The Lady's Arrangement (Help Wanted)

by Colleen L. Donnelly

  Only my voice came back to me from those four wooden walls. Ben was gone. Really gone. That vile word of Ted’s came to mind again. This time I shouted it.

  Chapter 11

  Good news travels fast. Bad news travels on a black horse in the dark of night. ~Rex

  I didn’t need the fire I lit for heat, and certainly Walter didn’t care. I was warm enough, even in the cool night air, thanks to too many hours with the sassy widow and the man she had for a ranch manager.

  I estimated Liberal to be over the next rise. I’d been on a horse most of my life, especially since I’d left home, often in uncharted terrain. It was second nature to know where a man would settle, easy to judge the good land from the bad, even in an endless prairie where things all looked the same.

  I stared at the tiny flames. They grew from flickers to blazes, but only in my thoughts. Big enough to destroy a house, a barn—everything except a shed. I wondered what Luke was doing, and whether my father knew his place had been burned. I’d rather tell Pop myself, but Luke wouldn’t have the strength to keep the horror to himself. He’d run first to our father. Then to Jim. He needed someone to go to. It was the way Luke was.

  I glanced at the blank pages lying on my knee. I sat cross-legged in front of the fire, a stub of a pencil in my hand. Shavings, tiny splinters and curls of wood lay scattered on my trousers, remnants from sharpening the pencil with my knife. Sharpening that hadn’t helped. The words still wouldn’t come.

  Dear Pop,

  I stared at the empty page, slid it to the bottom of the stack, and rested my pencil tip on the next.

  Luke -

  How could I explain that I did what I thought was right in a way Luke would understand?

  Jim,

  I knew what I had to say to him—I made it to Kansas, but was leaving right after I nosed around like he wanted. I’d have to explain about the part I wasn’t going to do. How the widow had a son, so the marriage deal was off. Jim would figure out why having a boy in the picture made the arrangement too complicated when Luke came crying to him about the ranch. Jim was sharp. He’d see right through the flames Luke spewed about. He’d see me. And he’d see the mess that nipped at my heels. But he wouldn’t let it affect his plans. And he wouldn’t want it to affect mine.

  I tapped the blunt end of the pencil on the page. Regina would be fine without me in her life. Her need for a man could be met by anyone who could sign his name, even by either of the two right under her nose. And if not them, she was pretty enough to nab another. I tapped my pencil on the page again.

  Dear Becky,

  I’d started this letter a thousand times, practiced it over every mile of Oklahoma Indian Territory, even over the trail I’d burned to Kansas. I never knew what to say, wasn’t sure how or what to ask. I glanced up at the tiny stars dotting the sky. My stepmom knew all the answers. If only I’d asked her when I had the chance. But I was too young, hoping all women were like her. Even my real mother, whoever she was.

  I pressed the pencil to the page.

  Jim—heading back. Deal fell through. Will check around first, then explain when I get there. Rex.

  I folded the page and stuffed it in my shirt pocket to mail tomorrow. I stared at the next empty sheet. The fire was dying, getting too small for light.

  Pop—See you soon. Rex.

  I folded that one, also, and stuffed it into my pocket along with Jim’s. The rest of the sheets, and the pencil, I put back into my pack.

  “Goodnight, Walter.” I stretched out near the fire, my pack jammed under my head for a pillow, and wondered how long it would take for Jess to wake up, how quick I could be at sniffing out any foul ranch shenanigans. I stared at the ceiling above me, black heaven with tiny pinpricks of light. Glitter. Sparkles. Like the twinkling on Regina’s dresser as I’d raced through her bedroom door. I frowned at the sky. Vials, jewelry, snifters, and bottles. And combs—one comb in particular. Identical to the one in Ted’s box. I sat straight up. Dang. That’s how Jess would say it, and how I’d be saying it from now on. Neither one of us was leaving the widow Howard yet. Even though neither one of us wanted to stay. Dang.

  Chapter 12

  Mama always said, “No news is good news.” At last I understand. ~Regina

  Ben was gone. He hadn’t come back during the night, and as far as I was concerned all of the “what-ifs” had gone with him. Except for the “what if I’d been quick enough to shout ‘good riddance’ before he rode away.” That would have been worth saying.

  I looked up from the ad I’d rewritten for a husband, tapped my pencil on my dresser top, and stared at a face I barely recognized. Flynn wouldn’t even recognize me. The sun and wind had changed my skin and hair in a short amount of time, darkening one and highlighting the other. Maybe Ben didn’t like what he saw. Maybe the slight wash of freckles broken out over my nose caused him to… I shook my head. Ben had been looking at cows for years; he could put up with a few freckles.

  I folded my ad and slid it into Flynn’s shirt pocket, glad I had color on my face so the reverend wouldn’t see me blush when I asked him if he knew any eligible men who were willing to share their last name without a lot of…without any other wants or desires. If he said no, I’d advertise again. Then go tell Mr. Gulliver there’d been a slight delay. “Darn you, Ben Miller!”

  “Ma?”

  I glanced behind me in the mirror.

  “Jess…” I hurried across the room and dropped to the edge of the bed. “You’re awake!” I ran the back of my hand across his forehead. His skin was cool to the touch, and as white as the sheet he was lying on.

  He closed his eyes, a wince pinching the corners.

  “I’m sorry.” I rose from the bed as gently as I could, wishing I could sit back down and wrap him in my arms. “Doc left medicine for the pain.” I hurried across the room.

  “Doc Harris? Was he here? Why do I hurt so much?” Jess groaned behind me.

  I snatched the medicine from my dresser and returned to Jess’s side. I’d placed a spoon next to it, trusting and believing he would awaken soon.

  “You fell. Can I lift your head so I can give you this?” I held up the bottle and trickled a tiny amount into the spoon, lowered myself beside him, twisted, and slid one hand under his head, balancing the spoon in my other. “Just open your mouth. I’ll do the rest.” His face tightened as the golden liquid dribbled between his lips.

  “Where did I fall?” He coughed as I settled his head back to the pillow.

  “It will take a bit for the medicine to take effect. Don’t cough, if it hurts. Don’t laugh, either.”

  He peered at me through nearly closed eyes.

  “Okay, you won’t be laughing. You fell in the prairie. How much do you remember? Anything about yesterday at all?”

  He frowned, cottony memories like shadows crossing his face, most of which I prayed wouldn’t stay. “I don’t. I don’t remember anything.”

  “Do you remember you and me in the prairie yesterday afternoon? Together out at your father’s grave?”

  Jess stared at my ceiling. “Maybe…I think so. Sort of. Did I trip? I must have hit hard. My hip hurts something awful.”

  “You broke your leg.” I laid a hand on him. His eyes widened. “We set it last night, but you were unconscious.”

  Voices rose from outside the house. I glanced toward my bedroom window. It was closed, but men’s voices were clear, loud, sharp, and growing stronger, powerful enough to penetrate my bedroom wall.

  “I said there’s no need you being here.” It was Ted. His voice close to the house. Doc Harris said he would come by today. I thought it would be later, after I’d gone into town to pay him. Surely Ted wouldn’t run the doctor off.

  “I’m checking on the boy.”

  I stared at my son.

  “Ma, let go of my shoulder. You’re squeezing me.”

  I let go but kept my hand there and patted him, a tap for each footstep coming through the house.

  “He’s sle
eping. He won’t even know you’re here.” Ted was near my bedroom door.

  Jess strained toward the commotion. I knew that other voice, and it wasn’t Doc’s. I stood and turned to face the doorway.

  “He’s awake, but he’s not well. Not well enough for unexpected visitors.” I stared at Ben. Unwelcome visitors, ones who’d run off during the night.

  “Mrs. Howard.” Ben tipped his head, and removed his hat.

  “Son.” Ted slid around Ben and came to the edge of the bed, taking a spot alongside where I stood. He removed his hat, the same way Ben had, then dropped to one knee at Jess’s side. “Glad to see you’re awake. Sure was worried about you.”

  The glower I gave him did nothing to stop Ben from continuing across my room. He trailed Ted’s path, coming to a stop behind him, the brim of his hat running through long fingers. Fingers attached to strong hands, to sturdy arms, and on to muscles that swelled beneath the fabric of his shirt. Muscles I’d seen yesterday.

  Ben tipped his head my son’s direction, and leaned high over Ted. “How you feeling?”

  “The boy looks tired.” Ted came to his feet, sending Ben a step back. “I say we wait till Doc’s been here before we bother him with visitors.”

  “Yes. You’re right. We should let him rest.” I walked around Ben, marking a new trail I wanted him to follow toward the door. A curl fluttered loose just as I passed. I jabbed it back, blowing other stragglers out of my face.

  “You look fine.” Ben watched my hands. “Your hair’s up today. Pretty combs.”

  “I’m going to town.”

  Ben’s gaze traveled from my hair to Flynn’s pants, and finally to his boots. “Really?”

  “This talk is keeping the boy awake.” Ted stepped into the space between Ben and me. “I say we all go outside.”

  “I saw you,” Jess whispered. I looked around the two men and down at my son, at the face that blended with my sheet. “I remember seeing you.” Jess’s eyes were wide now, bluer against his washed out face, and steady on Ben.

  Ben’s hat stopped spinning as he turned to my boy.

  “You kept telling me to hold on, to be brave. You told me not to cry, but to try harder, the way Pa’d be proud of me to do.”

  “Jess, you must have been dreaming.”

  “No, Ma. I wasn’t dreaming. He was there. I saw him and heard him.”

  I looked up at Ben. At the color waning beneath his tan.

  “Son, that fellow said no such things.” Ted turned to Jess. “I was there the whole time. I heard everything he said, and there wasn’t nothing like that. But holding on like you did was right. That’s just what your pa would have wanted. I’m proud of you.”

  “No, it was him.” Jess twisted his head to see Ben better, and his face pinched as he did. “You were tall, and it was so smoky, but I heard you. I followed you.”

  “Anybody home?” Doc Harris called from the kitchen door. It was my son we were listening to, not Doc. He was quiet for a moment, then called again. “Okay if I come in?”

  Ben stepped around Ted, hat in hand, as I found my tongue and invited Doc in. His footsteps came through the house, more softly than these other two men had come, as Ben bent over my son.

  “A boy has to learn his way through smoke. At least I always thought so.”

  “Well, I see our patient’s awake.” Doc’s voice was light, like his step, as he came into the room. I heard him behind us as Ben straightened, then in front of us as Ben took a step back. Doc walked to the foot of Jess’s bed as Ben moved away. “That’s what I like to see.”

  Ma’am. I saw it in the way Ben tipped his head as he backed farther from my bed, and in his glance as he settled his hat on top of that black hair. He turned when halfway across the room and walked toward my bedroom’s door. He paused before he went through it, stopped at my dresser like he had before, and glanced down at the combs and pins I kept in a dish.

  “You absconding for real this time?” I set my fingers at the dish’s edge and tugged it my way. My belongings were none of his concern, but his comings and goings were mine. Ben had come and gone too many times, and I had a ranch to save.

  “Absconding?” Ben touched my favorite comb, the one whose mate lay out in the prairie somewhere. “Is that anything like taking something that isn’t yours?”

  “You’d best be on your way,” Ted said from my side.

  “Ted, I can manage.”

  “I should have been here when this fellow came the first time. He wouldn’t be here now, if I was, touching things that ain’t his.”

  “Ben came at my invite, Ted.” I turned to Ben. “Ted knows I lost one of my favorite combs out in the prairie, the match to the one your finger’s on. And just so you know, absconding means going. Going without reference to taking anything. So are you?”

  “Not far.” Ben kept his finger on the match to the comb I’d lost, then dropped his hand back to his side.

  “Not far? My ad wasn’t for a house guest.”

  “I don’t intend to be one.” He ducked his head at the doorway. “Ma’am.” And he was gone. Again.

  Chapter 13

  The finer things in life aren’t always fine. ~Rex

  Liberal was more than I expected, but probably far less than what a woman like Regina was used to. Why she insisted on keeping her ranch was beyond me. She sat a horse amazingly well, but not with the same precision she’d fit a dress if she’d wear one. I could tell by her husband’s cinched pants what she was cut out to wear, and I wasn’t the only one in her room who’d noticed. Those other two men at her son’s bed had also. Doc, in the way a gentleman would, and Ted the way I’d seen roosters behave. A rooster with a comb that wasn’t his.

  “How much to send a couple of letters?” I asked the clerk in the postal building I’d found. He was tall and thin, balding above the visor he touched and tugged at more than necessary.

  “You new here?” he asked as I slipped my two letters his way. “Mr. Greene’s my name, with an ‘e’ on the end.” He glanced at the coins in my outstretched palm. “Only half that amount would be fine.”

  I dropped two of the coins onto the counter. “Thank you.”

  “We get lots of new folks out here.” He scooped my money to the edge of the counter and into his other palm. “Liberal. It means what it says—generous. An oasis, and a real draw for people wanting to rest or stay.”

  “A growing town, then?” I asked.

  “Booming. Well, maybe blooming’s more accurate. But with the railroad coming this way and the reputation we have for being a comfort to the weary, things just keep changing. Booming is coming.”

  “Sounds like a right nice place.” I smiled at Mr. Greene. “Like a man could make a life here. Settle down.”

  “Lots of them do. You thinking about settling here yourself?”

  “Might look things over,” I said. “Who would I talk to about that? About finding some land?”

  “Oh, the bank’s the place you want to go. That’s where everyone goes. Even the railroad has dealings with them.”

  “The bank,” I repeated. “Might have to pay them a visit.” I tipped my hat. Jim sent me here to get married so I could search around for men like Matt Morrissey without being noticed. One out of two wasn’t bad. I’d do Jim’s rangering for him. Discreet, like, since I wasn’t getting hitched. Then I’d make sure the widow was married decently before I went, for her sake. “Thank you again.” I stepped out onto the boarded walkway.

  Liberal was a blooming little town, the walks and street flowed with a steady stream of people and horses. I looked to the left and saw the sign for the bank. Mr. Gulliver. I wondered if he would be as friendly as Mr. Greene had been.

  I strolled down the walk and stepped through an ornate wood-and-etched-glass door that smelled like money. The building was larger than I’d expected, with high ceilings and a lobby that hummed like a hive with customers and clerks. I closed the door behind me and scanned the room, a head above nearly everyone else.
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  “Thought I’d introduce myself officially.” I extended a hand across Mr. Gulliver’s large oak desk. “Ben. Ben Miller,” I added before he had time to wipe the surprise off his face.

  Mr. Gulliver’s grip strengthened as the shock of seeing me waned. “Mr. Miller. Yes, we encountered each other yesterday.” Mr. Gulliver was as accomplished as Ted. Ted did a decent job of hiding his one bad hand, and Mr. Gulliver did a fair job of disguising the gold-digging clink in his tone. “And if I remember right, according to Mrs. Howard, you’re here to…” He raised his brows as he slid his hand away and leaned back in his chair.

  “To say hello.” There were things Jim would want to know that this man probably could, but never would, tell me. He was too slick, too paunched with self-assurance. “That’s all. Have a good day.” I turned.

  “Mr. Miller, please, have a seat. A quick hello is hardly the way to make an acquaintance, and besides, there are things we need to discuss.”

  I glanced back at the man Jim would be curious about and Regina had been counting on me to satisfy. His arm swept in a low arc in front of him, pointing toward the two chairs I’d been standing between.

  “Thank you kindly, but I’d best be going. When there’s a lot to do, there’s little time for discussing it.”

  “A lot to do. You mean here? Or do you mean you’d best be going somewhere else, say farther away?”

  “Going home. Thank you for your time.” I nodded and turned. This time I kept going as I walked across the lobby between customers and clerks, then out the door to the walkway. Mr. Gulliver wouldn’t chase after me. Hurrying would be too obvious.

  “Mr. Miller?”

  I glanced to the right. Mr. Greene hightailed it my way—hied, no matter what the widow thought—a folded piece of paper in his hand, waving like a flag. “We got a wire for you just after you walked out. Wouldn’t have known it was yours, except you’d just been there.” Mr. Greene was slender and not that old, but still he panted as he reached me, my message flapping in the air.