Brekka would feed her, and put her back in her pen, and then attempt to make it more baby goat proof—which would work for a day or two, and then Hollyhock would figure out how to free herself another way and Brekka would start all over again on her pen. Brekka would have just let her run free, except that she wasn’t safe running loose, and she tended to leave little round baby goat droppings on the front porch in front of the door where she would wait for Brekka to appear at feeding time. She also wrought complete havoc in the garden and on the flowers Brekka was trying to coax into thriving in the ranch yard.
Still, Lije had been right. Over the next weeks, Hollyhock definitely cheered everyone on the ranch with her adorably cute little personality and antics.
Mertie Mae Orland didn’t notice Luther Olafson standing in the back row of the mercantile seemingly looking at a basket of driving gloves as she chatted away happily with the clerk who was filling her order. It was a large order and when the clerk commented on it, Mertie Mae said, “Yes, I’m helping cook for the men at the summer roundup this year. Seems that there are a passel more hands this year than last chasing a passel more cows. Nearly every able-bodied hand in this area will be there needing vittles. Bishop Lauritzen said he’d heard I had quite a reputation as a cook and asked if I’d be willing to pitch in to help the other camp cook. Now, could I turn a request like that down? I daresay not.”
She added with a conspiratorial stage whisper, “Myrtle and Gertie will helping me out and who knows but when those young hands see them and taste their cooking, what romance will happen at the roundup?” She laughed and helped herself to a horehound drop. “Could be the start of something wonderful! If I don’t say!”
When all of her purchases were packaged, the clerk helped her make the several trips to load them all into her wagon parked at the boardwalk outside. On one of the trips back inside, Mertie Mae noticed a man standing in the back aisle and felt her skin prickle as he looked up and met her eye. She’d seen him around town before, but she couldn’t remember who he was. Not that it mattered.
Shrugging off her touch of anxiety, she climbed up onto the wagon seat and headed out to where the camp cook had set up his wagon on the flat east of town. She was an accomplished cook, but these next couple of days were going to be busy and maybe even a little nerve-racking. Still, if one of her girls happened to find themselves a suitor, it would all be worth it.
Back in the mercantile behind the row of shelves, Luther Olafson paused, lost in thought. If the men were all at the roundup, Brekka would finally be alone. She hadn’t agreed to be with him willingly, but time was running out on his chance to speculate on the future railroad and he was getting desperate. He had to have the capital from her and her father to make his investments and it wouldn’t matter if she was willing if he simply took her from that ruffian Lauritzen’s place. Once she was away, he could do as he wished with her money. And with her. She was an uncommonly beautiful woman.
Lije opened the door one clear summer morning to head out to work when a tiny gray tornado tore past him, bleating for all she was worth and made a bee line for Brekka through the house in the kitchen. Laughing, Lije kept on walking as he said over his shoulder, “Whoa, there, Hollyhock! Watch out, Brekka! She’s headed your way!”
Brekka glanced down as the tiny gray beast skidded on the wood flooring and then stood on her hind legs with her teeny front ones reared up on Brekka’s knees, bleating like she was starving. Shaking her head, Brekka laughed as well and said a phrase she’d learned here in America, “Well, for the love of Pete, Hollyhock. You take yourself right back out that door. Decent folks do not have little goats in their houses! Now out! Shoo. Shoo.”
Setting down the dishes she was getting ready to wash, she reached and picked up the tiny beast and kept cheerfully admonishing her, “We’ll have none of this, young lady. No goatsies in the house. Now out you go until I get my kitchen straightened. You aren’t going to starve right to death in fifteen minutes. Out with you, now.”
She set the goat out the door and quickly shut it before she could squeeze back in and then shook her head to herself, smiling as she went back in to finish her dishes. That little beast was going to be the death of them.
Half an hour later, she finally resorted to tying Hollyhock up in order to be able to work in the garden without Hollyhock undoing every bit of work she did faster than she could do it. The wee goat was adorable, but she was a miniature destruction crew in the garden.
No one saw the shadow that slipped over the top of the ridge across the valley and slowly crawled around a handful of boulders until he settled into the deep shadows of a Manzanita bush. The trail into the valley was guarded night and day and ever since last winter he’d never been able to get past the men there. But he’d finally found a way to get a glimpse of the building where he believed the girl with the shining hair was staying. It had been a near straight up climb to the ridge, but maybe today he’d find out for sure if the rumors of the girl being here were true.
Holding still, and with the patience of nearly a year’s wait, White Stone studied the valley below him. This ranch appeared to be nearly a small village with several outbuildings and workers moving around like a hive of bees in one place or another. Some were tending to livestock, cattle in particular. There were several groups of cows that they seemed to be sorting into groups, and herds of sheep and goats, with chickens roaming near the barns. In a long corral there was a whole herd of fine horses and White Stone made a note of exactly where, because in time, he fully intended to find a way to come back and steal that herd. After he had the girl for his own, of course.
In one place, there was a man pounding something with a hammer near a fire, and across the way, there were men driving teams of massive horses dragging something on the ground behind them making long row like marks in the dirt.
Near the building in the center, there was a square place that had been cleared and plants were growing in rows. It had a fence around it, and nearby, there were two poles with a rope strung between them with something hanging on the rope, flapping in the breeze. In several places, he saw spots of bright color, although he had no idea from this distance what they could be.
There was a gray dog wandering about. No, as he studied it, it wasn’t a dog. It didn’t have a dog’s gait. He couldn’t tell from there what it was, but it simply moved about the area near the building in the center.
In watching, he counted sixteen people, but he didn’t see the girl with the striking golden hair. Even from this distance, he had no doubt that he’d be able to distinguish that remarkable white gold hair. He let a long breath out silently. Maybe the information he’d received was wrong. Maybe the girl was long gone from this country. In all these months, he’d never gotten even a glimpse of her, although several others had told him they believed she was near.
Feeling let down, he resolved to wait for another couple of hours until the shadows lengthened. He could see the rifleman watching from the point of rocks overlooking the whole valley and knew that movement could be easily seen. He’d wait, and then try again elsewhere. It was only a matter of time before he either found her and took her for his own, or made sure that she was indeed gone from his land. Giving up never crossed his mind.
He closed his eyes for a long moment to rest them from the intense searching and then, miraculously, when he opened them, she was there, her hair shining in the afternoon sunlight. The object of his hopes and dreams and passions was just down there in that lovely meadow. Only the sight didn’t make him overjoyed as he thought it would. Instead he felt anger surge through his veins. She was with child! His woman was with child with another man’s child! No doubt the man he had come to begrudgingly admire, but also hate with the bitter heat of jealousy. She was with child!
He clenched his fists and swore a silent oath. This should not have happened! She was to be his woman! She was to bear him tall warrior sons! Or lovely maidens with hair like hers and the grace of a doe in the silen
t forest! Not another man’s child! Not another man’s stupid pale child who would grow up to take more and more of his people’s lands! This should not have happened!
He watched her there below him, awkwardly carrying something in a large basket and hanging it on the rope with the other things, then doing something inside the fenced area with the plants, her gait slightly ungraceful and out of balance from her growing belly. Even the fact that she was no longer the lithe, graceful creature he had been envisioning these long months made him angry. Another man’s child! When he finally had her, he would kill the child the moment she delivered it! Or he would talk to the wise woman about something that would make it die even before it was born! This should never have happened and he would kill it first thing! No woman of his would keep another man’s child!
On laundry day Brekka had to resort to tying Hollyhock again so she could get the clothes hung on the line without Hollyhock grabbing something in her mouth and racing around the yard with it as fast as she could get her tiny legs to travel. It was no doubt that she thought her stolen articles of clothing were personal trophies. Brekka laughed at her, but tied the little thief up anyway to save the clean laundry from all the little tiny cloven hoof prints. When she could no longer run, Hollyhock walked over and calmly climbed right into the basket and plopped down as if to have a little nap. Brekka shook her head and dumped the little goat out and moved the basket to where she couldn’t reach it from her tether.
Brekka was still out there when Lije came in from the west pasture. He took in the scene, including the sheets on the line with the little hoof prints and couldn’t quite stifle his grin and Brekka said, “Our wee escape artist let herself out again.”
Lije went and picked up the little culprit and said, “Okay, it’s back to kid goat prison for you, little one. No more torturing the beautiful laundress. Off to bed. Tell Momma Brekka goodnight.”
Right on cue, Hollyhock let out a hearty bleat and Brekka and Lije laughed as he headed for the goat barn. As he walked away, Brekka said, “Don’t forget to feed her. I don’t want her to have to go to bed hungry.”
As he walked, Lije said to the little goat, “I can see where this is going right now. Our children will be chubby little tubbies so that they don’t have to go to bed at bedtime and Momma will let them get away with it.”
When he got to the barn, the little goat’s pen was still securely shut. Looking around, he said, “Now, how in tarnation did you get out?”
It didn’t take him long to find out. He fed the little goat her bottle, then set her inside and in less than ten seconds, she went to the back corner of the pen where there was a board that was slightly out from the one above it. Hollyhock put her front feet on the top of it and then nimbly as you please she hopped from one tiny ledge of wood to another and zipped up the wall like the most agile of mountain goats. At the top of the partition, she took a flying leap for the ground and then raced out the door of the barn. Even running, Lije never caught her until she stopped at Brekka’s feet at the clothes line.
Drily, Brekka said, “Are you in need of stretching your legs, Lije? Why are you running around the yard?”
“Have you seen her climb her pen?”
“Is that how she’s getting out?”
“Like a danged mountain goat. She wasn’t inside for a moment. It was amazing!”
Brekka smiled. “Thus, the tether. Although, now I think she’s trying to figure out how to slip the tether off over her head. The only thing stopping it is her little horn nubs.”
“But if we tether her in the pen, isn’t she likely to hang herself as she leaps over the partition? I’d hate to find her strangled.”
Brekka made a bad face. “Much as I hate that you just said that, I’m glad you did. I was just going to go do that very thing. But what else can we do? If we leave her loose at night, either something will eat her, or we’ll wake up to find our entire ranch wrecked.”
“I have an idea. Heidi once tried to adopt a baby raccoon. It was a disaster and ended up biting her finger terribly and we had to get rid of it, but Da made Heidi a cage for it.” Lije picked the little goat up again. “It’s completely enclosed. Hopefully, she can’t figure out how to undo the latch. If she does, she may have to be a gift for a Paiute child.” To the little goat he said, “Did you hear that? Straighten up or off you go, little one.”
Leaning to lift the basket of mostly clean folded laundry, Brekka put a hand to the small of her back, but smiled and petted the little goat’s head and said, “Be good and stay in your pen, Holly. I would miss you so, if we had to give you away.”
Once inside the house, Brekka sighed and rubbed her back again. That twinge of pain came anytime she bent much or lifted anything heavy. It was probably time to go talk to Dr. Newell. She needed to know if this strange cramping was normal and if she needed to worry about spotting blood at seven and a half months into her pregnancy.
The morning of the roundup finally arrived and Brekka could feel the excitement around the ranch. It wasn’t even light out yet when she heard pounding from the smithy shop and when she walked Lije to the door, it seemed that every hand on the ranch was out at the long hitch rack near the corrals saddling up their horses.
Lije kissed her and said, “We’re just at the big meadow at the bottom of Lauritzen Valley if you need anything, and Heidi’s gonna do her chores and come and check on you. If you want to see what the roundup is like, she’ll bring you down in the buckboard.”
“I’ll be fine. No worries about me. Go on and have a wonderful day.” Smiling she pushed him out the door. “I’ll just be here trying to keep our resident kid goat from destroying the ranch while you’re gone.”
Lije laughed and stepped off the porch. “Sounds exhausting. Don’t let her whip ya.”
Back inside, Brekka swept the kitchen and set the breakfast pans to soak and then started a batch of rolls. Lije would be exhausted when he got home tonight, and he loved hot rolls with his dinner. Her rolls didn’t look like the ones Heidi made, or even the ones Lije made, but she was getting better at it. And Lije seemed to enjoy them when she made them.
Once the hands were gone, she went up to the barn and let Hollyhock out of her cage and fed her. She’d gotten quite used to being locked up at night, but she obviously dearly loved to be turned loose and raced around like a busy bee for a few minutes until her hunger overcame her and she ran back to Brekka to be fed. She only took a bottle in the morning and evenings now. The rest of the time she grazed, or if Brekka wasn’t watching closely enough, she browsed on the plants and bushes Brekka had planted in the ranch yard.
It wouldn’t be long until Hollyhock could go out to pasture with the rest of the goats, but Brekka tried not to think about that. She knew she was going to miss her immensely.
With Hollyhock fed, Brekka cleaned out her pen, tossed a forkful of hay into her feeder and then refilled her water barrel. Lifting the water started the cramping in Brekka’s back again and she stood for a moment leaning against the pen partition, willing the deep ache to go away so she could get back to her day’s work.
When it didn’t go away, she put Hollyhock on her tether and brought her up into the ranch house yard so she could keep an eye on her and then went inside to lie down. If she didn’t have to drive right through the entire community at the roundup, she would go in to see Dr. Newell today. Instead, she got her mending and lay down on the settee. Hopefully, she’d feel better in a few minutes.
Mertie Mae Orland leaned to stir the beans in the kettle hanging from the tripod over the cook fire and then stood up and wiped at her brow with the back of her sleeve. It was hot for mid June—far too hot to be standing over a fire in the middle of the day. It was no wonder the camp cook had his sleeves rolled up and several buttons on his shirt undone.
Worrying didn’t help. She’d finally figured out who the man in the mercantile the day before had been. It was the Danish man who had been with the wagon train of people who had come to the Utah Territ
ory with Lije Lauritzen’s wife, Brekka. Luther something or other. He’d been the one raising such a ruckus about Lije and the girl getting married. Had insisted he was to be her guardian, or some such ridiculous thing.
Now, at first, Mertie Mae had been hoping that the girl would have to go with this Luther. She unashamedly wanted Lije to marry one of her own girls, and having that striking Danish beauty gone had seemed like a good idea. Right up until that Luther had made the two of them travel all the way to Fillmore in the cold, with the girl still ill, just to have a judge tell them what they could do in their marriage. That had irritated the stuffins out of Mertie Mae. The Mormons had been the recipients of far too many offenses like that over the years. It wasn’t right and it made Mertie mad.
Then when the man had looked at Mertie Mae yesterday. He had an evil spirit about him. Almost a malevolence. It was definitely a good thing the judge hadn’t forced Brekka Lauritzen to go with the man. She wouldn’t have been safe with him. Mertie Mae knew that from experience. Her own father had been like that. She still had the scars to prove it.
She stirred the beans again and checked on a Dutch oven of biscuits, then pulled them off the heat, still worrying. She’d basically told that Luther all the men would be away and that Brekka Lauritzen would be alone. When she thought about it, she reminded herself that it was 1867 and people were civilized and that of course some man wouldn’t try to go harm a woman right in her home with her husband and dozens of other men just a couple miles away—especially when he’d have to either ride right past the roundup, or detour far out of the way up into the cedars to get to her. But when Mertie Mae wasn’t trying to rationalize everything, she was a bit heart sick—a heart sickness that was growing more anxious by the minute.
Turning the racks of beef brisket on the spit, she finally made a decision. Taking off her apron, she tossed it on the tailgate of the chuck wagon. She was going to go out and check on that girl. Myrtle and Gertie could hold down the fort here, now that the food was cooking, and with that girl expecting a baby and all, she just had to follow her gut, even if she had to ride astride one of the girl’s horses to do it.
Into the Wind_A Love Story Page 18