The Lady's Arrangement (Help Wanted)

by Colleen L. Donnelly

  “Drat!” I flung the leather strap into the grass, my red curls blowing free the way they wanted, billowing around my face as I ran, squinting between them at the man poised near our watering trough. I looked past him, around what I could see of the barnyard, wanting to spot Jess, yet not. Not out in the open where the stranger could see him, also. Blast Ted for not being there. Every time I sent him to Liberal lately, seemed he was slower and slower coming back. I had let it go, figuring we all needed a little time to heal. But I’d put a stop to it as soon as he got back, or he and this stranger both could take to the road.

  The intruder didn’t move as I plowed his way, the breeze raking the grass to the side, making it impossible to run in Flynn’s oversized boots and pants. I glanced toward the house. If that man wasn’t standing there staring at me, I could slip that way, duck inside, and grab Flynn’s gun from near the front door—the place Flynn had always insisted we keep it, just in case.

  I’d pondered these moments after Ted’s accounts of hoodlums preying on women and children, rehearsed in my mind what I would do to protect us. Moments like this weren’t supposed to happen when Ted was gone and I was out in the prairie and our only weapon propped where Flynn said it should be. Doggone you again, Flynn. The man looked too strong for me to take on without it. There were no trees between me and him, no chance to grab a fallen limb to take with me. I kicked through the web of prairie as he continued to watch me. God, don’t let this be one of those fellows who thrives on trouble. Let him be some weary traveler, some woman’s good husband who’ll take a rest and then be on his way. Quick.

  The black horse shifted, repositioned, and tossed his head to the left. The stranger shifted with him, and lifted the reins. I stopped. He was leaving. Thank God.

  Before the black of the horse or the black of that hat had moved very far, my son appeared, Jess’s fairer hair and his shorter stature both in stark contrast to the two he stood next to. One of my boy’s hands ran up and down the animal’s face, while the other reached for the reins. The black hat gave him a nod, turned, and glanced at me, then started toward the horse’s other side.

  “Jess! No!” My voice sailed away as if it was nothing but air, its sound too thin and too shrill to be heard over the Kansas wind. “Jess!” I rose to my toes, cupped my hands around my mouth, and shouted again as the man stopped at his horse’s nose. I dropped to the flat of my feet and called again, the wind carrying off my screams. “Just let him go, Jess. Let him get on that horse and go.” I willed him from where I stood. Silently, this time. Jess laid a hand on the reins. Lord, if that boy isn’t going to pay any attention to me, I pray he at least uses my good sense more than Flynn’s good manners. Jess and the stranger walked away, leading the horse toward the barn. “Jess!” The two of them and the horse disappeared inside.

  I ran again, Flynn’s boots sloshing on my feet, heavy and coming loose as I plowed through more grass. I hadn’t run since I was a girl. Just like I hadn’t learned to ride, or planned a crop, or figured out what to look for in a good cow or horse. Until Flynn left me on my own. I tugged up on the front of his dungarees, pulled them as high as I could to lengthen my stride. When at last I broke free of the edge of the prairie, I stumbled through the rectangle of dirt that was wired off to be our garden, hurried across the bare yard between the house and the barn, and stopped just outside the barn’s open door, where I heard his voice—the stranger’s voice—rumbling over my panting.

  “That’s a good way to end up with blisters…”

  I dragged one more large breath into my burning lungs, stepped inside the barn’s doorway, and stood as tall as I could. Latching onto the pitchfork at the wall beside me, I headed across the dirt floor toward Jess and the man.

  The stranger dwarfed me in muscle and height, tall and lean, the wear and ruggedness of the outdoors on his skin and in his nearly black eyes as he took in every step of my advance. This was no woman’s good husband. I planted the pitchfork’s prongs in the dirt floor and faced the two of them.

  “…if you hold it wrong.” The stranger’s voice, deep with the resonance of a man who’d weathered a few storms, faded as he stared at me, his last few words thinning to a whisper.

  I glanced at Jess, then back to the stranger. The man was even more daunting than I’d guessed from a distance. He looked hardy, though handsome beneath the wear and tear and pinkish-brown dust I could see. Handsome didn’t matter. It was his frown I didn’t like. I gripped the pitchfork’s handle tighter.

  “Ma, what are you doing with that? I told you I’d take care of things around here.” In four strides Jess was in front of me. He wrapped one hand close to mine around the fork’s handle, a curry comb in his other.

  In that one brief moment when my son’s hand was safe next to mine, I glanced behind him at the stranger’s unsaddled horse, at the faint grooves in its hair where the comb had been. A pack lay on the dirt floor to the side, pushed up against the low wall where a saddle I didn’t recognize was slung over.

  Flynn’s good manners were clear on Jess’s face as he freed the pitchfork’s handle from my fingers. His warmth left my hand, a scowl that didn’t know any better remaining behind. I tossed my head back as he carried the fork to the barn door. “I’m Mrs. Howard. Regina Howard. I see you’ve met my son. This is our ranch, so I suppose you’ll be on your way soon.” The handle hit the wall as Jess stood it where it had been. I lifted my chin higher and stared up into the stranger’s face.

  The stranger gauged me the same way I scrutinized bags of flour. His brow puckered as his eyes traveled from my hair all the way down to Flynn’s boots, his mouth twitching when his gaze passed over Flynn’s shirt and pants.

  “And your name is?” I stepped out of the man’s gawk, made my way around his horse to where his saddle was slung. Flynn’s spot, the place he’d always kept his saddle, right outside the first stall. I stared at the area that had always been Flynn’s. I’d sold his horse for Jess’s sake, never announcing I would, or explaining myself afterward. I didn’t think Jess could ever ride the horse that had thrown his father. Even I couldn’t. No one had touched these areas since. Not Jess. Not even Ted. No one would, not even after I replaced Flynn’s horse with another. As soon as I had the money.

  I placed a hand on the wood near the stranger’s saddle, tapped the worn leather with a finger, as Jess headed our way. Jess stepped alongside the horse and began to glide the comb down its back.

  “It’s Ben, Ma. This is Ben Miller. He thought he was supposed to be here, but decided he was wrong. I’m tending to his horse, Walter, before they head on down the road. Comb him good, then put him in that stall over there and let him have some hay and water.” Jess didn’t look at me while he spoke. He was studying his hand and the position he held the comb—evidently to ward off blisters—while he curried the horse. “Ben said he’d show me how to check the hooves, too.”

  I stared at my son, watched a diligence I hadn’t seen before, especially not in the past three weeks…stared until Ben was there, that is—standing right in front of me, blocking what I could see of Jess. Ben swallowed one of my hands in his and held it tight, mine disappearing in his large clasp. “Ma’am.” That deep voice was back, one that would be able to make itself heard from out on the prairie.

  I looked down at his hand, the way it closed over mine. Big and strong, with weathered skin that pricked against my own. I couldn’t believe he was here. I yanked back with my arm, but he held tight. Ben Miller. He wasn’t supposed to arrive for two more days. “But…”

  “You’re surprised.” Ben’s grip tightened even more. I winced, but kept it on the inside where he couldn’t see it. I tried again to wriggle loose as a half-smile stretched one side of his mouth, the sort of smile I was certain shouldn’t be trusted. “I’m surprised, too.” The set of Ben’s jaw, the look on his face…the stare that traveled over his shoulder to Jess—his surprise. I gave my hand a harder yank and pulled free.

  “You know each other?” Jess t
urned our direction. I leaned to the side and peered around the tall obstacle in front of me to see Jess’s hand fixed on the horse, and his brows fixed in a frown.

  “Mind taking Walter out to the corral for some hay, instead of in here?” Ben stepped aside, lifted his hat and ran a hand through the darkest hair I’d ever seen. Hair that didn’t flutter back into place the way Flynn’s would have. Neither did it spiral upward in a coil like mine. Ben’s hair was somewhere in between—dark and thick, undaunted by the long fingers combing through it. “He’s probably hungry after hieing it like he did.”

  “Hieing?” I looked from his hair to his face. “That’s not a word,” I sputtered, expecting Jess to be surprised, too.

  “Hightailing. ‘Hie’ means to hightail it.” He turned to Jess as I opened my mouth to correct him. “I’ll pay you for the feed and the trouble.”

  “Sure thing.” Jess sprang with more enthusiasm than I’d seen even previous to the past three weeks. He took Walter by the halter and was gone, my “yes, you can” or “no, you can’t” not even out of my mouth.

  I watched my son disappear through the back of the barn. When he was gone, when the back end of that large black horse had disappeared with him, I wheeled to Ben. To eyes as dark as that hair that was back under his hat. Not just dark in color but also in tone.

  “You’re early.” I spit the words. “I specifically said when you could arrive, and I had a reason for that particular day.” I nodded the direction Jess had gone. “That was my reason. He needed to be ready, time to heal and to understand why you were coming. If you had arrived on the day we’d agreed, he would have been prepared, and I wouldn’t be in a predicament now.” Maybe. I stared at Ben, waited for him to apologize and promise he’d pay more attention from now on. He stared back, his dark eyes boring straight through me. I crossed my arms. “My advertisement was clear. I said a husband who could take orders. Maybe now you can see why that was so imperative.”

  “Imperative?” He frowned.

  “It’s a real word, as opposed to ‘hie.’ It means vital. Important.”

  “Oh. I see. Guess you have your words and I have mine.” He took a step back, his gaze never leaving my face. “I appreciate the surprise I gave you by showing up early, Mrs. Howard, but I consider that minor compared to the surprise I had, having a boy sprung on me.”

  “That boy…Jess…is not a surprise, and he wasn’t sprung on anyone. He’s my son, so he’s none of your concern. He isn’t a part of our arrangement.”

  “He has a name, something I’ve already learned your boy sets store by. He’s here. And he’s a young fellow with a load on his mind, something I guarantee I’d be no help with. He’s a part of whatever arrangement you get yourself into, ma’am, this particular one no longer involving me.”

  “I’m the one who initiated this arrangement, and I’ll be the one to say when it’s done. It’s my ranch, after all.”

  Ben was tall, and he felt even taller as he took a step closer and leaned my way. “It takes two to bind a contract, and since I’ve just withdrawn, your arrangement is null and void. And just so you know, you can thank your lucky stars I’m not staying to marry you, because I take surprises a lot better than I take orders.” His eyes stayed on mine until his gaze traveled from my face down to my boots. “And wearing trousers doesn’t make you any more suited to giving orders than wearing a skirt would make me fit for giving birth.”

  My nails dug into my palms as I rolled my hands into fists. A word I’d heard Ted say when a pail slid off his bad arm came to mind. The word was immoral, but probably not too immoral for Ben Miller. “Just so you know, Mr. Miller, I’ve been running this ranch for three weeks now, in pants. I find skirts get in the way of things you’d probably be surprised I can do.”

  The half-smile returned. “I won’t argue that. Skirts surely do get in the way.” Ben straightened and slapped his hat tighter on his head. “Been my experience, too. Fortunately, neither one of us has to put up with one, since you can keep right on doing things the way you have been. I’m giving you an early parting. I’m leaving.”

  My nails dug deeper. I stretched Mr. Miller’s way. “I told you, this is my arrangement, and I decide when you leave, so don’t think you can just ride away before I get the chance to throw you off this ranch. And it just so happens I was about to tell you to go, so you are hereby free to take your leave. Get out!”

  There was no wind in the barn to sweep my words away, but still he just stood there as if he hadn’t heard a thing, gauging me again, until he tipped his head forward and touched the brim of his hat. “Good luck to you, Mrs. Howard.” He wrapped a hand around the horn of his saddle, a hand as tan and weathered as the leather he yanked off the rail. With the saddle in one hand, he scooped his pack off the barn floor with the other, tall and sure of himself, as he headed Jess’s way.

  “You’re right that it’s good I found out what sort of man you were early on. I had the perfect plan, and thank God I saw…”

  “Mrs. Howard?”

  I stopped. Ben continued his stalk toward the rear of the barn, as I turned to the voice behind me. “Ted? You’re a little late, I’ll have you know.”

  Ted stood to one side of the barn’s wide doorway, reins swaying from his good hand to his horse behind him. “Someone here to see you.”

  Mr. Gulliver stepped into the doorway and past Ted, stopping just inside the barn, looking every bit as fancy as he did at the bank. Or had at Flynn’s funeral. “I hope this isn’t a bad time. I ran into your manager, here, in town, and asked if you were home.” Mr. Gulliver nodded at Ted, but his eyes weren’t on him. Neither were they on me. His gaze traveled over the top of me, to the man who was supposed to be getting his horse and leaving.

  I watched Mr. Gulliver’s eyes and waited, giving Ben enough time to excuse himself and go retrieve Walter from Jess. Nothing came from behind me. Not a word, even his footsteps had stopped. By the silence in the barn, and by the direction of Mr. Gulliver’s gaze, I knew Ben was still there. “Quite honestly, Mr. Gulliver,” I said loudly enough to draw Flynn’s banker’s attention to me, “this isn’t the best time. I’ll come into town in a day or two, and…”

  The sway left Ted’s reins as he moved alongside Mr. Gulliver, looked from me to the man behind me, and stiffened. “Mrs. Howard’s got business to attend to. We got a ranch to run. You leaving?”

  “I had some business here, myself.” By the resonance of Ben’s voice, I knew he still hadn’t moved.

  “If it’s done, kindly head on down the road. Mrs. Howard don’t need no more troubles.” Ted stepped more to the side, even closer to Mr. Gulliver, leaving a wider space in the barn’s doorway for Ben to go.

  “Ted, I’m handling this man.” I caught the bulge of Ted’s jaw as he glanced from Ben back to me, understanding far better than he did that seeing a stranger come and go was less upsetting than if I’d had to tell him this stranger was staying so I could marry him. I turned to Mr. Gulliver. “And I’ll conduct any business you have for me in Liberal, at your bank. Not here, not now. As you can see…”

  “There isn’t enough time to wait until you come to town, and I can see it’s a good thing there isn’t.” Mr. Gulliver’s eyes were on me now, traveling from Flynn’s boots to his dungarees, up to his shirt, and stopping at my loose hair. “Mrs. Howard, your husband would turn in his grave if he saw what this ranch has done to you. This won’t do at all, so out of respect for the deceased, I’m right in saying that the new owner of this ranch is ready to take over. You and your son can pack up and be on your way to lives you’re much more suited to.”

  “New owner? But I told you I was…”

  “You told me lots of things, none of which matter in the eyes of Kansas law. You’re out of time, I’m afraid, and clearly out of your realm. We’ve been very lenient, bending the law for you, and it’s at the breaking point now. Breaking the law is something my bank just won’t do.” Mr. Gulliver had that tsking sound as he spoke, along with a sl
ow shake of his head I didn’t for one second believe was out of concern for me.

  I stepped between him and Ted, tired of this man robbing me of the very ground Flynn was buried in. “Stealing a ranch from its rightful owner is breaking a law. Have you even sent copies of the paperwork to my father’s attorney like I told you to?”

  “If you’re referring to yourself as the rightful owner, you’re not.” Mr. Gulliver barely concealed a twitch I wouldn’t be surprised was the beginning of a sneer. “Women can’t be entitled to land, no matter what the deed says. The new owner for your ranch is…”

  “A man. That’s what the law says, and the new owner is a man. He’s right here, in fact.” I spun in the dirt, looked into the dark eyes of Ben Miller, who’d made the mistake of standing in my barn a minute too long. I marched his way, daring him to move as I advanced. “You can keep your saddle over there.” I tipped my head to where Ben’s saddle had just been. Flynn’s spot. I snaked a hand around Ben’s arm and locked him in place as I turned to Mr. Gulliver, and the gaping stare of my ranch manager. “Meet my new husband. Or he will be soon. Probably tomorrow.”

  “Ma?” Jess. I heard the strain in his twelve-year-old voice. I turned to an even more sickly strain on his face.

  “Jess…”

  He was gone before I could say more, the slender back of my son leaning into a run that would take him even farther from me than earlier today when he left me standing at his father’s grave.

  I dropped Ben’s arm. “Jess!”

  “Giddy-up,” was the only response I got. It came from the back of the barn, the twelve-year-old voice even tauter as it urged the horse to go. “Hyah,” rang through the barn, followed by the unmistakable hammering of hooves through the outside gate.