“Why should she?”
“She minds everything I do. I can’t seem to do anything right around her.”
“Women can be like that, Jamie, hard to figure. Now, shuck those clothes and hop into the water. You smell worse than a dead buffalo. Your ma will be along with the soap soon.” A splash, followed by a high squeal that rent the air.
“It’s cold!”
Evelyn took her cue and rounded the hillock. “I brought soap, towels, and a change of everything.”
“Mama!” Jamie sank down into the water, covering himself. “A little privacy, please?”
Her mouth opened. He’d never objected to her presence at his baths before.
Gareth took the bundle from her arms and turned her around. “Sure enough, Jamie. A man likes privacy when he does his bathing.” Sorting out the soap, he tossed it to the boy. “Catch it. You scrub good, and I’ll check on you in a minute.” He ushered Evelyn away. “Let him be. He’s fine. The water’s only knee deep.”
“I thought I might help him clean up. I’m sure he’ll need help washing his hair.” She glanced back over her shoulder, but Gareth prevented her from turning.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I can make sure his hair is clean. If you help him, you’ll just embarrass him.”
“He’s never been embarrassed before.”
“He’s growing up. It’s only natural that he’d prefer to wash alone.”
She swallowed. “I heard you talking as I walked up. What is it that he’s afraid I won’t like?”
Squeezing her shoulder, he smiled. “He asked if it was okay to call me Pa.”
A shaft of something akin to pain darted through Evelyn. With one sentence, Gareth assumed a place of prominence in her son’s life. Jamison Stanford took a step back into the fog of the past, and some of the strings binding Jamie to her seemed to snap.
“You don’t mind, do you? I’m pleased as punch about it. I figured after your talk at lunch about Jamie and Maddie being brother and sister, you’d be happy he wanted to call me Pa.”
She was, wasn’t she? Maybe happy wasn’t the right word. Whatever it was she was feeling, she forced herself to nod. “It’s fine. What about Maddie?”
“You’re making a good job of her. She’s learning all the things her mother wanted to teach her—cooking, sewing, cleaning, gardening. She’ll settle to it now that she knows you won’t back down every time she fusses.” He trailed the backs of his fingers down her cheek, tucking a stray tendril of hair behind her ear and sending sparks across her skin.
Evelyn stepped back. For the first time, she wasn’t altogether sure she was doing the right thing by Maddie, but what to do about it or how to explain it to Gareth was beyond her at the moment. “Best get back to Jamie. He’ll be about frozen by now. Make sure you rub him down well. I don’t want him to catch cold. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him.”
This time Evelyn really was going to kill him. Two whole days had passed since the pigpen incident, and she was still a little bent out of shape about that. If he showed up at the house with Jamie all bloodied up, she’d never let him hear the end of it.
“Tip your head back.” Gareth eased the boy over and pressed his bandanna against Jamie’s nose.
Jamie obliged, propping himself on one elbow and leaning back. Red blotches decorated the front of his shirt.
Rimfire caught the pony careening around the corral and led him over to where Jamie sprawled in the dirt.
“Piled you up proper, didn’t he?” The foreman squatted. “They say no man’s a true cowboy until he’s been thrown ninety-nine times. You’ve only got ninety-eight more to go.”
“Huh.” The boy shook his head, his voice muffled by the hankie.
Rimfire tipped Jamie’s chin up, checking the damage. “Every cowboy gets thrown from time to time. The trick is to get right back on and show the pony who’s boss. Ain’t that right, Gareth?”
“That’s right.” He looked over his shoulder at the house, willing Evelyn to stay inside. He hadn’t told her about putting Jamie up on a cow pony, knowing she’d just worry and fret. “I hadn’t counted on old Coffee spooking like that. Wonder what got into him?”
The pony stuck his head down and nudged Jamie’s arm as if to apologize. Jamie scooted upright until his narrow shoulders rested against one of the corral posts, and reached out to rub the horse’s muzzle. Brown as the bean he was named for, Coffee was the gentlest horse on the ranch. Maddie had ridden him on every roundup but the last, having graduated to a more spirited mount the previous year.
“Has the bleeding stopped?” Gareth peeled the hankie away slowly.
“I think so.”
“Then let’s get you back into the saddle.”
“Do I have to?” The boy’s forehead scrunched, and his voice wavered.
Rimfire put his meaty hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Boy, if you don’t, Coffee might get the idea that he can pitch off a rider anytime he wants to. What if it was your mama on him next time? You wouldn’t want her to get thrown, would you? It’s for the pony’s own good for you to get back on him. If you don’t, he might be ruined.”
Jamie’s brow smoothed out, and he nodded. “I wouldn’t want that to happen. He’s a good pony.” Scrambling to his feet, he took the reins from the foreman. “Hold still, Coffee. This is for your own good.”
Gareth hid his smile, but he winked at Rimfire, pride bursting through him that Jamie would put the horse’s supposed needs above his own fear. A boy to be proud of, to be sure.
Walking to the house a couple of hours later, Gareth put his arm around the boy. “You’re going to be a real help on the roundup this year.”
The thin chest puffed up, and Jamie added a little more swagger to his walk. “I’m learning, aren’t I?”
“You sure are.”
They entered together, and Gareth tested the air. Maddie sat beside the window, poking a needle in and out of a piece of cloth. She seemed more resigned to the idea of staying inside and helping Evelyn, though she still wasn’t happy about it. It was almost as if she’d become a different person in the last week or so. Instead of storming about the house, expressing every thought and notion, she now sat quiet most of the time or went about her chores without speaking. Gareth missed her chatter. And he missed her dogging his footsteps around the barn and corrals.
His eyes sought out Evelyn. She had her hair twisted up in a pale knot that revealed the graceful curve of her neck and cheek, and immediately his mind went to how she looked with it all down and spilling over her shoulders. She only left it that way for a few minutes each night as she readied for bed. Every time she unpinned her hair and brushed it out, it was all he could do to keep from crossing the room and burying his hands in its creamy softness. Long before he was ready for her to stop, she would set aside the brush and quickly braid it for the night.
“Jamie! What happened?”
Her shocked voice broke him out of his thoughts.
“I got piled up.” Jamie grinned, lifting his chin. “Rimfire says I only need to be thrown ninety-eight more times to be a real cowboy.”
“Piled up?” Evelyn advanced on her son and knelt before him, turning his chin this way and that. They’d gotten most of the blood off, but his nose was red and a little swollen, and his face bore traces of corral dirt.
“I got bucked off.” Jamie stuck his hands in his hip pockets. “But I got right back on Coffee so he wouldn’t be ruined.”
Evelyn’s eyes sought Gareth’s as she stood, accusation and questions burning in their blue depths. At the same time, Maddie bolted upright, dropping her sewing on the floor and fisting her hands.
“Coffee? You let him ride my horse?” Red suffused Maddie’s face to the point her freckles disappeared. The words came out strained, as if someone were squashing her windpipe.
“He did a great job, too. Got right back on after taking quite a tumble.” Gareth put his hand on Jamie’s shoulder and squeezed. “Didn’t
even let a nosebleed hold him back. He’s got the makings of a first-rate cowboy.”
Jamie beamed up at him. “Thanks, Pa.”
Maddie made an odd strangled sound and cleared her throat. “May I be excused? I’m not hungry.”
Gareth frowned and shook his head. “You need to eat something. You’ve been spending too much time in your room lately. Why don’t you show me what you’re working on?” He pointed to the sewing she’d abandoned.
Maddie handed him the sampler. “It’s a Bible verse.”
He read the words penciled on the fabric. PSALM 18:2 THE LORD IS MY ROCK, AND MY FORTRESS, AND MY DELIVERER; MY GOD, MY STRENGTH, IN WHOM I WILL TRUST; MY BUCKLER, AND THE HORN OF MY SALVATION, AND MY HIGH TOWER. The reference and the first three words had been stitched over in red thread, a little wobbly and uneven, but readable.
“Looks nice. You’ve come a long ways. Remember when you tried to fix a button on my shirt and sewed the sleeve to the collar by mistake?” He grinned and tried to ruffle her hair, but she ducked, blinked hard a couple of times, and went to set the table.
Evelyn set the chicken and dumplings down harder than necessary but easier than her temper would’ve liked. What was he thinking, putting her son on a horse? Letting him get bucked off. A chill raced through her at the thought of her son flying through the air and landing in a heap in the dirt. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to settle the quiver in her stomach.
Jamie seemed oblivious to the danger. With each day that passed he became more enamored of Gareth, walking like him, talking like him, even mimicking his gestures.
“Jamie, I thought you might like to stay inside this afternoon. It’s been awhile since you spent some time with Chaucer.”
“Oh, I can’t. Pa and me are going to start loading the chuck wagon, and he said I could help him shoe the team.” He shoveled a bite of dumpling into his mouth, dripping gravy on the table.
“It’s Pa and I, and hold your food over your plate. You love Chaucer, and you haven’t touched it in almost a month.”
“Too busy. Gotta help Pa with the forge.”
The child’s grammar was appalling. Gotta? “Is the blacksmith shop really the best place for a child, Gareth?” She tried to modulate her voice, but her lips were stiff, and she hadn’t come to terms yet with this morning’s accident enough to be calm about the idea of Jamie being so close to all that hot metal.
“He won’t learn any younger.”
Jamie slid his plate closer and jabbed another dumpling. “I can’t wait to go on the roundup. Pa says I can ride herd and help him keep the tally book and everything. He says he’s gonna teach me to brand calves.”
Evelyn gulped down the bite she’d just taken. “Hold it there, young man. Who said anything about you going on the roundup? Helping with the chores around here is one thing, but herding cattle is a job for grown men, not little boys.” She gripped her napkin in her lap and looked to Gareth to back her up.
“Those are my jobs, Pa.” Maddie spoke up for the first time during the meal. “If you let him ride herd and keep the tally, what am I supposed to do during roundup? I ain’t gonna stay by the fire and cook, that’s for sure and for certain.” Her green eyes blazed.
Gareth took his time laying his fork down. “Well, Maddie, I kinda thought you’d stay here with Evelyn. She’ll need your help around the place, especially with me and Jamie gone.”
“Now wait here, Gareth. I don’t want Jamie going on that roundup, and that’s that.” Evelyn glared at him. The thought of her son gone for days at a time, with no one to look after him but a bunch of rough cowboys, riding a horse among wild cattle… every muscle tensed, and her stomach rebelled at the very little bit of lunch she’d put in it.
“Evelyn, we’ve been through this. You’ve got to let Jamie grow up, or you’ll have him so bound by apron strings he’ll never be able to do anything for himself.” Gareth’s jaw had firmed, and his eyes took on a stern light she’d not encountered before.
But her heart quailed at the thought of what could happen to Jamie. “He’s not going.”
“Pa, you can’t take him with you and not take me.” Maddie banged her hand on the table. “It’s not fair. I’m supposed to be your pard.”
“Enough.” Gareth pushed his plate back. “I’ve made up my mind. Maddie, you went along on the roundups before because I didn’t have anyone to stay back at the ranch to look after you. You’re staying here. And Evelyn, the boy’s going. If you won’t cut those apron strings, I’ll have to.”
The fire smoldering in the pit of her stomach flared to blazing life. “Surely there’s a compromise we can reach.” She grasped at anything she could to keep herself from falling to pieces.
“Not that I can think of.” He stood and reached forhis hat.
“If you insist on taking Jamie on the roundup, then I’m going along, too.” She knew nothing about cattle or horses or roundups, but she’d brave all those and more to watch out for her son.
Maddie rose and came to stand beside Evelyn in a show of solidarity that surprised her, though she tried not to show it. “I think that’s a great idea.” They waited, tense, for Gareth’s yes or no.
He blew out a big breath. “We’ll be gone a whole month. It’s no place for a lady.”
“I’m tougher than you think. If Maddie has gone along with you before and been fine, I’m sure I can take it.” She wasn’t sure of any such thing, but he didn’t need to know that.
Throwing up his hands, he stared at the pair of them and then at Jamie’s eager face. “I’m no match for all of you. We’ll all go.” Then he said the strangest thing: “Rimfire was right about the dynamite and the henhouse. I sure will be glad when it quits raining feathers.”
Chapter 6
She hadn’t thought it possible to encounter a rougher ride than the stagecoach that had brought her to Wyoming, but the chuck wagon proved her wrong. Dust covered her hair and face and sifted through her clothing. And the sullen man beside her didn’t improve the journey.
Grizzled was the only word that described the cook. Unless it was silent. He’d voiced his displeasure at having a woman along on the ride, but when Gareth wouldn’t budge on the issue, he’d chosen silence, ignoring her completely. She wasn’t surprised at all when someone called him Muley.
The only one who seemed truly happy about the venture was Jamie, who bounced around Gareth and the other cowboys like an exuberant puppy until everyone mounted their horses. He followed Gareth on his pony, all eyes and ears, talking nineteen to the dozen.
Maddie climbed into the wagon with bad grace and took a seat on a sack of cornmeal in the back, pouting because her father had refused to let her ride with the men.
Rimfire rode close to the wagon to talk to Evelyn. “Odd having Mad Dog—’scuse me, Maddie—not riding with us. I remember all of us taking her up in front with us at one time or another when she was real small. Then she rode Coffee, and finally she had her pick of the remuda. I hope Gareth knows what he’s doing with her. I’ve never seen her so quiet, and when I tried to speak to her, she just buried her head.” He scratched his chin. “Do you ride? We’ll have to see about getting you a horse.”
“No, thank you. I couldn’t possibly.” The idea of being aboard something with a mind of its own… she shuddered.
Jamie rode a brown beast so round the boy’s legs stuck out. At least the animal was smaller than the cow ponies the men rode. Seeing him astride awoke all her fears for his safety. How could she possibly protect him when Gareth insisted on letting him do such dangerous things?
The wagon rocked over a ridge and down a slope of prairie. Evelyn gripped the edge of the seat and braced herself against the tilt. She couldn’t help but wonder if Muley chose the most difficult route to express his displeasure at her presence.
Rimfire legged his horse away from the wagon, and Gareth took his place. “We’re making good time. Should be at the first camp in about an hour. How’re you making out?” He remove
d his hat and wiped his face with his forearm. “Beats me how it can go from so chilly to so hot in such a short time.”
Evelyn had to admire the way he looked in the saddle. Lean, supple, rocking slightly with the motion of his horse. Everything about him bespoke capability. A man’s man. And a woman’s man, too, if she was honest enough to admit it. But stubborn. Why wouldn’t he listen to reason regarding Jamie?
She craned her neck to keep the boy in sight. “I’m fine. Will we be near any of my sisters’ homes?” If she could just talk to one of them, maybe she’d feel better. Jane would help her be practical, Gwendolyn would champion and encourage her, and Emmeline would soak in everything about the roundup with eager eyes. Her heart ached for them.
“No. I’m afraid we’re headed in the opposite direction. They all live south and west of our place. Our range is mostly north and east.” He replaced his hat. “I’ll take you to visit them later this summer, I promise.”
Evelyn busied herself with thoughts of their reunion and all the things she wanted to tell them and all the things she wanted to ask them, trying to keep her mind off what she was going to do about Jamie. And Gareth. And Maddie. All she succeeded in doing was reminding herself how out of control everything was.
By the time they reached the first campsite, Evelyn was only too glad to climb down from the wagon and stretch the kinks in her muscles.
Gareth gathered the riders. “Everyone pair up and fan out. Drive everything this way toward the flat ground between here and the river. Rimfire, you and Charlie will do the groundwork. Start the fires and break out the irons.” He was all business, directing his men and planning his attack.
Maddie waited until he’d finished his orders, sidled up to him, and took his hand. “Pa, can’t I come, too?” Her round face held entreaty and hope.
He rubbed his hand across the top of her head. “Stay here and help Muley and Evelyn get the fire started. You can tote the water.”
Mounting with fluid ease, he galloped away with Jamie in his wake. Maddie stared after him, her shoulders drooping. Evelyn’s heart went out to the girl. Neither one of them seemed to have the least little say in what was happening to them. Perhaps that would be their common ground.
Where the Heart Is Romance Collection Page 47