by J. R. Biery
“Yeah, I need to talk, boss.”
Jackson sank wearily into the rocker, motioned James to the porch rail. When the older man was settled, he asked, “You got Miss Rubye settled in town.”
“Oh, yeah, them Dawsons welcomed her in like company. She was pretty hot still boss, had a lot to say.”
“Yeah, I figured she would.”
The older cowboy looked bashfully beyond the screen into the house. “She’s old-fashioned, you know, boss, and was awful fond of Miz Donna.”
“I know, James, we all loved Donna.”
“She had heard a lot of gossip, boss, we all had, about Tom’s daughter. Reckon we all had made up our minds about her not being the right kind of woman for our baby.”
Jackson felt his face flush with anger, then took a breath and forced himself to stay calm. “I had my own reservations.”
Boyd shifted uncomfortably. “I tried to talk Rubye into coming back and apologizing, but she…”
Jackson nodded, “I know, she can be mulish.”
James laughed softly, “Mulish is right.”
“What do you think, James, about Miss Hattie?”
James stared at the porch floor and looked uncomfortable. “She’s not what the gossips said.”
“No,” Jackson sighed, “no she’s not. She’ll need our help now, to do all the work.”
“I was thinking, I could move in, maybe put a cot in the living room, and do most of the cooking.”
Jackson extended a hand and rose taking the older man’s arm. Feeling happy he patted him on the shoulder. “Thank you, pardner. Why don’t you just take my cot in the study. I’ll sleep in Rubye’s room. It’s been too long since I’ve slept in a real bed.”
James nodded. “Good, it puts you a little farther from the missy.”
“There’s nothing going on between me and Miss Stoddard,” he bristled.
“That’s too bad boss, I was wishing there was,” he added and left a shocked Jackson on the porch.
Jackson wanted to talk with Hattie, but she was in her room. James set food out and let the men help themselves to rewarmed sliced roast and vegetables, sliced and stewed tomatoes, and fresh buttered cornbread. He knew she was listening, but the men were too tired and hungry and stayed unusually quiet.
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It was morning, when she rose to fire the stove and put on coffee and porridge before she got her first inkling of how things would go. She held the egg basket in one hand, the six eggs inside in her apron.
“I forgot to gather the eggs yesterday, or feed the hens.” James added sheepishly. “They may go on strike and quit laying if I forget them again.”
“They do a pretty good job of finding plenty to eat. The only danger of not gathering the eggs is that the older hens will go broody and see it as their job to start nesting.”
“Maybe the boss will let me and a couple of the boys get a coop built. They all sure like eggs for breakfast.”
Jackson came out of Rubye’s room, “I’ll have the new hands help do it today. Now, how about a couple of those eggs for our breakfast?” Hattie started to cook them, when he added, “James.”
James smiled, “Okay, boss. But it’s going to be hoecakes for the rest of them. Let me get some bacon going first.” He took the basket of eggs from Hattie, set it down next to the stove and headed down to the cellar for a slab of bacon.
Jackson motioned for her to sit down, and then carried out coffee for them both.
“I should help James while J.D. is still asleep,” but even as she said it, they both heard a half-hearted cry. Together they walked to the door and watched the baby, rear in the air, stretching and getting ready to fuss. Hattie picked up a clean diaper before reaching him. She removed the wet gown as the baby stood upright, holding shakily to his daddy. She pulled the wet gown over his head while Jackson passed her a dry smock and she expertly changed and dressed the standing baby.
She walked into the kitchen, and dipped half a ladle of hot oatmeal into the bottom of the bowl. When James emerged up the stairs again he carried a jug of cold milk. He poured a dollop over her hot porridge. She sat down at her place, blowing to cool the cereal in the spoon before offering it to J.D. Jackson sat down, watching as the baby leaned forward, his mouth pursed in imitation of Hattie’s. When the boy opened his mouth like a little bird, Jackson began to talk while she was feeding him.
“As you heard yesterday, I shot two of the rustlers. We trailed them back to your ranch, but they’d cleared out ahead of us.”
“They were living in our house? How?”
“Somehow they had four cots in the bedrooms, a new table and chairs out front.”
“Dad and my beds?”
“Not sure what they did with them. Just know they had four beds, four chairs, and a table that didn’t have broken legs.”
“So you believe there are four rustlers? I always felt it would be the Sweat brothers and Rafe Hogue.”
“I’ve figured the same. But we didn’t catch them. There could be more than four. Cliff and Hank came back when it grew too dark to read sign. They said the wagon tracks turned onto the main road and were lost by other tracks, mainly by those from the sheriff’s horse and other men coming from town. I still don’t see how he would have missed seeing them on that road.”
“You think he or one of his deputies could be the fourth man?”
“It just seems suspicious to me. I planned to talk to the other ranchers, but the sheriff stayed until we’d made a tally of the animals and sent them home with their owners. Didn’t get a chance to talk it out, but you could tell everybody thought something was odd there.”
She wiped J.D.’s face, kissed his cheek, leaning him back in her arms to smile at his sweet face. He reached out a hand to touch her breast and her hand paused at the top buttons. Before, it had become routine to feed him his porridge, then let him nurse a while before getting up to help Rubye feed the men. Now with two men present, that wouldn’t be possible.
She heard bacon sizzling in the kitchen, heard James singing a soft song as he stirred up pancake batter. Jackson smiled at her as the baby butted against her chest and started to complain. Hattie blushed.
“I’ll get the blanket.”
Grateful, she began to unbutton her blouse and as soon as Jackson dropped the blanket over her shoulder, J.D. began to nurse.
He refilled his coffee cup and sat down. Hattie started to thank him when J.D. suddenly tugged the blanket down. Gasping, she grabbed a corner and hid herself, but this time he pushed it away with his fist. Embarrassed, Hattie lifted baby and blanket and fled the room.
Jackson laughed at her red face and James came out of the kitchen with two plates. “What did you say to run her off?”
“Not me. Something J.D. did.”
“Well, no sense letting eggs go to waste.” He sat down across from Jackson and started to eat.
“I thought you were the new cook.”
“Might be the cook, but I ain’t new. Ladies ate before the hands filled up the place. Seems like a good notion to me. If a cook eats last, he either goes hungry, or has to eat a lot of really bad cooking.”
<><><>
Hattie put a happy J. D. in the porch cradle and set it to rocking. She carried both wash tubs to the yard beside the well. To one she added a washboard and a cake of onyx soap before filling it with water. Next she carried out and added the dirty clothes, turning the empty basket upside down and once again rocking the cradle. Quickly, she washed out and scrubbed the clothes. She called to James to watch the baby for a few minutes before hanging them.
The sun was almost up and the house empty. She stepped into the barn, scooped up grain then walked outside calling to wake the sleepy chickens. She heard three or four half attempts at crows, but her favorite, the little red rooster, leaped to a rail and gave a full throated cock-a-doodle-do. She could already see darkening colors among his short tail feathers, definitely her little rooster.
Quickly, she sprinkled a handful of grain b
elow the rail and cooed. “Come on down, cock robin, eat the pretty grain.” He cocked his head, eyed her suspiciously, and then stretched for a second crow. Satisfied that he wasn’t headed for the skillet, he hopped down to gobble his special share of grain.
Hattie laughed, feeling free and happy. In the barn, it took several minutes to find all the nests and gather the eggs, most with two eggs in them. She even had one of the older hens who was trying to set. Hattie looked at her but left no feed. The foolish hen might set another day, but hunger would draw her off. Even foolish hens recognized cold eggs were never going to hatch, of course, neither were infertile eggs.
She stopped in surprise when one of the horses nickered at her from the back stall. She slipped back and set her full basket down to grab the nose poked over the stall rails. “Oh Rose,” she climbed on the stall gate and hugged the tall neck of her roan mare. It had been a year since those men had taken her and her father’s saddle horse. She looked over and saw the wide white blaze of her dad’s gelding. “Hey, Buddy,” she patted the nose tentatively leaning closer.
“They were part of the rustled animals we recovered last night. You want to see the rest?”
She wiped her eyes and turned toward the deep voice behind her. It didn’t help. She let go of the rail and turned into his arms.
For a moment he held her, while she fought for self-control. Then despite his better judgment, he leaned closer, catching the scent of the horse she’d just hugged, the chickens she’d just fed, the scent of laundry soap, even the sweet scents of milk and baby. But underneath it all was the warm musky smell of woman. His body reacted instantly.
Alarmed, he pushed her away.
“They’re still in the front paddock,” he growled. He almost made the mistake of grabbing her hand, but instead, he touched her elbow to guide her in the right direction.
Hattie gasped, totally confused. She couldn’t believe she’d turned into his arms so easily. Recalling herself, she stopped and turned to walk back for the egg basket. As they passed, she set the basket on the porch, watching as James sat peeling potatoes while J.D. clutched and chewed on his pony.
She gave the old cowhand a watery smile. “Did you know about the horses?”
He gave her a grin, “Wait till you see the front paddock.”
The scene there made her worry that she might tear up again. A big angry bull stood, snorting, amid a herd of fifty plus cows and calves. She turned in wonder and delight toward Jackson. “Those aren’t all mine?”
“No,” he laughed, “there are thirty that are ours. But almost all of yours are pregnant or have calves. We couldn’t find your first fifty that were rustled, figure those were sold off. But the rest are all accounted for and their calves. You’ve still got over sixty head, come fall you’ll probably have over eighty.
Hattie clapped her hands, then dipped her head. “Thank you, thank you, Lord.” Beaming she smiled at him. “Thank you Jackson.”
Then he forgot what Rubye would think was proper. He reached out and pulled her in, an arm around her shoulder. “It’s all right girl, it’s all right. We’ll get those rustlers yet, won’t we men?”
“That’s right, Miss Stoddard. We’ll get them.”
Hattie raised her head, stared at the cowboys who had answered as one. They met her eyes, delighted with her smiling face. To a man, they accepted her for who and what she was, not what the gossips in town accused her of. It was too much. Hattie raised a hand to cover her mouth, nodded and turned to rush back toward the house.
Jackson felt a tightness in his chest that he hadn’t felt since the night J.D. was born. He cleared his throat, looked toward his men, then asked. “Now, what are we going to do with a second bull?”
“You mean three, don’t you, boss. That little black ones cut him out a herd to practice on,” Tony called.
Cliff looked around, “Move this one and these cows to the north range with the other Stoddard cows, let that long spotted bull have the south grass, and let junior duck and dodge the way he’s been doing. Looks like the Stoddard bull does pretty good at getting the job done.”
“No, I think Hattie’s bull will head back south, to his own range. Might as well move them to that sector to begin with, leave the north grass to our cows and bull. I think your plan for Junior is a good one. All right, maybe we can keep them apart for a while. But somehow, they’ll work it out to fight.”
“Yep, but then the best bull will win. In the meantime, we can get some fine calves.”
“Maybe, but I’m thinking someone around here might want to buy a good bull. Or even a young bull with potential.”
“Junior may not be as deep chested or heavy as this bruiser, but he’ll do.”
“I’ll ask Hattie what she wants to do.”
He looked nervously back up the yard, watching as Hattie quickly hung clothes. She could work faster and harder than two other women. Even as he thought it, he saw her set the basket down and begin working through the huge garden. She carried the basket on her hip from row to row as it grew heavier with tomatoes, greens and the last of the green beans. While he watched, she walked to the corral and stripped the beans from the plants she had pulled from the hard soil, tossing the brown edged plants before her mules as a treat.
Whatever needed doing, she did it as soon as she thought of it, which was part of the secret. She patted Henry lovingly, pulling his long ears, and then hurried to the house, putting the green beans down beside the washtub. She used the pail, quickly carrying the dirty water to water the garden while the air was still cool, then rinsed the washtubs, filling one with clean water and taking the time to wash the vegetables, before putting them back in the clean laundry basket. Emptying the rinse water in the garden, she stacked the tubs on the end of the porch, passed James the clean vegetables and took the fussing boy from him.
He noticed how she turned the rocker before sitting down, so her back was to the rail and the rest of her was blocked from view of the kitchen window. She was always thinking and planning.
Donna had been smart and a good wife, but she only did what she thought she was expected to do. Hattie acted as though she had it all to do by herself, and she tried her best to do as much work as efficiently as possible.
One of the men yelled at him, and Jackson swung around to open the gate. The black bull wheeled out of the paddock as though fired from a gun. He motioned to the men to indicate he was ready and one by one, the cows were hazed out after the bull. Finally they were left with a pen full of calves. It seemed cruel to brand such little ones, but with rustlers, they didn’t have the choice. Mavericks could and would be branded by whoever found them first.
The first branded were Harper calves. By lunch, all the calves had been tended to and released to join the cows. The hands carefully separated the stock, hazing Harper cows North and Stoddard cattle toward the south pasture.
Minutes later, they were all washing up for lunch.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jackson walked toward the house. “Hattie?”
She looked over her shoulder, rapidly buttoning her blouse. She felt guilty, dozing in the sun just like the contented baby.
As he walked onto the porch, he had to smile at the sleepy eyed couple. Hattie stretched and extended the baby to place in the cradle. Jackson noticed with satisfaction that the baby had out-grown it, his head nearly touching the top, his little feet near the bottom. The air was hot, the day becoming steamy. He felt sweaty and sticky from the work with the cattle. He noticed Hattie had left the boy naked, except for his diaper; a little circle of damp sweat lay underneath his chin. He knew Rubye would have scolded her, but the baby looked comfortable. Hattie spread out one of the thin diapers over the cradle to screen the sleeping baby
James stepped out onto the porch and handed both of them glasses of cool water. Jackson swallowed his in two gulps, Hattie sipped hers slowly. Jackson nodded toward the two young hands who had stayed behind to help Boyd build a chicken coup. They were taking turns
dunking themselves with gourds of water from the well.
“All set?” Jackson set his empty glass on the rail.
“Yeah, everything cleared and put away. Reckon I got three or four hours before they need fed again.”
They walked out into the yard and watched the chickens scratching through the garden where Hattie had pulled the tired beans, gobbling any worms or insects that had been exposed.
“Where did you two have in mind?” Jackson asked.
Hattie raised her head, letting the hot summer breeze dry her throat. She wished it wasn’t deemed necessary to keep her whole body covered in this hot weather. She felt damp under the arms, under her heavy, full breasts, and in a line down her back. It would be so wonderful to be J.D., innocently open to the air.
James scratched his chin, rubbed a hand across his thinning hair. “Miss, where do you figure is best?”
Hattie sighed and looked around. The well, garden and clothesline took up a good part of the yard on this side of the house. Downhill, the path narrowed toward the privies. The barn and corrals were within a brisk walk from the house, but on this warm day, she was glad the familiar barn odors were blowing away from the house. A chicken coop would add to the odors.
She considered the options, and then pointed to the barn. “I think leaning against the back side of the barn. You can put up a double ledge for nesting boxes – keep them out of reach of possums and coyotes so they can sleep. Save on materials since you’ll just need posts and the chicken wire you already bought. Of course you’ll need some planks or tin for the roof.”
When she said tin, the men exchanged a glance.
“Would tin be too expensive?”
“No, we have a house worth,” Jackson answered. “Donna hated the sound of rain on the metal roof. So we redid it with shingles. There’s a layer of tin in the attic, over the rafters. But you’ll need more than chicken wire to keep the wind off them come winter, otherwise they’ll just move back into the barn.”
“How many of those double long rails do we still have?” He turned to ask James.