Ino grabbed the saddle horn with both hands and leapt onto his horse’s back as Clare launched her rope and caught one of the steer’s hind legs, stopping quickly and jerking the animal’s feet out from under him. Once the animal was on the ground, Ino collapsed over his horse’s shoulder for a moment to catch his breath. As soon as Caleb joined them, Clare transferred her rope to him and moved her horse alongside Ino and touched his shoulder.
“What the hell happened, Ino?”
“Dunno. Maybe he got hold of some loco weed or something, but he sure as hell wasn’t ready to go anywhere,” he answered, shaking his head.
“You all right?”
“Landed on a rock when I fell. Hurts like a son-of-a-bitch.”
“Turn around and let me look.”
Ino turned slightly in the saddle and bit his lower lip as he unbuttoned his coat. Clare lifted it and sucked in a breath. Blood soaked the back of the vaquero’s shirt. Carefully she pulled the shirt out and looked under it. There was a two inch tear below his right shoulder blade.
“Might need a few stitches,” she said. “Other than this cut are you hurt anywhere else?”
“No, just knocked the wind out of me, I reckon.
I’m sorry, Clare.”
“Not your fault,” she said.
She dismounted and checked the condition of Ino’s horse. She patted the animal’s neck when she finished her inspection. “Might have a bruise or two, but otherwise he looks okay,” she reported.
Ino smiled as he stroked his horse’s mane. “Sorry, fella.”
“He’ll have a couple of days to rest until we get back from town,” Clare said. “Think you can manage those heifers while we take care of this bad boy?”
“Yeah. No problem,” Ino nodded.
Zeke and Caleb both had ropes around the steer’s head and forced him up the mountain between them even though he managed to fight them most of the way. He was fast becoming one of Clare’s most disagreeable animals and would find himself curing in the smokehouse by the next winter if they couldn’t keep him calmed down. Even though he was one of her best breeders, he could be replaced.
By the time they released their strays to mingle with the rest of the herd it was well after midday.
When the riders returned to the ranch, Ino stretched out on his bunk and buried his head in a pillow as Clare cleaned his wound and stitched it up.
“You’re gonna have a pretty good bruise,” she said quietly. “Probably be a little sore too.”
“It shouldn’t have happened. I was careless.”
“You’re never careless. That steer was just meaner than you today,” she said with a smile. She patted his bare back and stood up. “Get rested up today. We’ll wait and go to town tomorrow morning. A few drinks will make your back feel better. That and maybe a few tender ministrations from Miss Mavis.” Clare knew the vaquero had taken a fancy to one of Willis Manning’s saloon girls and couldn’t blame him. With a full head of dark, copper-colored hair and twinkling green eyes, Mavis Calendar was the object of many a man’s fancy and she had taken a fancy to the vaquero.
Clare smiled as she left the bunkhouse. She figured Mavis was a couple of years younger than her own forty, but she was certain Mavis’ interest in Ino was far from daughterly.
Chapter Seven
THE TRIP FROM St. Joseph, Missouri to Pueblo, Colorado was a long one, especially for Loretta.
Without the benefit of a sleeping car, she was forced to sleep upright in her seat next to Amelia. The swaying movement of the train cars over the tracks lulled her off to sleep many times during the four day trip. But every time she drifted into a few moments of rest, the train lurched to a stop in yet another town. It seemed as if there were hundreds of stops to take on passengers or mail. The jostling of the train didn’t help the pain she still felt along her ribcage and abdomen. Occasionally, Hettie found a secluded place where she could check Loretta’s bandages and attempt to readjust them into a more comfortable position. Cyrus apologized daily for having nothing to give her for the pain. On the second day, she asked him to leave the train during a layover to purchase a bottle of whiskey. If nothing else, she would drink enough to help her fall asleep and not care about the pain. The lack of sleep, combined with the whiskey, made her nauseous, but she managed to keep enough food on her stomach to survive the journey.
She spent most of her time staring at the wheat growing in huge, seemingly endless fields across the flat prairies of Kansas, the stalks radiating sparkles of gold from the warming sun. She often thought about what she would do once they arrived in Colorado. She would certainly have to find a job to support herself.
If nothing panned out for her, she could always return to the one thing she knew how to do well. She folded the lap blanket into a pillow of sorts and rested her head against the metal frame of the passenger car window, watching the changing landscape as the train lumbered along. For three days and nights, the train made its way across flat golden prairies. On the fourth day, Loretta noticed the pale outline of mountains in the distance, as yet too indistinct to see in much detail. She watched all day as the mountains grew larger before her and she eventually saw snow-capped peaks.
“What mountains are those?” she asked when she saw Cyrus watching her.
He leaned closer to the window for a better look.
“The ones closest to us are called the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. In Spanish it means the blood of Christ.
Beyond those are the tallest mountains in the west, the Rocky Mountains.”
“They’re beautiful,” she said softly. “When will we arrive?”
“We should be in Pueblo tomorrow about midday.
I spoke to the conductor earlier and he assured me we were making excellent time. I’m sure you’ll be glad to be able to walk around again. How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she said with a wisp of a smile. “The bruises on my face are much lighter now. The others will take longer, but no one will see them.”
“You’re still a beautiful young woman, Retta,”
Cyrus said sheepishly. “You and Amelia have a lot to look forward to.”
“Thanks to you and Hettie. Someday I’ll repay you for everything you’ve done.”
“No need, my dear. I’m beginning a new life myself and, whether or not you intended it, you’re helping me do that.”
“Like I’ve always said, you’re a good man, Reverend. Not perfect, but still a decent man.”
“DID YOU SEE the mountains?” Amelia asked excitedly as she leaned across Loretta to peer out the passenger car window.
“Pretty hard to miss them,” Loretta answered. She pushed her hands through her thick hair and tried to tame the stray tendrils that had fallen over her face.
She would have killed for a tub of warm water to wash away the coal grit from the engine that had drifted through the cracked windows of the car. It seemed to coat everything with a fine film of black powder. As the train slowed on its approach into the Pueblo station a little before noon, Cyrus and Hettie began gathering their belongings. They were all eager to finally be able to stand and walk outside the confines of the train car.
Although they all would have liked an overnight layover in Pueblo, the stagecoach to Trinidad would depart a scant two hours after the train pulled in. It was a rush to locate a wagon to haul their luggage, everything they each owned in the world, from the train depot to the Wells Fargo office and then locate a nearby place to eat.
It was a little after two in the afternoon when Cyrus helped Hettie onto the Wells Fargo stagecoach that would take them the final sixty miles to their new life. The driver and station manager hoisted the travelers’ luggage into the baggage section at the rear of the coach and tied them down. Cyrus took Amelia’s hand to assist her aboard while Loretta stood back, seemingly mesmerized by the mountains to the west of the town. The driver and his shotgun rider climbed onto the seat over the coach. The driver picked up the reins for his team of six horses while h
is companion brought a rifle across his lap and adjusted himself on the seat.
The bearded driver looked over the side of the coach and pulled his hat down firmly. “We’re ready to head out as soon as you’re on board.”
Cyrus nodded and took Loretta’s elbow and guided her toward the door of the coach. “This might be rougher than the train, Loretta. Can you make it a little farther?”
“I’m fine, Cyrus,” Loretta nodded.
She placed a foot on the lowest step. Cyrus gently lifted her up while Amelia took her hands and pulled her inside. Cyrus stepped up into the coach and pulled the steps inside before closing and securing the door.
“If you want to sleep I can lower the window shade,” he said.
“How long will it take to get to Trinidad?” Hettie asked.
“A few hours, hopefully before dark falls,” Cyrus said, patting her hand.
Loretta remained quiet most of the afternoon as she watched the mountains draw closer and loom larger. Lush green carpeted the hillsides and bright white and yellow wildflowers sprang up and seemed to flow from the tree line in wind-blown waves. The coach eventually made its way across a bridge over a rock-strewn river and she watched as blue and white water tumbled over boulders and along the stretches of rapids farther downstream.
“What is that river?” she asked.
“Must be the Purgatoire River,” Cyrus said. “The gentleman at the stagecoach office in Pueblo said it ran through Trinidad, so we must be getting close.
Got its name from the French trappers who used to roam this area. Most folks can’t pronounce it and call it the Picket Wire.”
“Purgatoire is French for purgatory, isn’t it?”
Hettie asked.
“I guess things weren’t always hospitable around here.”
Hettie looked at Cyrus and smiled. “It seems as if you’ve come to a place in need of your services, if the river’s name is any indication.”
Loretta kept her eyes closed, but listened to the chit-chat between Cyrus and Hettie. She had first noticed the way they interacted before they left St.
Joe. Cyrus had held Hettie’s hand many times during the two weeks before Loretta was sufficiently recovered to travel. She had seen the way Hettie looked at Cyrus when she thought no one else was watching. A touch here or there, something humorous whispered between them. Loretta smiled to herself.
Hettie claimed to be a sinner, as Cyrus certainly was, and perhaps that was exactly what he needed.
Another sinner who could understand his spiritual anguish and try to heal it while healing her own.
Chapter Eight
DESPITE LORETTA’S INSISTENCE that she was feeling much better, Cyrus helped her from the coach before making his way to the rear of the conveyance to claim their belongings. While they waited, Hettie made inquiries about hotel accommodations for a night or two.
“Are you feeling all right, Retta?” Amelia asked as the two young women sat down on a bench outside the station to wait for Cyrus and Hettie.
“Just tired,” Loretta said. “I hope I can sleep without the constant click-clack of the train wheels on the rails.”
“I don’t think anything could keep me from sleeping tonight as long as I’m horizontal.”
Cyrus joined them shortly afterward and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “I’ve arranged to have our luggage delivered as soon as Miss Hettie tells me where to have it taken. Then I have to find the deacon from my new congregation. Hopefully, we won’t be more than a day or two at a hotel.”
“Then where will we go?” Amelia asked.
“My new church provides a home for its minister and his family.”
“How are you going to explain all of us, Cyrus?
We’re not your family,” Loretta asked.
“When we stopped a couple of days ago I wired the church and explained that due to unexpected circumstances, I was bringing my sister and sister-in-law with me. If anyone asks, Amelia is my sister and you, Miss Loretta, are my sister-in-law.”
“Considering how close we’ve been in the past, I suppose we are almost like family,” Loretta teased.
Crimson crept up Cyrus’ face as the two women laughed. “What’s so funny?” Hettie asked as she joined them on the platform.
“We were just discussing our new little family,”
Loretta said. “Where will you be staying?”
“Oh, the head of the local school board has promised me a place to live. It will take them a day or two to make the final arrangements. In the meantime, the clerk told me we should be able to find suitable rooms at the Columbian Hotel. He said it wasn’t far from here.”
“I’ll find a carriage,” Cyrus said.
Loretta took a deep breath. “I think I’d rather walk, if no one minds. My limbs are stiff from sitting so long.”
Amelia entwined her arm with Loretta’s and said,
“That sounds wonderful to me as well.”
Cyrus got directions to the hotel from the station master and arranged to have their luggage delivered before they set off on a leisurely stroll to explore their new surroundings. The small group of travelers wandered slowly along the streets of Trinidad.
Loretta was amazed at how modern parts of the growing city seemed. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the dusty, wild place she had imagined. The group checked into the Columbian Hotel and settled quickly into their rooms. Cyrus would have a separate room while Amelia, Hettie, and Loretta would share a room with two beds. As soon as their luggage was delivered they unpacked enough clothing for a couple of days.
Hettie freshened up and re-twisted her hair into a bun set close against the back of her scalp.
“You girls rest. I am going to arrange an appointment with the head of the local school board and perhaps take a peek at the school. Reverend Langford will be meeting with the deacons from his church, but should be back before dark. Then perhaps we can all sit down to a good meal for a change.”
Hettie pinned her hat in place and picked up her satchel. “Do I look presentable?” Hettie had changed into an ankle-length blue gingham dress, trimmed with white scalloped fringe accenting the collar and sleeves. A belt surrounded her waist and showed off a surprisingly trim figure.
“You look like a school marm,” Loretta said with a grin.“Then I have achieved the proper appearance.”
Hettie smiled as she readjusted her glasses and left the room.
Amelia stretched out on the bed closest to the window. “God! This feels so good after sleeping sitting up for days.”
Loretta lay down next to her young friend. “Do you think it’s more comfortable than the beds at Jack’s?”
“I don’t give a damn, Retta. At least I’m not going to have worry about some fat, panting old fart pawing me and trying to ride me like I was wearing a saddle,”
Amelia snorted.
“You know, you’re going to have to be mindful of your language now. It wouldn’t be seemly for one of Miss Hettie’s students or a preacher’s sister.”
“I know, but I don’t have to pretend when I’m with you.”
“I’ve been meaning to thank you for over a week, Amelia. I would probably be dead now if you hadn’t come back for me.”
Amelia couldn’t meet Loretta’s eyes. “What happened to you was my fault,” she said quietly.
“Camille told Jack about what we said that morning.
When he called me into his office, he hit me. I…I was scared.”
Loretta smiled at her. She knew her beating by Jack had been partially Amelia’s fault, but she knew Amelia wasn’t much more than a child. It would have been easy for a man like Jack to frighten her into talking.
“You did the Christian thing in the end,” Loretta said to soothe Amelia’s guilt.
“Yeah, that’s us,” Amelia laughed. “A couple of real Christian whores. Now we’re livin’ with our very own minister.”
They burst into giggles until tears ran down their cheeks. Finally Amelia sat up slightly and pr
opped her head on her hand. “Were you…I mean had you ever…you know, been with a man before you were at Jack’s?” she asked shyly.
Loretta stared at the ceiling and blinked hard.
“Yeah, sort of. My father died when I was ten. My mother remarried about a year later. It was hard for her to keep us going taking in sewing from time to time. When Horace offered to marry her, she accepted to give us a better life. But I was never comfortable with the way he stared at me. My body filled out a little earlier than some of the other girls and I felt awkward. A few months after they married, my mother’s sister fell ill and she went to help her out for a few weeks. A day or two after Mother left Horace began brushing up against me and stuff like that.
Then one night he came into my room and climbed into my bed. He’d been drinking and passed out before anything happened. There were nights when I wasn’t as lucky.” Loretta swallowed hard at the memory. “The day I turned sixteen I packed what I could carry and left home.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Retta. Did you tell your mama?”
“She didn’t believe me even though it was going on practically under her nose. She couldn’t afford to lose her meal ticket. I guess she thought it was a small enough price to pay.” Loretta snorted. “At least he wasn’t pawing her.”
Loretta flashed a grin at Amelia and continued.
“Then I met Jack and he saved me from living on the streets and begging for food. Whoring was a way to pay him back. What about you?”
“I never been with a man before I went to St. Joe.
My folks died in a flood and no one else in our family wanted to take me in. They were all mostly dirt-scratch farmers and had their own families to worry about. So I left and Jack saved me, too. I thought I could just cook or clean or something domestic like that to repay him. I didn’t know what he did until I was already beholden to him. I tried. Honest, Retta, I did. But I couldn’t do those things you and the others did.”
“Don’t judge me, Amelia.”
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