“Well, you ain’t up to riding all the way to Colorado Springs,” Hank said gruffly.
Suzanne glanced sharply at her father. He liked having Luke around; that was obvious.
“Pa, we don’t want to detain him when he’s ready to leave.”
Hank withdrew his pipe from his pocket, saying nothing more.
It was nice to have Nellie all saddled up and ready to go. She was glad Luke had saved her the time and effort. But they could get along without him, she reminded herself stoutly.
“Well, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“You take care, missy,” Hank called after her.
“I can do that better than you,” she yelled back.
She mounted sidesaddle, waved to the men, and trotted Nellie down the road to Wiley’s Post. Miles of level land stretched around her, bordered by the far-flung fences of Bar X, the biggest ranch in the area. Three smaller ranches made up the remaining territory before the terrain climbed to the Pikes Peak foothills.
It was a big robust land, and she could see why Hank had been so eager to settle here. Yet, this life was hard, requiring so much from them. It wouldn’t be a bad life, if only their circumstances were different.
God is our refuge and strength, she told herself. She followed that one up with, All things work together for good…
Suzanne recalled Luke’s suggestion of a ranch hand. Their one experience with hired help had been a disaster. Wally had been a drinker who was undependable and lazy, finally deserting them during a January blizzard. Quickly, she turned her eyes toward a cottonwood thicket, attempting to thwart the memory of the three of them—Pa, Ma, and herself—out, trying to get the horses rounded up. That night Ma had started running a fever and died before Doc Browning could get through the deep snow to see her.
Suzanne prodded her mind back to the present as she cantered Nellie up to the log-post rail. She always enjoyed chatting with Mattie, who managed to make everyone who came around feel better. She slipped down from Nellie and looped the reins around the log hitching rail. She hurried across the plank porch and pressed down the latch of the wide door.
Inside, half a dozen elk and moose racks overhung a blackened stone fireplace in a huge room. The front of the store was devoted to shelves and counters crammed with an assortment of general merchandise. At the rear, a long table, with two adjoining benches, served as dining table for the meals Mattie served to hungry customers. Two cowboys hunched over their coffee cups. Their felt hats sat low on their foreheads, and their range clothes were dusty and wrinkled.
Mary, Suzanne’s best friend from Denver, had written letters inquiring if she had found herself a handsome cowboy. “You haven’t seen these cowboys,” Suzanne had written back.
“Well, look who’s here,” Mattie’s strong voice rose above the clatter of dishes.
Suzanne hurried back to the kitchen, a small room filled to bursting, containing an iron cookstove, narrow shelves and counters, and dry goods stacked halfway up the wall.
“Hi, Mattie!” Suzanne called to the woman who was elbow-deep in a dishpan overflowing with soapsuds. The sight of Mattie made Suzanne feel better.
“I’ve been wondering when you’d come over for a visit,” Mattie said, grabbing a cup towel to dry her hands.
Standing five feet ten inches tall, Mattie was the epitome of the sturdy pioneer woman. She joked that she wouldn’t serve folks food she hadn’t first tasted, and folks laughed with her and thought nothing of her extra pounds. Her fifty-odd years were written boldly in her round face, yet her brown eyes still held a youthful sparkle. The flavor of cinnamon drifted from her muslin apron and calico dress, and Suzanne found that comforting. Her thick brown hair, sprinkled with gray, was drawn into a bun.
“How’s your pa?” she asked.
“As cranky as ever. I need the doc to come by and check on him. He had a bad fall this week.”
Mattie looked concerned. “Doc Browning will be at Trails End tomorrow morning. They’re having a meeting of cattlemen about a drive to Pueblo. He’ll check in after the meeting, and I’ll send him over. Anything else I can do?”
“No, Luke’s keeping him company.”
“Luke?” Mattie arched a brow.
It occurred to Suzanne that nobody knew about their strange guest.
“Yes, there’s a man—”
“Stage is here,” one of the cowboys yelled.
The arrival of the stage twice a week was a major event at the post, prompting Mattie into a frenzy. Mattie brushed past Suzanne with a force that nearly toppled her, had she not grabbed a chair for support, and then she hurried after Mattie.
Like everyone else, Suzanne was curious about the stage and its passengers. Mattie jerked the door open, admitting the sound of thudding hoofbeats and jingling harness. Driver and team were engaged in a battle of strength, and Suzanne began to wonder who would win. When finally the horses had been wrestled to a halt, and the violently rocking stage had settled, the driver leaned back in the seat, planted a dusty boot on the brake, and tipped his frayed hat at Mattie.
“You’re losing ground, Willie!” Mattie laughed.
“I was just teasing Robert,” he said, baring tobacco-stained teeth in a wide grin as he turned to his companion, a young cowboy who served as shotgun messenger.
The younger man, not amused, dropped down and hobbled to the stage door, yanking it open. Dust cascaded like a waterfall before he unfolded the iron steps.
Two men, hats askew, tugged irritably at their rumpled clothing as they stumbled down the steps and stared bleary-eyed at the log trading post.
“Got any coffee?” Willie yelled.
“Always got coffee.” Mattie motioned them inside. “Tom, put that bottle away,” she admonished one of the cowboys at the table. “You know my rules. No drinking.”
She turned back to the strangers, entering the post. “You men come inside: I’ve got beef stew and coffee.”
Suzanne trailed after Mattie. “Can I help?”
Mattie, in full stride to the kitchen, merely smiled at Suzanne’s offer. “No thanks, honey. I have everything under control, believe it or not.”
“I believe it,” Suzanne replied, watching in amazement as Mattie poured coffee, dipped stew, and dispensed utensils all at once. And she did it with grace. “I’ll just gather up the supplies I need,” Suzanne said feebly, aware that nobody was paying her any attention.
She took her time, sauntering around the store, pricing every item.
“Can you find what you need?” Mattie asked, joining her after the men were served.
“Oh sure. Mattie, don’t you need some help here? You seem awfully busy,” Suzanne tried to keep her tone casual. She didn’t want Mattie to know how desperate they were.
“My sister Lilly is coming soon.”
“Is that right?” Suzanne smiled. “Well, I know you’ll be glad to have her with you.”
Mattie’s husband had died the previous year, and Suzanne often wondered how Mattie could possibly do all the work. Yet she did, while maintaining a thriving business and keeping errant cowboys under control.
“Well, you got everything?” Mattie came around behind the board counter and looked at Suzanne.
“I think so. Mattie, I’d like to have a vegetable garden this year. When you have time, could you give me some pointers? You raise lots of vegetables, don’t you?”
“I try, but the soil is not as good here as it was back in Dallas.” She heaved a sigh. “It’s hard work.” She paused, as her brown eyes swept Suzanne. “I might just ride over to your place once Lilly comes to relieve me; I could take a look at the soil, tell you what might grow best. And maybe I’ll argue a bit with your old man.”
Something in the way Mattie spoke those words rang a bell in the back of Suzanne’s mind. She recalled seeing Mattie and her pain a spirited political debate around the potbellied stove one winter day. Both had defended their opinions with fiendish delight. Pa had thoroughly enjoyed it.
“Kansas. He’s on his way to Colorado Springs.” She frowned. “He made the mistake of stopping in Bordertown and getting in a poker game. A poor loser followed him up the trail, shot, and robbed him. He managed to make it to our valley. I spotted him just before he fell off his horse.”
Mattie’s mouth fell open. “You don’t say? What about the culprit who shot him?”
“He got away.”
“A poker game,” Mattie said, shaking her head. “There’s usually a gun battle afterward. Too bad.”
“But Luke isn’t really a gambler.”
Suzanne recognized the defensive tone in her voice as soon as she had spoken the words. And so had Mattie, whose brown eyes swung to Suzanne with a look of suspicion.
“Young lady, do we need to have a talk?”
Suzanne waved the suggestion aside. “No, he’s leaving in a day or so. He’s in a big hurry to get to Colorado Springs,” Suzanne said, hoping to avoid a lecture from Mattie.
“What does this fellow look like?” she asked.
“Tall, with black hair and blue eyes.” Mattie planted her elbows firmly on the counter and leaned forward. “Tall, dark, and handsome,” Mattie said, eyeing Suzanne.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Suzanne scolded. Mattie laughed. “Why not? I’m an old romantic, you know. I don’t have a husband anymore, so I just have to enjoy listening to someone else talk about a handsome man…”
“I didn’t say handsome; you did!”
“But I believe you think so.” Mattie grinned.
Suzanne opened her purse. “How much do I owe you?”
Mattie turned and began to tally the items Suzanne had lined up on the counter.
Suzanne waited, growing more nervous with each figure Mattie added to her tablet. Mattie would let her charge, but still….
When Mattie gave her the sum, Suzanne stared at the figures. That wasn’t so bad, after all.
Suzanne cleared her throat. “Did you add everything? I thought I would owe more.”
Mattie grinned. “The good Lord looks out for us.”
Suzanne nodded, counting out her money. She still had some change to spare. “Yes, He does. That’s one thing I know for sure.”
Mattie packaged the supplies while Suzanne said her good-byes and started for the door. The young stagehand rushed up. “Ma’am, let me help you with those packages.”
“Why, thank you,” she said, smiling at him.
He was polite and sort of handsome, she thought. Maybe it was time she started looking for a husband to help her and Pa run the ranch.
As she tied her bundle onto the saddle horn and waved to the young man, she decided he looked too young to be considered husband material. She sighed, digging her heels into Nellie’s side. Maybe she was one of those women who were meant to remain single, although she had always longed for children and a husband who would look at her the way Pa had looked at Ma.
She sighed again, staring across the wide valley to the blazing sunset unfolding on the horizon. To her consternation, she found herself thinking of Luke Thomason again.
She arrived back at the ranch just as the evening shadows had begun to stretch over the valley. Luke stood at the stable door, watching her ride up.
“Make the trip okay?” he asked almost pleasantly.
“Just fine.”
He stepped forward and extended his hand as she placed her heel in the stirrup and swung down. His strong grip on her elbow was reassuring, and she smiled her appreciation as he assisted with her packages.
“Your father’s feeling a little tired. I insisted on sleeping on the couch tonight so he could go back to his bed. Maybe he’ll rest better.”
Suzanne nodded, listening as he spoke, and thinking he was being a chatterbox compared to the reserve he normally displayed in her presence.
“I’m going to fetch Doc Browning tomorrow to have a look at Pa. He’ll be at the cattlemen’s meeting at Trails End in the morning.”
“Trails End?”
“The Parkinson ranch that adjoins ours. The ranchers are organizing a cattle drive to Pueblo, and Doc’s a cattleman.” It was several seconds before Suzanne realized they were staring at each other. “Well,” she said, looking away, “I’ll go on to the house. Thanks for your help.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, leading her mare into the stable.
Despite her weariness, Suzanne’s spirits lifted as she sauntered up the path to the house. She paused along the way, glancing up at the pale stars already poking their heads through the blue curtain of sky. She took a deep breath of the fresh spring air, inhaling the flavor of the wildflowers blooming down behind the house.
She glanced back at the stable, hearing the sound of a bucket clanging as Luke tended to his chores. Encouraged by Luke’s attitude, she decided things weren’t really so bad after all. The colt had been a good sign.
Her soaring spirits crashed, however, when she walked through the front door and met Hank’s angry face. He was seated at the kitchen table, staring down into the cookie tin.
“Why in the world did you spend so much money today?” he growled, eyeing her meager packages. “And what did you buy? Don’t look like much.”
Suzanne drew a deep breath, wishing she could have better prepared herself for this confrontation.
“I bought flour, sugar, and coffee. A few spices. That’s all.”
“Horse feed? No horse feed?” he asked in disbelief.
“We have enough for another week—”
“Suzanne, I demand to know when you’ve spent all this money.”
Suzanne set the packages on the table and faced him squarely. “Pa, the money has been dwindling all winter. Ma stretched every dollar, and I’ve done the same. You shouldn’t have bought that last mare…”
As the words tumbled out, she realized she had wanted to speak those words for weeks. Pa, as usual, had gotten carried away when it came to horses. His face flushed darkly as he came to his feet, flinched, then slumped back into the chair.
“How am I supposed to run a horse ranch without horses?” he demanded. “You and your ma want to spend all the money on—”
“On what?” Suzanne lashed out, furious now that he had not appreciated their frugality. “Food? Your coffee?”
He looked away, stung by her words. She knew she was inflicting more guilt, but he needed to understand her side of the matter. She should have discussed the situation with him sooner, rather than trying to protect him as Ma had.
“I can do without my coffee. And if our money’s gone, I can do without food as well. I’m sending you back to Denver, where you can have a decent life!”
“And that’ll solve everything, won’t it?” she cried. “Just how do you propose to send me back to Denver when we don’t have enough money left to buy oats for the horses?”
As their argument raged, their voices growing louder, they failed to notice Luke Thomason standing in the front door. The board had creaked beneath his boot as he came to an abrupt halt. Suzanne whirled, her cheeks flaming.
Anger was replaced by humiliation when she realized the man had heard everything.
Seeing his error, he turned and headed back to the porch, leaving them to their battle.
Tears filled Suzanne’s eyes as she turned and fled to her room. Why did she and her pa always get into a shouting match? Why couldn’t life take a turn for the better? Every time she thought it had, something cropped up again, making the situation worse than before.
Tears poured down her cheeks as she bit her trembling lip and decided maybe the argument was a good thing. The truth was out in the open now. Let Pa decide what to do!
A soft knock sounded on the door.
“What is it?” she said, trying to steady her voice.
“Daughter, I’m sorry,” Hank said through the closed door. “I know you’ve done the best you could.”
Suzanne grabbed an old
bandanna from her dresser and dabbed at her eyes. She couldn’t stay mad upon hearing the humility in her father’s voice. One thing about Pa, he was never too proud to apologize, and she loved him for that.
She sniffled and cracked open the door.
Hank’s cheeks were damp, too, and he seemed to have aged a few more years in the last ten minutes.
“I’m sorry, too,” she said, opening the door wider as his thin arms encircled her shoulders, drawing her to him.
“We’ll make it,” he said, hugging her hard.
Suzanne nodded. “I know.” She hugged him back, trying to sound confident. Beneath her fingers, her father’s jutting shoulder blades reminded her he had lost more weight. His voice, always so strong, now sounded faint. She bit her lip, no longer confident about anything.
CHAPTER 8
Suzanne rolled over in her bed, squinting up at the shaft of sunlight. What time was it? Had she overslept? She lay there for a moment, trying to analyze why this particular morning seemed different from all the others. She sat up on her elbow, listening. The air felt cold, stale, and the smell of fresh coffee was missing.
She tossed the covers back and grabbed her robe while shoving her feet into her worn house slippers. Remembering Luke Thomason was a guest here, she paused at the door, buttoning her robe all the way to her chin. Then she smoothed her hair back, cracked the door, and peered into the living room.
Luke was nowhere in sight. The blanket was folded neatly at the end of the sofa. Her eyes flew to the closed door of her father’s bedroom. Had Pa refused to make coffee because they had argued over the money spent for it? No, he didn’t hold grudges or stay mad. She tiptoed across the living room to her father’s bedroom and gently turned the knob.
He was still in bed, lying on his side, facing the wall. It wasn’t like him to stay in bed so late. Was something wrong? A sudden panic overtook her. The pain of losing her mother was still fresh in her heart. She couldn’t begin to comprehend what losing Hank would mean. Her heart lunged to her throat and for a moment, she was paralyzed by fear. Her lips parted, but she couldn’t force herself to call his name. What would she do if he didn’t respond? Her eyes clung to his back as her breath froze.
The Brides of the Old West: Five Romantic Adventures from the American Frontier Page 5