chores. Calvin and Samuel might be old enough to shrug off any criticism because they’d been around tough cowboys all their lives. But the younger ones, especially Jacob, could easily be hurt, maybe for life.

  From the bewildered expressions on all of their faces, she could see the importance of taking charge before Uncle spoke. With a deep breath, she put on the most pleasant smile she could manage and jumped down from the driver’s bench.

  “Children, come say hello to Mr. Floyd Jones. He’ll be staying with us for a few days.”

  Uncle clambered to the ground, chuckling like Clement Moore’s jolly old elf in “’Twas the Night Before Christmas.”

  “Now, now, Lula May, you do not expect my niece and nephews to call me Mr. Jones, do you?” If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was as wounded as his tone suggested. “Miss Barlow.” He gave Pauline a courtly bow, and she gave him her sweetest, most accepting smile. “Gentlemen.” He honored each of her four sons with a nod. “I am your mama’s uncle Floyd, and that is what you must call me.”

  The children turned confused, questioning gazes on Lula May.

  “That’s right. This is my uncle Floyd. Calvin and Samuel, will you please unload his trunk and then see to the horses and wagon?” How would she manage the other three? Fully aware of the mud caked all over her, at least what the rain hadn’t washed off after her near drowning, she could only think of one solution. She gave them a playful grin and beckoned to them. “Come with me to the horse trough and help me get rid of all this mud.” She waved a hand toward the house. “Uncle, go sit a spell in the kitchen.” He’d have plenty to complain about when he saw that messy room. “We’ll have you some supper shortly.”

  Not waiting for a reply, she marched off toward the barn with her children in tow. She didn’t trust Uncle alone in the house, but she trusted him even less with the children if she wasn’t there to deflect any cruel thing he might say to them.

  Once at the side of the barn, she gave each child a bucket, then took off her boots and stepped into the horse trough. “I want you to pour water over me until this mud’s all gone.”

  Giggling with delight, the children took turns dousing her with bucket after bucketful of the cold rainwater until she was once again soaked to the skin and her clothes were moderately free of mud. It would have to do.

  When Calvin and Samuel joined her, her oldest stepson took charge of the questioning. “Who’s that man, Ma? You never told us you had a living relative.”

  She gazed around at the sweet, innocent looks in all of their eyes. Other than the cattle rustling, which hadn’t touched their family yet and probably never would, they’d never seen true evil up close. How could she explain Uncle without making them scared to be in the same house with him? The Lord knew she was scared to be with the old man, so she lifted a silent prayer for wisdom.

  “We didn’t have the best parting when I came out here to marry your pa eleven years ago.” She took a reluctant step toward the house. The longer Uncle was alone, the more chances he had to sneak around her house. Two days ago in anticipation of his coming, she’d hidden all of her important papers in the secret place Frank had devised in the office. She hadn’t had a chance to lock the office, but a locked door had never stopped Uncle.

  “Maybe he came out to make amends.” Ever the optimist, Samuel spoke with a hopeful tone.

  Lula May held on to a bitter laugh trying to burst out of her. “We’ll see. You all treat him with respect, but...” She clamped down on a warning to ignore anything he might say that was hurtful.

  Stopping at the back door, she made eye contact with each of her precious children. Her two stepsons traded a look and gave her a nod. Understanding seemed to fill their eyes. Her own children stared at her, their eyes round.

  To her surprise, Calvin took over where she’d left off. “Treat him with respect and good manners, just like you taught us, eh, Ma?”

  “That’s right, son.” Lula May felt a bit of the weight shift off her chest. “Pauline, honey, run get me a towel so I don’t track water all the way to my room.”

  Her daughter dashed indoors to obey. Lula May prayed Uncle wouldn’t waylay her.

  “Jacob and Daniel, you go set the table. Samuel, are the cows milked?” If she spread them out with chores, she’d have a chance to change clothes before gathering them all to help with supper.

  “It’s all done, Ma.” Calvin gave her his cute grin that all the girls at church liked so much.

  “We didn’t know where or how long you’d be gone,” Samuel said, “but we figured we’d all have to eat.”

  “You gotta forgive Calvin for the tough biscuits.” Jacob snickered as he talked, and Calvin responded by ruffling Jacob’s hair. Teasing his older brother was something new for Jacob, something she needed to thank Edmund for, along with saving her life.

  As if hearing her thoughts about the man, Daniel said, “Sure do wish Mr. McKay was coming to supper tonight.” He poked his thumb into his mouth, a sign that her anxiety about Uncle was rubbing off on him. For his sake, she needed to hide her emotions better.

  His brothers voiced their agreement with Daniel, which sent an odd prickle down Lula May’s spine. If Edmund were here, it would certainly make things...interesting.

  As she stepped into the mudroom, she caught the aroma of must-go stew, the children’s favorite concoction of leftovers because it never tasted the same. Whatever they had in the icebox was dumped into the pot and generously flavored with onions and a few sprigs of cilantro and served over biscuits. What clever children she had. Her stomach rumbled, but fortunately not loud enough for Uncle to hear through the doorway. According to what he’d always said, real ladies never let on they were hungry. She’d never been able to figure out how a person could keep a growling stomach quiet.

  Once Pauline brought the towel and Lula May had patted herself as dry as possible, she entered the kitchen, expecting to see the mess she’d left in a hurry two hours ago. Instead, the room was as nearly spotless as a kitchen could be while meal preparations were in progress. The floor was swept. Counters were wiped down. Cooking utensils washed and put away. Only her cast-iron pot bubbled on the stove, and a pan of biscuits sat on the counter covered with a tea towel. Tears stung Lula May’s eyes, and for the first time since she’d received Uncle’s first letter, she felt sure that she and the children would make it through this trial.

  The feeling lasted for about three seconds. Then she looked at Uncle’s oily, ingratiating smile, and her stomach turned.

  Chapter Seven

  Edmund spooned another bite of stew into his mouth and chewed on the tough meat. Lula May’s stew had been tastier, the gravy thicker and the meat more tender. Her biscuits were lighter, her coffee tastier and her family better company than the empty chair across from him in Mercy Green’s café.

  He heaved out a sigh. Lula May had spoiled hi
m, that was certain. How she could manage everything from cooking to keeping house to raising five children to breeding and training prime cow ponies, and do it all very well, was beyond him. No wonder she was so independent. She didn’t need a man to take care of her like his sister-in-law Betsy needed his brother Josiah. Not that Edmund thought he should take care of Lula May any further than the Lord directed from one day to the next. No, sir. He had enough to do what with running his own place and participating in the cattlemen’s association. Those rustlers had to be stopped, so Edmund didn’t have time to involve himself with a woman. Besides, there was still the matter of his preference for peace and quiet in the evening.

  Against his better judgment, he ordered a slice of apple pie topped with cream. He didn’t expect it to live up to Lula May’s, and he was right. Maybe Mercy used a different kind of apple because this pie was tart as all get out.

  “’Evening, McKay.” Hank Snowden entered the café and hung his hat on a peg by the door. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Have a seat.” Edmund waved him to the empty chair.

  Before he could whisper a warning, Snowden ordered a bowl of stew. Mercy brought it right out, and he dug in. “Boy, this is good. Best I’ve tasted in a long while.”

  Edmund considered contradicting his friend, but decided against it. No need to tempt another bachelor, a good-looking one at that, to ride out and sample Lula May’s cooking. Oh, no. There he went again, thinking about that pretty, blue-eyed widow lady when he should be asking Lucas Bennett’s representative at the cattlemen’s meetings about work.

  “How’d your herd make out today during the storm?”

  “Not too bad.” Snowden chewed into a biscuit that looked about as tough as the hardtack Edmund had eaten during his few seafaring days. “We didn’t get hit by the storm as bad as you folks over there on the west side of the county. How about you?”