by Indiana Wake
“Where are they going?” Gene paused and looked right at her. “And who is Hank?”
“I thought I explained in the letter I sent. Hank was my husband for less than a year before he got thrown from his horse and killed.” Abby shifted in her seat. She hated talking about him. “And as for where the cows are going, like Robert says, they are probably looking for greener pastures.”
“So how long have you been running the place on your own?” Gene set down his fork, not bothering to finish the generous slice of pie in front of him. He narrowed those blue eyes at Abby.
“Hank’s been dead more than five years now. And I haven’t been totally on my own, I have hired men.”
“Doesn’t sound like they’re worth much. Why don’t you fire them?”
“It isn’t that easy.” Abby tossed down her fork although she had been enjoying the pie as a rare treat. “You try running a place with no one to help. Those hands may be rotten, but they’re better than nothing. And I can’t stay there alone. I won’t stay there alone. I won’t.” She couldn’t quite stop the shiver that sent ice along her spine.
“You won’t have to.” Gene sat back with his arms folded across his chest and frowned at her. “Tomorrow we get married and I’ll go with you. Those men will work or get tossed out on their backsides.”
Chapter 4
The ceremony was more than Abby had expected. Where she had planned a visit to the Justice of the Peace, Kristine must have spent a good part of the night planning something a bit bigger. Somehow, she got word to some of their mutual friends during the night and every single one showed up at eleven-o-clock to watch as Abby came down the stairs to her waiting groom.
The downstairs had flowers in every room and the Reverend waited in the parlor, Bible in hand, as the couple came in arm in arm. It was a real wedding. Something Abby didn’t even realize she wanted until her friend prepared it. Her first marriage at sixteen with only her own family in attendance had been a poor imitation of the real thing.
Abby was still smiling as she and Gene rode into her … their … ranch.
Her happiness didn’t last long.
Neil and Patterson, her hired men, lounged on the steps of the bunkhouse playing cards. Empty whiskey bottles and half-burned cigarette butts littered the ground. Horses milled around the corral whinnying hungrily.
Abby swung down from her horse and stalked toward the men, her quirt slapping against her divided riding skirt. “What do you think you are doing? You lay-abouts are supposed to be riding the north range today.”
“Cain’t go.” Patterson spat a stream of tobacco juice that narrowly missed her boots. “M’saddle girth split. Cain’t ride ‘til it’s fixed.”
Abby gritted her teeth. “Then why are you sitting here playing cards instead of fixing it? And why is Neil here? Is his girth broken, too?”
“Nah. Saddle’s fine. Horse threw a shoe.” Neil sent her a gap-toothed grin and exhaled a cloud of smoke.
“Then why aren’t you putting it back on, or choosing a different horse. I have plenty.” Abby gripped her quirt until her knuckles ached. She wished she could slash it across their smirking faces. But if they left, there was no one else who would ride for her. She knew because she had tried before.
“Well, maybe it ain’t a horse I want to ride.” Neil stood and flicked the cigarette away. “Maybe if you started playin’ nice, I’d have more reason to work my tail off for you.”
Abby’s face paled. He had never been so bold before, obnoxious, but not vulgar. The sour fumes of cheap whiskey drifted through the air. That would explain it; liquor did strange things to a man … as she well knew from past experience.
“That’s it. I’ve ‘bout had enough.” Gene’s deep voice stopped Neil in his tracks. Both hired men turned to stare at the big man swinging down from his horse. “I don’t know who you boys think you are, but you will not speak to my wife in that way.”
“Your wife?” Neil laughed, bending over to slap his knees and nearly falling in the process. “Ample Abby here ain’t no man’s wife. Women like her are made for man’s entertainment, lots of men. She’s been holdin’ me off for long enough and I’m ready to take my payment.”
Neil staggered toward Abby, still chuckling, until Gene’s fist connected with his jaw. The hired man found himself sitting in the dirt staring up at her husband’s hulking form. Gene stood with his legs apart and his fists ready for battle.
“What’d you do that for?” Neil rubbed his jaw. “I’m willin’ t’ share.”
“I ain’t willing.” Gene stooped and grabbed Neil by the arm, hauling him to his feet. “Let me say this plain and slow so you c’n understand. Abby is my wife. You will not touch her. You will not speak to her. You will not even think of her in any but the most respectful manner. If you do, you are not only fired, but I will make you pay for every foul deed you ever done.”
Neil stared into Gene’s bearded face with dawning comprehension. Patterson had already ducked around the corner of the building and could be heard pitching hay to the relieved horses.
“Do you understand?” Gene narrowed his eyes and thrust his head toward the hired man making him flinch.
“Yes, sir. I understand.” Neil swallowed loudly and nodded. “I’ll go saddle my horse now.”
“You do that.” Gene crossed his thick arms over his chest and watched the smaller man hurry toward the barn. “You just do that.”
He turned toward Abby. “How long have you had to deal with those louts?”
“Since Hank died.” Abby looked from the barn to her new husband. “They were with Hank before he married me. They have never been this bad before. I suspect it was the liquor. Usually, they only drink it when they are out on the range. I don’t like drunks and won’t have them near me.”
“Good thing my mama was a teetotaler. She brought me up to her way of thinking.” Gene glanced over his shoulder at the men as they swung to the backs of their ponies and rode off. “I’m thinking that this ain’t over yet.”
Chapter 5
Gene spent the day in the barn doing some of the chores that had been let go or ignored for too long. The sound of pounding brought Abby to the window to see what he was doing. He was kneeling on the roof of the barn nailing fresh shingles where strong winds had torn some away. His plaid shirt lay discarded on the ground below.
Abby stared as the sun glistened on his sweat-slicked back. Muscles rippled as he pounded in nail after nail. She had wanted a strong man, and a hard worker. It looked like she had gotten both, and all wrapped up in a very handsome package. She smiled and watched him pull another nail from between his lips. He held it against a shingle and drove it halfway in with a single blow.
Supper preparations lay forgotten on the table behind her as she leaned against the windowsill and watched him work.
The cowhands didn’t return from the range that evening. Abby wasn’t sure if it was because they were actually working out there, startled into usefulness by Gene’s ready fist, or because they wanted to make her wonder if they had left for good. Knowing them as she did, it was most likely the latter.
She hated to admit it, but it had worked before. Pat and Neil would ride off for a few days, leaving her alone for days on end, and then offer to come back if she were willing to concede to their demands. She always did. It never seemed like much at the time, a day off here, extra food portions there, and who knows what other concessions she had made over the years.
Water splashed into the washbasin out back. She could hear Gene spluttering as he washed. Peeking through the window, she saw him, still stripped to the waist and scrubbing big, soapy hands over his face, arms, and chest then rinsing with the clean water in the basin. Abby stepped to the doorway with a towel, placing it in his seeking hands.
Gene rubbed the towel over his face before opening his eyes. His gaze held hers as he continued to wipe himself dry. Droplets of water still clung to his damp curls and glistened like gold in the lamplight streaming from
the kitchen window.
This time those lazy cowhands had miscalculated. This time, she wasn’t alone. This time, she had a husband, a big, strong, loyal, handsome husband. Catching her breath at her boldness, Abby stepped forward and placed a kiss on Gene’s hairy cheek.
“Thank you.” Abby stepped back. His gaze had sharpened as his blue eyes pinned her in place.
“For what?” Gene asked, his voice low.
“For everything. For knocking down that horrid man, for working so hard on your first day here.” Abby shrugged and dropped her gaze to the towel still clutched in his hands. “For being here so I am not alone.”
“You have said that before.” Gene reached forward and tipped her chin up with a gentle finger. “You don’t like being alone?”
Abby held an internal debate. If he was going to stay, he would likely figure it out, so she may as well tell him. But the words still came hard. “It’s more than not liking to be alone … more … I don’t know, deeper. Especially at night, when I’m alone, I can’t sleep and if I do, the dreams …”
She rubbed the chill from her arms, but it did nothing to relieve the ice in her veins. Gene put an arm around her shoulder and led her inside. The heat of his skin burned through her blouse and eased the fear.
“I have never told anyone. Although I’m pretty sure some have figured it out.” Shaking off the last dregs of the fear, Abby began to set food on the table while Gene dug through his bag for a clean shirt.
“You’ve never told anyone?” Gene glanced at her. “What are you afraid of?”
Abby shrugged. “That’s just it, I don’t know. It’s just there, kind of like the stars. They are always there, even when you can’t see them, just waiting for the darkness to show themselves. For as long as I can remember.”
Gene grunted and Abby couldn’t tell if he believed her or not. Or maybe he thought of her as a timid child though she was anything but. He didn’t speak again throughout the rest of the meal, simply focused intently on his food as though it would disappear if he didn’t eat it fast enough.
After the meal, Gene went back out to settle the stock for the night while Abby tidied up the kitchen. When she finished, she climbed the stairs and went into her bedroom, her heart beating a wild rhythm in her chest. She quickly undressed and donned her best cotton nightgown and huddled under the covers. Waiting.
And waiting.
She heard him come in and stumble around in the darkness below. At one point, there was a loud thump followed by muttered cursing. She probably should have left a candle lit for him. She wiped her damp palms on the sheets.
And waited.
All was quiet below. Had he gone out again?
Moving quietly, Abby rose from the bed and pulled on her dressing gown before tiptoeing into the hall. Muffled snores guided her to the sofa. Gene lay face down on the cushions. His shirt hung neatly on the chair beside the sofa and his boots tucked in just below it.
Pulling a blanket over him, Abby returned to her room. She left her door open a crack so that she could hear his snores, and fell asleep with a smile.
She was no longer alone.
Chapter 6
The next morning they rode out together with Abby explaining the range boundaries and where the neighboring ranches were located. Robert and Kristine’s ranch bordered hers on the south and two smaller ranches owned by Smith and White lay to the north. Westward, her range butted up against a canyon that led up into the broken country where few traveled.
They stopped for a cold lunch at the opening of the canyon where a small stream fell into a pool of still water.
“Hank dug this pool the year he died. It was one of the last things he did.” Abby leaned against the shady side of a rock and stared into the muddy water. “He wasn’t much of a husband, but he did love this ranch. If he had lived, he would have been well off instead of barely surviving as I have.”
“Do you wish he had? Lived I mean.” Gene leaned against the rock beside her, his shoulder brushing against hers. “Then you’d be well off, too.”
Abby looked at the man beside her and shook her head. “The preacher would probably tell me it is a sin, but I’m just as glad he didn’t survive the fall. There would have been more money and creature comforts, that’s true, but for a woman in a loveless marriage, there is no such thing as being well off.”
“Why marry him then, if there was no love? I thought women cared about such things.” Gene studied the pool noting where it had filled in and would need to be re-dug.
“And being a man, you know nothing of such things.” Abby pushed to her feet and walked toward the horses stuffing the remains of their lunch into the saddlebags. Anger and hurt pulsed through her with equal strength.
“What is that supposed to mean. I know as much about love as any man.” Gene appeared beside her and grabbed her arm, holding her still. “A man wants love in a marriage the same as a woman does.”
She yanked her arm from his grip and stalked to her horse, swinging into the saddle in one graceful move. “What happens in the bedroom is not love, and that is all men care about.” She swung her horse away from the spring and kicked it into a trot. She ached to go faster, to run from the man who churned her up so much, but she refused to endanger her horse’s legs for her own temper.
There was no sound of pursuit behind her. She chanced a look over her shoulder but saw no sign of Gene or his horse. He didn’t even care enough about her to chase her down. She slowed her horse to a walk and continued back toward the ranch. Even if Gene didn’t know where he was, his horse would bring him back, eventually.
“Abby …” His voice called from somewhere behind her. She was torn between going back and sticking to her resolve and leaving him to find his own way home. “Abby … Abigail, I think you need to see this.”
Curiosity decided for her. She rode back to where he knelt on the trail some distance from where she had left him. So, he had at least started to follow her. A smile pulled at her lips. Maybe he was different from the other men she had known.
He barely spared her a glance as she rode up. “Are you sure no one uses this canyon?”
“Of course. There is nothing up there but rocks and crevasses enough to swallow a herd of cows.” She looked down from her perch in the saddle trying to see what he was looking at. “Why?”
Gene stood and backed away from the trail. Abby stared. The tracks of several cows led straight into the canyon. Some of the tracks had been partially washed away by rain, others were fresh. Perhaps as fresh as last night.
Superimposed on the cattle tracks were traces of a shod horse.
“Someone is stealing from you.” Gene swung up on his horse and turned its head toward the canyon. “You head back to the ranch and send for some help. I will follow the tracks and see where they lead.”
“I will not go back. These are my cows, my ranch, and my problem. I am not going to ride away and let someone else deal with it in my stead.” Abby reined to a stop beside him. “You don’t know the land like I do, so you go back and send for help and I will track my own cows.”
“Abby, be reasonable. This is no place for a woman.” Gene softened his voice as though dealing with a hot-tempered horse. “You have done a remarkable job of keeping this place running. But you sent for a husband to help with things just like this. If there are rustlers ahead, it could be dangerous and you are better off at home.”
Her mouth dropped open, speechless. “That is not why I sent for a husband. I wanted a partner, yes. I wanted a companion and someone to help bear the load. But I did not want a husband who would pat me on the head and send me to the kitchen when things got tough. This is my ranch, and I will protect it.”
Abby slapped her heels into her horse’s sides and thundered away up the canyon.
Chapter 7
This time he caught up with her in seconds.
“Fine, we will go together, but just to look.” Gene slowed beside her until both horses trotted in step. “If we
come up on anything that looks like trouble, we both ride for help. Deal?” he held out a hand across his horse’s neck.
Abby took his hand in hers and gave it one firm shake. “Deal. Don’t ever try to keep me safe from my own ranch. I am not a weak woman to be packed in cotton wool and tucked in a safe corner. I am well able to care for me and mine.”
“So noted.” Gene nodded, and then his eyes crinkled hinting at a smile hidden among his whiskers. “I do like a woman who can ride alongside her man.”
“So long as the man can keep up with the woman.” Abby let a grin spread across her face. “Kristine would tell you that all the men in the area are terrified of me because I can out ride, out work and out shoot them all.”
“So Robert informed me, although he didn’t seem particularly scared.” Gene shook his head. “I must admit, I didn’t believe him, but after today, I will have to amend my judgment.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?” Abby heard herself say, and then she blushed. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
“My ma taught me better than that. She won the turkey shoot five years running back home. They finally had to ask her to stop competing because no one would shoot against her. Believe me, pa didn’t keep her in any kind of cotton wool, or tuck her in a corner, she would have slapped him five ways to Sunday.”
“He let her treat him like that? What kind of man was he?” Abby asked. She had never heard of such a marriage.
“He was a man who loved his wife. He would bend over backward and lay down his life for hers if needed.” Gene’s voice had sharpened, but she wasn’t looking to restart their fight.
“I just meant that most men aren’t that mild mannered to let a woman act like that.” She ran her fingers through her horse’s mane to keep from looking at her husband.
“I never said he was mild mannered.” Gene chuckled. “Pa, and anyone who knows him for that matter, would be shocked to hear him accused of it. Nope, hardly a week goes by when the valley don’t echo with the noise of their squabbles. I said he loves her, I didn’t say he gives in to her.”