“I’m not used to seeing you in a dress.” He kept his voice quiet so he didn’t disturb the sounds of nature.
“It’s been a while since I’ve worn one. But Anna gave me this, and I thought it best with company in the house.” She sounded subdued, and he couldn’t tell if wearing the gown bothered her or not. This woman was so different from any he’d ever met.
“It’s nice.”
She didn’t answer, and he didn’t know what else to say. So he said nothing, as nighttime noises soon took over. Crickets. A Whippoorwill. Each sound more calming than the last.
“Are you worried about the fence, Monty?” Her soft voice barely broke through the nocturnal noises.
Was his concern that easy to read? He’d not intended to undermine Jacob in front of the others. He should correct that lapse. Now. With Grace. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to lie to her. “Jacob said the demonstration was impressive.”
He could feel her gaze on him, but he kept his focus toward the darkness.
“Are you worried about it?” The same question. She wasn’t going to let him side-step.
At last, he let the spent air leak from him in a long breath. “I don’t know how I feel. Jacob’s opinions are usually solid. But something about it makes me uneasy. I can’t put my finger on it, so… Maybe it’s nothing.”
“Have you talked to him about your concern?”
He glanced at her. A single ray of moonlight lit part of her face, revealing only one of her shining eyes. “No. I don’t have anything specific to tell him. Just a gut feeling.” He turned back toward the shadows. How could he put into words the uneasiness? It wouldn’t make enough sense to carry weight in a discussion. Why was he even telling her?
“Seems to me he’d value the wisdom in your opinion. I know I would.”
Monty glanced back at her, but she didn’t meet his gaze, just stared ahead.
Then, before he could react, she turned with a quiet swish. “I’ll leave you be. Sorry to bother.” And she was gone, before he could stop her.
Silence descended over him again, but it wasn’t the same as before. This time, the emptiness of it all tightened his chest. How could one slender lady take all the peacefulness with her?
The squeak of the door sounded again, and relief flooded over Monty in a wave stronger than it should have. She’d come back. But as he turned to greet her, the words died on his tongue.
Bo’s form outlined against the light through the doorway, as his boots thudded on the porch. “Thought I might find you out here. Escaping.”
Monty bit back a retort and turned to stare into the darkness again. “Not escaping. Just enjoying the quiet.”
Bo was kind enough not to answer that, but he didn’t keep quiet long. “I guess we’re headed back tomorrow. It’s been a good trip.”
Monty turned to him. “Already? I thought you might stay ‘til the weekend at least.”
His brother shook his head. “Miranda’s not feeling so good again, and I need to get back to the ranch.”
Monty raised a hand to clasp Bo’s shoulder. “It’s been good to see you. You’ve got a great family, Bo. You should be proud of them.”
Bo’s white teeth flashed in the darkness. “I am. Looks like you’re not far from your own family either.”
Monty almost choked on the breath he’d been inhaling. “What are you talking about?”
Bo shifted into the shaft of moonlight so Monty could see his raised brows. “Grace seems like quite a catch.”
Swallowing, Monty turned away so Bo wouldn’t see any emotion in his eyes. “She’s just a hired hand. Not even one I hired. Did I tell you Anna brought her on?”
“Doesn’t mean you haven’t settled into the idea of having her around.”
Monty issued a snort to disguise his discomfort. Was he that obvious? First his unease about the wire fencing, now this. He needed to get a better handle on his emotions.
“Monty.” Bo’s voice lost any hint of teasing. “I’m only going to say this once. Then later I’ll say I told you so. But I see how you look at Grace. If you don’t snatch her up, somebody else will. And you know exactly what that feels like. I’ve never seen you look at any of those other women like you do this one every time she walks into the room. You better make your move. And make it quick.”
Monty’s pulse kicked up a notch. Did they have to talk about this now? The way he felt about Grace was such a jumble in his mind. She was his employee, for goodness sake. It wasn’t right for him to take advantage or think of her in any other way.
“Well.” Bo slapped him on the back. “I’ll let you get back to enjoying the quiet.”
As the click of boot leather on wood retreated into the house, Monty dropped his head into his hands. What should he do? Part of him wanted to find excuses to be near Grace. And the other part told him he needed a good dousing in the water trough to get his head straightened out.
Lord, which prompting is from you?
Chapter Nine
THE NEXT TWO weeks passed in a blur, with calving season in full swing. Grace had already assisted with more than two dozen births, and it never ceased to amaze her as she watched the dawn of a new life. Especially when all went well during the delivery.
Unfortunately, even though the longhorns were a sturdy lot, not every calving was smooth. Like the one she and Santiago just attended. The baby was breached and the mama had pushed for a while before Grace found her. They’d finally got the little one moved back from the birthing canal and turned around, but by the time the birth finished, the mother was too weak to survive. Part of her insides had come out with the calf, and there was nothing to do but put her out of her misery. A sad loss of life.
But at least the calf lived—a little heifer, now laying across Grace’s saddle. They’d managed to get some of the mother’s milk into the baby right away, but now the little tike was officially a foundling. She’d join the other two orphan calves at the barn, another mouth for Juan or Chester to feed after each milking.
“You’re a strong one though, aren’t you?” Grace stroked the calf’s neck.
It raised its head from her leg and let out a sad bleat.
“I know. You miss your mama, but Mr. Juan’s gonna take good care of you.” She reined Georgina to a stop in front of the barn. No movement stirred around the building. “Juan? Chester?”
Seconds later, a head of dark hair and a freckled face appeared through the crack in the barn door. “Miss Grace.” Chester jogged out.
“I brought you a new friend. Can you help me get her down?”
“Yes’m.”
“You get her front.” Grace leaned forward and slid her leg over the horse’s rump while still supporting the calf’s back end.
It emitted a rather frantic moo and scrambled as Grace and Chester lowered it to the ground.
“It’s all right, little girl. I’ll take you in to see your friends.” Chester stroked the calf’s glossy tan hide as he spoke.
“Where’s Juan? She’s had a little bit of milk, but needs more soon. She’s about two hours old.”
Chester looked up at Grace. “Juan was feeling poorly so he went to take a catnap. I’ll get her settled and feed her a bit. Don’t worry, Miss Grace.”
She watched them shuffle into the barn, Chester bent low as he guided the calf with both hands. He was a good lad, but bucket feeding a calf could be tricky the first few times until the animal got the hang of it. The task was certainly easier with two people.
Turning back to Georgina, she pulled the mare’s reins over her head. “Let’s get you tied, girl. I think we’re going to hang around a few minutes to help.”
It turned out the calf took quite readily to drinking from the bucket. It was a feisty thing, and kept butting the bottom of the pail with its nose, but Chester held the handle steady.
Grace stepped back to the stall rail to watch. “You said Juan’s not feeling well? Does he need a doctor?”
Chester gave her a sideways g
lance. “I’ve been tellin’ him to go see the doc in town, but he says it’s jest old age. Most days he gets awful winded after we finish ridin’ the colts.”
Grace mulled the words in her mind. “Juan doesn’t still break the young ones, does he?” Had he looked frail the last few times she’d seen him? She couldn’t say for sure.
“No, ma’am. I do most of the ridin’. Juan tells me what to do, and he gets on ‘em ever so often.”
Still…
The jingle of a wagon and a horse’s whinny sounded from outside. Chester’s head popped up, but Grace raised a staying hand. “You finish that. I’ll see who it is.”
Had Mr. O’Brien gone to town today? She didn’t remember hearing about a trip, but then again, she was just a hired hand. Not privy to all the family’s comings and goings.
As she stepped through the barn door, an unfamiliar wagon reined to a stop in front of her. A dark-haired man with a full, curly beard climbed down.
“Can I help you, sir?”
He scanned her, starting with her face all the way down to her boots, then back up again. She’d experienced the same kind of perusal more than once, but she still had to fight to keep the heat from climbing to her face.
“What can I help you with, sir?” She spoke a little louder this time, and took a half step forward.
He settled back on his heels and propped a fist on his hip. “We-ell.” He drawled out the word. “I’m lookin’ fer the man of the place. Got a wagon load o’ wire here fer ‘im.”
The wire. Grace glanced in the wagon where a row of crates lined the far side. “All right. Wait here and I’ll go get him.”
She turned on her heel, more than a little relieved to be leaving the man’s hawk-eyed appraisal. But the burn of his stare followed her across the yard to the house. All had been quiet inside when she’d gone in for the milk earlier. It was about the right time for the children to take naps, so maybe she’d find Mr. O’Brien in his office.
Stepping inside, she tried not to cringe at the loud click of her boots on the wooden floor. “Hello? Mr. O’Brien?” The office door was open, but all chairs proved vacant. The parlor? She checked the room but it was empty, too. A door opened down the hall and Grace spun.
“Grace?”
“Anna. The man’s here to deliver the fence wire. Is Mr. O’Brien around?”
Anna scrunched her nose. “No. He had business in Seguin, but he said he already paid for the shipment in full. Can you ask Juan and Chester to help him unload, and I’ll be out in a few minutes to sign for it? I need to stay in here until I’m sure Martin’s asleep.”
“Of course.” Grace retraced her steps out to the wagon.
The driver had an elbow cocked against one side, deep in conversation with Chester. Or rather, answering each of the questions the boy peppered at him. The man seemed content to prattle on, and didn’t shift his position as Grace rounded the wagon to join them.
“…then I met Mr. Glidden an’ he needed someone to tote this wire ‘round the country. Suits me jest fine.”
Grace cleared her throat. “Sir. We’re to begin unloading the supplies. Mrs. O’Brien will be out directly to sign for the shipment.”
The man turned to her with another all-encompassing look. “Ain’t got no menfolk ‘round here?”
She held the man’s stare, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chester stiffen. “Of course. Chester and I will help you unload. Please back your wagon into the barn to shorten the carrying distance.” Without waiting for his response, she spun and strode toward the barn to swing wide the massive doors.
By the time the man backed the wagon inside, she had a spot cleared out near the remnants of stored hay. She hoped in spades Monty would want the wire stacked in the barn, otherwise they’d have their hands full hauling all those crates to the new location. Eyeing them now, there looked to be about twenty cases loaded in the wagon.
As the driver dismounted, Chester grabbed the first box and grunted as he pulled it from the bed. Grace reached for the next in line.
She almost dropped the thing on her toe as it strained every muscle in her back and shoulders. What was in these crates, solid steel? She clamped her jaw and focused her muscles as she shuffled toward the area Chester had placed his. She would not prove weaker than a boy and a man who spent his days perched on a wagon seat.
But by the time she carried her fifth box toward the row in the hay, she was ready to accede her weakness. Every muscle she possessed had been screaming for a while now, and most had turned to mush. Who knew she was such a weakling?
By the time Chester carried the last crate, even he looked to be tiring.
Graced forced her shoulders back as she addressed the driver. “You can pull your rig from the barn. I’ll let Mrs. O’Brien know you’re ready.”
She dragged herself into the house and found Anna rocking baby Martin in the parlor.
The young mother gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Grace. He just won’t give in to sleep. Are the men finished unloading?”
Grace smiled past the question. “Everything’s unloaded. The driver just needs the delivery papers signed.” The last thing she wanted was to get Juan in trouble when he wasn’t feeling well. She stepped closer. “Would you like me to sit with the babe while you go outside?”
“Oh, would you? That’d be a blessing. Thank you, dear.” Anna handed over the bundled baby, and he immediately started squirming to sit up.
“Easy, fella. Let’s see if we can get you sleepy.” Grace crooned to the child as she shuffled over to sit in the rocker. Her legs almost buckled when she sank into the chair. Yes, a chance to sit and rock was exactly what her tired muscles needed.
~ ~ ~
GRACE DIDN’T MAKE it back out to the cattle that afternoon.
By the time Anna returned to the house and she’d handed off the sleeping Martin, Chester asked for her help moving a small herd of horses from one corral to the other. After checking on the calves one more time, she headed out to where she’d tied Georgina.
But a line of cowboys showed on the horizon, riding from the direction of the main herd. The rest of the cowpunchers coming in for the day.
“Well. I guess we’re all done, girl.” She rubbed her mare’s face as she watched Monty’s strong outline leading the riders toward the barn. Shifting toward the saddle, she unfastened the girth, but kept up her murmuring to the horse. “Sorry you had to stand tied out here.”
When Monty drew near, she stepped away from the mare to meet him. “Sorry I didn’t make it back out there. The delivery of fence wire came, and I was needed to help unload.”
His mouth pinched. “Not a problem. Just glad everything’s all right.” His face had that stoic look that was so hard to read. Was he angry? Did he think she was shirking her duties? Or maybe it was concern over the arrival of the dreaded fence.
Nothing she could do about it now. Turning away, Grace trudged back to her work.
~ ~ ~
HANK THORNHILL SHIFTED his weight on the wagon’s bench as the outskirts of San Antonio loomed ahead. Sure would be nice to hit a decent saloon, maybe see that pretty blonde who’d been makin’ eyes at him last time he came through. Sure as shootin’, that little town of Seguin didn’t have nothin’ on the fun in San Antone.
Of course, the delivery yesterday to the ranch where with that gal in britches had been a bit of pleasure. Pretty little thing. Somethin’ about her had seemed so familiar, but he still couldn’t quite put his thumb on it. It t’weren’t every day a man got ta see a gal dressed up like a feller. The clothes sure didn’t cover up those curves, though.
He reined in the horses at the livery and jumped from the wagon. “Just need ‘em bedded down fer the night, Jack. I’ll be headed out early.”
“Got it.” The livery owner took hold of the lead horse’s bridle, leaving Hank free to enjoy the night.
Grabbing his bedroll from the back of the wagon, he strolled in the direction of the red light district. A
s he passed the Post Office, he slowed to take a gander at the posters in the window. His eye caught one near the bottom, with a sketch of a woman’s face.
He froze.
By jingo, it was her. The same shape to her face, same look in the eye. Purty as all git out. Even showed her hair braided just like it’d been yesterday.
He squinted at the words beneath the picture. Missing. Grace Hampstead, brown hair, blue eyes, aged twenty-eight. $1000 for information which helps discover her location. Contact Leonard Fulton, Santa Ana, California.
A thousand dollars? Saints and angels, he wouldn’t have to work again for years. Maybe never, if this luck hung on long enough for him ta git in a few games of poker.
He tried the Post Office door, but it was already locked for the day. Blast. This was the only place in town to send a telegram, too. Well, he’d be jiggered if he weren’t standin’ here on the stoop the minute it opened tomorrow morning.
No sense in keepin’ this Leonard Fulton fella waitin’.
Chapter Ten
MONTY STUDIED THE roll of wire on the ground in front of him, then eyed the tree line marking the northern edge of Double Rocking B property. How exactly had Jacob figured to mount the stuff? It didn’t come with any kind of sketch or instructions, just a roll of double sided barbs that left his hand bloody after only pulling it from the crate.
Jacob had planned to be out helping this first day, but he’d felt poorly that morning and had looked pale as a sheet. It hadn’t taken much to convince him to stay home. Not usual for his resilient friend, but every man had his limits.
So now, it was up to Monty to find the best way to build the fence. The property line ended at the edge of the woods so they could use trees as fence posts. Should the wire be wrapped around the trees? That seemed like a waste of the stuff when some of these trunks were two or three foot thick.
He glanced up at Nathan. The man stood quietly, waiting for Monty’s command. “I think this might work best if we nailed it up. Last I saw, we had a bucket of nails in the storage room on the back of the barn. Reckon’ you could ride back and get ‘em?”
The Rancher Takes a Cowgirl Page 7