“I ain’t jumpin’. I brought in healthy cows and now they’re dyin’. Used the same pastures and the same pens as those longhorns. They caught the Texas fever.”
“To be safe let’s keep your cows in these pens, remove and isolate the sick ones, and keep their feed and water fresh.”
Roscoe wiped his face with a red bandana. “Kinda late for bein’ safe if you ask me.”
Daniel understood the loss. He didn’t know what was wrong with the stock, but keeping good relations with the cattlemen was imperative. “I’ll split the cost of the losses with you if any of them die.”
Roscoe looked somewhat mollified. He nodded.
“I’ll change and help,” Daniel offered.
By the next morning, six of the cows had died. Several others that had initially shown symptoms appeared to get better. But news had spread, and already cattlemen were up in arms. Splenic fever was unexplainable, but nobody wanted to take chances with it.
Daniel held an impromptu meeting of the Cattleman’s Association and assured the ranchers that every possible precaution would be taken. “I’ve seen cattle that have died of splenic fever,” he told them. “Something just doesn’t seem right to me. Their eyes are yellow, and I’ve never seen that before.”
“Are you a veterinarian?” one of the men asked.
“No, but I’ve worked with animals my whole life.”
“I just can’t take chances on your hunches.”
“We’ll keep them well separated,” Daniel assured him. “And be safe. I’ll send out men to direct the Texas herds to pastures away from your cows. We won’t take any chances, but we can’t turn away herds.” He squared his jaw and looked out at the ranchers with an air of quiet authority. “Texans can get four dollars a head where they’re from. We can pay them more because we can get forty to fifty dollars a head in the east. Our town is growing by leaps and bounds because of their cattle.”
“The businessmen are getting rich,” Will agreed. “And the bankers. But that passes down to everyone. The cattle bring business to all of us.”
“We just have to find a way to keep the local cattle healthy,” Daniel added.
The future of Cowboy Creek depended on it.
Chapter Seven
Leah hadn’t heard so much as a peep from the room beside hers, so that evening she knocked. Hannah opened the door. She was wrapped in a sheet, the cuffs and collar of her nightgown appearing. She touched her unkempt hair, as though embarrassed. “Mrs. Swann.”
“It’s Leah, remember?”
Hannah nodded.
“May I come in?”
The tall young woman opened the door and stood back. The bed was unmade, the covers folded back as though Hannah had only just abandoned it. “I was resting,” she explained. “I seem to have caught something. I worked on your dress last night.”
“I’m not concerned about the dress. I’m concerned about you. Can I get the doctor for you?”
“No. No, I don’t want a doctor. Don’t do that.”
“All right. Have you eaten?” Leah asked.
She shook her head.
“Do you think you could keep down some soup...or porridge perhaps?”
“Perhaps,” Hannah replied with a tired nod.
“I’ll go to the kitchen and find something. I’ll be right back.”
Aunt Mae was bustling about the kitchen when Leah arrived. She was sympathetic to Hannah’s illness. “Shall I send for Doc Fletcher?”
Leah shook her head. “Hannah was adamant she did not want the doctor.”
“The poor dear. I checked on her this morning, but she seemed to either be out or sleeping, because she didn’t come to her door. Had I known, I’d have taken her something then.”
“I know you would have,” Leah reassured her. “Let’s see if she can tolerate something light and I’ll make sure she’s getting plenty of liquids.”
“Aren’t you a darling? It’s no wonder Mr. Gardner took a fancy to you right away. He didn’t let a good thing get away, now did he?”
Leah gave her a modest smile. “I’m going to do the best I know how to make him a good wife.”
“You knew him as a boy? What was he like then?”
She paused and thought a minute. “He was adventurous. Will was solemn and steady and focused on his studies. Daniel lived to be out of doors—riding, roping, running. On hot days he’d lead us to the stream and we’d splash and play until we were wrinkled. My hair was nearly white in the summers from the sun and the water.” She touched her fingertips to her cheek and chuckled. “My mother had a conniption fit when she saw the color from the sun on my skin. Remember when that sort of thing used to be important? I was supposed to learn to be a lady at all costs.”
“You grew into a fine lady, Mrs. Swann.”
“Everything else is proven shallow when people are dying all around you and you’re struggling for your own life. Now I look back and wonder what use my education was. Needlepoint didn’t keep anyone alive or win a battle.”
“Did your mama teach you to plant a garden and how to cook?” the older woman asked.
Leah nodded. “She did.”
“Well, those are the skills that are going to bring this here country back to life. We need gardens and Sunday dinners and children—and love—to get this country back on its feet. Don’t count yourself short.”
Leah placed the bowl of broth and a slice of buttered bread on the tray and paused to give Aunt Mae a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
By the time she returned, Hannah had dressed in a loose robe and wore a shawl draped around herself. “Sorry to be a bother.”
“You eat this, and then if you’ll allow me I’ll brush your hair for you,” Leah told her.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said.
“Well, I want to and it’s no bother, so you’re stuck with me. Now try the broth. It smells delicious.”
“You’re right, it does. I didn’t even know I was hungry until I smelled it.”
Leah propped pillows so Hannah could sit in bed with the tray over her lap. She ate every bit of the food and drank a cup of sweetened tea.
“My mother used to make me tea like this when I didn’t feel well,” she said. They both knew what it was like to lose a mother, to lose loved ones. Far too many people knew only too well. She wondered if the poor girl was still grieving and perhaps homesick. She sympathized.
Leah set the tray aside and picked up a hairbrush from the bureau. “Turn away now and let me see to your hair. Would you like a bath?”
She removed a few hairpins, started on tangles at the ends, and worked her way up. When she got to Hannah’s scalp, the girl made a sound of pleasure. “That feels so good, Leah. Thank you. I think I would like to bathe.”
“I’ll heat the water and ask Aunt Mae to help me fill the tub.”
“I’m glad you’ve found a good husband,” Hannah said in a soft voice. “Mr. Gardner seems like a kind man.”
“He is. You’ll find a good husband, too.”
“I don’t know. This seemed like a good idea, but now it’s overwhelming. I miss Indiana. I miss our old life. This place is strange and dusty.” She swiped the backs of her fingers across her cheek. “My father seems perfectly happy here though, and we believed this would be a good place to start a new life.”
“I believe this will be a very good place to start a new life,” Leah assured her. “You’re exhausted and not feeling well. Probably a little homesick, as well, but I assure you things will look better soon.”
“I don’t see how.”
“Because God loves you and is making a way for you right now. Put your trust in Him and He won’t let you down. Your father loves you and you have friends who care about you. I’m here whenever you need someone, do
n’t forget that.”
Hannah cried openly then, as though her heart was broken. Leah didn’t know what to do or say except put her arms around her quaking shoulders and pray. “Father, thank You for giving Hannah Your peace and comfort right now in her time of need. Strengthen her with Your joy and help her be encouraged that You have her best interests at heart. Your Word says we are not to fear because You are with us, so, Lord Jesus, please show Hannah Your presence in a real and certain way. Thank You, Father.”
Hannah dried her eyes on her shawl. “Thank you, Leah.”
“I’m going to go get that bath ready. You’ll feel better after that.”
Her friend nodded, and Leah swept from the room.
She called Hannah when the tub was ready, and Aunt Mae assured her she’d listen for her while she was in the bathing room.
Leah understood the kind of homesickness that could never be appeased. She’d spent months longing to return to the blissful days of her youth, yearning to recapture precious moments with family and friends when their lives had seemed safe and invulnerable. All that had changed when her father and every man of fighting age had gone off to war, many never to return. The greatest loss to her was perhaps her innocence, her faith in mankind. She’d seen a disturbing side of humanity that saddened her. The loss was not hers alone. She shared it with every human being in this land. Maybe Aunt Mae was right. Maybe she did have the gifts to help bring this country back. She’d lost much, but her faith had never diminished.
She refused to be afraid for her baby or herself. She wasn’t going to dwell on doubts and fears. Perhaps God had guided her here to pair her with Daniel so they could accomplish something good together. She didn’t want to be someone he felt sorry for or obligated to. She wanted to be worthy of his choice in marrying her.
Life would never be like it was before, but it could be good again.
* * *
The following day Leah was somewhat reassured and yet wary to discover that Daniel had not changed entirely from his audacious ways. He had planned an afternoon outing for them, along with Will and his fiancée, telling her to dress comfortably and casually. She wore a simple cotton dress with a jacket she could remove if the sun was too warm, and took a bonnet.
Will and Daniel came for her in Will’s buggy, and they stopped at a house west on Second Street for Dora. Dora was the young woman Leah had seen in the crowd on the day she arrived. She had dark curly hair and almond-shaped blue eyes. Her lower lip was decidedly fuller than the top, and when she smiled it pulled down and showed her teeth. Leah felt herself under sharp scrutiny whenever Dora looked at her.
Daniel had scouted a location ahead of time and pitched a canvas awning to shade them from the afternoon sun as they ate. Leah couldn’t have been more surprised to find he’d rolled out a carpet on the grass under the awning and purchased food from the hotel. He wore trousers and a plain shirt with galluses across his back, while Will wore his customary white shirt and tie.
The enormous basket contained china plates, glasses and pressed white napkins. Daniel set out molasses pails and jars containing chicken, pickles, smoked fish, cheese, olives, figs and bread. Leah stared at the display of food. “Daniel, what is the occasion?”
Kneeling, he sat back on his haunches and placed his hands on his thighs. He glanced at her, his expression relaxed and carefree. “It’s a celebration of life, Leah. A celebration of life.”
She looked over the elegant spread and thought a moment. “Well, I like it.”
Daniel studied her expression, grinned at her words and chuckled. She adored his enthusiasm and unflagging spirit. They looked at each other and broke into laughter.
Dora glanced from Daniel to Will. “We’ve never been on a picnic together before, have we?”
Will settled his cane on the rug beside him and adjusted his weight on the ground. Leah suspected the position was uncomfortable. “Daniel is the one with the extraordinary ideas. If you’re not careful, he’ll have you out there in the Smokey Hill River diving for fish.”
Daniel laughed again, and the sound warmed Leah’s heart. She grinned. “Now, you know you’re every bit as good at grabbing fish as Daniel,” she chided. “Better, because you have more patience.”
She regretted her teasing the minute she realized the cold water would likely be painful for Will’s injured leg.
“You have actually done that?” Dora asked, glancing from one to the other.
“We were children,” Will said quickly.
Leah reached for the forks and handed one to each person. They filled their plates and tasted the food. Leah closed her eyes and sighed. “I haven’t had cheese this good in years.”
Dora looked at Leah curiously. “What did your father do in Pennsylvania?”
“He was a constable,” she answered. “And on the town council, as were Daniel and Will’s fathers.”
“So your family lived comfortably?” Dora asked.
Leah stared at her plate. That all seemed so long ago. “We did.”
“And your first husband,” Dora queried. “What was his occupation?”
“He attended West Point and became an officer in the army,” she replied.
“And you traveled with him?”
“I did.” Her meal formed a lump in Leah’s stomach.
“I’ve read about lavish parties and officer’s clubs. That sounds quite exciting.”
“I assure you it was not. We were fortunate to have a roof over our heads at winter quarters, because mainly the accommodations were musty tents.”
“But someone did your laundry and prepared your meals,” Dora suggested, as though life had been easy. “Your husband was an officer.”
Leah looked at her, wondering how much of the population was as oblivious to the rigors of war as this woman.
“My husband was sometimes gone for weeks at a time, and I never knew if he was coming back or not. I worked with the medical officers to treat the wounded, and I ate whatever they ate. When they were out in the field, I helped teach the children. There was no soiree on Saturday evenings, I assure you.”
Daniel rested a hand on Leah’s arm, arresting her attention. She looked aside to find his expression tender.
Clearing his throat, Will reached for a jar of olives. “After we finish eating, let’s go for a walk along the river.”
Dora smiled amenably at him. “That sounds lovely.”
Daniel changed the subject to a new shipment of lumber expected that day, and they finished their meal. “I’ll pack up. You go ahead,” Leah told Will and his fiancée.
“Thank you, Leah,” Will said with a nod.
She gave him an easy smile. “Daniel will help.”
Together she and Daniel wrapped food and placed lids on jars. He stored it all in the shade and covered the basket. Leah removed her jacket, and Daniel folded it carefully and laid it over the basket.
“Do you want to walk?” he asked. “Or maybe sit in the sun for a while.”
“Let’s just sit.”
He reached for her hand and helped her up. They strolled to a patch of grass and made themselves comfortable. “How’s the dress coming?”
“Hannah hasn’t been feeling well, but I’m sure she’ll be much better soon. I think perhaps she’s more homesick than anything. She’s probably sewing today.”
“She’s fortunate to have her father. He leads a good Sunday service, doesn’t he?”
Leah agreed.
“And you?” he asked. “Are you feeling well?”
“Surprisingly well. And Doc Fletcher assured me everything seems perfectly normal. Perhaps my caution is unnecessary, but I am taking no risks.”
“Your caution is justified and wise,” he replied. “We’re going to do everything we can to see this baby safely born. If shopping for the
house is too much, remember it can wait. Nothing is more important than your health and safety. You should get as much rest as possible.”
“I’ll remember. So far a little walking and shopping seems to be exactly the exercise and activity I need. I feel good.”
He nodded slowly, looking relieved. “The dining room table and chairs arrived yesterday.”
“Do you approve?”
“I do. I inquired and you hadn’t ordered a buffet or china cabinet.”
“Well.” She glanced at the sky. “I have no china. If you have some plates in the kitchen, we’ll get by.”
“We’ll get by,” he agreed. “But I ordered the matching pieces of furniture. As I mentioned before, eventually we will entertain. Nothing elegant, just hospitality for cattlemen and friends.”
“I haven’t thought about any of that for a long time,” she said. She hadn’t thought much beyond surviving for a long time. There was much more to think about now, like the position she would be stepping into as Daniel’s wife. Like the wedding, and a gift for him. What could she possibly give to this man who had everything and seemed to need nothing?
She studied him as he watched a hawk circling overhead. His chestnut-brown hair shone in the sunlight. At the corner of his eye and into his eyebrow was a scar she didn’t remember from before. She leaned toward him and touched it with one finger.
His gaze immediately moved to hers, his green eyes intense.
“How did you get this scar?”
“It was early in the war.” He leaned back, palms flat on the grass and extended his long legs, crossing one ankle over the other. “One of those humid windless days when the smoke was still hanging thick in the air from the previous day’s battle. It was nearly impossible to see ahead. My eyes and nose burned.” Obviously the memory was vivid. “My brigade moved in formation through a trench alongside a stone wall the rebels were using as cover. When we climbed out of that trench, we only got a couple of shots before our muskets were empty, and there was no time to reload.”
Leah imagined the tired soldiers fighting for their lives, and her chest ached. She remembered well the paralyzing fear of being under the attack of rebel marauders.
Want Ad Wedding Page 7