by Jodi Thomas
Bethanie watched as Dusty’s brown eyes hesitantly opened. He looked around the room, confusion filling his young face. His mouth turned up in a hint of a smile as his gaze rested on Bethanie. “You’re safe,” he whispered hoarsely through dry lips. “And the squirrel?”
Bethanie nodded toward the foot of the bed. “She’s fine.” She could have guessed his first question would have been about Mariah.
Tears filled Dusty’s eyes, and he fought to blink them away. The Indian battle was returning to his mind, and the pain showed in his golden gaze. “Bethanie…I saw Ben die.” His voice was fighting childlike highness for control.
Bethanie knelt close and clasped his fingers. Their hands were almost the same size. She knew he must tell his story, or he would burst with pain inside.
“Bethanie,” Dusty’s grip tightened. “When the Indians starting trying to burn the house, Ben told me to get ready to run for cover under the porch. All the other men were dead or too near it to fire their guns. We waited for the last attack out on the porch, bold as you please. I heard Ben laugh as they started coming, like it was some kind of game he’d been waiting all his life to play.”
Dusty swallowed hard. “As I ducked under the porch, he said, ‘You’re quite a man, son.’ Then, just as they started firing again, I heard him say real low, ‘Take care of Mariah for me, will you?’”
Dusty fought for control. “I didn’t have time to answer. A bullet hit me in the leg, and I saw Ben slump forward with blood splattered all over his chest.” Tears bubbled down Dusty’s pale face. “I didn’t have time to swear I would take care of her.” His cries were coming in gulps of heartache only a child can feel. “I took another slug in the arm as I saw them drag Ben off the porch. He was already dead, but they started stringing him up.”
Bethanie brushed his forehead with her fingers. “Hush now, Dusty. Don’t talk anymore. You’ll be stronger tomorrow.” The boy could never know just how the knowledge that Ben was dead before they’d tied him to the trees was somehow a comfort to her.
“But I didn’t tell Ben!” Dusty cried, turning his face into his pillow. “I can take care of you both.”
Bethanie touched his sandy brown hair. “You didn’t have to tell Ben. He knew you’d take care of Mariah. Just as he knew I’d be able to take care of myself.”
“He did?” Dusty rolled toward her, and pain tightened his face. His head wound made the slightest movement excruciating.
“Yes,” Bethanie smiled. “He knew. Now rest.”
Dusty nodded and closed his eyes. With a last squeeze of her hand, he fell asleep. Bethanie watched him turn an inch closer to a man. Mike would run the ranch for six more years; then Dusty would take over. It would have been Ben’s plan, and it would free Bethanie to do what she knew she must.
The weeks passed into summer, and Dusty’s wounds began to heal. His deep loss of Ben left its scar in the intensity of his golden brown eyes and the strong set of his jaw.
The warm Texas sun cast its morning light into her room as Bethanie stared at herself in the mirror. She knew, like Dusty, she would carry forever the grief of life without Ben. He’d been the rock she had grown to depend on, and now he was gone. She closed her mind to the pain, and as she had years ago under the porch of her aunt and uncle’s hotel, she made a decision she knew would alter her life.
The woman who looked back from the oval mirror now seemed strong and self-assured. Her charcoal dress, though it brought out the luster in her red hair, gave an air of authority to her presence. Her green eyes had lost the wonder of a young, frightened girl, and now they burned with the coldness of reality. Even her carriage was that of a confident woman who could face any hardship. Bethanie only wished she felt as strong inwardly. She lifted her chin in determination and walked from her bedroom.
Without detour, she moved out the front door. Mike was standing on the porch talking with a group of new men he’d hired, both for the roundup and to protect the house. Bethanie knew any men who could pass Mike’s standards were fine additions to the hands. Mike seemed to have an eye for sizing up people. He’d been able to see more character in Allison than others had, and he’d been right. Once she’d married, Allison had settled into the role of a warm and gracious lady.
As Bethanie stepped beside him, Mike raised his voice in formal introduction. “I would like you men to meet Mrs. Weston, the boss.”
Bethanie nodded at the men. They were the usual assortment of cowhands that always seemed to appear near roundup time, except maybe for one large man near the back who looked a little out of place. He was cleaner than most cowhands, and the power in his shoulders seemed to tell of another kind of work besides ranching. But Bethanie knew it took all kinds to work a ranch this size. “Welcome to Weston Ranch, but I’m not your boss. Mike gives all the orders here.” She could almost feel the release of caged air escape the men’s lungs. They seemed relieved not to be taking orders from a woman, though she doubted any would have said so.
Bethanie turned to address Mike more than the men. “I’ll be leaving in a few days when the cattle go to Colorado.”
Mike’s reaction exploded across his face. He lowered his voice, but the men were quiet as tombstones. His words carried in the silent air like fluffy cottonwood seeds in a summer breeze. “Bethanie, you can’t mean this?”
“I’m going, Mike. Someone has to tell Josh about Ben, and I need time to get away and think.” She shoved any other reason she might have to the back of her mind. How could she tell Mike that sleeping in the bed she and Ben always shared was painful each night? How could she explain that she must see Josh, even though her feelings were a blend of sorrow and caring with no small amount of fear mixed in?
“But it’s dangerous.” Mike’s eyes darted around the air above her head as if searching for some printed reason in the clouds to make her stay.
“And here is safe?” Bethanie questioned.
Mike couldn’t argue with a new widow about safety. The blood of her husband still stained the porch where they now stood. “I’ll go and tell Josh. We’ve been friends for years.”
“No.” Bethanie’s voice was low, but firm. “You’re needed here with Allison about due. A man should be near when his first child is born. I want her to move in so Ruth can take care of her and the baby. Please stay here at the house until I return.” She almost added, “If I return,” but there would be time for that later.
Mike ran his fingers through his sun-bleached hair in frustration. She knew he was out of reasons, but he was still not happy about her going. Before he could say more, one of the newly hired men stepped to the edge of the porch. Bethanie noticed he was’ the one she’d thought looked out of place when she had first walked out.
Bethanie turned her attention toward him, and to her amazement he drew away as if not wanting her to see him.
“Mr. Mike,” he asked in a voice blended with a slight northern spice. “May I talk with you for a moment?”
Mike nodded and moved off the porch. Bethanie watched as the huge stranger stepped once more out of her gaze.
She followed Mike down the steps, intrigued and a little angry at the big man’s action. As she stepped around Mike, her body went rigid at close sight of the stranger. He was tall and stone-solid in build. His hair was a white and sorrel blend that reminded Bethanie of the illogical mixture of snow and burning coals. But it was the left side of his face that shocked her. From his eye to his jawline was a scar that looked as if someone had pushed a white-hot poker into his cheek. His skin was twisted and deformed into the ugliest mutilation she’d ever seen.
The stranger turned his horrid profile away from her, and she could see the sadness in his eyes that her gaping reaction had caused. She would guess him to be in his middle forties, and he had not yet lost any of his youthful strength.
“I’m sorry,” he began, not allowing Bethanie to see the scarred side of his face. “I had no wish to shock you, Mrs. Weston. I know I’m hell’s version of ugly.”
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br /> Bethanie sensed this man wanted no pity, so she tried to keep any trace from her voice. “I’m sorry to you, sir, for staring like an ill-mannered child.”
“No need for apologies. I do try to stay out of the way of fine ladies like yourself. People call me Cain. Not many forget my name or wonder why I seek the solitary life after taking a look at my face.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Cain. I hope you’ll be happy here.”
“Thank you kindly.” The stranger seemed satisfied with her comment. He shuffled uneasily. “I wanted Mr. Mike to ask for me, but I might as well do my own askin’ now.” He straightened to a wide stance of a seaman and not the loose stand of a cowboy. “I already told him when I was hired that I don’t know much about riding horses. But when I heard you talking about making a trip to Colorado, I thought of a way I could earn my keep. I’ve been there a few times, and I’m good with a team. I drove a freight wagon for Masters and his partners for a few years over by Raton Pass. I’d like to accompany you.”
Bethanie could use a strong man to drive the team. She’d heard of Masters and his dependable wagons. “I’ve one question first,” she said thoughtfully.
Cain nodded with a frown as if he knew what was coming.
Bethanie remembered what Ben had told her once about every man in this country having a right to a few secrets. She would not ask Cain about his scar. “What’s a man who’s no good on a horse doing in Texas?”
Cain’s face lightened with a smile, and he turned to show her slightly more than his profile. “I’ve been about everything a man can be, I guess. I thought I’d try wrangler next, but to tell the truth, me and horses don’t seem to get along. I’ve been driving a supply wagon between Fort Worth and San Antonio for the past year. I’m sober and dependable; you can ask the freight company.”
Bethanie glanced at Mike, knowing he would have checked out any man he hired. Mike nodded, “That’s true. They couldn’t speak highly enough of Cain. They were sorry to see him go.”
Bethanie liked this man. There seemed an honesty about him. She knew she could look at him and not be troubled by the scar if he were a good man. “I’ll talk it over with Mike,” she promised, and offered her hand to Cain.
He seemed taken aback for a moment, as if he didn’t know what to do. Then, slowly he touched her fingers. His “thank you” was so low that she could barely hear him. Bethanie smiled and turned back toward the house.
Chapter Sixteen
A week later, the air was dry and motionless as Bethanie watched Cain load her wagon for the trip to Colorado. Her beautiful smoky gray horse, Twilight, swung his head back and forth as if to resent being tied behind a wagon. Since the cattle drive was a small one, their wagon was also being used to haul supplies. Except for a few trunks of clothes, Bethanie was leaving Weston Ranch as she’d come. Mariah was her only treasure. Anything else could be bought when they reached Colorado. She wanted the household things to be left exactly as they were so that if she returned all would be the same.
Cain carefully arranged the trunks so that Mariah would have a place to play under the wagon’s protective tarp. It would also provide enough room for Bethanie and her daughter to sleep during the trip. In the few days she’d watched Cain, Bethanie had learned a great deal about the silent man. He was clean and neat almost to an obsession. He wore no gun but carried a long knife that would stop any varmint, be it four- or two-legged, should he be challenged. He could crack a whip better than most men and handle a team like a man who had done so for years. She never heard him swear. He didn’t chew or smoke and stayed mostly to himself. As she watched him now, Bethanie couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life had produced such a man.
Mike came from the barn with a rifle slung over his shoulder. “Cain!” he yelled, “I want you to take this under your seat. I want these women well protected.”
Bethanie moved up the steps to the house. “Michael,” she said, half to herself. “You’ve already hired twice as many men as we need to move the cattle. We’ll be lucky if we don’t lose half of them to the mines when we get north.”
Cain took the rifle and nodded to Mike. “I got all the supplies loaded. I can cook good enough to fix the first meal at dawn, but the men are on their own for the rest of the day.”
“I’ve got a good man for trail boss. He’ll take care of the men and herd. You just make sure Mrs. Weston and her daughter get delivered safely to the Weston Mine north of Leadville.”
Before Cain could answer, Mariah ran out of the house past Bethanie to the wagon. She’d never been more than a few miles off the ranch, and now saw herself about to begin a great adventure.
Bethanie watched as Cain turned to greet her, making no attempt to hide his scar. Mariah seemed to accept his deformity without question or judgment. She gave him a quick hug, then began crawling over the boxes and trunks like a ground squirrel. Bethanie smiled and stepped into the house, doubting Cain would ever adjust to Mariah. He did seem to enjoy her company, however. The only time Bethanie had seen him smile was when he said the child’s name.
Bethanie paused just inside the large main room and looked around, memorizing each wall. She felt a greeting as she had that first day in the warmth of the colors and the openness of the rooms. The bright mixtures of Indian and Mexican decor always seemed to cheer her. Then she saw the empty spot by the fireplace where Ben had always rolled his chair. There was no need for the open place now, but she doubted anyone in the house would ever rearrange the chairs. She knelt to brush her hand over the now highly polished floor remembering how angry Ben had been when he’d found her scrubbing.
When Bethanie looked up, she saw Ruth smiling at her from the kitchen door. “Ruth,” Bethanie whispered the word as dearly as one might say “Mother.” “I was just saying good-bye to the house.”
“I understand.” Ruth moved toward her. “I’ll take good care of Dusty while you’re away. I should have my hands full with him and Allison.” She chuckled suddenly, in a hoarse, unfamiliar sound. “But then, I delivered one baby, I guess I can do it again.”
Bethanie stood staring into the older woman’s dark eyes, her look saying more than words ever could. They were bonded by joy and sorrow, closer than blood could ever tie. Words had never been needed between them, and they did not clutter the air now. “You’ll keep up my herb garden?”
“Yes.” Ruth’s face was a mask of tightly held emotions. “You’re thinking of not coming back. Thinking the pain would always be here.” She was making statements, not asking questions.
Bethanie was little surprised at Ruth’s insight. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “After I see Josh, I may go back East. I just haven’t thought things through yet.”
“You take your time.” Ruth nodded as she tried to keep her hard exterior from melting into emotion. “Dusty and I will be here when you get ready to come home. I used to think if Ben died, I’d move on. But I know now this is my home and the only place I want to be. You’ll find your spot, and I’m hoping when you do, it’ll be here.”
Tears broke from Bethanie’s eyes and raced each other down her cheeks. She closed the distance between them and hugged Ruth.
The older woman patted her briskly on the shoulder. “Now, now, none of this crying. You’re Mrs. Weston, a fine lady. Wouldn’t do to let the men see you sniffling.”
Bethanie nodded and stepped away. Before she could say more, Dusty hobbled from the bedroom. She turned and hugged him, avoiding putting pressure on any of his wounds. When she pulled away, she saw tears in his eyes.
Dusty brushed at her wet cheek with his thumb. “You know, Bethanie, you’re right about why Ben told me to take care of Mariah and not both of you. ’Cause he knew what a great wife he had. He loved you. You were a real wonder to him. He told me once that when he saw you ride in all dirty and dressed like a boy, he knew you were the one for him. But he never thought you’d marry him, and when you did, he decided right then and there he was the luckiest man alive.”
Without words, Bethanie helped Dusty to the porch and watched as the men mounted for the drive. She ruffled his sandy hair. “You keep up with your studies.”
“Sure,” Dusty shrugged. “I’m starting to half like them anyway. I’ll probably be so smart when you get back, you won’t even know me.”
Bethanie kissed his cheek as Mariah ran to his other side. She hugged him tightly.
Dusty laughed. “See you later, Squirrel.”
“I love you,” she yelled.
“I love you, too,” Dusty answered more soberly.
Bethanie lifted her daughter and hurried toward the wagon lest she change her mind about going. Within half an hour they were out of sight of the ranch and following beside cattle slowly moving north like a brown cloud hovering over the flat land.
The days of moving across Texas grasslands blurred together into endless heat and wind. Bethanie spent most of her time riding Twilight beside the wagon. Cain never wasted a word to her, but somehow never tired of listening to Mariah. He was already making coffee when Bethanie awoke each dawn, and quietly checking the perimeters of the campsite each night when she fell asleep. His cooking reminded her of childhood days, when her mother always made huge breakfasts that included desserts. Cain could even make fried apple turnovers in the campfire skillet that rivaled the memories of her mother’s. The men enjoyed the early feast and were content to snack on leftovers at sunset.
Cain somehow found the time to make Mariah a rag doll family from bandanna handkerchiefs. She played with the tiny dolls constantly, making her days pass faster.