Melinda and the Wild West

by Linda Weaver Clarke

  “Pa, I’m never changin’ my mind. Petticoats and all that underwear are for ladies and I’m no lady. I’m a rancher’s daughter. Did you see all those clothes, Pa?” She shook her head vigorously. “No, not for me, Pa. Never.”

  Gilbert laughed at his daughter’s determined attitude, but Melinda merely blushed at the subject. She was not used to discussing women’s clothing and undergarments in front of a man.

  Gilbert was amused by his daughter’s openness but when he saw Melinda blush, he realized they had embarrassed her. He quickly pulled out a chair for Jenny and then one for Melinda so they could sit at the dinner table. Melinda sat on one side of the table with Jenny on her left and Gilbert on her right. After everyone settled down, Gilbert said a prayer over the food.

  As they sat, Melinda listened to the discussions that Gilbert and Jenny were having. He was teaching his daughter the tricks of cooking a roast so it was tender and would fall apart with the touch of a fork.

  “You see, Jenny, you cook it for about three or four hours at a low temperature and make sure to constantly pour water over it every hour. And make sure you have a lid on it, too. That way, it will fall apart easily and remain moist.”

  “Yes, Pa.”

  “Do you remember when I said that I’m not going out in this weather again until I have to?”

  “Yes, Pa, I do.”

  “Well, after we eat you can come out to the barn with me to feed and water the horses. We can’t neglect them because of cold weather, you know.”

  Jenny nodded and then stuffed a piece of roast in her mouth.

  After Melinda sipped her broth, she asked, “May I have some of that roast beef? I’d like to see how tender it is.”

  Gilbert smiled and handed her the plate. After dishing a small portion for herself, Melinda stuck her fork into the beef and it fell apart. She put a forkful in her mouth and as she chewed, it seemed to melt in her mouth. It was so tender that it did not take long to chew. It was lightly seasoned with salt and a little pepper and the beef was not dry at all. It was indescribably delicious.

  Gilbert anxiously watched her eat her first bite. “Well?”

  Melinda looked up and her eyes brightened. “Mmmm, delicious. The best I’ve ever tasted in my whole life. And I’m not exaggerating, either. I suspect there’s a lot a teacher can learn from a rancher.”

  Gilbert chuckled. Melinda sure had a way with words. He noticed a few strands of hair that had loosened and fallen appealingly about Melinda’s face. Gilbert reached over and gently moved a curl that had fallen next to her eyes. The touch of his finger created a rosy glow on her face, which made Gilbert grin. He had never seen anyone who blushed as easily as she did.

  After supper, Melinda and Jenny did the dishes while Gilbert sat and read. Melinda turned to her and asked, “What do you plan on doing after we’re done with the dishes, Jenny?”

  “After I take care of my horse, then we sit and read. Sometimes Pa has me read to him. He says that books help us learn and that’s important. Not only that, but we’re in a world of our own, an imaginary world. He says if I want to be smart like you, Miss Gamble, I need to read.”

  Melinda smiled and looked over at Gilbert reading comfortably in an overstuffed chair. After she washed the last dish and dried her hands, she walked over to him and saw that he was reading a book by Jules Verne, In Search of the Castaways.

  “I’ve heard of this French author before,” she said.

  Gilbert looked up from his reading and smiled. “You have? Have you read his books before?”

  “No, I haven’t. But I’ve heard that he writes sort of nonsensical stuff.”

  Gilbert looked amused. “Oh? Is that what you heard or is that your own opinion of his books? That they’re sort of nonsensical!” He noticed that she had definite opinions and was not afraid to admit them.

  “Well, it’s my own opinion, but I haven’t read his works. I guess I should at least read one of his books before I make a judgment, huh?” Melinda sat down on the sofa and leaned back.

  Gilbert grinned. “Yes, I think so. What I like most about Verne is his descriptions of the sights and sounds the travelers see and hear. It helps me feel like I’m actually there.”

  When he saw how interested Melinda looked, he continued, “Let me share a paragraph with you. Verne is describing what it looks like at the tops of the Andes Mountains.” Gilbert flipped through a few pages and then read, “‘Huge blocks of glittering ice, of a bluish tint on some of the declivities, stood up on all sides, reflecting the early light of morn.’” He looked up from his book and said, “See what I mean?”

  “That’s beautiful, Gilbert.”

  Melinda saw a side of Gilbert that she had never seen before and she was impressed. This man, whom she had always referred to as a “rugged rancher,” had another side to him. He loved to read and he could understand and enjoy the beautiful descriptions in a book.

  While Gilbert and Jenny were feeding their horses in the barn, Melinda searched through the books on the bookshelf. There were books on ranching and the care of children. He had more books by Jules Verne and plenty of children’s books. When he told Jenny that books were important, he definitely meant it. Melinda thumbed through the children’s books and found Black Beauty. She pulled it out and searched through the pages. It looked new and the pages were stiff. She could tell the book had not been read yet.

  Melinda sat down on the sofa and arranged her robe around her legs so she was comfortable and modest. Then she put the blanket on her lap. She listened to the fire crackle and the warmth of it filled the house while the blizzard was howling outside.

  It was not long until Gilbert and Jenny opened the door. They were stomping their feet on the porch and laughing.

  Jenny giggled, “Pa, next time we race to the house, I’m sure to win. Just you wait.”

  Melinda sat on the sofa and enjoyed the warm laughter in the house. When Jenny looked her way, she said, “I found one of my favorite books. How would you like me to read it to you until it’s bedtime?”

  Jenny walked over to Melinda with curiosity. Looking at the book, she noticed a picture of a horse on the cover. Her face brightened with interest as she said, “All right. How about now?”

  “First, let me tell you a little about it. This book is about the life of a horse. In fact, it’s from the viewpoint of a horse. Black Beauty is the narrator.”

  Upon hearing this, Jenny became excited. Melinda knew how much she loved horses. They were her life. Jenny had told her about her duties such as brushing her horse down, and feeding and watering her. Gilbert had taken special care to teach his daughter the responsibilities of caring for her own horse.

  Jenny cuddled next to Melinda and leaned her head against her shoulder. Melinda opened the book and began to read, “‘The first place that I can remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it. Some shady trees leaned over it, and rushes and water lilies grew at the deep end…’”

  Gilbert listened to the sweet tones of Melinda’s voice as he washed up. After wiping his hands dry, he quietly walked over to his overstuffed chair and relaxed as he listened to Black Beauty. He had recently purchased it for his daughter, but they had not had the chance to read it yet. Gilbert watched his daughter’s interest in the book and how sweetly she cuddled up to Melinda.

  He noticed the inflections of Melinda’s voice as she read and how she would make the story interesting with each emotion she conveyed. Gilbert’s heart warmed towards Melinda as he realized how much he enjoyed being around her and how nice it was to have a woman in the house.

  Time passed and when he looked at the clock and noticed it was 10:00, he ignored it. Both he and Jenny had gotten hooked on Black Beauty and he knew there would be no school tomorrow because of the weather. He felt there would be no harm in staying up late.

  Gilbert watched Melinda’s eyes as she read and he noticed what a pleasant voice she had. He had never seen her in this setting before. For the firs
t time, he saw the gentler side of her and he enjoyed it very much.

  Melinda continued reading, “‘Day by day, hole by hole our bearing reins were shortened, and instead of looking forward with pleasure to having my harness put on as I used to do, I began to dread it.’”

  As everyone listened, Melinda finished the last few sentences and then put a marker in the book. When she closed it, she looked at Jenny. “It’s time for bed. We’ll finish tomorrow. What do you say?”

  Jenny hopped up and gave Melinda a hug. Then she went to her father, kissed him on the cheek, and hugged him. “‘Night, Pa.” Looking over at Melinda, she said, “Now don’t forget. After breakfast we read again.”

  Gilbert cut in, “Whoa, girl. You two can’t finish this book without me. I’m hooked. I have chores to do in the morning. You have to wait for me. Promise to wait?”

  Melinda smiled. Gilbert wanted to be included in story-time! She was delighted. “I promise,” Melinda said with laughter in her voice.

  After the house had settled down and Melinda lay in bed, she heard Gilbert’s soft deep voice through the walls, “All right, young lady. Don’t forget your prayers. When you’re done, I’ll tuck you in.”

  “Hey, Pa. I’m too old to be tucked in. I’m eight years old.”

  “All right, if you say so. But you’re never too old to be tickled by your father.”

  Jenny giggled, “Stop, Pa, I surrender.” As her laughter died down, she said, “You can tuck me in after all.”

  Melinda smiled. She loved this playful side of Gilbert. She remembered how uneasy she had felt when they had stood together beneath the mistletoe at Christmastime, but now she did not feel uneasy. She felt different around Gilbert now; quite the opposite, in fact. It was a comfortable feeling, and she liked that feeling very much. Then she realized something. This was the longest time they had been in the same room without an argument.

  Chapter 19

  THOMAS MOORE

  The following morning, Gilbert was up bright and early, feeding and watering the cattle. After stomping his feet on the porch, he came inside, took off his boots, and hung his coat on the hook. Then he woke his daughter up to help him make breakfast.

  Melinda heard the rattling of pans and quickly arose. She saw fresh water in the white china pitcher on the washstand with a washrag and a towel next to it. Gilbert had quietly walked in while she was asleep and put fresh water in the pitcher for her so she could wash up. He had even placed a clean hairbrush on the small table for her. After washing up, she felt refreshed once again and it felt so good.

  When Melinda looked at the brush beside the bowl, she smiled at Gilbert’s efforts to make her comfortable. She brushed her dark tresses and then placed her hair loosely upon her head and secured it with her combs. As she fixed her hair, she thought of yesterday and how she owed her life to Gilbert and Jenny. In fact, she owed her life to Gilbert twice now. Melinda had heard how dangerous hypothermia was. She could have been much worse if Gilbert had not found her in time. She had heard of people who had actually died from it.

  After fixing her hair, Melinda slipped her dress over her pantalets and camisole. Today, she would not wear her cumbersome petticoats. As she buttoned her dress, she giggled as she remembered what Jenny had said about all the buttons and petticoats. She was such a darling child and was not afraid to express her feelings.

  When Melinda walked into the living room, she felt the warmth of the fireplace and heard the fire crackling gently. It felt so warm and cozy in this part of the house.

  When she saw Gilbert cooking at the stove, she asked, “May I help you?”

  Gilbert turned from the sizzling bacon and their eyes met. He smiled. “Sure. Set the table. The plates are to the right of the sink. Thanks.” He watched her as she took the plates from the cupboard and the attraction he felt toward her was stronger than ever before. He cleared his throat and asked, “Did you sleep well?”

  Melinda glanced over at him. “Yes, I did. I slept very well and very warm. Thank you. And I would like to thank you for the brush and fresh water.”

  “It was nothing. I tried not to wake you up, but I knew you would need it this morning. After breakfast, Jenny and I have to feed and water the horses. Then we can finish that story.”

  Melinda smiled. “It’s a deal. While you two are out, I’ll wash the dishes and clean up. How’s the weather outside? Is it better?”

  “Yes, a little. It’s not coming down so hard today, but the wind is a devil to be out in. I’m hoping it will die down by tonight. I know you’re anxious to get home. But we’ll make you comfortable until it’s safe to go home.”

  After breakfast, Melinda started the dishes. She enjoyed singing as she did her chores. As she sang, she looked around the room and noticed there were no pictures on the walls. This was a “man’s home” with no feminine frills whatsoever. There was an oak gun cabinet, and mounted deer antlers hanging on the wall as a decoration. Everything about it was masculine.

  While Jenny was brushing her horse in the comfort of the barn, she heard the wind howling. “Pa, I sure hate the wind.”

  “So do I, Jenny.”

  “When do you suppose it will stop?”

  Gilbert shrugged his shoulders as he brushed his own horse. “Don’t know. Maybe tonight or tomorrow morning.”

  “Pa?”

  “Yes, darlin’?”

  “In a way, I don’t want the wind to stop and in another way, I wish it would.”

  “Why is that, Jenny?”

  “Well, Pa, if it stops, I won’t have to hear all that howlin’. But then Miss Gamble will be leaving and I don’t want her to go. I like her, Pa. I like her a lot. So, if it doesn’t stop, she’ll have to stay.”

  Gilbert chuckled. “It does feel good to have her around, doesn’t it? We haven’t had a lady in the house before, have we?”

  “Nope. We haven’t.”

  After they finished, Jenny stepped out of the barn and looked at her father mischievously. “Run, Pa!”

  And off she fled with Gilbert trailing after her.

  When Jenny hit the porch first, she laughed. “Beat you this time.”

  Gilbert laughed and said, “No fair. You gave me no warning. I wasn’t ready.”

  “Hey, Pa, haven’t you always taught me to be ready at all times?”

  “Oh. And that includes races?”

  “Yup!”

  Gilbert chuckled and patted her back. Her sense of humor reminded him of his own. As they stomped the snow off their feet, they walked into the house and stood in reverent awe at what they heard and saw.

  Melinda had her sleeves rolled up, an apron tied around her waist, and she was cleaning the cabinets with a dishcloth while singing. Melinda’s voice was rich, sultry, and mellow. Her tone was pure and expressive. Gilbert stood quietly with his hat in hand, watching Melinda with admiration. Neither he nor Jenny moved a muscle as they listened.

  Believe me if all those endearing young charms,

  Which I gaze on so fondly today,

  Were to change by tomorrow and fleet in my arms

  Like fairy-gifts fading away.

  The simple words were beautiful with a very special message. When Melinda looked up and saw them watching her, she smiled and continued singing.

  Thou wouldst still be adored as this moment thou art.

  Let thy loveliness fade as it will,

  And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart

  Would entwine itself verdantly still.

  Gilbert and Jenny hung up their hats and coats and slipped their boots off in silence.

  Melinda looked over at them and said, “That’s one of my favorite songs. I’m part Irish. Thomas Moore was a great Irish poet. He wrote the most romantic poetry I’ve ever read.”

  Gilbert washed up at the sink and then sat in his overstuffed chair and watched her clean the table.

  Melinda looked at Gilbert. “There’s a story told about the song I just sang. It’s a very touching one.”
/>   “What story is that, Melinda?”

  She put the rag down and picked up a dishtowel and began wiping the dishes that had been washed. “Thomas Moore was away on business for quite some time. While he was gone, his wife was struck with smallpox. The illness had disfigured her face and she was so ashamed and embarrassed that she locked herself in her bedroom. When he came home and found her locked in her room, he asked her to let him in.”

  Melinda stopped what she was doing and looked at Gilbert. “But she would not unlock it. She was ashamed of what she looked like. Moore told her that it didn’t matter to him, but it did to her. She wanted to look pretty for the man she loved. When Moore realized that she wouldn’t give in, he went to his desk and wrote a poem for his wife. The poem he wrote was what I just sang. When he slipped the poem under her door, she picked it up and read it. After reading about his undying love, her heart softened and she opened the door and let him in.”

  Melinda continued drying the dishes and putting them away. The room was silent and no one said a word. Gilbert watched Melinda work and he noticed how graceful she moved as she put each dish and plate in its place. The story had touched him and so did Melinda’s presence.

  Gilbert’s love grew for this woman as she opened yet another mystery about herself. This woman had tenderness, something he had not seen before. After all, almost every encounter with her up to this point had been quite fiery. Yet she was exciting during those times, too. What determination! When she had an opinion, no one could thwart her. Yes, she was quite self-willed but he would never tell her so again, because Gilbert did not want to risk Melinda’s wrath. He quickly found out how she hated that word, even if it were true. He smiled at the memory of that day. Yes, she was a fiery individual.

  Gilbert’s memory went back to two weeks ago when he had picked her up at the terminal. That was the first time he had held her in his arms. It had felt so good to hold her. That encounter had stirred feelings within himself that he thought were dormant. She had responded to his touch and seemed to melt into his arms like a mold.