Gabe nodded. “I know. I’ve been watching.”
“You’ll be needin’ to get a sturdy stick and tie some cloth on it to stake your claim, if ’n you’re one of the lucky ones. There’s markers—usually stacks of rocks—indicating the corners of each property, but I imagine they’ll be hard to find on the run. Good luck to you, son.”
Gabe walked into the sunshine, feeling as if his life was about to change. Funny, how simply signing his name to a piece of paper could make him feel that way.
As he returned to his hotel, he thought of the land he’d like to claim. A pretty little valley somewhere with a creek running through it with enough trees for some cooling shade but not so many that he’d have to clear the land. Maybe then he could find a wife and settle down, thus keeping the promise he made to his ma.
The idea didn’t sound nearly as distasteful as it had in the past.
Lara Talbot’s face came to mind, and he wondered if the young widow would ever marry again.
Chapter 9
Lara’s shoulder ached from the heavy pole pressing against the base of her neck. A few feet ahead of her, Jo walked with the other end on her shoulder, a bucket of goat’s milk swaying gently in between them. Cheesecloth covered the pail to keep out flies and dirt. Lara hoped the sale of the milk added to the few coins in her pocket would be enough to buy Grandpa some more quinine. She needed to stock up since they’d be leaving town, and she didn’t know when she’d have another chance to purchase any more.
“You know, if you had agreed to register for the land rush like Grandpa and I wanted, we might not have gotten kicked out of the soddy.”
Lara’s mind swirled as she tried to comprehend how the two events were related. She scrunched her brow together, trying to make sense of Jo’s cryptic statement.
“But no-ooo, you refused to obey, just like Balaam’s donkey in the scriptures.”
Lara pursed her lips together at Jo’s scolding tone. To her way of thinking, the donkey had saved Balaam’s life by diverting from its path to avoid the avenging angel bent on killing Balaam because he’d angered the Lord. She failed to see how her situation resembled his—unless she’d somehow disobeyed God by not following her grandpa’s wishes. But he’d only suggested she register—at least until yesterday. “You heard what I said yesterday. We have to leave the soddy because Mr. Hancock’s son is returning, and he needs it for his family. It has nothing to do with what I did or didn’t do.”
“Sometimes God has to give people a shove to get them moving.” Jo lifted the pole, rubbed her shoulder, then lowered the thick wooden rod again, causing the bucket to slide dangerously toward Lara for a moment. “I guess He shoved us by making us lose the soddy.”
Hearing Jo talk of God—albeit skewed—gave Lara hope that her troublesome sister was at least paying some attention during Sunday services. “I doubt the two situations are related.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wondered if maybe there wasn’t a bit of truth to Jo’s convoluted thinking. Had God forced them from their home so she’d be willing to register for the land rush because they had no other hope of getting land? With no money to buy land or even to rent an acre if one were available, the run was their best hope of obtaining a place to live.
Lara sighed. “There may be some truth in what you say.”
Jo snorted. “Never thought I’d hear you say that I’m right about something.” She stepped to the side of the road to allow a covered wagon pulled by an oxen team to pass by, and Lara followed her. The couple on the seat nodded in their direction. She smiled at them.
The road south of Caldwell had always been a fairly isolated one, traveled mostly by folks who lived outside of town or were journeying to the Twin Territories. Now it seemed busier than the streets of Caldwell with so many people going to the Kansas border to prepare for the land rush.
Just outside of town, a buckboard piled high with furniture, bedding, and crates approached, surrounded by a passel of children of all sizes, laughing, squealing, and dodging in and out of the tall prairie grass alongside the road. By the end of the day, she was sure, they’d all be dragging their feet.
A thin woman, who sat next to a man on the wagon seat, nudged him in the side. She whispered something in his ear. He glanced at Jo and Lara then handed the reins to his wife and jumped off the slow-moving wagon as his wife reined the horses to a stop.
He walked toward them and seemed to be studying the dirt road. Finally, he looked up and removed his hat. His gaze darted everywhere except at them. “My missus wants to know if perchance y’all might have some milk or eggs in yer bucket.”
Jo nodded before Lara could respond. “We’ve got goat’s milk.”
His hands wrung his hat half to death. “I don’t reckon you’d care to part with it, would you?”
Lara’s heart jolted. She had no doubt the large family needed the milk, but it was her only chance for getting Grandpa’s medicine. “We plan to sell it in town,” she blurted before Jo could offer to give it away.
“I’d be willing to pay you for it. Say, half a dollar. Our cow died several days back, and our young’uns are in terrible need of some fresh milk.”
Jo glanced over her shoulder and lifted her brows. Lara didn’t need to consider the offer, because it was more than twice what she’d get in town. “Sold.” She offered a smile, and the man looked her full in the face for the first time and grinned.
He took the bucket and poured the milk into one of his own. The six stair-step children chattered loudly and gathered around the back of the wagon. They looked well fed and nicely clothed, making Lara wonder why the family didn’t buy another cow. But it was no concern of hers. She gladly accepted the half dollar and carried the bucket while Jo walked with the pole as if it were a shepherd’s staff.
“I want to go say good-bye to Alma Lou and visit with her a little while.”
Lara wanted to tell Jo that they had lots to do, but the truth was, there wasn’t all that much to pack. “I’ll need your help later. I want to put new grass in the ticks before we leave. I’ve heard that some of the land in Oklahoma is quite barren.”
Jo glanced sideways at her. “I sure hope it isn’t all like that.”
“Me, too.”
A sparkle lit Jo’s blue eyes. “Can I go with you to register?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “If you want, but your time would be better spent with Alma Lou than standing in that long line.”
Jo seemed to be thinking that over as they entered Caldwell. When they came to Main Street, she waved and trotted off toward her friend’s house. People swarmed the boardwalks, and the loud murmuring of voices reminded Lara of a mass of bees surrounding a hive. Caldwell had certainly become a hive of humanity with all the people passing through.
She walked toward the land office, thankful that the line was short today. She was the only woman waiting to register, and she listened to the men talk of the run. Turning her head to avoid the rank smell of the old man in front of her, she watched the people coming and going, suddenly surprised to realize she was looking for one particular dandy. She owed Gabe Coulter an apology. That must be the reason she was searching him out.
As the line shrank, Lara’s angst grew. What if they didn’t get land? They’d be stuck in the Oklahoma Territory with no money and no means of support in a place with few towns. Grandpa had insisted they stick together. He didn’t want to leave the family behind so that he could travel to the border for the run. Of course, the rest of them would have to wait near the starting line, hoping and praying Grandpa got a claim. She worried about him competing when he wasn’t in top condition. And that old mule of theirs was likely to collapse if he pushed it very hard.
The man behind her coughed, and the ghastly odor of his stale breath and rotting teeth made her want to retch. She covered her nose and mouth with her bandaged hand and stepped forward. Swallowing back the bile in her throat, she kept her feet still, knowing if she ran outside, she’d lose her place in line—and she
was so close now. The stuffiness of the dim room mixed with the pungent odor of dirty men almost became too much.
She set her bucket down, pulled her handkerchief from under her cuff and fanned herself with it. Oh, what she wouldn’t give for her hand fan, even if it did have an advertisement for a burial service on it. Just when she was certain she’d swoon, the man in front of her stepped away, revealing an aged clerk. His pale blue eyes twinkled with mirth. “I know it ain’t right to ask a woman’s age, but it’s my job. Have ya reached twenty-one yet, missy?”
Lara nodded. “Yes, sir. I have.”
“Then just sign your John Henry, ma’am, right on that line.” He pointed at the ledger book then rattled off the same spiel he’d given every other person before her.
Lara signed her grandpa’s name, Daniel Jensen, and started to leave. She glanced at the list, and when the old man turned his back, she added her own name. Picking up the bucket, she spun and hurried outside. She pushed her way through the line of waiting men, darted into the alley, and bent over, trying to catch her breath. What she needed was a cool glass of water. Maybe she could beg one off the doctor when she went there to buy Grandpa’s quinine.
She gasped in several deep breaths then straightened, willing her blurred vision to clear. That had been a close call. Maybe skipping breakfast so that she could slip Michael and Grandpa her share of the johnnycakes hadn’t been a good idea. Holding on to the side of the wall, she slowly made her way back to the boardwalk. Several men gave her curious stares, but no one offered their assistance, much to her relief.
Embarrassed by her display of womanly weakness, she stepped back into the shade of the boardwalk and wove her way through the crowd toward the doctor’s office. The kind man gave her a drink of tepid water and a wet cloth for her face, then with two dozen quinine pills in a small bottle in her pocket, she stepped outside the doctor’s office and ran smack into a solid body. The empty bucket went clanging to the ground. The man’s hands quickly came out to steady her, and she anchored onto his arms as another wave of weakness washed over her.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Talbot?”
The doctor’s door jingled shut behind her as Gabe Coulter guided her to sit down in the chair outside of the office. She took a moment to collect herself, knowing she was going to have to eat more to be able to function. If not for the abnormally hot April day and the foul odors in the land office, she probably would have been fine.
“I’m getting the doctor.” Gabe rose from his squat, but she grabbed the edge of his jacket in a very improper manner for a lady.
“No, please. I’m fine.” She had no money to pay the doctor and wasn’t about to get into Mr. Coulter’s debt further. “I just got overheated.”
He retrieved her bucket then eased down in the chair next to her, looking less than convinced. “Are you sure? Do you need some water?”
Lara shook her head. “Truly, I’m fine. I just need to sit for a few moments.”
The scent of fresh-baked bread wafted by on the warm breeze, making her empty stomach gurgle a protest. She covered her middle with her hand but feared Mr. Coulter had heard. With warm cheeks, she glanced up to see him smiling like a rogue.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Hungry, are we?”
Mortified, she looked away. Why was she always at her worst when he was around? Looking down, she noticed her dirty toes sticking out from under her dress and slid them beneath her frayed skirt. Could things get any worse?
“What were you doing in the doctor’s office? Are you sicker than you’re willing to admit?” His warm smile wilted, as if he was truly concerned about her welfare.
“I am not sick.”
“I suppose you came back so he could check your hand. How’s it doing?”
She waved her freshly bandaged hand in the air. “Fine, but the doctor wants me to keep it covered for another day or two.”
“I’m glad you didn’t break it.” His mouth pulled into a tightlipped smile, which made Lara wonder if he still felt responsible. He tugged a shiny gold watch from the pocket of his vest and cleared his throat. “I was just heading over to the café for lunch. I’d be delighted if you’d accompany me.” He held out his hand as if the decision had already been made.
She shook her head. “Thank you, but I can’t.” She may be a widow, but nobody in Caldwell knew that yet. How would it look if she were to dine with a man other than her husband?
Her stomach growled again, and she sank lower in the chair.
With her bucket looped over one arm, Mr. Coulter took her hand and tugged her up. “I insist.” He stood so close that she caught a whiff of his spicy bay rum scent. She never knew a man could smell so refreshing. After the reeking, hairy hoard of grubby men in the land office, he smelled delightful. And she’d yet to see him dirty or unshaven. She admired a man who cared enough to tend to his daily ablutions. Suddenly feeling crowded by his closeness, she tried to step back, but the bench pressed against her calves.
He quirked a rascally grin, as if he knew her thoughts, then took her uninjured hand, looped it around his arm, and gently pulled her with him down the boardwalk. When she tried to tug her hand away, he applied enough pressure to hold her securely in place.
“Please, Mr. Coulter, it isn’t proper for you to accompany me around town. I’m a widow, but most of the townsfolk don’t know that. Besides, I’m in mourning.”
His gaze traveled the length of her faded dress, making her want to turn and run. “You don’t appear to be in mourning. And call me Gabe.”
She wanted to slap that smug expression off his face but had no free hand to do so. She tried yanking away again, but he placed his left hand on her arm to hold her there. “I’ll set you free after you’ve eaten a three-course meal. You are far too thin, Mrs. Talbot.”
“I can’t. Please let me go. I’ve got to get back home.”
He stopped in front of the café door and looked at her. “You need to eat a decent meal. You’re so weak you can hardly stand up straight. After we dine, I’ll rent a buggy and drive you home, if your duties in town are completed.”
“You have no right to order me to eat.” Lara stopped suddenly, refusing to go another step as his prisoner. “Turn loose of me, you cad.”
She glared at him, but he just grinned back at her like she’d given him the world’s nicest compliment. The bell on the café door jingled as two cowboys stepped out. They glanced at her and Gabe but kept on walking. She considered asking for their help, but the fragrant odors of food that followed them out the door made her waver.
When Mr. Coulter ushered her inside, her rebellious feet followed. He seated her then took the chair across from her and smiled. “See, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
Lara crossed her bandaged hand over her other arm and glared at him. She had no idea how she’d ended up in this chair. What she ought to do was storm outside and run home, but she doubted she could get that far. All she’d had to eat since lunch yesterday had been two hush puppies and a sliver of fish. The tantalizing odors of roast beef and fried chicken melted her last resistance.
“Fine. I’ll eat with you, Mr. Coulter, but no buggy ride. I’m perfectly capable of walking such a short distance.” She hiked up her chin.
His dark eyes twinkled. “We’ll see. And call me Gabe. I insist.”
She narrowed her brow. “You’re quite insistent at ordering me about when you hardly know me.” She refused to call him by his first name. What point was there arguing about that since today was probably her last day in Caldwell?
Something deep inside her winced at the thought of having to bid him good-bye for the last time. He was the only man ever to truly treat her like a lady, even though she’d been as skittish as a wet cat trapped in a rain barrel. Not even when she and Tom were courting had Tom ever treated her so nicely. Lara sighed.
Humbled, she cleared her throat. “I want to thank you for your assistance yesterday. I really don’t know how I would have managed otherwise.”
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br /> He waved his neatly manicured hand in the air. “It was the very least I could do after causing you so much pain and trouble.”
She wanted to argue that the boy had caused her problems, but she kept silent. If it made him feel good to help her, she wasn’t going to steal his joy.
The waitress came, and Gabe ordered roast beef while she requested the fried chicken. Her mouth watered, and she hoped there’d be enough food that she could take some home for Michael. The growing boy needed to eat more meat.
“Are you in town on business, Mr. Coulter? I don’t recall seeing you until recently.” She toyed with a fraying corner of her cloth napkin.
“It’s Gabe, remember?” He grinned and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’d just arrived the day I met you at the depot when you calmed my horse. Thank you again for that, by the way.”
She could feel a blush rising to her cheeks. She’d just happened to be cutting through the depot on her way home from delivering the Henrys’ mending, when she saw the spooked horse. While working on Grandpa’s ranch, she’d learned young that she had a knack for handling the beautiful animals. “My pleasure.”
“I live in Kansas City but came down here to look for someone. I’ve discovered since then that selling horses here can be very lucrative.”
Lara hoped he wasn’t cheating desperate people by selling them overpriced mounts. Her stomach growled on cue as the waitress approached with two plates filled with steaming food. Her eyes widened and her mouth watered at the sight of a half chicken coated with crispy fried batter, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and a plate of hot rolls.
Gabe nodded his thanks to the waitress and picked up his fork. He glanced at her, brows tucked. “Something wrong?”
Shaking her head, Lara cleared her throat. “It’s just that we always say grace over our meals.”
“Sorry, it’s been awhile since I’ve done that. Go ahead.” He laid his fork down, looking contrite.
She asked God’s blessing for the food then cut off a plump thigh and looked around the café. Since it was only a quarter past eleven, a crowd hadn’t gathered yet. She took the remaining pieces of chicken, dropped them discreetly into her bucket, then laid the cheesecloth over them. She avoided Gabe’s searing gaze and concentrated on eating everything else on her plate. Soon, she was as stuffed as she could ever remember being.
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