The Lady's Arrangement (Help Wanted)

by Colleen L. Donnelly

  “I’m going to find that land, Ted.”

  “You’re what?”

  “And then I want to sell it.” After I scoured it for things Flynn may have left behind.

  “Sell it?” His face furrowed into one of those leathery frowns. “You can’t just up and sell something you don’t own. Even if Flynn still did. That’s why you need to get my name on this place. And that one too, if it exists.”

  “If my name’s on that land at all, I’m selling it. If it’s just Flynn’s, then it’ll go to Ben.” As payment for keeping his end of the arrangement. It had been written into my plan. “In any case, the land has to go. It’s more than Jess and I can handle.” Since we’ll truly be alone.

  “Look, I’ll go to the bank with you. Now. You can have all of this settled today. Especially if that other property pans out.”

  Don’t agree to anything. “No. Not today. I want to find that other land first.”

  “Tomorrow. First thing in the morning. I was going there anyway.”

  “No.” I turned toward the house, the word I kept repeating to men hanging in the air. Trusting Ben had better be the right thing to do.

  “Think about it. Sleep on it. I’ll be ready in the morning.”

  I walked toward the house. I’d said all he needed to know. When I reached the door, I paused, made a loop, and cut into the prairie.

  I tucked Clyde’s letter into my pocket as I plowed through the grasses, opening my mother’s as I went. I fell into the news from New York, the struggles from here vanishing beneath the large city’s streets, tales of our neighbors, our family, and friends. I saw myself there. Jess, too. Back on those streets, me wearing a gown and carrying a parasol. I glanced up at the prairie around me. Ted was right; the East was still part of me. Even part of Jess. But it wasn’t home anymore. It was too relaxed, and life would be too simple back East. There would be no pushy ranch manager or bossy arranged spouse to contend with. I looked down at Daddy’s note at the end. His worries over his grandson and daughter, his offers to bring us home. It was so like him. He made me feel five years old again. Which I wasn’t.

  I came upon Flynn’s gravesite as I tucked my parents’ letter away. I stared at the wooden cross, then glanced around the prairie, wondering if I should go ahead and get a stone without Jess.

  “How did we end up like this, Flynn?” My voice sounded thin as I dropped onto the bare ground of his grave. Small sprigs of grass encroached where I sat, stealing away the freshness of his death. “I’m buying cattle.” I bolstered my voice. “Not what you would have done, since you never tried my ideas. No one wants to, but since this ranch is mine, they have to.” I untied my hair and loosened my combs as I stared at the ground between us, letting it blow with the breeze. Red ringlets battered my face. “Remember the calf I saved when you and Ted were gone? How I figured out, from giving birth to Jess, the way cows should give birth, and I did it right? Remember how filthy with afterbirth and dirt I was when you and Ted returned? You didn’t thank me. Neither did Ted. You both fussed over the calf. But it survived, and that was thanks enough. I’m going to put everything I’ve learned to use now. If you’re actually listening to me this time, and you have any power at all from up there, then do your part. Make sure my cattle ranch is a success, okay?”

  I listened. I waited. There was nothing but silence, only the wind whooshing past, maybe whooshing away any words he might say the same way it whooshed away mine—to everyone except Clyde. I withdrew my cousin’s letter from my pocket. Clyde. My father would never have noticed Clyde in my shadow all those years he’d tagged along after me, except he was the rare male child in the family. Clyde almost fainted and I stormed out of the room when Daddy announced he was taking Clyde under his wing in the bank. My father might as well have chosen me after all, as much coaching as I’d been doing to keep Clyde number-savvy behind my father’s back. I opened the letter. Clyde’s penmanship on the letter matched the sharp angles he’d adopted on the envelope. He must be more desperate than usual.

  Dear Regina,

  Promise me you’ll say nothing of this to anyone. Especially to your father.

  I shook my head. All of Clyde’s letters began this way. I could picture the panic on his face as he bent over this stationery in near darkness at his home.

  You’ve always been so capable, Regina, and helped me whenever I asked. So I decided some time ago that it was time for me to figure things out for myself. That went fine—well, sort of fine—for a spell. But I’m afraid I’ve made a blunder now. A rather large one. One I’m not sure how to remedy.

  When you and Flynn went west, I listened to the things he said about opportunity. The west was a treasure waiting to be mined. I know he loved the dream of farming, but he had bigger ideas, too. He spoke often of gain.

  I laid the letter on my lap and stared at Flynn’s marker. He had ideas before he even came here, generating them somehow from somewhere. “You didn’t make mistakes, though,” I said. “You were clever. Even my silly cousin knows that.” I lifted the letter, and continued to read.

  It sounded innocent enough at first, dear cousin, the venture I made. It was an investment, a word Flynn used, but it was in railroads. You know yourself they are cutting across the country in ribbons and webs, miles and miles of opportunity—at least I imagined it that way, the same way Flynn saw ranching. What I didn’t realize, although probably I should have, was the roundabout way my money was being used.

  Promise me again you’ll say nothing. But the money I offered may have been part of a scheme. I found out by tracking it when I received a return from an area where no railroads are. Or are even planned for. I discovered it had funded a ranch far south of where you are. Several of them, actually. My money became a resource banks used to loan on land where ranchers eventually failed. Those ranches were then sold, at far more profit than I saw in my return, and the rest of the investment went to buying up railroad land, ahead of the rails, making the buyers rich.

  The worst of it all is, Regina, I discovered some of those ranchers died, and then their land was turned over. What if there was foul play? I’m just sick to have had a hand in this. What if my money has done great harm instead of good? In the end, I haven’t a piece of rail or land to my name. My return is nominal.

  I’m thinking about traveling there, Regina, down to the areas where these ranches were. I know the names of the men I’ve been investing with. Met one of them, actually, here in New York.

  I can find them. I’m sure of it.

  Please write, but don’t talk. Please let me know what you think. Did you and Flynn encounter anything like this in Kansas? You’ve always been my source of wisdom, and I need some now.

  Forever in your debt…

  My mouth hung open as I read the end. It stayed that way, even though I knew better. Schemes? Bank investments? Railroad land and ranches? Dead ranchers? I stared at the ground my husband lay beneath and fumbled with my cousin’s letter, forcing it back into its envelope. Surely not. Surely, surely not.

  Chapter 41

  Leg up, lad. Leg up. ~Rex

  “What’s that?” Jess stared as I ducked through the bedroom door. Regina had gone across the prairie. Ted had ridden off. It was just me and the boy. Perfect.

  “Crutches and a brace.”

  “What?”

  “Crutches and a brace. I figure Doc doesn’t want you putting any weight on that break, so we’ll hoist it up with a brace. The crutches will take that leg’s place when you stand up and walk.”

  Jess’s eyes turned to saucers. Not as fancy but nearly as round as the dainty plates his mother used. I came alongside his bed, those big eyes scouring the crutches and brace.

  “You up for this?”

  “But Doc said…”

  “I aim to be careful. And if it helps any, I’ve talked to Doc about this a little myself. I’ve seen these sorts of things used before, and so has he.” I just hadn’t let on I was making a set.

  I could guess again
what Flynn must have looked like as the boy’s gape riveted on me. Regina was in his fervor, but someone else was in those eyes. And that hair. Just like Luke and the way he favored his mother.

  Jess slid the light blanket that had been draped over him aside. He jammed his fists into the mattress and edged himself up.

  “No, just stay flat while I fit this brace to you. We want to keep that leg straight, so lay still. I’ll tell you when to roll, if I need you to.” The splint we’d made when Jess was first hurt needed to go. What I’d made now was sturdier, more functional. “When I have this on your leg, you need to use the side of the bed your good leg is on. It’s your pivot leg. It’s the one you’ll use along with the crutches to get up. And out. Imagine using the outhouse again.”

  The boy blushed, but he looked thrilled.

  I secured to his leg the wood and the leather I’d cut. “This is why we don’t shoot men with bum legs. While you were laying here you could have been cutting this leather or making this brace.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jess looked up. “I didn’t know.” He watched my face while I tightened the straps and hooks.

  “You ready?”

  His head yanked up and down.

  “Okay, I’m going to hold your legs while you lift your upper half and scoot to the right side of the bed.”

  He nodded again. I managed his legs as he used his arms like spider legs, hoisting himself across the mattress until he collapsed at the other side.

  “I’m out of wind.” His color faded.

  “Let me know when you’re ready.” I let him rest while I brought the crutches to the bed’s edge, and leaned them his way. He grappled with the mechanics for a moment, until I jiggled the nearest crutch.

  “I’m ready.” He bit both lips between his teeth and laid hold of the crutch. He twisted and grimaced. I stayed near, ready to hold that leg steady. He perspired, but I sweat. He grunted, and I prayed. Every inch he advanced took an eternity. This boy had been in bed far too long. It had made him wobbly, and his ma and her doctor friend had made him afraid.

  “You’re doing good.” I nodded. I held on. And with several more rocking motions Jess struggled to his good foot, his braced leg dangling toward the floor as he dropped onto the crutches. I gripped both and held him still. He breathed harder than I did when I argued with his mother. I held on tight while he swayed.

  “You did it. You’re up on your feet. Well, your foot.”

  I grinned at the mat of hair on the back of his head as he stared at the floor. “I am. I’m up.” He looked at me, a grin stretching across his face. Staring ahead, he leaned forward, setting the end of the crutches not far from his good foot. He swung into them, until his foot hit the floor, his eyes growing with his smile.

  “How’s the leg? The one in the brace?”

  “It hurts, but I don’t care.”

  I knelt beside him, fitted the brace so there was no drag on the break in his leg, firmed the leather and wood so they did all of the work. “Now?” I glanced up.

  He jiggled. “That’s better.”

  “Okay.” I stood. “Let’s practice around the room for a bit, then that’s probably enough for your first time up.”

  “I want to go outside.”

  “I kind of expected that, and I don’t blame you. A man can only take so much lace and finery.”

  “My pa took it just fine.” Jess scowled. “He never complained.”

  I glanced around Regina’s bedroom. The one she used to share with Flynn, she with the wild red hair, the fiery attitude, the perfect hourglass I’d seen formed by those trousers I’d bought her. I looked down at the boy they’d made, ventured a guess why Flynn never complained. “Your father was a lucky man. I mean he was a good man.”

  “He was. He should have never died. Not that way.”

  “What way was that, if you don’t mind if I ask?”

  That look of death I’d seen the first time I met Flynn Howard’s boy returned. And with it some of the anger I’d seen.

  “He shouldn’t have been out there alone like that. Pa was proud of whatever he was doing for us. He told me he had something special, and I’m sure that was it. Land. That day, he was out there looking it over before he showed us. I know that’s it. But he never made it back. Found him the next day. He fell off his horse and hit his head.”

  I looked at Jess. I slid around him and sat on the edge of the bed. “Ted know anything about the land?”

  “Ted said Pa never told him anything for sure. He said he had no idea where Pa was when Pa didn’t come home that night, and we went with Ted, guessing and looking all the wrong places. Pa shouldn’t have gone out there on his own. If only Ted had been with him…or me. Or even Ma.”

  The boy’s anger turned to tears. The “if only” that wouldn’t let go. The “if only” that made him blame anyone and everyone around. Except Ted.

  Chapter 42

  I said a man who could take orders! ~Regina

  I tucked my cousin’s letter into my pocket while I stared at Flynn’s grave. I kept my hand over the fabric and pressed both letters against my thigh as I sensed the earth beneath me. Flynn. The cold earth. I glanced across the prairie at the home he’d built horribly but with joy.

  Surely not. Flynn’s death was an accident. He wasn’t at either end of a scheme—a perpetrator or a victim.

  He was brilliant in New York. But a novice here.

  I stood, my hand clamped over the pocket, wondering what exactly had turned his dreams into plans of opportunity. Maybe there was no plan, and no more money. Maybe Flynn had been duped and truly was a victim of a scheme. I shook my head. I couldn’t believe Flynn could fall prey to a money trick. He was too bright.

  So was I. I continued to stare at the hard earth between us, the grass slowly weaving a barrier, separating what was and what would be. Now I had to be even brighter.

  “Goodbye, Flynn.” My voice sounded strangled this time. I’d never told him goodbye. Not this way. There’d been no time for tears, but they came now. Torrents of wet sorrow, spilling out, making their way down toward the earth where he lay—my tears, his land—the last communion we’d ever have. “I’m on my own. Maybe I always was.”

  It hurt. I glanced at the ranch house through a veil of shimmering wet, at the barn that amazed me as it continued to stand. I had to start over, look at things differently. A new way. A new road ahead. One without accidental deaths, bank investments, or plans others forced me to make. It would be my plan only. And I’d make it work.

  I left Flynn’s grave without looking back. I marched over the grass instead of through it, across the prairie differently than I had several weeks ago after Flynn’s service. That felt like a lifetime ago. Jess had been well—unhappy, but well. I was in a dress. Shortly after, as I came across this same prairie, there had been a stranger in my yard. Tall, with a black horse. And my son.

  Like now.

  I stopped. Ben was impossible to miss. Tall and dark, rugged and sure. Walter was the same. I cupped a hand over my brow. And Jess? He was supposed to be in bed, but that looked like him hobbling around the barnyard. I squinted to be sure. That was Jess, and that was Ben beside him, hovering near, while Jess dipped and swayed like a seasick ship.

  “Jess!” Drat the wind. He and Ben continued dipping and swaying around the barnyard. No one in Kansas could hear unless they were right in front of each other. I dropped my hands from my brow, hanging onto the pocket my letters were in. And I ran. Over the grass, against the wind, and into the yard where my son hobbled next to that man.

  “Jess!” I raced toward him, he nearly toppling over, wheeling at the sound of my voice—the look on his face, the glow on his cheeks, the dance of his eyes, nearly toppling me. His new start.

  “I’m walking! I got up!”

  “But you can’t. You shouldn’t. Can you? Should you?”

  “Yes I can, and I should. My leg doesn’t even hurt. Well, a little, but Ben tightened the brace so it’s steady. And there’s no
weight on it. Look how fast I can go.”

  “Whoa there, fellow.” Ben put a hand on Jess’s shoulder. “Save that speed. A little at a time, so you can build back to normal.”

  “Where did you get those…those contraptions?” I knelt at the sticks Jess leaned on, the new splint bound around his leg.

  “Ben made them. They work just fine.”

  “Crutches and a brace.” Ben looked down at me.

  “Something you used on cattle when they went lame?”

  Ben gave me a look that infuriated me, like he was barely keeping his thoughts to himself, none of them good. “You learn to do things out there when no one’s around to help,” he said. “Like how to mend cows, men, even fences.” He nodded at the corral. Much improved since he’d been adding new posts and rails to replace the splintered ones Ted had propped back up. I thought of the day Jess had been injured, broken like the fence, because of Ben’s careless whistle. How Ben had been in step with Doc Harris afterwards, even Doc himself suggesting Ben knew his medicine.

  “Apparently you know your corrals, Mr. Miller. And maybe even your boys.”

  Ben’s color changed. There was no mistaking the paling of his face, the drop in his expression, the way his gaze waned as he glanced away from Jess. “If you want, I’ll ride to Liberal and fetch the doc. He can check what I’ve rigged. Check Jess and say what he thinks. After all, he knows more than I do.”

  “I’ll go to Liberal and ask Doc myself.”

  Ben stared down at me. “If you prefer to talk to Doc alone…”

  “I was hoping you’d stay here with Jess. Ted mentioned he wants to go, so he’ll have Boss. I could use Walter.”

  “We’ll all three go. You, me, and Jess. In the wagon.”

  “Ben, I won’t have Jess traveling until we’re sure.”

  “He has to.”

  “He does not, he…”

  Ben stopped me then. A finger in the air, and leaning close. With a voice worn deep by the wind, sweeping over me. “If your boy doesn’t ride in a wagon, the next thing he’s going to have to ride is a train. Back east. Unless the two of you want to hit the trail with an ex-cattleman.”