Follow The Wind

by Janelle Taylor

  “Love ain’t loco, Tom; it’s wonderful and magical. It’s very special.”

  “Matt’s right,” Gran concurred, smiling at the man. “You’ll see one day.”

  The boy didn’t look convinced, but stayed quiet and returned to his meal. The others did, too. When the table was cleared and the dishes were done, Jessie headed for the one-room house where Annie was lodged.

  The door was open, so Jessie called out and walked inside. “Here’s your food, Annie. How is everything?”

  “It’s more than nice, ma’am. Thank you.”

  Jessie saw how misty her green eyes were. She realized what a difficult and frightening life Annie had had. But the girl was strong, brave, and smart enough to take care of herself for years and to seek a new start each time she had to. Jessie’s tender heart went out to Margaret Anne James, as Matt’s had in town. “I’m glad you like it. I hope you’ll be with us a long time.”

  “Is there anything…you want to know about me?”

  “Matt’s told us what you related to him,” Jessie admitted. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a bad time of it. That’s over now, Annie. The boys here are good men; they won’t give you any trouble. If anyone does, come to me. Most of them have worked for my family for years, but we do have a few new hands from the past owner of this ranch, so I don’t know them well.”

  Annie caught her meaning. “I won’t give them any reason to approach me, Mrs. Cordell. Sometimes manners and kindness are mistaken for overtures, so I’ll be careful. I’ll try not to make any mistakes here.”

  “Come to the house about seven in the morning. We’ll start then.”

  As the redhead turned to leave, Annie said, “Thank you again, ma’am.”

  “You’re welcome, Annie,” Jessie replied. “See you tomorrow.”

  Wednesday morning, Jessie and Gran talked with Annie and showed her around the house. They discussed the daily schedule, went over the list of chores, and told the girl how they wanted them done.

  The three women took to each other quickly. Over the midday meal, Jessie gave Annie a brief sketch of their family history. She told the girl she had only been married a short time, but didn’t give a date. Of course, she might guess her secret one day, or someone could reveal the conflict in timing by accident. Jessie couldn’t worry about what Annie or the hands would think about a seven-month baby. Surely everyone saw how happy and compatible she and Matt were, and they were aware how long the couple had known each other. She knew, with the men about to go away, the truth would be safe until spring. And as babies sometimes came early, perhaps others would be fooled when it arrived in early March instead of mid-May. But even if the hands suspected her secret, none of them would speak ill of her and Matt, and hopefully wouldn’t suspect who the child’s father was.

  Annie and Gran finished talking about Wilbur Fletcher. “You’re a strong and courageous woman, Mrs. Cordell,” Annie said. “You’re lucky your father was a good man. Mine wasn’t. We had to leave Carolina because he was always into trouble over gambling debts. It wasn’t any better in El Paso. If he and Mother hadn’t eaten tainted food and died, I don’t know what would have happened to us. Creditors came and took everything as soon as he was buried. It was awful. I know a lot about sewing, so I can help make clothes. A seamtress taught me.”

  Jessie didn’t mention she would especially need that skill and assistance in two months when her figure started expanding. She also didn’t comment on how Annie had changed the subject in a rush. “Please call me Jessie,” She coaxed. “I’m only six years older than you. Mrs. Cordell sounds so matronly.”

  “And I’m Gran to everyone, child,” Martha added.

  “You’re all so good and kind. I’m so happy Mr. Cordell was in town to rescue me. Some men can be so wicked, but I knew I could trust him. You’re lucky, Mrs.—I mean, Jessie.”

  The redhead sensed the sad-eyed girl had secrets of her own, but she didn’t pry into them. “Yes, I am. You will be too one day, Annie. You’re sweet and lovely. You’ll see that all men aren’t like your father and that hotel owner.”

  * * *

  The rest of the week went by fast as the women changed Wilbur Fletcher’s house into the Cordell home. Jessie also spent time on Tom’s neglected lessons, as Matt had purchased new books in town. Annie helped out on occasion, something young Thomas Lane seemed to like. He did his best to impress the girl.

  Each evening, Margaret Anne James served their dinner in the dining room, ate in the kitchen, and did the dishes before retiring. Jessie told her she wasn’t a servant and it wasn’t necessary to wait on them, but Annie seemed to enjoy the task and insisted upon doing it.

  The professional broncbusters—peelers—arrived on Sunday. Matt introduced them to his wife, then showed the two men where to bunk during their brief stay.

  The remuda—cavvy—of half-broken and wild horses was corraled near the barn and ready for busting and training to begin tomorrow. Hands had gathered them over the last few days for the seasonal task of preparing them for roundup and the long drive on the Western Trail to Dodge City, Kansas.

  Each man needed three horses for gathering steers and for cowpunching on the trail, a total of one hundred ninety horses. Excluding their regular mounts—which made four apiece—that left the Cordells one hundred and fifty horses to break. Each man was responsible for all the care his four. animals would require along the way: thinning and shortening tails, trimming and shodding hooves, treating injuries and sickness, currying sweaty hides, and feeding them.

  Geldings were used, as stallions and mares were moody and undependable. The remuda was allowed to roam the range until it was needed in the fall. Most were seven to ten years old; the older were more experienced and easiest to retrain for the next time. Each had its own personality. Some made good cutting horses that were superior at culling market-ready steers from the herds. Night horses were steady of foot in the dark. Rope horses seemed to know when and how to keep lassos tight around stock’s necks. Herd mounts were adept at working with steers during drives and skilled at remaining calm and masterful and sure-footed during terrifying stampedes.

  The dusty, exhausting, and perilous task of training the horses would begin after breakfast tomorrow. An aura of suspense and excitement already hung over the area as everyone awaited the event.

  Jessie joined Matt and others at the corral. They talked a while, then parted as he went to handle the chore. She waved to Miguel, Carlos, and Jimmy Joe as they prepared themselves to risk life and limb while challenging half-wild creatures to prove who was master. Hands perched on the fence, ready to lend help if an unseated rider was in danger of being trampled and eager to shout jests and encouragement during the episodes.

  Five areas were sectioned off so all the busters could work mounts at the same time. The professional peelers took on six to eight of the wildest beasts a day, while the Cordell hands rode three to four half-broken creatures into renewed submission. Each man had a helper to rope the right animal and to assist the rider with saddling and mounting a frantic critter.

  Jessie stepped onto the bottom rail and looped her arms over the top one to observe the action. This time, she didn’t sit atop the fence and risk a fall.

  “Tame them good, Miguel,” she said to the Mexican who was dressed in his finery to put on a good show.

  “Do not fret, amiga; I will be resting by high noon,” he vowed with a grin.

  “On a busted arse!” one of the men joked, then chuckled.

  “You wish to make a bet on who gets tamed?” Miguel retorted.

  “Yep! Fifty cents for every hoss that throws ye.”

  “Done” was the confident reply. His dark eyes twinkled with anticipation of earning the wager.

  Miguel’s assistant pulled a wide-eyed horse to the snubbing post. The animal snorted, backed until a taut noose halted him, then jerked his captive head several times to free it. His mane shook, but the lariat held firm. The critter’s ears twitched and he moved his hooves
in restless panic.

  Miguel tried to calm him with a soft and soothing voice. As he did so, he eased forward and slipped a hackamore onto its head. With caution, he put on the blanket and saddle. While the helper talked to the animal, then twisted an ear to hold its attention, Miguel mounted. The instant the horse felt weight upon its back, he began bucking. His front hooves slammed into the hard ground and his back legs kicked up and out, fast and hard. The beast hunched and reared and bawled in outrage and fear.

  Dirt and pebbles were flung in all directions. Dust clouds went into the air. Hands yelled and chuckled. Some waved hats above their heads and rocked their bodies on the fence as if helping the rider who pitched and swayed in a frenzied dance. The area was charged with emotion, and with prayers for safety.

  Jessie knew what a jarring strain such a wild ride was on a man. It was as hazardous to his teeth, spine, neck, and innards as a crushing fall could be.

  Up and down and around went the pair as the roan and vaquero challenged each other’s will and stamina. The Mexican used a quirk and spurs to master the animal, but was careful not to injure the creature. Miguel’s hair, bandanna, and batwings flapped about—as did the gelding’s tail and mane—as the two whirled and bounced to the music of broncbusting which played inside their heads.

  In the end, the beast tired and calmed. Miguel rode him around the area for a time. The procedure would be repeated every day until the buster was certain the animal was tamed. Then its special skills would be cultivated.

  Later, Gran and Annie joined the redhead to watch the action and join the fun. Jessie saw how the girl gazed at Miguel. She had seen the two talking several times during the past week, and she suspected a romance was in the making. Jessie witnessed how the Mexican glanced their way and how his admiring gaze lingered on Annie.

  Concern nipped at Jessie as she noticed an unnatural cockiness enter the Mexican at the girl’s presence. The vaquero grinned and mounted his last horse. It only took the panicked chestnut a few leaps and bucks to send the inattentive rider to the ground. Its back legs kicked ominously near the fallen man’s head as it tried to buck off the saddle, too, then, failing, raced around the enclosure while venting its fury. Jessie heard Annie’s squeal of fear and the thud as Miguel hit the ground.

  “That’s three fur you and one fur me!” the wagering hand shouted.

  Miguel jumped from the dirt, dusted off himself, and glanced at the group in embarrassment. “Double or nothing I do not eat dirt again, amigo!” he shouted.

  The gambling hand looked at the frantic horse, then back at Miguel. He saw, as did everyone, that the vaquero limped toward his helper, who had captured the gelding’s reins and was having trouble controlling the beast. “That high roller’ll toss ye agin. Ye got a bet, amigo,” he chuckled, then spit tobacco.

  Jessie saw the determination and pride in Miguel’s expression. “You’re wasting good money, Slim; he won’t be thrown a second time. I know that look.” She was right. When the vaquero had the animal calmed and trotting around the enclosure, she said to the women, “Let’s get back to our chores.” The others weren’t finished yet, and she decided against watching more of the action. She didn’t want a distracted rider injured while trying to impress the green-eyed beauty. “See you later, boys,” she called out and left with Gran and Annie trailing her.

  Over dinner preparations, Annie asked questions about the men and broncbusting. Jessie knew why. She talked about her times with the hands and explained the seasonal chores and schedule of ranch life. She guided the conversation to Annie’s obvious object of interest.

  “You’ve met Miguel, the rider we were watching earlier. He’s one of our best hands, one of my best friends. He’s an expert with guns and horses. He’s one of the most skilled ropers and cutters I’ve known.”

  “What’s a cutter?”

  “That’s when horse and rider work as one to separate certain steers from the herd. Both must have a natural instinct for that task. I’m sure you realize he’s Mexican. He’s been with us since he was twenty.”

  “How old is he now?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “Does he…”

  “What?” Jessie coaxed.

  “Does he have a sweetheart?”

  “Not that I know about. He is a man to catch women’s eyes. You caught his today; that’s why he took that spill, showing off for you.”

  The girl blushed and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …cause an accident. I won’t go near the corral again.”

  Jessie laughed and replied, “No need to stay away, Annie, not if you let him know you’re just as charmed by him as he is by you. If he doesn’t have to worry about other hands catching your interest and he doesn’t have to impress you, he won’t get cocky again. I don’t want him hurt or killed.”

  “Killed? It’s that dangerous?”

  “If a rider’s careless or distracted, he can break his neck in a fall. Miguel’s good. He doesn’t usually act that way. But I can’t blame him. You’re a beauty.”

  “Thank you, Jessie. But I know little about romance and men like him.”

  “Then Gran and I will have to teach you. Of course we won’t if you aren’t interested in him or ready to learn.”

  Annie thought a minute, smiled, and admitted, “I’m both.” She frowned and asked, “What if he isn’t interested or ready?”

  Jessie and Gran laughed. “I’ve known him for years,” the redhead told her. “He’s both, too. Trust me; I’m sure.”

  By dusk Saturday, the broken cavvy was ready to tackle the tasks ahead of it. The peelers were paid and thanked for a job well done. The three Cordell hands were given bonuses for their additional labors, skills, and dangers. The extra drovers and trail boss were due to arrive tomorrow to begin Monday’s roundup.

  Jessie and Matt took a stroll after dinner. Holding hands and chatting, they paused near the corral to observe the sun’s last appearance of the day.

  Matt watched the fading rays on his wife’s hair. Its golden soul shone through the dark-auburn strands. Her skin glowed in the enhancing light. She seemed tranquil to him tonight. He knew her serene mood came from a successful week, having Annie’s help in the house, and the disappearance of her morning sickness a few days ago. “You’re beautiful, Jessie,” he murmured. “I’m gonna miss you.”

  Her calm blue gaze met his adoring brown one. She smiled and said, “I’ll miss you, too, my comfy old shoe.”

  They shared laughter at her rhyming reply.

  He stroked her hair and cheek. “It’s working for us, isn’t it, Jessie?”

  She nestled against him. “Yes, Matt; it is.”

  His arms crossed her back and he rested his chin against her sweet-smelling hair. “I’m happier than I ever dreamed I could be, thanks to you, woman.”

  “Me, too. Everything is going so well for us. We make good partners, Matt.”

  “Then you aren’t sorry I talked you into staying and marrying me?”

  “No, I made a good bargain.” When his head lifted and he stiffened, she knew she had used the wrong word. She was denied a chance to correct herself.

  His voice was strained as he said, “We both got a good deal.”

  Jessie tried to rectify the mistake, but her meaning went astray. “After the baby’s born, it’ll be a better one for you.”

  He sounded sad and serious as he argued, “You don’t owe me more than you’ve given so far, Jessie.”

  “But you want and need more, don’t you, Matt?” she challenged.

  He remained quiet for a while, and both knew he was deciding how to respond.

  His mood worried her. She tried again to better it. “I know how hard this has been on you, Matt. You’re the most unselfish and caring person I’ve ever met.”

  “That’s more true of you than me, Jessie.”

  “No, it isn’t.” She leaned away to look into his eyes. “I’ve been selfish and unfair just to protect myself, the baby, and the ranch. I’ve taken ad
vantage of your love and kindness. You’ve done so much for me, Matt, and I’m truly grateful. How could I help but love you and respect you? And want you? Don’t look surprised and doubtful. It’s true, Matt. I’ve always had deep feelings for you, and they’ve grown since …in the last few months. They’re getting stronger and clearer. I just need more time to get over the past. After the baby’s born, I’ll be a real wife to you. I promise.”

  Matt released her and stepped to the corral. He leaned against it, his back to her. “Don’t rush yourself, Jessie. The hurt goes away; I know from experience, but not this fast or this easy. Let it work itself out. I’ll be here when the right time comes. When it does, you’ll know.” He turned to face her. “I don’t want Navarro’s place, Jessie; I want my own spread in your heart and life. Until you can surrender that terrain for the right reason, let’s leave our life as is.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The drovers and trail boss—Jake Bass—gathered on the ranch Sunday evening. Jake was tough and wise, with quick reflexes and keen instincts. The hands respected and obeyed him without question or hesitation. He kept the men relaxed, but still working hard. He was an expert horseman and gunman. He knew the territory they traveled with the herd: where to find the best grass, ample water, how to avoid the worst perils. He knew cattle, their quirks and needs. Experienced and in great demand, they were lucky to hire him again this year. At one hundred twenty-five dollars a month, he was well worth his high pay.

  Matt met with the men and gave the orders. Returning men and Cordell hands separated into groups to talk over old times, tell tall tales, play jokes, and relate their experiences since they’d last worked together. New men joined in to laugh and learn. They would be on the trail for six to eight weeks, so it was important to build good rapport and trust. Matt spent most of the evening with them, enjoying old acquaintances and making new friends.