“I’m not finished showing you around.”
She said nothing more and started walking off.
He scowled, then let out a loud sigh. “You already running scared, city-girl?”
Sondra turned and folded her arms akimbo. “I understand you’re upset about Miller’s will—”
“There’s an understatement.” His eyes narrowed.
She stared straight back at him. “We have to make this work. It’s not going to be easy. Since I know how to take care of the troughs, I’ll stay busy while you take care of more pressing issues.”
“You got that right.” He said nothing more and strode off.
❧
His tone left her steaming in the tennis shoes he disapproved of. By noon, she was a mess. It turned out they used sawdust instead of straw or hay in the stable. It supposedly absorbed better and needed changing less often—both strong points as far as she was concerned. Even then, being around as Joseph mucked out the stable nearly sent her running back out behind the barn again.
She’d scrubbed the cement water troughs herself. When she finished that chore, she slogged back to the house, shook off as much sawdust as she could, and toed out of her shoes before stepping over the threshold. Sondra hadn’t engaged in anything half so strenuous in years. After indulging in a long shower, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and gave herself a much-needed pep talk. “ ‘I can do everything through him who gives me strength.’ Yes, I can. With God’s help, I can do this—even if Dylan’s going to be a pain.”
After hastily slapping together a peanut butter sandwich, she went back out to gather up the loose chickens and shove them back into the henhouse. One of the ranch hands, Jack, came by and gave her a little help. He then mentioned, “Nickels is in the barn. You’ve got a late-calving Holstein. Things ain’t goin’ so good.”
“Oh.” She paused for a second, then decided, “I’ll go check to see if he needs something.”
Edgar waited until he thought she was out of range and then moaned, “Lord, help us all. A meddlin’ city-gal in a birthin’ shed.”
His low opinion of her, though deserved, nettled Sondra. She’d stay up late, read everything she could, and work twice—no, three times—as hard as they expected to prove she had what it took.
Nickels greeted her with a silent bob of his head. Other than that, he completely ignored Sondra as he ran his weathered hand over the cow’s bulging side. For a few minutes, Sondra looked at the cow. She was huge. Somehow, a picture in a book made cattle look cute and of manageable size. Up close, they appeared more like odd-colored, spindle-legged fortresses. Especially pregnant, this one could pass for a small principality in Europe. Big, sad eyes rolled up at Sondra, and her heart melted. She carefully made her way across the pen and knelt by the cow’s head. She petted her and murmured, “You’ll be fine.”
“Don’t go tellin’ her things are gonna be okay, ma’am. From the looks of it, they ain’t,” Nickels stated grimly. “Gonna have to call the vet.”
“I’ll do it.” She went back to the house. Just as she located the vet’s number, the phone rang. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Thankful, I—”
She interrupted, “Mr. Ward, I don’t have time to waste listening to your innuendoes and suppositions. If that’s all this is, forget it.”
“I figured we ought to talk.”
She shifted in the chair. “Perhaps, but you’ve gotten me at a bad time. At the moment, I need to call the vet.”
“Why?”
“A cow is having trouble calving.”
“Why didn’t you call me? I’m on my way. Don’t bother trying to reach the vet. He’s out of town.” He hung up before she could say another word.
Dylan got there in just a few minutes. He took one look at the cow and started to unbutton his shirt. Nickels spouted off any number of salient facts and made a few suggestions. Sondra didn’t understand half of what he said. It irked her that Nickels became so talkative with Dylan when he’d been silent with her.
“City-girl, this is going to get ugly,” Dylan warned with a lopsided, mocking smile. “You’d best scamper on back inside unless you want to lose your supper.”
“I guess it’s fortunate I haven’t eaten supper yet.”
She fought the heated blush that zoomed clear up from her toes as Dylan took off his shirt. His shoulders looked even broader without the covering of a shirt. His skin matched the color of fire-glazed pottery—tanned to the point of redness.
Dylan gave her an impatient look. She stood there, feeling completely flummoxed. “Lady, you’ll need to learn to pitch in if you plan to make it through the next year,” he snapped. “So, if you’re staying, make yourself useful.”
“What do you want?”
“Bring in six buckets of water and some soap.”
By the time she hauled in the sixth bucket of water, Sondra gathered her wits enough to also bring a few towels. She watched as Dylan soaped all of the way up to his shoulder. He grimaced, then knelt down at the business end of the cow.
Feeling sympathetic, Sondra went back by the cow’s head, sat cross-legged in the thin layer of sawdust covering the floor, and took hold of the rope Nickels had tied around the cow’s neck. “It’s okay, girl. Take it easy. Easy.” She winced as she watched Dylan.
“It’s malpresentation, all right. Lateral. I’ll see if I can’t. . . nudge. . . Nickels, brace her. I’m going to have to get some pressure going here.”
With obvious skill, patience, luck, and strength, Dylan managed to turn the calf. Weak as the cow was, he ended up pulling the calf out. As he washed the worst of the mess from himself, he and Nickels discussed what remained to be done.
“Any other late calves due?”
Nickels shrugged. “One that I know of.”
“I’ll have my men pull down the fence tomorrow. We’ll have both herds summer together for now. I’ll decide the rest later.”
Sondra stewed silently. Even if she didn’t know diddly-squat about ranching, he owed her the courtesy of informing her about these matters before he made announcements. She didn’t expect a full-on consultation, but a brief word in advance was reasonable. To her dismay, Dylan Ward didn’t seem like the reasonable sort at all.
Dylan turned and gave her that mocking smile again. “You kept your stomach, city-girl. I’m surprised.”
“I’m sure you’ll be surprised a few more times before our year is up.”
He tilted his head at the calf. “So what do you think?”
“I think it was a miracle,” she said in awe.
“Don’t expect too many miracles.” Dylan then rasped at Nickels, “I expect to be called any time there’s a problem. Don’t let me find one out by accident again.”
“You got it, boss.”
As much as it galled her, Sondra kept her mouth shut. She didn’t dare alienate her ranch hands. Miller knew his business well, and he’d hired only the best. She shouldn’t make matters so uncomfortable that they’d decide to leave.
Both men were looking at her. Sondra sensed that they wanted to be rid of her. They’d been working a long while and probably missed supper, but she didn’t have much of a notion what was in her kitchen. Instead of offering to rustle up a quick meal, she excused herself and bade them a good night.
Bed never felt so good and night never passed so quickly. Her muscles protested as much as her grainy eyes did, but Sondra dragged herself out of bed at first light and hastily prepared to meet the day. She headed for the stable and used a dolly to move the hay bales to help Joseph feed the horses.
Feeling quite proud of herself, she then went to the hen-house to meet Luna. In a soft drawl, he told her all about the coop, how he cleaned and packaged eggs, and how much to feed the chickens.
Dylan sauntered up. He looked cocky—just like the class troublemaker before he pulled a stunt. Sondra got suspicious.
“I have men taking down that section of fencing. Get in the Rover, and I’ll take you to see
what we’re doing. I have the others retagging some of the stock we purchased at auction.”
“I’d like that.” After seeing more of the outlying area of the ranch, she felt breathless. How could Miller have given her all of this? It amazed her. Then again, it humbled her. She now knew she wouldn’t ever be equal to the task of running it. She also knew precisely why Dylan insisted on this expanded tour—he wanted to drive that fact home.
Four
Sondra arrived back at the house just in time to have the Battered Women’s Society take away a few pieces of the furniture. She and Kenny hadn’t started out with much, but her own things were due the next day. Miller would have been glad the things she didn’t need went to a good cause.
She couldn’t believe how the place already felt like home. Cleaning each room, putting her things in the drawers, just angling a chair toward the window so it would catch the morning sun—each little thing made this her refuge, her haven.
Never before had a place seemed so right, so welcoming. Even her apartment with Kenny didn’t feel this way. She’d barely gotten her meager belongings in the door the week they got back from their honeymoon, and they’d been so wrapped up in each other, she’d didn’t cull through everything until the last week before he died. Then she hated going home because it constantly reminded her of the emptiness in her heart.
This was different. It was home—good, pure, safe—hopefully, forever.
She put her Bible and the Bible study book she’d been working through on an end table and wrapped her arms about her ribs. Lord, thank You for providing this home for my baby and me. Grant me wisdom so I can keep it and use it to Your glory, I pray. And Father—about Dylan—help me deal with him.
After doing some housekeeping, she drove into Lasso, stopped at the library, slipped in to see the doctor, and went through the grocery store. She located the community church and noticed Sunday morning worship started at half past eight.
Weary beyond her tolerance, she went to bed early, then barely managed to wake up in time to let the movers bring in her things. They didn’t take long, but she directed them to place the furnishings exactly where she wanted them. Her tiny dinette set looked perky in the kitchen.
This was to be her son’s home, and she wanted it perfect. Her child would never be passed around and suffer living without roots the way she had. He’d know the security of growing up in one house, loved. He’d have his very own bedroom, and he’d go to the same school year after year. It was a priceless gift, and Sondra could scarcely close her eyes at night, fearing she’d wake up and find it was all just a dream.
The last couple of days stayed overcast, so she’d worn loose-fitting sweats. Since today’s forecast boasted sun, she put on lightweight jeans and teamed them with an oversized pink T-shirt. Feeling encouraged with her progress all around, she skipped down the steps and off to check in over at the stable. Nickels was saddling up a mare. “I’ll be in the coop,” she mentioned.
He shot her an approving smile. “You’re not letting weeds grow ’round your feet, are you?”
“Not at all. There’s too much to do!”
He nodded sagely. “Yep. Always is.”
Hens clucked a welcome to her, and Sondra stepped into the coop. Luna wasn’t here yet, but she wanted a chance to start in on the chores so she wouldn’t be relying on others. A short while later, feeling a presence, she looked up and gave her neighbor a nod. “Mr. Ward.”
❧
Finding her pitching in at barely past daybreak settled well with Dylan. “Luna’s sick.”
“That’s too bad. Does he need anything?” She stood up and wiped the back of her wrist across her forehead. With her other hand, she cupped a little chick to her breastbone as if she’d never held anything quite so precious.
“You’re already busy enough. His wife is taking care of him.” Her concern threw him for a loop. Dylan liked seeing that she had some redeeming qualities. He silently reminded himself that she was a city-gal. A helpless one. The only real connection she claimed to the Curly Q was the chickens.
Swiping the chick she held and giving it a gentle buff with his knuckles, he wondered aloud, “Just how often do you take these little critters into town?” He watched as she bent over and nabbed another chick. Tenderness washed over her face as she fingered it. The look in her eyes made his heart beat a bit faster.
“Every other week. It’s often enough to let the kids enjoy them, but stretched out just enough that they still think it’s special. It lets them anticipate.” She lifted the downy little ball and turned him so they were face-to-beak. Her voice went up half an octave. “And the kids just love you to pieces, don’t they?”
The chick peeped on cue.
Sondra then cuddled it against her ribs and wet her lips. She looked Dylan in the eye and lifted her chin. The sweetness in her face disappeared, only to be replaced by cool resolve. “Since we’re alone—about the boots—”
He lifted a hand to halt her. “I need to speak my piece first, if you don’t mind.”
The corners of her mouth tightened, and the tension he’d first felt when he entered the coop returned. Feeling rather silly to be fiddling with a handful of fluff when he planned to eat crow, Dylan passed the chick back to her. As she juggled both, he cleared his throat and remembered what he’d resolved last night as he lay awake and chafed at this whole arrangement. “I’ve been thinking. We’ve gotta make the best of things for a year. It’s obvious we started off on the wrong foot.”
“And started rubbing blisters,” she added under her breath.
He raised his brows. This gal had gumption. “I gotta admit, you’re turning out to be a bit of a surprise. You seem like a ready-to-work woman, and you’re learning mighty fast.”
She carefully set down the chicks, folded her arms across her ribs, and looked at him for a long count. She had to realize Miller trapped him into a heap of hard work since she didn’t have much to offer in this so-called partnership. One year of work, and he’d drag her through. . .but he figured she’d realize she wasn’t cut out for this life. Then he’d buy the place at a fair price. He could tolerate the wait.
He cleared his throat. “I think it would make things go a lot better if we try to keep things on a neighborly basis.”
They were both tense as just-strung clothesline. Finally, she nodded. “You’ve got a deal.”
“Dandy.” Relief flooded him. At least she didn’t carry a grudge. Hardworking. Fast learning. Tenderhearted. Best he concentrate on those good qualities and show her a few of his own. “I thought maybe we could ride today. You need to see some of the rest of your land. There are parts that only have a rough fire road.”
“I’ve never ridden before.”
He groaned.
“Not to worry. I have a good sense of balance and a dare-devil streak. If I’m on a calm mount, I’ll manage.”
“That remains to be seen.” They left the coop and went to the stable. The gelding Miller left Dylan patiently waited outside. Dylan gave Pretty Boy an affectionate pat on the withers as they passed by him.
She stopped and visually measured the standardbred. “That beast is huge!”
“Not particularly. He’s sturdy and reliable, though.”
She got up on her tippytoes and bravely gave his gelding her hand to take her scent, then petted his mane and neck. The sight of her appreciating the gelding instead of veering away gave him hope. Maybe she wouldn’t be as antsy as most greenhorns. He stood back and took in how surely she moved her slender hands and wondered if she’d take umbrage if he suggested she wear some snug jeans instead of those baggy ones so she wouldn’t get rubbed raw. No. He’d just get her in a saddle and take her a short distance today. They’d barely waded into peace; the last thing he needed to do was get personal.
She pivoted around and smiled.
Dylan chuckled at her enthusiasm. “We can put you on a calm little pony. Come on.” He accompanied Sondra into the cool stable to choose a mount.
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The condition of the stable impressed him. It smelled of fresh sawdust. “Joseph already mucked in here today?”
“Yep.” She shot him a quicksilver smile. “I even helped. I figure I need to know everything from the ground up—literally.”
“Betcha you’re getting sore muscles, city-girl.”
“I’m doing whatever I need to get done.”
A grin lit his face. For a tenderfoot, she didn’t slack in the least. “So let’s see you saddle Crackers. Take that saddle blanket and toss it over him.”
“You got it.” She let Crackers catch her scent, too. Dylan tilted his head in silent query, so she volunteered, “I took my class to the petting zoo every year. Along the way, I learned domesticated animals like to get to know their human partners.”
“Horses are smart. You respect them, and they’ll give you their heart.”
Sondra nodded, flipped the rough blanket over the horse, and patted it for good measure. “Okay.”
“The saddle now—heft it onto him. The knoblike thing is called a pommel. It goes in the front.”
After she shot him an insulted glare, Sondra grabbed hold of the saddle and yanked. It didn’t move an inch. She rubbed her hands on her thighs to dry them off.
Dylan stood back and watched. Nervous, he assessed, but willing to try. She’s not a coward.
She shifted her feet wider apart. After she sucked in a deep breath, she gripped the saddle and jerked with all of her might. The saddle cleared the rail by a good four inches. Suddenly, Dylan slammed it back down.
Sondra wheeled around. “Why did you do that?”
He glowered at her for a solid fifteen seconds, anger gusting out with every breath. He latched onto her arm and hauled her out of the stall, away from the horse.
Sondra pulled free and stared at him with wide, wary eyes.
“Hold it right there.” Dylan gritted the words as he took a determined step and backed her against the gate of the next stall. He grabbed her tiny wrists and held them together in one hand while his other fleetingly slid over her belly to confirm what he’d just seen. He let go of her and jerked back as if he’d discovered bubonic plague.
In His Will Page 3