by Craig, Emma
“Do you want lunch now, Mr. Partridge, or do you want to wait a while?”
“I’m not hungry yet, ma’am. Unless you are.”
“No. I’d just as soon wait a little bit. I love coming out here and looking around.” She sounded pensive. Noah took that as a bad sign.
He still wanted this land. He’d seen hundreds of miles land since he’d arrived at Mac’s wagon yard. He’d ridden out with Mac and without Mac, and looked at every inch of ground from Rio Hondo for seventy-five miles in any direction, and this was the land he wanted. Right here. This piece of property where the Pecos River twisted like a snake, and Frank Richardson’s trees were beginning to grow.
Noah jerked his head toward a small willow. “When’d he plant those, ma’am?”
She sighed. “Three years ago. They’re about twice the size they were then. It’ll take another ten years before they provide much shade.” Her gaze drifted away from the willows, following an invisible path. When it stopped, Noah knew exactly where she and her cherished Frank had planned to build their house.
“He was going to plant some oaks and mulberry trees over there.”
It was a good spot. On a rise, it would be protected from the river should it happen to overflow its banks during heavy rains, which Noah understood happened sometimes. Cattle occasionally drowned when they got caught in dry washes during flash floods. The East and West Berrendo Rivers, bordering Rio Hondo, were notorious in that regard, according to Mac.
But that rise—well, that gently swelling hill would keep a house and its occupants safe and dry. Noah could picture a pretty white house there, shaded with mulberries and oaks.
He cleared his throat and dove in head first. “What kind of house did you plan to build, Mrs. Richardson? I understand lots of folks build sod houses, at least at first.” Hell, now he remembered that she’d already told him Frank had ordered lumber for a frame house.
“Frank had planned to build a wooden structure, Mr. Partridge. He had it budgeted down to the last penny.”
Maybe she didn’t remember their earlier conversation. It probably hadn’t been important to her. Noah couldn’t imagine anything he said being important to anyone—except when he’d said he wanted her land. That was important to her, damn it. “I see.”
“It would have been small at first. We figured three rooms. Then Frank could add on to it as our family grew and the business prospered.”
If the business prospered. Noah spared Grace the qualification. “What business did he propose to go into?”
“Cattle and sheep. They aren’t necessarily compatible, but Frank thought he could raise them both, since we had land enough. The sheep chew the grass up by the roots, so they ruin cattle pasture land, but Frank’s father has a seed business back east. He planned to help us out.”
“Fortunate,” Noah murmured. Maybe Frank hadn’t been as much of a dunce as Noah’d at first believed him to be.
Grace smiled slightly. “Very fortunate. Without help, I’m sure Frank would never have considered sheep. But there’s a big market for wool.”
“Cattle too, I understand.”
“Oh, yes. Of course, the most profitable cattle ranchers—Chisum and Blackworth—they run their own cows to market and have beef contracts with the Indian Agency and with the government to supply beef to the forts. Frank wouldn’t have done that. He’d have sold his stock to Chisum, probably, and Chisum would have taken care of the marketing.”
“What about Blackworth?”
As Noah watched, Grace’s mouth flattened. He gathered that she didn’t much like Mr. Blackworth, even if she did seem friendly with Blackworth’s wife.
“Neither Frank nor I cared for Mr. Blackworth’s business ethics, Mr. Partridge.”
“A rascal, is he?”
She laughed, and her expression brightened a hundred percent. Noah was glad to have made her laugh. Hers was a nature made for laughter, unlike his.
“You might say so. Frank called him an unscrupulous son of a—well, I’m sure you can finish that one for yourself.”
He grinned too. “Yes, ma’am, I think I can.”
“Anyway, Frank didn’t have as many qualms about Chisum, although his reputation is far from spotless, and I understand he can be ruthless to small ranchers who get in his way. But Frank was willing to cooperate with Chisum and sell him his cattle. I guess he figured he’d be treated more fairly by Chisum than by Blackworth.”
“Would that have made any money for you, ma’am?”
“Oh, yes. Beef is a very profitable crop. Of course, out here, you need acres and acres more land than you do back east, where the rain is plentiful and the grass is lush.”
“Yeah. I studied up on cattle ranching before I left Virginia.”
“That’s right. I remember you saying so.”
“Yeah. When I decided to move west, I had to figure out how to make a living. Didn’t think there’s be much call for piano tuners here in New Mexico.”
She honored his sarcasm with a sunny smile. “But there’s enough land here for cattle-ranching.” Grace waved her hand to indicate the land she owned. The land Noah wanted.
There was, indeed, enough land here. It was perfect for Noah Partridge.
They walked along the bank of the Pecos. Noah realized how close they were to each other at one point and considered standing off a little, but he didn’t. He liked being close to Grace Richardson. She was soft and sweet and smelled good and made him feel not quite so alone in the world. He knew the sensation was an illusion, but he allowed himself to appreciate it while it lasted.
“It’s a sluggish river,” he remarked at one point.
Grace skipped a flat rock across the placid surface of the water. She was good at it; must have practiced when she was a kid. “It is now. When the rains come, it’ll stop being sluggish, believe me.”
“Rains pretty hard out here, does it?”
“Oh, my, yes. Especially during the summer, we get tremendous thunderstorms. People are always getting hit by lightning.” Her voice hitched. “That’s what happened to Frank.”
“I’m sorry.” He was, too. No matter how much he resented Frank Richardson for having secured the love and fidelity of this special woman, he still regretted her loss of him. If he’d been married to her, she’d probably have been glad to get rid of him. He didn’t allow himself to dwell on that cheerless probability.
She skipped another rock and looked sad. He wanted to wipe that look off her face because it hurt him to see it.
“Does it flood much around here?” He knew the answer to his question. He only asked it to get her mind off her dead husband.
“Yes, indeed. That’s why Mac built his mercantile and house up off the ground, so they wouldn’t flood every time it rained. He’s close to the Spring River, you know. There are rivers all over the place out here, although you’d never guess by looking.” She laughed.
Noah was glad to hear her. “Smart man, Mac.”
“He certainly is.” Her voice held utter conviction. “Sometimes it rains so hard, soddies will melt clean away. That happened to a couple of settlers last spring. I felt sorry for them. They decided they couldn’t stick it out here, and moved back to Vermont.”
Noah shook his head. He didn’t care about other settlers. In truth, he was glad those Vermonters were gone. The fewer people who settled out here, the better for him.
“What about fences? Did your—did Frank plan to build fences?” He’d heard cattlemen didn’t hold with fences, but he wasn’t sure about sheep pens.
“Frank aimed to fence in the sheep. They’re remarkably stupid animals, you know.”
“I’ve heard.”
“The cattle could roam free, though. People live so far apart out here, it’s not profitable to build many fences. Of course, you run the risk of getting your cows rustled, but that happens anyway.”
Noah lifted his eyebrows. “Have a lot of trouble with rustling out here, do you?”
Grace’s forehe
ad wrinkled up when she frowned. Noah fought a compulsion to smooth his fingers over it. Hers was a face made for smiles, not frowns. “Yes, it happens too much. We’re a lawless community here in the southeastern part of the territory. It used to be the Apaches who stole cattle. Now most of the Indians have been rounded up and taken to the Bosque Redondo out by Fort Sumner, although there are still a few renegade bands around. But it’s the neighboring ranchers you have to watch out for.”
Noah had a hunch. “Blackworth?”
She shot him a grateful grin, as if she were happy she didn’t have to propound the slander. “Frank thought so.”
“How do you combat that sort of thing?”
“Well, you have to decide on a brand that’s not easy to alter, for one thing. Chisum’s jingle bob is well known in these parts. Frank was designing a brand for us when he died.”
Noah offered a short, “Hmm.”
She laughed again. “Mac found a cow wandering outside his wagon yard once that had more brands on it than any animal should ever be forced to wear. There was a jingle bob and a running b—that’s Blackworth’s—and, oh, I can’t even remember. That poor beast had been branded at least five times, though. I guess she was a victim of wanderlust or something and kept meandering onto other people’s range lands. Of course, no one bothered to return her. They just branded her again.”
Noah shook his head and wondered if there were some other business for a man to go into out here that wouldn’t put him into conflict with his neighbors. He didn’t want trouble. He didn’t want any human contact at all, if he could get away from it.
At least, he thought that’s what he still wanted. As he peered at Grace’s pretty profile and read the varying emotions on her face as they chatted, he was no longer sure about his desire for solitude. In fact, he had a sudden bright vision of Grace Richardson and her daughter at the door of a little white house on top of that rise, waving to him as he came home in the evening.
As if he could ever win Grace Richardson. She could never love him. He’d be willing to marry her anyway, but he had a shrewd suspicion she’d never marry any man she didn’t love.
Shoot, he was getting crazier and crazier with each passing day. He cleared his throat. He’d promised not to pester her, but he was curious. “Um, I’m not trying to annoy you, ma’am, but I’m just wondering. Now that your husband’s gone, what do you plan to do with this land? I mean, do you still want to run cattle and raise sheep?”
She shot him a keen, questioning glance. He tried to maintain a serene expression; one that conveyed mere interest and not avid greed. Noah didn’t think of himself as greedy. Not really. He just knew what he wanted out of life—and what he wanted out of life was out of life.
He evidently succeeded in setting her mind at rest, because she answered him with a fair degree of civility. “I don’t know. That is, I’m not sure what to do.”
“Do you think you’ll be able to set up a cattle operation on your own?”
Again, she shot him a look, and again she seemed reassured by his expressionless expression. She heaved a sigh and said, “I don’t know that either. All I do know is that I’ll never give up this land.” She smiled at him, but he heard the steel in the words and saw it in her eyes.
From out of nowhere, he heard himself saying, “I reckon that young buck Spalding would be happy to help you set up, ma’am. He’d like to marry you.”
“Gus?” She sounded shocked. “Gus Spalding is a child, Mr. Partridge.”
He looked down at her, puzzled. He didn’t understand her attitude. “He’s not a child, ma’am.”
“He can’t be any older than eighteen.”
Noah shrugged. “Eighteen’s old enough.” Hell, he’d been not much older than eighteen when he’d become engaged to Julia.
“Good heavens, I’m almost thirty. I can’t marry a boy that young!”
Her cheeks had turned pink. Noah couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or offended. Damn his tongue. He didn’t know how to talk to anyone any longer, much less a woman.
“I’m almost thirty, too. Want to marry me?”
Chapter Fifteen
Grace opened her mouth, then shut it before she said anything. How could she say anything? She couldn’t believe her ears hadn’t deceived her, yet she thought sure she’d heard Noah Partridge ask her if she’d like to marry him. It had rung out as clear as a bell.
But, honestly, had he asked her to marry him? Asked her marry him? He couldn’t have said that. Could he? Impossible. Ridiculous. Absurd!
The truly ridiculous aspect of this embarrassing situation was that his suggestion sounded good to her. If she’d heard him right. Her hearing had always been keen, but she really couldn’t credit such a question issuing from this man’s mouth.
“I—I beg your pardon?”
Noah was looking off into the distance, up the Pecos, as if he were pondering the answers to various questions in his head: How long is this river? How many acres do I need to do what I want to do? If she won’t sell, can I get this land another way? By marrying her, for instance?
He shrugged. “Stupid question. Forget I asked it.”
Forget he’d asked it? How was she supposed to do that? Annoyed with herself and him both, Grace snapped, “I don’t think that was a very funny joke, Mr. Partridge.”
His sigh sounded intolerably sad. “I didn’t mean it as a joke, Mrs. Richardson.”
Grace tried to work up some indignation, but discovered her heart had taken to aching, and she felt more like crying than getting mad. Marry Noah Partridge? Forget Frank? Never!
Yet she couldn’t shake off the strange, shivery sensations that the notion of marriage to Noah Partridge had fostered inside her. A father for Maddie. A husband for her. No more solitary nights, lonesome and worried in her bed. More children. More children? With Noah Partridge?
She stared at his profile and could read nothing in his expression. He looked as far away as Mount Capitan, standing cold and alone to the west of them. Noah was every bit as aloof and cold as Capitan. As lonely? How could anyone tell?
“I don’t even know you, Mr. Partridge.”
He glanced down at her. A smile made the right side of his mouth kick up. He didn’t look amused. “I’d say you know me better than most folks do, Mrs. Richardson. I’ve never told anybody some of the things I’ve told you.”
Oh, how sad! Grace swallowed the lump in her throat and whispered, “That’s still not very well, Mr. Partridge.”
He shrugged again. “Reckon not.”
“You seem such a—oh, I don’t know. You’re not like Frank.” She wished she hadn’t said that, especially when Noah flinched as if she’d struck him. “I didn’t mean you’re not a nice man,” she hastened to add. Even as she said it, she didn’t know if it was true.
“Yeah.”
“I mean—I mean, I can imagine marrying you. I mean—not me. I mean, I can imagine some woman marrying you.”
He said, “Yeah?” again. This time he sounded amused.
“I’m sure you’d make someone a fine husband.”
His grin broadened, and he looked as cynical and hard-edged as she’d ever seen him. Oh, dear. What was wrong with her, that she kept blundering on like this? She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. If he had any.
Before she could think of anything else to say, Noah turned abruptly. “How about that lunch now, ma’am? I’m getting hungry.”
She didn’t believe him, but she appreciated his turning the topic. “Good idea.”
While Noah spread a blanket out on the autumn-dry grass beside the river, she fetched the bundle of food. At least they had a good lunch to eat. Noah’s offer of marriage didn’t seem too awfully silly in light of her cooking skills. She was a good homemaker, and could keep a household going, even out here in the territory where life was difficult and precarious. Frank had always praised her cooking, and so did Mac, although Mac was more encouraging than Frank ever had been when it came to her other talents.
“Females have to be twice as smart as men,” Mac would tell her with one of his endearing winks. “They not only have to keep life going, but they have to put up with men at the same time.”
Grace did love Mac so well. He was better than a grandfather to Maddie, and he had been her own saving grace, without whom she’d have gone mad, ever since Frank’s death.
And he’d told her it was time for her to get over mourning Frank. Easy for Mac to say. She glanced at Noah Partridge and found him methodically going about his business, gathering fuel for the fire so they could have tea with their meal. His movements were economical; spare; like him. He didn’t waste energy fussing and fluttering like Frank used to do.
The thought seemed treacherous, and Grace tried to dismiss it. What was the matter with her, comparing Frank to that man? Why, Frank had been as warm as the sun; Noah Partridge was as cold as the dark side of the moon. How could she even think of marrying him?
Unfortunately, she could hardly think of anything else. She wished he hadn’t mentioned marriage.
Suddenly he looked up from his task. “Look, Mrs. Richardson, please forget I said anything. I didn’t mean to spoil the day.”
So he regretted his rash offer as much as she did, did he? There was no reason for Grace to feel miffed, but she did. “An offer of marriage, however much it was meant in jest, is difficult to forget, Mr. Partridge.”
“It wasn’t meant in jest,” he said through gritted teeth.
Grace sniffed, but she felt better that he’d denied her assertion. If, of course, he were telling the truth. It was so difficult to tell with him, although she had no reason to believe him to be a liar. He certainly wasn’t in the habit of making jokes. She didn’t say anything.
Noah had been adding some small, twisted mesquite branches to the fire as kindling, but he straightened and turned to look at her again. “Listen, I know I’m crazy. I’ve been crazy since the war. No woman in her right mind would have me. I know that. I don’t know why I asked you that. It was stupid, and I’d appreciate it if you’d just forget it.” He squatted down, scratched a sulfur match on his boot heel, and held it to the tiny, brittle branches he’d piled in the middle of the firewood. Light from the flames licked his face, emphasizing the harshness of his features. “Just forget it. Please.”