by Nan O'Berry
Drew stared down at his empty mug. “Your face.”
“Scuffle in town, I am not a fighter, but I was not about to have your sister’s reputation muddied,” Clay explained.
“Thank you.” Drew nodded his head.
Emma stood. “Really? I’m right here, Drew. Why don’t you ask me?”
Drew blinked and looked over at Emma.
“I met Clay at O’Neal’s. He was talking to Stephen and I bumped into a table and tore my dress. Clay brought me some yard goods. That’s all.”
Drew glanced to Clay, then back to his sister. “I was just curious.” He shrugged. “I can’t figure out what a guy might see in a scrawny, bossy thing like you is all.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “Bossy!”
Clay laughed as Drew put his hands up to defend himself from his sister’s blows.
“Go to bed, Emma.” Drew laughed. “I’ll walk Clay out to the bunkhouse.”
They rose as she stormed from the room.
“I love my sister,” Drew remarked. He turned and gave Clay a stern look of reproach. “Don’t hurt her.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Clay replied.
Chapter 9
“Watch that steer!” Drew bellowed.
Clay wheeled Spirit around and charged toward the wayward cow heading back toward the bush on the Rocking R’s north meadow. They’d been at it since early in the morning, but he couldn’t complain. In fact, he found himself enjoying the day to day routine of the ranch. Using his left arm to brush back the branches, he and Spirit plunged into the thicket in search of the white face Hereford trying to hide.
A branch cracked to his right. Spirit’s ears pricked forward. Clay knew the horse’s eyes sight was twenty times better than his. Giving the gelding a free rein, the horse moved at a steady pace into the overhang. Suddenly, Spirit came to a jolting halt that threatened to unseat him. Putting a hand down on his mount’s neck to steady himself, Clay narrowed his gaze at the jumble of branches before him.
A movement of red, a flash of white followed with a loud protesting bellow and the steer shot from its hiding place with Spirit close at its heels. They broke through the jumble and out into the open. Clay leaned low over Spirit’s neck and loosened his lasso. Raising his right hand, he circled his head letting the loop grow ever wider. As they drew close, he let the rope fly and pulled the reins tight. Spirit sat down on his hind legs, digging up the ground as they came to a stop. The rope jerked. The cow flew around, its eyes wide in surprise.
Clay relaxed the pressure on the leather reins and his horse came to his feet. Taking a dally around the pommel, he kept the steer at bay and allowed both to get their breath.
“All right you box-eared hunk of steak, let’s get you back to the herd.” Clay reined Spirit in the direction of where the other cowboys were working and they took a step, pulling the bawling steer right along with them. Coming down the hillside, he could see William Rawlings galloping toward him.
“That was something to see,” he commented pulling his sorrel quarter horse to a stop. His eyes roved over Spirit. “You may be on to something about those horses. I’m quite impressed.”
“Like all animals, it’s a natural. But I will admit, Spirit seems to sense things even I can’t.” He turned and looked toward the thicket. “I couldn’t see the steer when we went in, but he could. I felt his muscles tense and just gave him his head. The rest, it’s what you saw.”
“Well, I like what I saw,” William said again.
They rode in silence down the hill to where the cowboys were branding. “My wife tells me you came to see our daughter.”
“Yes, sir.”
William Rawlings gazed out toward the horizon. “This is Rocking R land. I plan to hand it down to my two sons one day.”
“Yes, sir, Emma explained that yesterday.”
William nodded his understanding. “Then you know, her dowry will not contain any of the Rocking R land.”
“I know.”
William sat easily on his horse. “And you, Clay, what do you plan on doing after the express?”
“I want my own ranch, sir. I plan on raising horses like Spirit as well as running cattle. This is good cattle country.”
“It is,” William agreed with a nod. “Have you run cattle before? My wife tells me you are from Texas. I understand they have their own type of particular cattle.”
Clay grinned. “We do. Folks around our way called them ‘longhorns,’ in honor of the horns some bulls sport.”
“Are they good cattle for breeding?”
“Like any bovine, they can be cantankerous and moody. Where I grew up, they mixed the long horns with Spanish cattle brought over to the new world. They were hearty, a bit easier to manage, but I wouldn’t want to be caught on foot with one barreling down at me.”
Emma’s father chuckled. “I bet not.”
They reached the herd and Clay leaned to the right loosening the loop and setting the steer free.
With a shake of its head, the cow jogged off to join his friends.
“Emma is her mother’s and my pride and joy, Clay.”
“I can understand that.”
“Good. Then understand this. I love my daughter unconditionally. I demand that you respect her at all times.”
“Yes, sir,” Clay replied.
“I know that the express riders are a rowdy bunch and that Mr. Hawkins has kept you held to a higher standard. That goes here as well. Don’t break her heart.”
“No sir, I don’t plan to.”
With a nod of his head, William Rawlings seemed to draw a more relaxed breath. “Come, let’s join the wranglers for some lunch. There’s still a lot to do before tomorrow.”
Emma glanced at the horizon hoping to see shades of dust rising as her father, Drew, and Clay returned. Behind her, the back door slammed and the smell of fresh baked bread waffled out on the porch.
“No sign yet?” her mother inquired.
Emma shook her head no. “I would have thought with Dad herding the cattle in, there wouldn’t be so much to do.”
Her mother gave a soft laugh. “First lesson in ranching, there is always something to do. Rarely, does your father have any down time.”
Emma thought about what her mother said. “Yes, I agree. I just….”
Her mother’s hands found her shoulders. “You just wish you could spend more time with the young man who’s captured your heart.”
Emma’s eyes widened in surprise as she turned around and gaped at her mother. “How—?”
“Part of a mother’s training comes in remembering how I felt at your age.”
Emma smiled. “I do find myself thinking of him. Wondering what he’s doing. If he’s alright as he races along the express route?”
“I’m sure if it was your father or your brothers, I’d feel the same way.” Rosalynn walked over to the rocking chair and sat down. She pushed the chair back and forth with the balls of her feet.“Your father bought this for me when we first came out here. He said it would give me something to do rather than worry.”
Emma moved to the other chair next to her and sat down. “Does it work?”
“Oh, I can’t say that I don’t worry, but the motion is soothing.”
Emma pushed the chair into motion. Slowly, the nervousness that tied her stomach into knots began to ease. “I see what you mean.”
They rocked in silence, then Emma spoke, “Ma, is there any secret to a loving marriage?”
Rosalynn paused. Moving her head slowly from side to side, she answered, “No, not that I have ever been told. I think for me is never going to bed angry and always kiss your husband goodbye in the morning and welcome home at night. Odds are one day, you’ll never get the chance to do one of those.”
Emma drew a deep breath and filed her mother’s wisdom away.
Off in the distance, a small white cloud appeared.
“They’re coming.” Her feet propelled her from the chair and she walked to the steps, her mother
not far behind her. Together, the women went down the stairs and waited while their loved ones rode into the yard.
“I didn’t think you’d ever make it home,” Rosalynn remarked as William stepped down from the saddle.
“Neither did I.” He pulled her into his arms and they kissed.
“I’ll take your horse, Pa.” Stephen pulled the reins from his father’s hands and led the animal away.
“Let me help you, half pint,” Drew called to his younger brother. He turned his mount toward the barn and paused where Clay stood gazing at his sister. “Let me take Spirit. I think I can get him untacked and rubbed down.
Clay looked up. “Sure.”
Drew took the reins and led both horses away.
“Walk with me?” Clay whispered.
She nodded and he took her hand and they wandered toward the other side of the house away from prying eyes.
“Did you have a good day?” she asked.
“It was good,” he answered and turned her around to face him. “But not as good as this.” Pulling Emma into his arms, he took his hat off his head and leaned down for a sweet kiss.
Her mouth was warm and soft against his and she clutched the sleeves of his shirt as if her legs had lost their ability to hold her aloft. All the dust and the dirt from the ranch melted,as he tasted a fruity flavor on her lips. The kiss broke and Clay ran his tongue on the outside of his lips. His brow furrowed. “Is that blue berries or raspberries?”
Emma smiled. “Raspberries. There are some this side of the creek. I picked a bunch and Ma made a cobbler for supper. I’m afraid I ate as much as she put beneath the pastry crust.”
“I won’t tell.” Clay smiled. “But perhaps I can taste them again to see how good the pastry is.”
She blushed and leaned against him as he kissed her once more. This time, the event left him totally breathless.
Emma placed her head against his chest and held him tight. She lowered her voice, being purposely evasive. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
His hands encircled her back and he felt the pull on his heart. “If it makes you feel any better, I wish I didn’t have to go either.” Clay put a hand under her chin and tilted her face so that he could gaze into her eyes. “I’ve enjoyed my time here. I don’t want to go, but I have a job that I promised to fill.”
She gave a longing glance at him before nodding. “I will still worry about you.”
He pulled her close again, and felt the thumping of their hearts beat as one. “I will worry about you, as well.”
“Emma! Clay! Come wash up for supper.” Mrs. Rawlings voice brought them back to the present.
“Come on,” he urged.
As they stepped apart, Clay took hold of her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them gently.
Supper was over far too soon and the family gathered on the porch to watch the sun sink against the horizon. William Rawlings brought out his fiddle and while the whip-poor-will called to his mate, he played a slow tune that seemed to fit Clay’s melancholy mood.
When it came to an end, Rosalynn stood. “We’ve all had a busy day; I think I’m going to take Stephen upstairs to turn in.”
“Ah, Ma, it’s still light out.”
“Don’t argue with your mother, young man,” William stated with a firm reproach and yawned himself. “I’m coming too, dear. I must be getting too old for this life.”
“Never,” Rosalynn remarked as she held the door for her husband and youngest child. Turning to the others left on the porch, she said. “Don’t stay out too late.”
“I won’t, Ma,” Emma murmured.
They sat in the silence watching the night deepen. Drew in the rocking chair, Emma sitting beside Clay on the first step.
“I’m gonna buy the land to the south of us,” Drew spoke.
“We’ve got that many cattle to go to market?” Emma asked in surprise.
“We do. Come this fall, I’ll be making my first payment on three hundred acres.”
“That is quite an accomplishment,” Clay agreed.
“Reason I’m saying it is,” he paused.
Emma felt a momentary tingle of excitement. She held her breath and waited.
“I’m going to need a good man to work with me. I’d like it to be you, Clay.”
“Me!” There was genuine surprise in his voice.
“I watched you out there today. So did Pa. You’re a good hand with a top cowpony. I need someone I can rely on, to wrangle cattle, help put up a barn. I feel I can trust you.”
For a moment no one spoke.
“I am surprised. I don’t know what to say,” Clay stated.
“Think it over. I know you’re riding for the express. If that ever falls through or you have something else that comes to mind you’d like to do, the offer goes.”
“Thank you.”
Drew stood and stretched. “Not too much longer, sister. I’m sure Ma’s got the window upstairs open.” He pointed up.
Clay glanced toward the sky and noticed the faint light of an oil lamp in the upper window over where they were seated. He chuckled. “I’m going to bed too, Emma. You sleep well. Thanks, Drew, I’m gonna do some hard thinking about your offer. He rose, as did Emma.
“I’ll walk you to the bunkhouse.”
He shook his head. “I think not. That would invite too much loose talk.” Taking her shoulders, he leaned down and pressed a chase kiss against her forehead. “That will have to do for now.”
“For now,” she whispered. “Good night, Clay.”
“Good night, Emma.”
She stood at the porch with her brother and watched until Clay entered the bunk house.
“He’s a good man, Emma. One any girl would be proud to call hers.”
“Thank you, Drew. I hope Ma and Pa feel the same.”
Morning came quick, too quick for Clay’s liking. But there was a job waiting for him back in Three Rivers, and there he must go.
“I hope you’ll come back soon,” Mrs. Rawlings said as he mounted Spirit. “We shall miss you.”
“I’m gonna miss your cooking, too, Mrs. Rawlings.”
“Then take this.” She stepped forward and handed him something wrapped in paper.
Clay lifted it up to his nose and sniffed. “Smells like that pastry we had the other night.”
“It is.” Mrs. Rawlings beamed.
“Thank you.”
He turned and flipped his saddle bags open, sliding the pastry inside.
Emma moved to Spirit’s side. “I’ll walk a ways with you.”
Clay nodded, then glanced over to Mr. Rawlings. “If you don’t mind, sir?”
“Not at all.”
They watched as the family turned away. Stephen must have said something because Drew grabbed his collar and pulled him toward the barn.
“Poor Stephen.” Clay sighed.
Emma laughed. “More like poor Drew. He’ll pester him with questions.”
Clay held out his hand and Emma grabbed it. Nudging Spirit with his heels, the horse began a slow walk toward the trail that would take him back to Three Rivers. They said nothing.
Emma’s hand held tight to his until they reached the small rise. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I know,” Clay voice soothed her.
“But you have to.” Emma hung her head. “So, I will wish you safe journey.”
He nodded.
Emma’s thoughts strayed to her mother’s comments the night before. Blinking past the tears that suddenly sprang into her eyes, she touched his thigh.
Clay leaned down and slid an arm beneath hers pulling her half way up the horse until their lips met. The kiss was swift and powerful. It seemed to break through her fragile control and the tears slid down her cheeks as he lowered her to the ground. “It’s hard for me too, Emma.”
She nodded. Her lips trembled and her throat threatened to close. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you, Clay.”
His hand trailed along her arms
and he grasped her fingers. “I’ll be back soon.”
She nodded.
Spirit moved off and their touch broke. Emma’s hands folded against her heart hoping to keep it from breaking.
Clay rode a bit further before stopping. He turned in the saddle. “I think I love you too, Emma Rawlings. When I return, I plan on speaking to your father.”
With a wave of his hand, Clay loped toward the road.
The pull on his heart was almost more than Clay could stand. Never had he ever felt this way for Laura. How did love happen so quick? When he returned, he was going to have to find time to speak to Mrs. Hawkins about this mystery called love. Jogging toward Three Rivers, Clay wondered what had gone on during his time away. Sunday, Levi had deemed a day of rest. Riders at the station would be making sure their equipment was in readiness after attending service in the Hawkins’ home. Only those riders in transit would be on the road today.
He reached the road about the same time another rider barreled by. Clay recognized Denver’s bright red shirt and the small leather quirt he held tied around his wrist.
The boy recognized him too, for he lifted a hand in greeting as he sped by.
Clay would miss the camaraderie of his male peers, but they had nothing on the soft curves or bottomless blue eyes that Emma always seemed to turn up at him. Yes, riding for the Pony Express was a good thing, but the love of a good woman trumped that any day.
An hour into his ride, Clay paused at the curve of the road and dismounted. Removing his hat, he took his canteen from his saddle and poured a generous amount into the crown, offering it to Spirit. “Here you go boy.”
The horse blew into the water and drank.
“We’ll be home in a few hours. You can get a good ration of oats and a rubdown.” He ran his hand down the crest of Spirit’s neck.
The animal finished and Clay tossed the last tiny bit of water to the ground, then lifted the canteen to satisfy his own need.
Spirit’s head lifted and then the horse’s ears move forward.
“What do you see?”
Spirit nickered softly.
Clay turned to look at the horizon. Shadows from a cluster of trees that dotted the roadway obscured his vision. Putting the cork back into the neck of the canteen, he hung it back across the pommel.