by Anna Zogg
“Could I get tea, please?” she asked the woman.
“Sure, miss. I’ll have to heat water.” The housekeeper moved away.
“Thank you.” Ellie directed her smile at him. “I hope your quarters are comfortable.”
He thought of the drafty building, but decided the shed was more pleasant than sleeping in the open. “Good enough.” His gaze cut across to the gray-haired woman who had finished putting on a kettle and grabbed a broom. Although she seemed intent on her work, he knew she listened to every word. The rough bristles scraped across the floor with a rhythmic shree-shree sound.
“I’m glad.” Ellie spread her hands to indicate the well-furnished house. “Do you think this place beautiful? I hope you’ll be happy here.”
As long as you’re here, I will be. The unbidden thought popped into his head. Ever mindful of their audience, Rhett clamped his jaw to keep from speaking the words aloud. His bold pronouncement might unnerve Ellie.
“I’m sure I will be.” He spoke slowly, captivated by the way the soft light caressed her milky skin. In the light of the lanterns, her blonde hair gave off a golden glow. When the scent of lavender tickled his senses, he breathed deeply.
The pink on her cheeks deepened as she lowered her gaze.
He cleared his throat. “Thank you for giving me the opportunity to work here.”
Ma counted on the money he sent each month. Though she wouldn’t be destitute without it, he liked to provide enough so she would never worry about food or shelter again.
He didn’t mind repeating his thanks. “I appreciate the job.”
“Oh, no trouble.” Despite Ellie’s smile, a small furrow appeared on her forehead. She shot another glance at the housekeeper. “Although I’m sorry your welcome wasn’t, um, warmer.”
He shook his head, wanting to tell her that the reception wasn’t all that surprising. According to the foreman, Will Marshall preferred to hire locals. A lot of riffraff wandered about the country, especially with the railroad pushing deep into Wyoming Territory. Marshall’s response had seemed a little more pointed than Rhett expected—but he would adjust.
He could take care of himself, but he worried about his mother’s safety. Perhaps returning to Cheyenne had not been a good idea no matter how much Ma desired it.
“Here ya are, miss.” Mrs. Johnson set a steaming cup of tea before Ellie.
“Thank you.”
Rhett waited until the woman returned to her task before speaking to Ellie. “How’s your neck? I noticed you were rubbing it earlier.”
He clamped his mouth shut. Stupid to have said that, proving he’d been watching her.
“When?”
He had no choice but to answer. “In the wagon. On the way here.”
“It’s better.” She spoke slowly as she began to toy with a strand of hair.
She seemed to do that when nervous or anxious, but he found the habit endearing. The way she fluttered her eyelashes when she smiled entranced him.
If he had not been so smitten, he might have paid closer attention to the sounds outside. When footsteps thumped across the porch, Rhett bolted upright. He and Ellie were no longer isolated along a dirt road in the wilderness. He could not afford to stare at her without consequences.
“Ellie, I...” Will Marshall halted on the threshold, gaze darting between the two of them.
She too rose, looking as though she’d been caught doing something inappropriate. After stammering a hello, she fell silent. Mrs. Johnson continued to sweep, moving closer as though not satisfied with her earlier work. Not once did she look up.
Marshall’s hard stare fixed on him. With deliberation, Rhett picked up his cup before half-bowing to Ellie. “Thank you for the meal.”
Confusion etched her brow, but she didn’t contradict him. Rhett intended for the ranch owner to assume she had provided the food—and that was the only reason she was sitting at the table with him.
Keeping his gaze lowered, he set the cup on a sideboard, then headed toward the door. His new employer stepped aside with a jerk. Without looking back, Rhett walked purposefully down the steps and across the yard.
The thought flashed through his mind that he was a fool for displaying his back to his new boss, considering the man’s expression. Never had Rhett seen such unveiled suspicion before.
What caused Marshall to harbor such distrust? This seemed to go deeper than disliking outsiders. Perhaps the Double M Ranch and the Walker Gang shared more history than he’d first imagined.
* * *
In the morning, Ellie heard men’s voices in the next room. From the sounds they made, she determined they were eating breakfast. Too sleepy to arise, she rolled over in bed. Then she groaned at her aching body as the bruises from the stagecoach accident made themselves known.
The faintest light shimmered against the curtains, telling her the day had barely begun. She pulled the blankets over her head and tried to block out the noise from the next room. After sleep continued to elude her, she rose.
By the time she washed and dressed, the house had emptied. A plate of flapjacks sat on the still-warm stove, while a huge pan of bacon rested nearby. Yawning, Ellie helped herself to the food and coffee. She had nearly finished her meal when the door opened and her uncle strode in.
“There you are, Sunshine.” He kissed the top of her head. “I was wondering if you’d sleep half the day.”
“It’s not even eight.” She stifled a yawn. “That’s hardly half the day.”
“Around here it is.” He poured himself a steaming cup of coffee and sat nearby.
“I see your ankle has improved.” Ellie waved her fork in his direction.
“Told ya it was on the mend.”
“Uh-huh.” She cradled her coffee. “Next time something like that happens, I will tend to you. And if any of the ranch hands have injuries, I plan to see to them, as well.”
“Yes, Doc.” He chuckled, eyebrows rising. “But I thought my brother didn’t send you to medical school.”
Her cheeks grew hot. “Not that I didn’t want to go. Do you realize I was accepted to the Women’s Medical College of Pennsylvania? I could’ve gone if...” She bit her lip, surprised at how the memory of her father’s harsh mockery still hurt.
“No doubt you would’ve made a wonderful doctor.” Uncle Will patted her hand.
Would have? Her fingers curled under the hand he touched.
“If you want to tend to scratches and bruises,” he said more softly, “you’re welcome to.”
Despite the kind words, she could only hear the condescension that laced his tone. She knew she was capable of so much more.
“I must warn you, though,” he went on, “the men’ll line up to flirt.”
She set aside her annoyance. “I’d be glad to see to anyone’s injury, if it would help you.”
“Huh.” Will took a mouthful of coffee, then smoothed his mustache with a knuckle. “Then I’d never get any work done around here.”
“If needed, I’ll tend to them on their day off.”
He frowned at her as though she had just started speaking French.
“Naturally, I meant Sunday,” she added. “I’m sure the Lord wouldn’t mind my tending wounds since He healed on the Sabbath.”
Will’s brow cleared. “Yes. Of course.”
His reaction and tone fueled her suspicions. “You do allow them Sundays off, don’t you? Or at least a chance to go to church?”
His thumb rubbed the handle of the tin cup as though to polish off the soot. “They’re off on Sundays. What they do with their time off is none of my business.”
Something about the way his eyes shifted bothered her. “Don’t they follow your example?” When he didn’t reply right away, she understood. “Oh, I see. You don’t go either.”
Will scratched his head. “I’m not mu
ch of a churchgoer.”
“But, when you visited Chicago, you did.” She had a clear memory of him sitting in the pew with her and her mother. What had changed?
He looked away. “That was a long time ago.”
Before she could ask him if he would reconsider, he added, “You’re welcome to if you want. I’m sure Guy would drive you.”
“I’d rather go with you.” She spoke in a low tone, hoping Uncle Will would agree.
When he said nothing more, she bit her lip to keep from nagging. Perhaps sometime soon she could convince him.
With a couple gulps, Will finished his coffee. “I’m sorry, but I need to skedaddle. Got work to do.”
“Wait.” Ellie rose with him. “Isn’t that what your men are for?”
He flashed her an indulgent smile. “’Round here we do things a bit different than back east. I work alongside my men.”
“Yes, but...” Disappointment washed over her. “I thought we’d spend the day together.”
“Not today, I’m afraid. We’re shorthanded. That means we’re behind work.”
“Of course.” How selfish of her to want him all to herself. “Will I see you during dinner?”
“Perhaps. We usually eat around one or two. Whenever Cookie sounds the bell.” With that, her uncle was out the door.
She stared after him, an odd sensation gripping her stomach. This wasn’t going as she’d imagined. The realization struck her that so far, nothing had.
“I need to give him—and me—time.” She spoke aloud, not only to convince herself, but as a reminder that she now dwelled in Uncle Will’s world. He had a way of doing things and a schedule that she was as yet ignorant of. Though she knew little of ranch operations, she must become a student.
In the meantime, she would get settled. This was now her home.
Back in her bedroom, she set up a photograph of her parents on a small desk. She draped a favorite knitted throw across the foot of the bed and placed her father’s clock on the mantel. Next, she tackled sorting through the wreckage in her medical bag, careful to pick out the broken glass. Though some items were spoiled, she was able to salvage much. The thought crossed her mind that she should restock soon. If memory served, Casper boasted of a small drugstore.
As she fingered the tin of astringent powder, memories of two days before rushed back at her. What had happened to the horse she had stitched up? In the bustle of getting to the ranch, she’d forgotten to ask. Did Rhett know? Ellie rose to peer out her bedroom window, but it faced away from the ranch yard. Barren and blistered hills, dotted by scrub brush met her gaze. Not exactly the beautiful view she had envisioned. She missed the lush green grass and bountiful trees of Chicago.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “Irrelevant. This is home.”
When she grew weary of the isolation, she grabbed a light shawl and bonnet before heading out the front door. The hot sun now shone high in the sky, so she stayed on the shaded porch to look around the ranch.
In the distance, men repaired barbed-wire fencing that stretched for miles. Another couple of workers were shoeing a horse. A young man worked the bellows while the blacksmith shaped metal on the anvil. His hammer hummed as he beat a rhythmic tattoo. As Ellie peered around, she finally spotted Rhett in a nearby field. He appeared to be digging holes. For fence posts? From where she stood, she counted six mounds of dirt. His buckskin jacket draped a nearby post. His sleeveless shirt revealed muscled arms. The bandage she had bound around his wound was missing.
After draping her shawl over the railing, she wrapped one arm around a porch column and watched. Not once did he pause as he worked, but dug with diligence, intent on his work. If he looked up, Ellie was prepared to wave in encouragement. Her thoughts leaped ahead.
Had any of the ranch hands befriended him? She hoped Rhett was settling into his new job and that Guy had discovered what a fine man his new employee was.
“Miss?”
Ellie jumped as Mrs. Johnson approached.
“Made some fresh sassafras tea.” The housekeeper held out a drink. “Well water makes it cold, but we got ice if you want.” She pointed to a distant shack, built into the side of a hill.
“Thank you. This’ll be perfect.” She took the glass from the woman, who disappeared into the house again without saying another word.
Truth was, Ellie wasn’t interested in tea. However, as she held the drink, her gaze again strayed to Rhett. Perhaps he would care for some cool refreshment.
Before she changed her mind, she walked with purpose toward him. He must have caught a glimpse of her, because he stopped working as she crossed the yard. As he waited, he flexed his shoulders as though to relieve the tension in his muscles. A small smile danced across his lips. Was he more delighted to see her or the drink she carried? Warmth crept over her as she imagined his blue eyes glittering in anticipation.
The sound of horse hooves, rapidly approaching, stopped her in the middle of the yard. She swiveled as Guy and two men thundered toward her. When they were within ten feet, they pulled up.
“Whoa.” The foreman held up one hand as though a military commander in a campaign. “How do, Miss Ellie.” With a flourish, he swept his hat off and gave a partial bow. “Dee-lighted to see you on this fair day.” The other two men nodded in greeting.
“Hello.” She clamped her mouth shut, at a loss of what else to say. In her peripheral vision, she could see Rhett, watching. Condensation from the glass dripped over her fingers.
“Boys, where’re yer manners?” The foreman knocked the younger man’s hat off. His companion swept off his before Guy could reach him, revealing a streak of white hair. “We’ve a lady present.”
As the foreman dismounted, she squelched a sound of impatience.
Guy fixed his gaze on the glass of sassafras tea as he settled his hat back on his head. “Now that looks right inviting. Tasted it yet?”
“No.” She chewed on the inside of her lip. Too late she realized what her intended actions might mean to the other ranch hands. After all, Rhett had just begun working there. How unwise for her to single him out and treat him with special favor.
She held the glass toward Guy. “Mrs. Johnson said she just made this.”
“Real sweet of you to bring it to me.” He winked.
“It’s all yours.”
Guy snatched it out of her hand and took a gulp. “Not bad. O’course, not as good at painting my tonsils as some other drinks, but—”
A sharp shriek interrupted, followed by a drawn-out cry.
Ellie swiveled toward the sound. The young man who’d been helping the blacksmith gripped his wrist. His face twisted in pain.
Without hesitation, she rushed toward him.
Guy’s footsteps followed, but with his longer strides, he reached the man ahead of her. “What happened?”
“I...” The young man groaned.
“Burned hisself.” An older man stared at the angry red welt that rose on the meaty part of the thumb. “I told Matt not to take his eyes off the hot metal.”
A crowd began to gather.
“Get Cookie.” Still holding his sassafras tea, Guy barked at a loiterer. “And tell him to bring butter.”
“No. Not butter.” Ellie stepped forward while the man froze and gawked at her. Without explaining, she grabbed the glass of partially finished tea from Guy’s hand. “Here. Hold this against your burn. Now.”
When Matt merely stared at her, she seized his forearm and pressed the cold glass on his thumb. He yelped, but she hung on. After several seconds he no longer resisted her hold.
Ellie stared into the young man’s face. “Keep the wound cool as long as you can. After it stops burning, you can put butter on it. But not now. That would be the worst thing to do.”
Gulping, the youngster’s gaze shifted to those who stood around. Ellie too caught the looks
of the men, catching expressions of doubt, surprise and grudging admiration.
“What happened?” Cookie shuffled their way.
“Matt burned himself,” a man volunteered.
“Get me some butter,” the elderly man ordered the speaker.
“Ellie says no,” Guy volunteered. Crossing his arms, he leaned back as though waiting for how she would respond.
Before Cookie could fuss, she spoke. “Butter is a wonderful ointment for burns. But later. After the burn has cooled.” Back in Chicago, that treatment had worked on a kitchen girl who had scalded her foot, but the scowl on Cookie’s face discouraged offering an explanation. Ellie looked around. More of the men’s expressions seemed to mimic Cookie’s now as they sided with him.
She’d seen those looks before on the faces of her father’s colleagues.
Practice medicine? You? Their sneers echoed in her memories.
Ellie took a deep breath. Soon enough, the young man would learn which treatment would be most effective. No use forcing a showdown with Cookie.
“I’m not the one who’s hurting. So it makes no difference to me.” She spun to face Matt. “The cold of the glass or the butter—you decide what feels best.” Without another word, she turned on her heel and stalked back to the house.
“Hey.” Guy called after her, but she pretended not to hear.
After she reached her room, she realized she should have stayed and fought for what was best for the young man. Sighing, she paced across her room for several minutes.
Practicing medicine was her dream—a dream she would fulfill regardless of who stood in her way.
Next time, Ellie promised herself. Next time she would not give up so soon. Even if it meant challenging the foreman, the cook...and even her own uncle.
* * *
Muscles burning, Rhett dug one final hole before he allowed himself to rest. Swiping his forearm across his brow, he hissed when salty sweat bit into the not-quite-healed wound on his forearm. Though the supper bell had rung almost an hour ago, he had continued to work because he wanted to finish his task. Already the sun shimmered as it perched on the hilly horizon. Orange streaks cut across the sky, bringing a cool breeze.