by B. J. McMinn
“Yeah, I will. But I’ll miss her first birthday, her first word, and her first step? That’s the hardest to accept. I won’t have the memories of all the ‘firsts’ of her growing up.” Jason sighed with regret.
His sister reached over, covered his hand holding the lines, and gave him a reassuring squeeze. Margaret, his senior by five years, had married late. She always teased him that she’d had to raise him first. Which she had.
When he came west to start his ranch, Margaret came with him. There was nothing to hold her to the small town where they’d grown up. After their parents died leaving them a considerable inheritance, they sold everything and moved west. Jason decided to use his share to make the dream of owning a ranch come true, and Margaret refused to be left behind. Where he went, she went, she’d told him in her I’ll-not-take-no-for-an-answer voice.
Margaret had tucked her inheritance away and lived with Jason to help him start his ranch. She kept the house clean and cooked meals while he put in the time and effort to make his ranch a success. Five thousand acres of good grazing land and a good size herd of cattle. It took long hard hours in the saddle and many nights camped out under the stars, but he had done it.
He managed to hire a few ranch hands, starting with Cookie, a broken down cowboy who knew his way around a skillet. On round-ups, he kept everyone in line by doing the cooking. After a hard day in the saddle, he, Pete and Willie were glad to let Cookie make the camp rules. One: you ate everything you took. No problem there, they were starved by the time they made it to camp. Two: each had to put their plate in the dishwater by the campfire. Not a problem, it was on their way to their long awaited bedrolls. Three: they’d better not complain about what he cooked. They wouldn’t dare, at least they didn’t have to cook. The arrangement worked out fine for everyone.
One day a dust-covered cowboy rode in looking for work. Margaret saw a man of medium height, dark brown hair, a stubborn jaw, and lost her heart. When she found out he was thirty, single and not interested, she began to formulate a plan of surrender. John’s, surrender.
John Stanton had plans of his own. He wanted to invest in a general store. He needed a job to add to his already sizable nest egg and was a good hand on a ranch. After working on a ranch further west he had come east, closer to the trade routes, to open his store.
Margaret thought with her inheritance, they would both get what they wanted. John would get his store and Margaret would get John, whom she adored with all her heart. She had not considered his stubbornness in her scheme for their future and he had not counted on Margaret’s perseverance. Jason gave a silent chuckle. They make a fine pair.
It took John longer to discover his feelings for Margaret, even longer to accept Margaret’s inheritance. But John never stood a chance once Margaret had made up her mind to marry him. Poor soul. The man never knew what hit him.
Jason hated to take Margaret away from John right now. Just before winter was their busiest season. They stocked up on supplies while local ranchers, who had taken their livestock to market, settled accounts.
“Do you think John will be able to handle the store by himself while I steal you away for a week?” He knew Margaret handled most of the business side of the store, while John was the muscle behind their small enterprise.
“I’m sure he can. If not, he has Thomas to help. Thomas comes by to work for a meal whenever we need him. I imagine he’ll be coming to work more often now, though.”
Jason cast her a look of inquiry. Surely, Emma didn’t take that much time out of Margaret’s day that she couldn’t help in the store. If so, he’d have to make other arrangements than have Emma live with them for the winter.
Jason looked closely at his sister. Her skin looked paler than usual, yet her eyes had a sparkle to them that belied any illness. Could she be sick and hadn’t told him? She glanced over her shoulder at Tyler and Janey who still played their game. She turned toward him. A wide grin lifted the corners of her mouth.
“I wanted to wait to tell you the news. I didn’t want you to feel I would not want Emma to stay with us, but I’m expecting again.”
“Oh, Sis, why didn’t you tell me before we made arrangement for you to take on the responsibility of Emma? I could have tried to find a different solution.”
“I didn’t want you to worry. It will be all right. Emma is such a good baby. She’s hardly any trouble at all.”
The wagon hit a rut and weaved from side to side. She clutched his arm to steady herself. Ruts, deep from recent rains, had dried hard when the dry ground had sucked up the water.
“Anyway, Emma keeps Tyler hopping trying to keep her and Janey out of his very grown up way. That boy.” She smiled and shook her head. “You’d think he was going on sixty not six, the way he acts.”
Jason slid a little grin Margaret’s way. She had constantly watched over him in her own very grown up fashion. His smile vanished, and his shoulders slumped forward.
“You not only had to practically raise me, now you’re raising my child along with two of your own and another on the way,” Jason rasped in a defeated voice. He sat in silence mulling over the problems life had handed him.
He flicked his wrist to encourage the horses to a faster pace. It was late afternoon, and they still had some distance to go before they arrived at the ranch. Margaret patted his arm.
“Better.”
He gave her a sheepish grin, nodded, and then smiled as he glanced at the baby she held.
Margaret shifted the baby to her other shoulder then twisted to glance in the wagon bed where Tyler and Janey lay curled up on the blankets, fast asleep.
“Do you want me to take Emma for awhile? She may not be as big as a minute, but it doesn’t take long to feel the strain of her weight.”
“No, she’s fine. I’m enjoying the peace and quiet. With three small noisy children around all the time, it’s not often they all fall asleep at the same time.
“Do you think Cookie might have some of his rabbit stew left when we get to the ranch? It will be late when we arrive, and I know the children will be too hungry to wait for me to cook something.”
Jason laughed, “I told him I was bringing you and the children home with me, so I’m sure he fixed plenty. You know how he likes to rub it in that you were the one who gave him the recipe but everyone likes his better.”
“Yes, and blast his ornery hide he won’t tell me what he does to make it taste different than mine,” Margaret huffed. “You would think he’d appreciate all the recipes I’ve given him to at least give me one in return. Even then, it wouldn’t be entirely his recipe.”
“Don’t give him too hard of a time or he might change the other recipes to suit himself. Right now he’s satisfied to have you guessing about just one,” Jason chuckled.
Elbows on his thighs, the lines held loosely between his legs, he mentally ticked off a list of chores waiting his arrival home. Margaret gave his arm a violent shake. Apparently, she had been trying to get his attention for some time. Jason cocked his head sideways to stare at her. Margaret wasn’t one to get excited. She possessed a calmness, which soothed even the most agitated person. Eyes focused straight ahead, she pointed at something lying beside the wagon trail.
“What is that? Did you notice it when you came by yesterday?”
Margaret’s fingers pinched into his forearm. This was an untamed land where anything could happen. She was naturally nervous with the children present.
“I don’t know what it is. And no, it wasn’t there when I went to town.”
Jason uncurled her fingers from his arm and brought his gun forward on his hip. He studied the object closely. It might be a trap. There had been rumors of thieves operating along the northern trails, although, he hadn’t heard of them being this far south. He slowed the team.
Covered in what looked like buckskin, the thing lay motionless. Even the noisy jingle of harness, and the approaching wagon, left the object undisturbed.
Jason tugged the team to a s
top. No human form was perceptible. If it was an injured animal, it could be dangerous and attack at the slightest provocation.
“I want you to stay in the wagon with the children. Do you think you can manage the lines with Emma in your arms? I don’t want to get any closer.” A knot coiled tight in his stomach at the thought of leaving Margaret alone with the children, unprotected. “I’m going to leave the rifle on the seat within reach, just in case you need it.” He placed the lines in Margaret’s free hand.
“All right, but be careful. Don’t take any chances.”
The woods were eerily silent. No birds chirped. No ground creatures scurried into the underbrush. The forest appeared to wait with abated breath for the scene to unfold.
Jason eased his weight to the ground. The creak of the wagon seat was the only audible sound. He scanned the terrain, first one direction then another. He gently stroked the horse’s neck nearest him to calm the skittish animal. The scent of whatever was on the trail agitated the team. Hooves stomped, nostrils flared as they snorted.
Puffs of dust curled around his well-worn boots as he cautiously made his way the short distance. Not finding any disturbance on the ground, he figured whatever it was had come from the woods. Behind him, the horses shifted restlessly.
The closer he came, the more the lump resembled a small person, yet he couldn’t see any arms, legs or even so much as a piece of flesh. Finally, he stood beside the thing. His eyes searched the forest again, making sure no one hid behind a tree or a rock waiting to strike. One last look over his shoulder assured him Margaret and the children were safe.
Squatted, he cast one more wary glance into the woods then reached out to touch the dark mass. It was buckskin, dark and stiff from wear and being wet. Fringed leggings were drawn high up against its chest. The long, dark tresses covering the head was dirty, matted, and infested with sticks and leaves.
This dirty piece of humanity was a woman. His gaze traced the curve of her hip. Why would an Indian woman be alongside the trail between his ranch and the only town around for miles? Most Indians left this area long ago. The only Indians he knew of came every fall to cut out five head of his cattle and then he wouldn’t see them again until the next fall.
He shuddered to think what had happened to her if Indians had captured her. Damn, might as well get this over with and see if she’s dead. He would have to bury her before they could move on.
Curled into a fetal position, her arms and legs tucked into her stomach, she resembled a small child. But he could tell she was a woman, full grown, by her shapely backside. Jason grasped her shoulder and rolled her over. When her back touched the ground, she gave a deep moan of pain. For one brief moment, her eyes flickered open and stared directly into his with a bewildered expression, then closed when unconsciousness reclaimed her.
“Jason?” Margaret questioned.
He flinched. Absorbed in the rich color of the girl’s green eyes, he hadn’t heard the wagon move closer or realized Margaret stood beside him.
“I told you to stay in the wagon,” he growled more sharply than he would have otherwise. But the sight of those eyes had conjured up some very sensual images. Something he had never experienced before. For that brief moment, they seem to draw him into their depths. Sexual desire prowled through his body then came to rest in the center of his groin.
“It looks like an Indian. Is it?” When he didn’t answer, Margaret poked a finger in his back. “Jason, is it an Indian? It’s wearing buckskins.”
“No. No, it’s not an Indian.” Astonished to find himself still holding the girl’s shoulder, he forced himself to release her.
“How can you tell? It’s filthy, and stinks to high heaven.”
Margaret placed a lacy handkerchief to her nose and leaned over his shoulder.
“Yes, I’m sure,” he explained as he stared down at the pitiful creature. “It’s a woman.”
No Indian alive had such beautiful jade-green eyes. Her eyes lured him to delve deeper into their depths, to lose himself in their heat.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
“What are we going to do?”
When he failed to response, Margaret tapped him on the head with her fingers as she did when they were younger.
“Jason. What are we going to do?” Her sharp tone got his attention–as if the rap on his head wasn’t enough.
Jason lurched to his feet. Margaret took a step back to avoid being knocked down. Hell, what was wrong with him? He felt as skittish as a cat with a large dog on the loose and no tree to climb.
“Well, we can’t leave her here. We’ll have to take her to the ranch,” he said, as his eyes searched the forest for anyone ready to claim the woman.
“I suppose you’re right. It’s getting late. I can take her to town with me when John picks me up next week. He’ll know if someone is asking about a missing girl.”
With the danger passed, Margaret took matters into her own hands. Taking command of a situation, with her no-nonsense-manner, was her way of dealing with any emergency that might upset her well-organized life.
“We’ll see,” he replied. His sister might think she had everything arranged, but he imagined an entirely different scenario.
“I’ll make a place to lay her.”
“Yeah.” He still stared at the girl, and if it weren’t for the swish Margaret’s skirts made, he’d never have known when she left.
“Tyler, scoot forward as far as you can, and take Emma with you. Janey, crawl up beside your brother.”
He glanced at Margaret as she went to the back of the wagon, spread out a blanket, and fluffed a pillow to make a pallet. The children, awakened from their nap were getting restless. Margaret had placed Emma in Tyler’s lap.
“Jason, are you going to bring the girl or not? Someone has to pick her up and it won’t be me. As dirty as she is I imagine I’ll have to burn everything that touches her. I’ll never be able to wash out the smell.”
His sister was anything but tactful. He was glad the girl was unconscious and couldn’t hear her. He scooped up the mud encrusted, twig infested, foul smelling bundle, which he realized weigh no more than a child. Even as dirty as she was, all he could think about were those beautiful green eyes and the swell of desire that swirled inside him.
Tyler’s eyes widened in alarm. “Mama, what’s that smell?”
He looked from Margaret to the lump of humanity Jason carried, then back to his mama with a wrinkled nose.
“Hush now,” Margaret chastised and motioned with her hand for Tyler to move closer to the front of the wagon. “I'm glad the girls are too young to ask questions. Leave it to Tyler to be outspoken. He’s curious about everything.”
“He’s so much like you, it’s a wonder John can tolerate the pair of you,” Jason laughed and laid the girl on the makeshift pallet.
Margaret dampened a dainty handkerchief and placed it on the girl’s lips, which were painfully dry. Her actions contradicted her insensitive words. Sometimes she used a harsh and blunt manner to hide her soft heart.
She frowned at him then tried to sooth Tyler. “It will only be until we get to the ranch. You can test your new skill of how long you can hold your breath until we get there,” she teased.
“John’s been teaching him to swim underwater. It’s become a contest between them to see who can stay underwater the longest. Of course, John lets Tyler win,” she whispered to Jason. “John spoils him rotten.”
“John spoils all of you rotten.”
“Yes he does.” Her eyes took on that soft, dreamy expression every time she spoke of her husband. “I couldn’t have found a better man.”
“Found? You chased the poor man to ground with all your schemes. It was either marry you, or have me gunning for him.”
Margaret just grinned at him, and tucked the blankets around the girl to soften the ride. Jason helped her onto the wagon seat. Placing his rifle on the floorboard, he adjusted the strips of leather in his hands, and
with a snap of the lines across the horses’ rumps, and a click of his tongue, they were moving again.
He continued to rake the area with his sharp gaze. There was still the possibility someone was following the girl. He didn’t want his sister and the children caught in the middle of any unsuspected danger.
“What do you think she was doing way out here all alone? Goodness, the way she smells I doubt there was reason to fear someone might attack her. Although, an animal might not be so discriminating,” Margaret declared. “I have never smelled anyone quite that rank before.”
“Margaret, if you weren’t my sister I would say you had no tact at all. Since it will be left to you to clean her up I hope you will be less blunt when she’s awake.” He scolded her then shook his head. “We’ll have to wait until she wakes up to find out what she was doing here, and who she is.”
“When I said she smelled bad, Mama, you told me to ‘Hush’. That means you have to hush, too, uh Uncle Jason,” Tyler reasoned.
Tyler considered a rule a rule and figured that if he had to follow them, everyone else should, too. He lifted his chin, daring Jason to disagree with his assessment of proper behavior.
Jason smiled at him, “Right you are young man. Did you hear that Margaret?” Jason laughed. “Trapped by your own words.”
“Just for that bit of mischief, you two can carry all the buckets of water I’ll need to wash our newest guest with until she is spotless and odorless,” Margaret teased. She reached back and ruffled Tyler’s hair.
“Ah, shucks.”
Margaret laughed and held her arms out to Emma, who had started to squirm on Tyler’s lap. The baby was more than happy to climb into them. His gaze traveled over Emma’s downy head and plump little cheeks. After this week, he would relinquish his child’s care to his sister.
A hard lump formed in his throat. He would do anything to keep her with him. The answer to his problem could be lying in the back of the wagon.