by Linda Ford
She made herself stop. Knew her criticism was unfair. It was only because she envied the woman this opportunity.
If only she could stay.
Stop. Stop wishing for things that don’t belong to you. She couldn’t stay. So why did it hurt to see someone who made it possible for her to leave?
Because she was—as always—given to wild, rash actions. Only this time she would not allow herself to follow her wayward heart.
Miss Smythe proved to be kind and gentle with Meggie. To her credit, after some initial shock, she had agreed to help with meal preparation until Paquette could manage on her own.
Paquette glowered constantly at this intruder—the only word she used in addressing Miss Smythe.
“She’s not been well,” Jenny explained. “Once she’s feeling better…” Paquette had improved enough that she often insisted on doing some of the cooking. But she spent the rest of her time in some kind of vague fog.
Miss Smythe had been on the ranch four days. Four tense days as Burke alternated between sitting at the table, glumly watching Miss Smythe try to learn the intricacies of the primitive aspects of the ranch, or gulping his meals, giving Jenny a dark look then rushing out the door like he couldn’t bear to be in the same room.
Meggie had just wakened from her nap and played cheerfully with Miss Smythe. “Mith,” her name for the woman, “see beads.” She silently appealed to Paquette to be allowed to share her beads.
Paquette shook her head. “No beads. Mine.”
“Look at your dolly.” Miss Smythe wisely diverted Meggie’s attention by making the rag doll dance and sing.
It was a good time to leave them alone to see how Miss Smythe managed. And Jenny longed to wander the prairie and pack as many memories as possible into her soul. “Do you mind if I go for a walk?”
Miss Smythe looked up and grimaced. “You’re going out in this wind?”
Jenny laughed. “I like it.” They’d had this conversation before. Miss Smythe refused to venture outside when the wind blew. Jenny warned her it meant she’d spend most of her days indoors.
Miss Smythe shuddered. “I don’t mind.”
Jenny refrained from asking how it would affect Meggie. The child loved being outside. Burke would have to sort out the situation without her interference.
“I’ll be back in an hour or so.” The wind hit her a few feet from the shelter of the house. It pushed her skirts around her legs, tugged her hair from the pins that bound it. She laughed and let it carry her along until she was a mile from the ranch. There she stood, her face to the sky, her eyes closed, and let the wind rage around her and sweep through her.
Father God, cleanse me from my wayward, sinful thoughts. Help me keep my eyes set on the path before me. Help me graciously accept the loving guidance of my parents.
She stood that way a long time seeking peace and strength. Then, her resolve firmly in place, she drank in the scenery around her, trying to memorize each detail—the way the horizon turned gray and misty, rising and falling ever so subtly, the endless sky that at first glance appeared all one color, but with closer study shifted through a range of blues. She found a grassy spot and sat down, breathing deeply of the scents—sage, something sweet and spicy—the source of which she’d never been able to locate—and teases of scented flowers. She sneezed at the pungent aroma of nearby yarrow. The minute details of the place fascinated her. Each blade of grass so unique. Tiny flowers hiding amongst the grass. God surely had created a marvelous world. Never had she been so aware of His hand.
If God so clothe the grass of the field…
He would surely give her all she needed, too. Satisfaction with her life, peace with her surroundings.
I am ready to do Your will, O my God.
She remained there a long time, soaking her senses in the beauty and allure of the prairie and finding rest in obedience to a God she loved and trusted.
Finally, reluctantly, she pushed to her feet. It was time to return. If Miss Smythe were agreeable, Jenny would leave by the end of the week. She could not deny a great ache at the thought, but she was at peace with what she must do.
The wind buffeted her on her way, forcing her to lean into the blast. She laughed and a gust stole her breath and carried the laugh across the prairie.
Oh how she would miss this bold, powerful land.
I am ready to do Your will, O God.
She reached the yard and paused at the wail the wind carried. A different sound than the usual one it made around the house. She pushed on. Suddenly she recognized the sound—Meggie screaming in terror. Jenny picked up her skirts and ran into the wind. A few feet from the house she heard another voice— Miss Smythe’s, pleading and panicked.
Jenny fought her way against the wind until—gasping—she reached the shelter of the veranda. She flung open the door and took in the scene.
Meggie sat on the floor, surrounded by Paquette’s beads, shuddering with her screams.
Across the room, Paquette held a mop aloft, threatening Miss Smythe who had backed into the corner, her arms over her head.
Jenny kicked the beads away from Meggie to keep her from putting one in her mouth. “Shh, Meggie, sweetie. You’re fine.” She’d tend the baby as soon as she dealt with Paquette.
She approached the older woman. “Paquette, what are you doing?”
Paquette made a low guttural sound, like a wild animal growling.
“You don’t want to hurt anyone.” She calmly plucked the mop from Paquette’s hands and dropped it to the floor, then pulled the woman into her arms. “Oh, Paquette, what’s wrong with you? What’s going on in that head of yours?” She rocked until Paquette sighed and relaxed.
“Boss,” Lucky called into the barn. Burke was repairing a hole in the wall where Ebony had kicked in protest when Burke tried to saddle him. Crazy horse. Yet he’d seen Jenny stroking the horse and talking to it more than once when she was unaware of him watching. “Awful racket from the house.”
“Yeah?”
“Think you might like to check.”
Burke knew that tone of voice. Lucky meant Burke should check now so he put down his tools and headed out. As soon as he stepped from the barn, he heard the noise and knew why Lucky was concerned. “It’s Meggie.” She screamed with terror. He vaulted the fence and galloped for the house, the skin over his spine crawling at the way she cried. If someone had hurt that little girl—
He thudded across the veranda and through the open door. Meggie sat on the floor, crying her heart out. Jenny wrapped Paquette in her arms, murmuring calmly. Miss Smythe huddled in a corner. She couldn’t seem to take her eyes from a mop on the floor in front of her. He took it all in with a glance. What was going on? Had Paquette attacked the woman? Had she totally lost her mind? It happened too often. Sorrow laced with acceptance tore through his insides like a flood tearing up roots of hope and flickers of dreams, dragging them away in a rush of dirty raging water.
Yes, he’d allowed himself to hope—he couldn’t even say what he’d hoped for. But seeing Paquette like this made it impossible to hope—or dream—or even wish.
This country was no place for Jenny.
He scooped Meggie from the floor and wrapped her to his chest. She sobbed against his shoulder, clinging to him fiercely. He would protect this sweet child from any danger.
Would she be able to survive this harsh land?
He would teach her how. She’d grow with it.
Like Paquette had?
If he had to, he would send Meggie away. If that’s what it took to keep her whole and well. A silent groan gripped his throat. His knees melted beneath him and he sank to the bench.
Jenny turned as if checking on Meggie. She noticed him, her eyes widening as they met his.
In that moment of truth something shifted inside him. His fear collided with his dreams and exploded into a thousand flashing fragments nipping at his thoughts. It took several seconds to gather up all the pieces and stuff them back behind the log wa
ll he’d so carefully constructed. “What’s going on here?”
Miss Smythe shook her skirts and smoothed her hair. “That woman is out of her mind. She should be locked up.”
His gut tightened. His thoughts skittered a protest. Not in the asylum. Not like Flora. Paquette would wither and die in such a place.
Paquette pulled from Jenny’s arms and sank to a chair. “Not crazy. My beads. Not touch ’em, her.”
“She attacked me. She’s dangerous.”
Burke had seen it before, how the land, the loneliness, the sound of the wind drove normally calm people into demented rages. Sometimes locking them up was the only way to keep them and others safe—but must everyone in his life end up there?
“Paquette would never hurt anyone. She was only warning you not to touch her beads. They’re her most prized possession. We all understand that.”
Miss Smythe sniffed loudly and disdainfully. “She’s out of her mind. No normal person acts like that.”
Paquette peered up at Miss Smythe. “Paquette not crazy.” She jabbed a finger at Miss Smythe. “You not stay ’ere. Not belong, you.” She turned to Jenny and jabbed her bony finger at her. “You stay. Not her.”
Miss Smythe nodded. “I agree. I absolutely will not stay here. It’s not safe. The rest of you will be murdered in your beds.” She steamed down the hall to the bedroom.
Jenny’s eyes were pleading when she looked at Burke. “She isn’t crazy. I know it. She wouldn’t hurt anyone. You must not send her away.”
Burke understood she meant Paquette. “I don’t want to but—” He couldn’t put Jenny and Meggie at risk.
Another problem bucked into his mind. “Miss Smythe is leaving. Paquette’s…ill. Who will care for Meggie?”
“I can stay until you make other arrangements.”
“I can’t expect you to do that.” Any more than he could continually fight the way his wants warred against the knowledge Jenny must leave. Not only was she set on going, he was now even more set on seeing her leave before she suffered the same fate as Paquette and Flora and so many others.
Yes, it seems some women could survive the prairies. But they were few and far between. And he would not stand by and wait to see who would be next to find the country intolerable.
He stared at Paquette, still unable to believe one bred and born on the prairie had fallen victim to its subtle dangers.
She met his gaze unblinkingly. She was trying to tell him something. But what? Slowly it became clear she showed no sign of confusion, no terror, no anger. Only certainty, as if he would understand her silent message.
He shook his head. “Paquette—?”
She ducked away.
Miss Smythe returned, dragging her bag and looking a bit ruffled, as if she’d hurried to pack everything. “I insist on a ride to town immediately. I can’t abide this endless wind.”
Burke’s gaze rested on Paquette’s head. There was more going on here than he understood. “I’ll get Lucky to take you.” He wouldn’t leave Meggie and Jenny with Paquette until he figured out what it was.
Lucky bemoaned having to interrupt his work to make this trip. “Not that I’m sorry to see her go. She ain’t our kind of lady. Not like Jenny.”
Burke sighed. “Jenny ain’t staying.”
“You tried asking her?”
“She’s got a fellow back home.”
“Huh. Don’t see no wedding ring. Seems to me that leaves lots of possibilities.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Boss, nothing is, but did that keep you from starting a ranch in the middle of nothing but grass and sky?”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“Cause grass and sky didn’t have anything to say about me being here.”
Lucky snorted a laugh. “Seems they have something to say every minute of the day. Some people listen—like Flora. Others—like you and Miss Jenny—just sing along.”
He stared at the man. “I perceive you’re a dreamer.”
Lucky shifted and refused to meet Burke’s gaze. “Nope. Just saying it the way I see it. And the way I see it is you’re running from the chance every woman might be like Flora. Running from what’s right in front of your nose. Boss, maybe it’s time you stopped running.”
“It’s you who don’t see what’s right in front of all of us.”
“Yeah?”
“Jenny intends to go back east. I intend to let her. Just as soon as Paquette is well enough to watch Meggie.”
“Yeah, boss.” Lucky hitched up the wagon and drove to the house.
A few minutes later, Miss Smythe departed, sitting regally at Lucky’s side.
Burke stared after them a long time. He had no regrets at seeing the back of Miss Smythe with a y, but the reprieve provided only more torment. Because nothing had changed.
Jenny intended to leave.
He intended to see she did.
Jenny knew it was wrong. This gladness that she must stay a bit longer. Ma and Pa would surely warn her to put an end to her foolish behavior. But they weren’t here. And she could hardly leave Meggie with only some busy men and Paquette to watch her. Even Pa would understand that argument.
Burke still stood on the veranda watching Miss Smythe disappear down the trail. What was he thinking? Likely that he might never get rid of Jenny.
How ironic that Miss Smythe, who had nothing to return to, couldn’t wait to leave while Jenny, who had iron-solid reasons to return, found her heart shriveling like a drought-stricken plant at the knowledge she couldn’t stay. Not only did she love the land but—forbidden as it was—she had grown exceptionally fond of the ranch owner.
Burke turned suddenly, catching her staring at him, her heart in her eyes. A gamut of emotions crossed his eyes—sadness perhaps at losing the nanny, though he hadn’t ever shown anything but long-suffering tolerance for her so perhaps it was sadness over Paquette’s behavior. Then his eyes widened as he took in her naked caring and regret. At that moment, they were more honest with each other than at any time since she’d landed on his doorstep. Silently they acknowledged a common want—she wanted to stay, he wanted her to.
Guilt burned up her neck and pooled in her eyes, causing them to sting. She ducked away. Would she never learn to temper her desires with reason and submission?
Burke’s breath huffed out.
She understood her inappropriateness left him surprised and likely a little puzzled. After all, she’d made it plain from the beginning she wouldn’t stay.
Paquette pushed past her. “Make supper, me.”
Her words effectively ended Jenny’s mental wrangling. She blinked at Paquette. The woman sounded strong and focused. Not at all like she’d been since her night on the prairie. “Paquette?”
“I fine, me.” She pulled out pots and handed a pan to Jenny. “Get potatoes, you.”
Jenny shot a questioning look at Burke. Was she imagining this sudden change in Paquette? She knew from the way Burke looked at the older woman he was as startled by her behavior as she.
Slowly he met her eyes and gave a slight lift of his shoulders. For a moment they considered each other, silently assessing this new development.
Paquette saw Jenny with the still empty basin and grunted. “Need potatoes.”
Jenny hurried to get them from the bin.
Burke shifted Meggie to his other arm as he crossed the room to face Paquette. “Are you all right?”
Paquette giggled. “I fine.”
“Did something happen out on the prairie? Were you hurt?”
She giggled again. “Not hurt.”
Jenny stared at the woman, a suspicion creeping through her mind. “Paquette, were you pretending?”
Another giggle before Paquette turned to rearrange the pots as if they required all her attention.
“Why would you do that?”
Paquette turned, her black eyes flashing. “Show everybody you need to stay. You belong here, you.”
&nb
sp; Jenny gasped. Heat stung her cheeks. No doubt Paquette had seen the way Jenny watched Burke and read—misread—what it meant. It meant nothing but normal curiosity and interest. Oh, if only she believed it. But she could ignore it…or try. “Paquette, I can’t stay. You know that.” She told the woman about Ted.
Paquette snorted. “Die like grass in winter back there.”
Jenny couldn’t face either of them, certain her longing and pain would reveal itself so she gave her complete and undivided attention to preparing the potatoes. “I’ll be just fine.”
She told herself the same thing about a thousand times an hour over the next few days. She’d notified Pa Miss Smythe had left. Knew he’d interview other young ladies for the post. But until then she could stay.
Once she got back home, she assured herself constantly, she would remember all the lessons Ma had taught her on proper behavior. She’d remember and she’d apply them and God would surely give her the peace she longed for.
In the meantime, she intended to enjoy her reprieve and hoard up memories to last a lifetime so she took long walks, sometimes alone, often with Meggie and rarely with Burke. She missed his company, sensed he pulled back as if he couldn’t wait for her to leave.
She returned to the ranch after a pleasant hour of wandering around, expecting to be there when Meggie wakened. A tail of dust barreled down the trail toward the ranch.
No doubt the new nanny.
She pulled to a halt beside the corrals.
Burke sauntered over and leaned on the top rail. “Let’s hope she’s better than Miss Smythe. Preferably someone a little more seasoned. Tough yet kind.”
A little thrill bubbled through her at his desire for an older woman. “You should be looking for a wife.”
“I don’t need a wife. Don’t want one.” His vehemence tore a bloody strip from her heart and left her gasping. He couldn’t be much clearer than that.
There would never be a place for Jenny out here. He only wanted someone to get Meggie big enough to ride with him.
The buggy pulled to the house. The dust wrapped around it, momentarily obscuring it from view. Then the tail of dust drifted on and revealed a man and woman. She didn’t recognize the woman whom she assumed would be the new nanny, but the man was familiar.