The Lady's Arrangement (Help Wanted)

by Colleen L. Donnelly

  With both horses beside him, Ben stared at me instead of the direction I pointed. His face was a blank, a look that said everything and nothing at the same time. At least Flynn’s expressions had been easy to decipher, whether I liked what I saw there or not.

  “Never mind. Just give Boss to Ted and tell Ted to go get the doctor. Then you can get on down the road. Seems that’s what you want, to just get out of here.” I knew it was. Wanting was so thick on him I could smell the desire to go. Break his promise. Leave all the pain he had caused behind.

  Instead of going, he knelt at my boy, ran a hand over his hip and thigh. He stole a glance at my dungarees, then rose to his feet. He swung a long leg over the back of his horse, Boss’s reins still in one hand. “I’ll send Ted for your doctor, but I’m not going anywhere until we get this boy settled.”

  “I don’t need your help getting Jess settled.” I waited for him to argue, deny everything was his fault. I watched his jaw, expected to see the flex again, but nothing happened. He leaned the direction he wanted Walter to go, and the two of them pointed back toward my ranch.

  As they turned, I heard it. My son’s whisper. I saw it on Ben’s face as he stopped Walter with a touch of the hand.

  “Jess?” I dropped to the ground, leaned over my boy’s back. “Jess?”

  “Pa?” It was a whisper, but it felt like a shout. Jess’s eyes were partway open. He was squinting upward toward Ben.

  I rose. I looked at Boss, then back to Ben. “You stay.” By the time I was on Boss, Ben was off Walter. I left the two of them behind with my son, using the end of the reins and the heels of Flynn’s boots to hurry Boss to Liberal. The sun was sinking lower, the cool wind and the sound of my son’s voice—the way he looked at Ben and called him Pa—were bringing water to my eyes faster than I could get away. Streams of it.

  Pa.

  I drove Boss harder.

  Chapter 7

  I’m not cut out for young boys, brown dirt, or bossy women. No matter what. ~Rex

  I stared at Regina’s boy lying quiet in the grass. His mother was right; this was my fault.

  What if he falls? My stepmother’s voice whispered with the wind. Her other worry had been what would happen to Little Brother and me if Luke fell and I couldn’t save him. Regina’d ridden away with the same worry my stepmother always had in her tone. I looked to the northeast, the direction she’d gone, feeling what she’d left behind in her haste—the mark of a mother. The mark of a woman loving, running hard and scared.

  Walter nickered. Air drained from my lungs, full of old smoke as I forced every bit of it out. I glanced Walter’s direction. “Mind keeping yourself busy while I tend to things?” Things like this boy here, who’d given Walter his name, and who’d be hurting bad if he happened to wake up. Jess’s rib cage barely moved, shallow breaths hardly noticeable. “You will wake up,” I said. I’d stay until he did.

  Walter tossed his nose in the air, then shoved it deep into last year’s brown spikes of grass, searching out the newer, greener, tastier ones. I was good with horses, much better than I was with boys. At least I’d always thought so. But somehow I’d missed…or maybe I’d just skipped…the naming part. How important that was, especially the belonging notion. The way it made a pact.

  “Walter.” He drew his head up, chewing his find, then drove his nose into the prairie grass again.

  The sky and temperature changed as the sun sank lower, the late spring afternoon dimming and cooling fast, too fast for a boy with injuries to battle. I stepped around to his back and knelt with one knee close to him, watched for the telltale signs of shivering I’d seen with injuries in the past. Downed Rangers, dying criminals. A slight, almost invisible shudder traveled the boy’s back and shoulders. I glanced up at Walter. Jess had ridden bareback. Nothing there but the halter. I fumbled with the buttons Regina had almost ripped loose, stripped my shirt off, and draped it over the boy.

  Straight hair fell to the side over Jess’s forehead. His face was so young. So much like Luke. I glanced along the lean curvature beneath my shirt. But Jess was built like me. Jess acted more like me, too. Or maybe it was his mother Jess acted like.

  My shadow stretched across his hips and legs, the sun sinking at my back. I stood, moved to the boy’s front side, and sat close, hoping between the lowering sun and my fairly near body warmth Jess would gather a little heat.

  I laid a hand on the boy, studied the way he lay and the way his leg bent—the way it had felt in my hands. He wasn’t going anywhere soon. I slid a hand to where his ribs were, beneath my shirt, to keep track of Jess’s vitals. I glanced over my shoulder to the northeast again, where Regina had ridden, torn across the prairie like she couldn’t get Boss to run fast enough. Her tiny frame rode like she was a piece of Ted’s saddle, like she’d been doing that all of her life. I shook my head. That couldn’t be true. Her smooth skin, the way she spoke and carried herself, told me she hadn’t. I wondered what the Kansans there in Liberal would think when that tiny woman barreled into town in her dead husband’s trousers and boots.

  I snorted, glanced back at her son, drew my fingers off him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean any disrespect by that. Thinking about your ma. She’s special. In her own special way.” I eyed her son. He still breathed, but he didn’t react.

  Walter moseyed in a circle around us. Jess was right about Walter’s name. He was a good horse who loved a long drink. Like Jess was probably a good boy with his own wants and needs. Ones that sent him flying across the prairie on a strange horse when he heard his ma say she was marrying me. I snapped a brittle stem of grass off near the ground, broke it in halves, then into quarters as I stared over my right shoulder toward the northeast.

  “Don’t touch the boy,” I said without turning. “We don’t know how bad he’s hurt.”

  Ted stepped from the left and walked where he could take a stand in front of me. He didn’t continue around to Jess’s front where I sat. I looked at the stocky man on the other side of the boy. I’d seen that sort of stance before, the spread of the feet that set the boots as far apart as a man’s shoulders were wide.

  “I’m guessing Mrs. Howard’s gone on my horse for Doc Harris. She should have had me go. I would have, if I’d known.”

  I plucked another stem from the ground.

  “I’ll sit with the boy. You can git on down the road.” Ted bent forward and lifted my shirt.

  “Best leave my shirt where it is.” I nodded at Jess. “Unless you’re thinking on giving him yours.” I knew Ted wouldn’t do that. In the few minutes I’d been around the man, I’d seen that arm with the missing hand mere seconds. He wouldn’t go without a shirt. The severed limb would be too obvious.

  He dropped the shirt back where it was. “Like I said, you can git on. I’ll take care of the boy and his ma.”

  “I’ll wait.”

  I edged a little closer to Jess, gauged again the shallow lift and fall of his ribs beneath my shirt as a chorus of coyotes struck up across the prairie. The wind was dying down, the way winds often did toward sunset, stretching out the eerie wails as the breeze did nothing to interfere with their sound. Maybe some things didn’t change no matter where you happened to be. Not just the wind, but mothers and stepmothers also, the way they saw the men in their lives, especially the young ones, like Jess. The coyote cries dwindled, thinned out to nothing, but the wind didn’t completely stop. This Kansas wind just slowed, turning into more of a whisper than the whoosh I’d been hearing every day since I’d set foot in this state.

  The evening changes ticked time away faster than I liked. I listened and watched, took note of everything around me without taking my eyes off the grass I toyed with and the boy that lay in it.

  “They’re family to me.” Ted broke the quiet. “Been with them since before, and aim to stay on, too.”

  “As ranch manager?” I glanced up.

  The sound of hoofbeats became more apparent, my heart joining their thuds, mine loud where theirs were muffled by dista
nce and the carpet of grass. Ted finally heard them and looked up. Two horses. I turned. Regina was dwarfed on Boss, barely visible as she bore our direction. A more erectly postured figure sat on the horse running alongside her. A bag flopped at his side, his coat flapping with every stride.

  I stood, staying close to Jess, and watched the pair riding our way. Boss reached us first, Regina on the ground before the large horse managed to stop. She did it without stumbling this time, even with those baggy trousers and oversized boots.

  “How is he?” She dropped at her son’s knees.

  “Stable,” Ted said. He came around the boy and stood near Regina.

  “You covered him with a shirt,” she said. She looked up at Ted. Then at me, at my bare chest. “Your shirt? Why?”

  “Was he shaking?” The doctor was there now—a man who, in a glance, was everything this boy and his mother were going to need—hovering at Jess’s back, his bag open on the ground.

  “Yes,” Ted answered without looking at me.

  “Shock, maybe.” The doctor felt the boy, much the way I had, his hands moving first around Jess’s head, then his neck, then along his back and down his arms and legs. He did it the way I’d seen it done so many times, done it myself even, except for the little bit of extra tending I saw in his hands that I didn’t have. It was in his posture, too, the way he bent over Regina’s son, the way he was mindful of her nearby, and not holding her back. The doctor glanced at her as he dug what he needed from his bag. His hair fell over his forehead the same way Jess’s did, but Doc’s was darker. He was more my age than hers, but he wore his years in his heart instead of on his skin. This man would know how to do good for a family.

  “Is he going to be all right, Doc?” Regina whispered.

  The doctor felt around Jess’s head one more time, paused at the back, used both hands in a circular motion as he stared at the horizon, then turned back to her. “Knot on his head. Bruise, I’d say, hopefully not more.” He rested on his haunches. I waited for him to say, “Leg.” I knew the leg was broken. It was Jess’s backbone I wasn’t sure of, the image of him tumbling off my horse and across the ground made him look fragile and me rash every time it ran through my mind. “We need to get him to your house, but carefully.” The doctor laid a finger high on Jess’s thigh. “His leg’s broken here. Hard place to set, so we have to make sure we don’t jar him as we go.”

  Regina gasped. I closed my eyes, pinched them shut, grateful the doc hadn’t found more wrong. Regina was leaning into her son as I opened them again, Ted bending close over her. Too close.

  “Try not to disturb him,” the doctor said to Regina. He said the same thing I’d told her, but he said it different. Better. She pulled back from Jess, leaving her hands on his arm.

  “You have any poles at your ranch? Blankets?” Doc Harris looked from her to Ted.

  “I’ll get them,” I said. Her barn and homestead were small, little enough I could spot, or even concoct, what Doc needed in a short amount of time.

  Ted straightened. I saw the fire in his eyes as he looked my way. Then I saw it fizzle as he glanced down at Regina.

  “Be right back,” I said. I was on Walter before anyone had a chance to argue. Regina and Jess were in good hands with the doctor, but that didn’t make this ride any easier. The air was chilly as it swept over my chest and back, around my neck, and along my arms. The cold was uncomfortable, but so was heat. Fiery heat from a burning house, not to mention a jealous ranch manager’s touch. My shirt had seen a lot the past few days. It had protected me, and now it protected Regina’s boy from other things I’d done.

  I saddled Walter fast once I reached Regina’s barn, my mind racing with my hands, the way she had across the prairie. Walter could tote Jess back to the house on a stretcher, the way the doc would want him carried, if I rigged a sort of harness to his gear. I wasn’t sure Boss could manage it, and I didn’t want to waste time finding out. I grabbed an extra shirt from my roll, then scoured the barn as I slid it on. Two rough boards, long and narrow, would do. A discarded board lay along the side wall of the central open area. It was wider than we needed, but I found a hatchet in an alcove of tools and split it in half.

  At the back of the barn, at the very corner, I found a room I hadn’t noticed earlier. It was behind a closed door and looked used—Ted’s, I assumed. I fumbled for a latch, a tricky setup that frustrated me enough I pondered bringing the door down with my boot. The door popped open with the first toe-tap. Ted had a cot to the side with a blanket fitted across its top. The right size to make a stretcher, and sturdy, but I’d prefer one Ted wasn’t using. I made a quick spin and eyed what Ted owned. Not much besides the cot. A large wooden box, a few grub utensils, a holster, a rifle, and a rope. I grabbed the rope. He probably wouldn’t kick up too much of a fuss about me borrowing his private belongings, under the circumstances.

  I lifted the lid of the box, hoping for another blanket. Ted was neat, if nothing else. Everything inside was arranged in perfect stacks, and at one side I saw what I needed—an extra blanket. I gave it a tug, an awful clatter following down inside the box. A small metal chest tumbled and rolled from the blanket. It landed on a book—a Bible, by the look of it. The chest popped open, papers spilling everywhere. I considered cursing as they slid to the bottom, but eyed the Bible and held back. I tossed the blanket on Ted’s cot and gathered the papers…bank paperwork, maps, deposit slips, and a deed. I laid everything back in the metal chest, snapped it shut, and set it where the blanket had been.

  I started to close the wooden box’s lid when something glittery caught my eye. Too glittery for a one-handed ranchman. I leaned forward and touched what I saw, down low and to the side of the stack I’d just disrupted. Pointed tips and sparkly insets scratched across my skin. I latched onto the barbed contraption and lifted it out. A hair comb. I’d never seen one so fancy before. It had to be expensive, or at least it would have been at one time. Not now, though, with two of its teeth broken off and several others chipped at the ends. Evidently it was worth something to Ted in this condition—at least worth hiding.

  I lifted the metal chest back out and wrapped it in the blanket the way it had been before. I laid both atop the stack next to the comb. The fancy broken comb. Everything back in place just like I’d found them, I lowered the lid. I snatched the blanket off Ted’s cot, mounted Walter with everything I’d found for the doctor, and headed east.

  Chapter 8

  Jess never looked so much like Flynn—pale, still, quiet. Just like Flynn—when we found him and brought him home. ~Regina

  I stood, my son close at my feet, and glanced toward the ranch. Jess was still breathing, but too shallow. He hadn’t stirred, even with Doc working on him, not like he had when he thought Ben was his pa.

  “I can go,” Ted said, appearing beside me. He was looking the same direction I was. “Don’t know we can trust this fellow.”

  I glanced at Ted, then back toward my home. I squinted, peered hard through the fading light. “Hear anything?”

  “I should go check.”

  I watched alongside Ted to the west. If Ben was really doing what he said he’d do—staying until Jess was settled—then the only good Ted would be was to help Ben find what he needed faster so he could leave sooner. Or argue enough—the Kansas way, according to Ben—to slow him down.

  “I’m worried about moving him.” Doc spoke from the ground, the way a man does when he’s talking to himself. I turned and looked down. I was meant to hear. Doc was talking about my son.

  “You mean we should leave him out here?” I dropped down next to Doc and laid my hands on Jess’s side, lightly, so as not to disturb him, as I stared at Doc. “Won’t he get cold if we do that?”

  “No, I didn’t mean leave him out here. I meant I’m worried about moving him without at least trying to set that leg first. That bone, that large bone, is pretty important. I wish I’d thought of that before I sent your friend off. I would have suggested he bring something back f
or splints.” Doc Harris looked around at the nearly treeless prairie, then back at me. “That fellow—he a friend of yours? Or maybe family?”

  “Neither,” Ted answered above me. Doc didn’t look up at Ted when Ted answered out of place. Doc kept his eyes on me, telling me in his look that he understood. This was my son and my ranch, he wanted my response, my voice, and no one else’s.

  I opened my mouth to correct Ted and tell him I could manage my own answers when I heard him, heard the sound of Walter’s hooves thundering across the prairie. That black horse had a way of running that Boss didn’t have, or even Flynn’s horse hadn’t had—weightless, yet powerful.

  Ben’s silhouette appeared in the dusky light as I looked to the west. His and Walter’s black outlines resembled warriors as he rode up on us and wheeled his horse to a stop. Two long poles wrapped in a blanket extended to the front and behind Ben’s outline, like spears balanced under one arm. I stood as he swung both legs to the same side and dropped to the ground.

  Doc joined me, stood close, and watched Ben alight, then hurried his way. “Wish I’d thought to have you get something we could use for splints.”

  Ben set the long poles on the ground, leaned over, and unwound them from the blanket.

  “Well, I’ll be.” Doc bent down and came up with two smaller, thinner boards. “Now, if we only had…”

  Ben handed him some rope.

  “You a doctor?” Doc looked at Ben.

  “He was a cattleman.” I stood out of the way, not saying what Ben was supposed to be, and watched the two men move in unison. Ben worked alongside Doc Harris as if he understood medicine, not just animals, anticipating the doctor’s every move. Their harmony made it seem the two of them had been working together for years and I could relax. But I couldn’t. I was grateful for their unity and appreciated their joint knowledge, but this was my son and the man who had caused his accident, so I stayed far enough back to allow the doctor to work freely over Jess, yet near enough I could monitor everything Ben did.