West Winds of Wyoming

by Caroline Fyffe

  He tipped his hat back and his smile reached all the way to his eyes, making the scar on his cheek move toward his ear. “I’m sure, Nell Page. And if I wasn’t sure before, I am now. I like the way that thing makes you smile.”

  Such talk. She could feel the blush creeping up her face—again. Did he know what he was doing to her? She better not forget how Brenna had rendered him speechless. He sure wasn’t speechless with her—a plenty good reason not to let her imagination run off into the wild blue yonder. “Fine, then” was all she could muster. “I’ll be back in a little while.” As enticing as an evening ride with Charlie sounded, she hoped she didn’t live to regret it.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Charlie and Nell eased into a slow lope, crossing the large horse pasture out back and fording a shallow stream. The evening air on his face made his qualms and concerns about Maddie evaporate into thin air.

  He glanced over at Nell sitting in her saddle as if she’d been born on the back of a horse. Her hair, the color of the shimmery-gold sky now that the sun was moving toward the mountains, flew out behind in wild abandon, set free of the braid she’d worn at the picnic. As always, she had her gun strapped on her leg like a man.

  “What about the horses in the pasture we just crossed?” he called to her. “You don’t sell those to the army?” He watched Nell take a deep breath, as if happy to be out in the wide-open space.

  “Most are broodmares.” She lifted her voice over the sound of hooves pounding the earth. They loped along side by side so close he could reach out and touch her if he’d wanted.

  “The ones with good conformation and that have the traits we want them to pass on, like intelligence and a good, willing spirit, stay for breeding. The rest are either injured or just plain not ready to be started. When they’re sound again, and broke, they’ll go to the . . . good captain for soldier mounts.”

  He glanced at the trail wondering at the animosity in Nell’s tone when she spoke of the army captain. “How do you know when they’re ready to be started?”

  She reined up to a walk and he followed suit. “For one, they have to be physically ready. Big of bone. Confident.” She gave him a smile.

  “Confident?” That was the first time Charlie had ever heard that.

  “It’s just a feeling I get when I’m working them. If they trust they’re not going to be hurt, and they’re inquisitive, I know they’re ready. Getting the first ride right is important. You don’t get a second shot at that. And, knowing when to quit.”

  He mulled that over as they climbed to the top of a small rise and crested the summit. He pulled up when Nell stopped.

  “There’s part of our herd.” Nell pointed at the cattle. It wasn’t as many as he’d expected. “We sell some of our steers in town to families who don’t raise their own beef, then send the rest to market once a year.”

  He was surprised. “You drive them to Cheyenne?”

  “No, we don’t. Our neighbors”—she pointed to her left—“the Broken Horn ranch, take them for us when they drive theirs in the spring. They have a much larger herd than ours. It’s neighborly of them to do so.”

  “That would be the Logans?” he asked, remembering the couple they’d eaten dinner with. The love humming between the two was impossible to miss, as well as their love for their boy.

  “That’s right. You’re catching on fast.”

  He shrugged. It had been years since he’d ranched for a living, but everything was coming back quicker than he’d thought.

  “Spring is when the grass is best, and there’s plenty to feed on along the way. We round up the ones we intend to sell and let the strays mother up slowly. Then when we’re ready, Chase and his men swing this way to pick them up.”

  “Mother up?” That was a term he didn’t know.

  She let a small laugh slip through her lips. She nodded, looking at the cattle. “It never fails that a few heifers and their calves get all mixed up in the roundup. Even as calm as we try to take it, it’s impossible not to end up with a calf or two and no mama claiming them. It’s a little heartbreaking but if we leave the calf out by itself, bawling its head off, mama and baby will eventually plod back to the last place they nursed. Much like two magnets.” She smiled at the cattle and he could tell she was revisiting a memory. “Works every time.”

  She nudged her horse forward and they rode down the trail and through a thick stand of trees. They rode on for a good three miles in silence before Nell turned in the saddle, watching him over the chestnut-and-white rump of her paint gelding. “Almost there.”

  “In all these trees?”

  “We’re coming in from the side. They’ll clear in a minute.”

  When they emerged, open land stretched for as far as the eye could see to the east, and then a hundred feet or so in the other direction, the land fell away sharply. From where they sat, he couldn’t see what was over the cliff. The ground was barren, almost worn down to rock.

  “Follow me,” Nell said.

  The drop, with the rugged terrain blending into the mountains way off in the distance, made the sky seem even larger and more spectacular than normal. A feeling of awe filled him.

  They rode right up to the edge. At the bottom a sea of buffalo bones littered the land.

  Charlie gave a long, low whistle. “How far down?”

  “I’d say about two hundred feet.”

  He looked over his shoulder, back to the trailhead they’d exited, and then far beyond. “It’s amazing to think of the Indians running hundreds of animals off at one time.”

  “The hides and meat kept them alive through a long, cold winter,” she replied, looking thoughtful.

  “Oh, I’m not criticizing. Not at all. You see any buffalo around anymore?”

  “You mean besides in town?” She laughed but the sound wasn’t happy. “Rarely. And that makes me sad. At least when the Indians herded them off the jump, it was to feed themselves and their children. I can’t stand what the buffalo hunters have done. It’s sickening.”

  “You’re damn right.” A hot, unsettled feeling took him by surprise when the image of men shooting the animals by the thousands, just for their skins, flitted through his mind. “So, all this land is yours and Seth’s?”

  “Just to here. Enough to keep us working hard.”

  Coyote dropped his head and looked deep into the canyon. Charlie chuckled. “I think your horse is thinking of jumping off,” he teased.

  She shook her head. “No. He’s been here many times. He likes it. I can feel his spirits lift when he gazes out over the distance. Maybe he feels the blood of his ancestors as they galloped down this grade toward the jump wondering if their riders were going to ask them to go over. The paints on our ranch came from the Indians’ stock that we caught wild.”

  Charlie turned and appraised her. This statement, along with the ones about Georgia having a sense of humor and horses being confident, puzzled him. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Partly. But, I do feel a difference in him when I bring him up here. He definitely likes it. It’s just something I know. I can’t explain, or give you a reason to accept what I’m saying. You’d be amazed to know how much horses really want to serve, to be of use. I’m not just talking about being ridden or pulling a wagon or stage, but to heal what ails you. They have enormous hearts.”

  Charlie chuckled again, not knowing what to make of Nell’s statement. It sounded crazier than a cat in a field of catnip. “And Georgia? You can tell what she’s feeling?”

  “I can.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s she thinking now?”

  Nell looked down at his mare as the animal gazed out over the open land below. A light wind moved her reddish-brown mane, and her hind hoof was cocked. Nell reached over and patted Georgia’s neck.

  “Anyone could tell you she’s calm and relaxed by reading her head set, the position of her ears and her cocked hip, and they’d be correct,” Nell said. “But actually, she’s missing
something right now. I’m not sure if her memory is of a previous owner, or perhaps an offspring of hers. I don’t know. All I know is she has a powerful longing for something in her past.”

  Charlie let his defiance go and dropped his crossed arms. He remembered back to the day when he’d finally ridden out of Wilsonville. In an attempt to cover his progress from anyone who might try to follow him, he’d ridden his mount hard. When he’d arrived in Grand Junction, Colorado, he sold his gelding to the first ranch he’d come upon. At first, he’d tried to simply trade animals, but the rancher refused, saying their only saddle horse available, Georgia, belonged to his young daughter, and he didn’t have the heart to trade her. That’s when Charlie had thrown a bundle of cash into the deal. The owner would have been a fool to refuse. Charlie hadn’t given the horse deal much thought at the time with Grover Galante and Maddie on his mind, but now he recalled the rancher saying his daughter had raised and trained Georgia. That she’d be heartbroken when she found out. Could Georgia actually be missing her? The idea of that seemed outlandish, to say the least. Still, the possibility brought a lump to his throat.

  “That’s, uh, some statement, Nell.” He looked over to find her lost in her own contemplations. “I’m not too sure what I should make of it. I mean animals, thinking and feeling, just like people?”

  Her smile whispered acknowledgment of being different. Sadness. Perhaps, because of her beliefs, being an outcast of sorts.

  “At first, Seth thought my knowing about the animals was a figment of my imagination. I know what I’m saying sounds crazy. It started when I was about six. Instinctively, I knew not to say anything about it. Keep it to myself.”

  She gazed out over the canyon. “When Dog showed up on our porch, he was half-starved. When I opened the door, he practically vaulted into my arms. A vision of fire, water, smoke and a boat filled my mind. I believe he and his owner were separated by a fire somehow, maybe on a boat while traveling on one of the big rivers. After being lost, he set out cross-country in search of his master. He was exhausted when he arrived. And he’s stayed with us ever since.”

  Charlie let his gaze roam over to the top of Coyote’s head and then to Georgia’s. Animals with rational feelings and thoughts? That was something he’d have to ponder for more than just a few moments. He could feel Nell’s inquisitive gaze. She was waiting for his response. Problem was, he didn’t know what to say.

  When a minute passed without him responding, she reined around. “We’d better get back. It’ll be dark before we reach the horse pasture.”

  “Sure.”

  She started off and he fell in alongside. “What are the plans for tomorrow?”

  “Like Seth mentioned, we take Sunday off if it’s not calving or foaling season. Nothing much to do besides start the new horses, but we’ll wait for Monday to do that.”

  “Well then, if you’re sure you won’t need me, I think I’ll go into town. Spend a few hours getting the feel of the place. Meet a few more people.” Make sure I wasn’t followed. He couldn’t stop a smile. And perhaps catch a glimpse of Maddie while I’m there.

  Her eyes narrowed, and her lips flattened out.

  “If you’re sure I’m not needed at the ranch, that is.”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “I’ll take some mending in, just a shirt and—”

  “I can mend for you, Charlie. I don’t mind. Just because I dress like a man doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about being a woman.”

  “I couldn’t ask my employer to mend my shirt and darn a few pairs of raggedy ol’ socks,” he said gently, trying to figure out why she’d offer such a thing. “I’m thankful for this job and plan to keep it. I’ll just drop them by Brenna Lane’s house. I heard people talking that you could just leave them on her porch with a note.” He wanted to make sure Brenna had earnings to keep the children comfortable. Paying for her services was an easy way to do that.

  “Suit yourself, Charlie.”

  Nell looked away, but the rigidness of her posture told him she had a bee in her bonnet, and that was a fact. The only reason he could think of was his ride into town tomorrow, but why would that upset her? He knew better than to mention that the angrier she got, the prettier she looked.

  When they came through the kitchen door, Seth called from the front room, “I cooked up a portion of a hindquarter after you left, Nell. Thought you two might be hungry when you got back. I left it on the drain board. I ate your fixings as well, though.”

  Nell was sure Seth was slouched in his leather chair, with his feet stretched out on the stool.

  Charlie preceded her into the front room.

  Seth peered up from where he sat. “So, how was the ride, you two?”

  The way he said “you two” garnered another glance from her.

  Charlie just stood there looking conspicuous.

  “A ride’s a ride.” She wondered if Charlie believed her about the horses. His teasing tone had turned thoughtful, making her believe he did, but he hadn’t said much either way. “We checked on the cattle.”

  “I’m glad you rode out that way.” Seth had the same old newspaper from the other day crumpled in his lap. “By the way, have either of you been over by the creek lately? Found some tracks I didn’t recognize. Thought they might belong to Charlie’s mare.”

  A black chill crackled trough Nell. Tracks? By the creek? She glanced over at Charlie, hoping beyond measure he’d say he’d gone that way at some point. It couldn’t have been today on his way home from Logan Meadows, because he was riding their black gelding then, and Seth would easily recognize his tracks.

  Charlie’s face had lost its little-boy charm as he shook his head. “Not me, Seth. The only creek I crossed was when I rode with Nell out to the buffalo jump.”

  “Hm.” Seth scratched his head. “Wonder who it was and what business they had.”

  Instantly she thought of the stranger. Was he back? Had he ever left? When her gaze met Charlie’s, his eyes hooded before he snapped his gaze away. He pushed an unsteady hand through his hair, making her wonder. He looks more nervous than I do. Is he hiding something, too? If he was, she was sure it wasn’t in connection with the stranger. She’d never believe that. No, it was something else she couldn’t put her finger on—not yet, anyway.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Pounding on the door brought Brenna out of a sound sleep. She dragged her heavy eyelids open to a cold, dark bedroom. Confused, she blinked several times, trying to decide if she’d heard the knocking in her dream, or if the sound had been real. This was Sunday. Service wasn’t until ten o’clock. Certainly, the children weren’t up yet. Deciding she must have imagined the noise, she rolled over and pulled her covers up to her chin.

  Knock knock knock.

  This time Brenna sat up, quickly lit her bedside lantern then picked up her watch, working to focus her eyes—five-thirty in the morning?

  “One minute, please,” she called toward the front of the house. Who on earth could be at the door? Only dreadful news comes before dawn.

  She fumbled around in the shadowy room. Finding her dress, she pulled the weighty garment over her head and haphazardly adjusted the pleats. She threw her shawl over her shoulders to hide the open buttons in the back. Finger combing her hair as she padded through her bedroom on bare feet, she worried all the way to the front door. Pulling it open, she stopped, stunned into silence.

  Mr. Hutton stood between her door and the road, just inside her front gate. He must have knocked on her door, then retreated back ten feet when he’d heard her response. His bare feet protruded from his blanket covering, and he looked as if he’d fall over any moment.

  “Mr. Hutton,” she gasped. “What’s wrong?”

  She started toward him but he stopped her with an upheld palm. “Stay back, Mrs. Lane.” He swallowed, and swayed. His ghostly white face reflected the light of the moon. What on earth. “I’m sick. Came down with something in the middle of the night. I don’t want to expose you.
I was wondering—”

  Brenna hurried down the stairs and pushed past his open palm just as he tilted to the left. Wrapping one arm around his waist, she took a firm hold.

  Heat radiated through the blanket. “Come, Mr. Hutton,” she said soothingly, alarmed over his high temperature. “Come along with me.” When she turned him around and inched slowly toward the gate, he didn’t protest. “You need to get back into bed where you belong.”

  “No . . .” He tried to push her away but she was having none of it.

  For a moment his eyes closed and he rocked back on his heels, almost taking Brenna with him. She fought to keep him upright while struggling to keep her dress and shawl on her shoulders. They passed through the narrow gate under a clear sky bursting with stars. They stepped onto the dirt road between the houses and Brenna’s bare foot came down on a sharp stone, the pain making her jerk. Mr. Hutton’s arm tightened around her waist, and when he turned to see what had happened his concerned gaze was overpowered by the feverish haze within. “Your ankle. You shouldn’t be walking on it.”

  “My ankle feels fine. I just stepped on a small pebble. Keep going. We’re almost there.”

  “Don’t want you to get sick,” he mumbled. “Only wondered if you’d go fetch the doctor for me—in an hour or two when the sun is up.”

  “Of course I will. Just as soon as it’s light I’ll send Penny. But right now the only place for you is in your bed.”

  They crossed the street and she helped him slowly take the steps to his porch. Pushing into the dark house, she noted the only light was a lantern burning in the bedroom. She stopped in the living room and let him catch his breath.

  “Mrs. Lane, I’ll never forgive myself if you—”

  “Hush.”

  “—get sick,” he finished. “I wish you’d stayed at arm’s length, where you’d be safe.” He groaned. “And last evening, all that walking together. Surely you were exposed to whatever I have.”