Petticoat Ranch

by Mary Connealy

  Clay could see that Adam’s thirst for revenge could latch on to the vision of Percy in a noose. It wasn’t a victory for God. Adam’s hate was still in control.

  Adam leaned over Percy. “And without me dirtyin’ my hands on you one bit. I think you’ve just earned yourself the noose you’ve been handin’ out to others for the last few years. Then you’ll get a chance to meet your Maker and find out what kind of vengeance God has in store for you.”

  Adam straightened and looked sideways at Clay. “I think that’s somethin’ I can live with.”

  “Yeah, so can I.” Clay turned to Luther. “Thanks.”

  Luther grunted. “I should hope you thank me. That’s more words’n I’ve strung end to end in my life.”

  “He’s gotten plumb talkative since your missus started speaking to him,” Buff said drearily. “It wears on my ears.”

  E I G H T E E N

  Ma, they’re starting to clear out.” Sally hung on one window ledge. Mandy was stationed at the other. Beth peeked out the door.

  “I told you girls to get away from the windows.” Sophie darted over to stand beside Sally. She’d avoided looking out the window, mostly. And she’d tried to keep the girls away. She remembered Luther’s words about a man shaming himself in front of the woman he loved and knew that they were true.

  Except for the part about love.

  Why did Luther think Clay loved her? The very thought made something warm grow in her heart.

  Although she was a might too sneaky to be considered truly respectful, and that husband of hers was given to grunting or yelling instead of speaking normally, Sophie thought she and Clay got on nicely enough. But love? She’d been in love with Cliff, and it had hurt. She had adored him, and he’d repaid her with coldness and criticism. No. Love was a very bad idea.

  “The sheriff is loading that one on the ground onto his horse.” Sally leaned until her nose smudged the window.

  “Who were the other men, Ma?” Mandy asked. “The two tall ones.”

  “They’re Texas Rangers,” Sophie said.

  Mandy quit spying for a second to give Sophie a startled look. “What are Texas Rangers doing here?”

  “They’re on the trail of the gang who shot at us the other day. The sheriff and the rangers are hoping to find the rest of them. Then this will finally be over.”

  “I want things to go back to how they used to be when I was young,” eight-year-old Beth said, “when we only had to be afraid of cyclones and rattlesnakes.”

  Ten-year-old Mandy nodded. “Those were the good old days.”

  Sophie was tempted to smile, except she really wanted things back like the “good old days” herself.

  The remaining men stood around for a bit longer.

  “Are they talking?” Sally asked.

  “I reckon.” Beth swung the door open just a crack wider.

  “Why do you only reckon they’re talking?” Sophie eased the door back closed a little, not wanting Beth to get them caught.

  “Because you never see their lips move,” Sally observed.

  Sophie looked closer. They were communicating somehow. There were lots of shrugging shoulders and the occasional nod, but there was certainly no animated discussion going on.

  “It’s no wonder Indians can talk with drumbeats and smoke signals.” Sophie’s eyes narrowed as she watched closely for signs of conversation. “From a man’s point of view, it must be possible to be quite eloquent.”

  “The cowhands are heading for the bunkhouse,” Sally reported unnecessarily, since they were all watching with rapt attention.

  “You know, girls, I’ll bet if we were all men, Sally wouldn’t have just said out loud what she said.”

  “I didn’t mean to do anything wrong, Ma.” Sally looked away from the window, worried.

  “No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Sophie rested her hand on Sally’s silky, blond head. “That’s not my point. I think, instead of saying anything, she’d have just watched silently, knowing we were all seeing the same thing.”

  There was a prolonged moment of silence.

  “Or maybe she’d have grunted.” Mandy broke into a fit of giggles.

  “Or pointed.” Beth closed the door and started laughing.

  “And the rest of us. . .” Sally couldn’t speak as she started laughing with her sisters.

  All the girls started giggling until they could hardly stand up. Sophie couldn’t help joining in. Finally, she finished Sally’s thought. “The rest of us would have scratched ourselves and nodded while we glared at the one who had grunted, wondering why he’d gotten so allfired chatty.”

  They were all laughing like maniacs when the men walked in. Clay and the other men stared silently, which sent all the girls into further fits of laughter.

  Clay sighed as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Sophie saw Clay look over his shoulder at Adam, who simply shook his head. Buff shrugged. Luther harrumphed.

  The girls all thought it was hilarious.

  Sophie managed to get ahold of herself enough to dry the tears from her eyes with her apron. “I’ve got coffee.”

  The men all nodded. Buff scratched the back of his neck. The girls fled into their bedroom, giggling.

  The men sat at the table as Sophie poured. They drank in silence. An occasional high-pitched giggle would escape from the bedroom, and the men would flinch or look over at the door as if it were dangerous. As the silence lengthened, Sophie lost whatever spark of amusement had taken hold of her, and she started to get mad. Before she could say something she’d regret, she decided to give them a chance by starting with the obvious. “Introduce me to your friends again, Clay.”

  Clay said, “Luther ’n Buff.”

  Each man nodded when his name was spoken. Sophie looked at Luther. “You’re the one who said I was calling you, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes,” Luther wrapped both hands around his tin cup. Sophie remembered cold nights in the thicket when she’d saved every ounce of heat by warming her hands that way. Out of habit she still did it, even in the Texas summer heat, just like Luther.

  Sophie stifled a request for more details. She turned to Adam, who sat at her table, battered and shirtless, but with his head up and his spine straight. He used to talk to her some. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Adam. I hope you’re planning to stay with us.”

  “Long as I’m needed.” Adam took a long pull on his coffee.

  Despite his short answer, Sophie’s heart lifted to think of having Adam with them again. “What happened with the sheriff, and what did those men tell you? Are you going to be able to track down Judd Mason? I want to know all about it, Clay, while I patch up your knife wound better.”

  Clay sighed so deeply it seemed to come clear from his toes. As if it violated the Code of the West, he reluctantly said, “All right.”

  Sophie took him at his word and went to find her doctoring supplies. She carried them over, set them on the table, and began undoing the quick bandage she’d put on Clay’s arm. “This wound is going to need stitches. And when I’m done with Clay, I want to look at your wounds, Adam.”

  Adam shook his head. “No need, Sophie girl. I could have used your touch a few weeks ago, but I’m fine now.”

  “You’ll sit still while I check you over,” Sophie informed him. “Then I’ll get a meal on the table.”

  “You’ve been through more today than I have,” Clay said. “You sit while you work on my arm, or I won’t let you touch it.”

  “Clay, I don’t need to. . .”

  Luther was already dragging a chair over to the table and moving his out of the way so Sophie could sit.

  Sophie decided this wasn’t a fight she was going to win, so she sat.

  Clay caught her hand as she reached for his arm and held it tight. “And the girls can get a meal on, or we’ll go eat in the bunkhouse. I want you to rest.”

  “Clay, I don’t need to rest.” Sophie dabbed at his oozing wound. “There
is nothing in the. . .” Sophie realized her fingers were going numb as Clay squeezed tighter and tighter. “The girls can do it. They have a stew already done, so they just need to mix up biscuits and set the table.”

  She was talking fast at the end. Clay released her. Sophie sighed with relief and had to control the urge to rub her hand. She arched one eyebrow at her husband.

  “Good girl,” he said, like she was a well-behaved horse.

  “Well, I’m not too tired to listen.” She pulled her needle out of its cotton wrapping and threaded it. “Now I want to hear why there were rangers out there, and what’s going to happen to Judd Mason?” She pointed the needle right at her husband’s nose. “And I want to hear it right now.”

  Clay smiled again.

  Luther eased himself back in his chair. “Reckon it’s a yarn I don’t mind spinnin’.” Luther relaxed as if he was in front of a campfire after a long day riding the range. “I woke up in the night, three weeks ago—”

  “Four weeks,” Buff cut in.

  Luther frowned, then shrugged and continued, “To the sound of a woman saying, ‘Help me.’ I knew it wasn’t the boy,” Luther said, nodding at Clay.

  “I’m father of five these days, Luth. Knock off calling me ‘boy.’ ”

  Luther grunted what might have been half a laugh. “But I knew it had something to do with him.”

  “We headed out.” Buff slid his heavy coat off his shoulders.

  The men unwound their tale, with Adam adding some and Clay filling in what had been going on at the ranch while they traveled. Sophie stitched up Clay’s arm then scooted her chair around so she could stay seated while she cleaned Adam’s wounds.

  A warm corner of Sophie’s heart, always filled by her love for God, began to expand and grow until she wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. “God heard me. He’s really listening.”

  Clay rubbed her shoulders while she sat with her back to him, tending Adam’s wounds. “He always is.”

  “I always pray, ‘Help me,’ ” she said quietly.

  Together, Adam and Luther said, “We know.”

  “And He really did. He helped me.” Sophie quit talking before she broke rule number one. She pulled her faintly trembling hands away from Adam’s back before she hurt him. Clay’s comforting, calloused hands stilled on her back, steadying her so she could finish with Adam.

  She at last felt able to look at the three men who were sitting with Clay and her. “Thank you. You saved us.”

  Buff grunted.

  Luther ducked his head. “ ’Tweren’t nothin’, ma’am.”

  “Didn’t have no choice, Sophie girl,” Adam said. “A man’s got God in his head, there’s not much choice a’tall.”

  “Thank you.” Then Sophie turned to Clay. “I’m really tired. The girls can get dinner on. I think I’m going to go rest.”

  Clay smiled his approval at her, and she wondered again at Luther’s assurance that Clay loved her. It was bound to lead to hurt, but she found that she really liked the idea, especially since she was very much afraid she loved him, too.

  Her eyelids almost fell closed before she found the strength to stand up and leave the room. She lay down on the bed fully clothed, planning to rest long enough to make her husband happy, then get up and help get a meal on. As she drifted off she realized it wasn’t just Luther, Buff, and Adam who had been sent to her. It was Clay, too. She held sleep at bay as she thanked God.

  The wonder of the words help me threaded through her mind, and tears pricked at her eyes. She shook her head to prevent such nonsense, but all that did was send the tears over the edge of her lower lids. She heard chairs slide around a bit in the other room, and the door to her bedroom opened.

  Clay came in and sat on the bed beside her. “Adam and Luther said something was wrong.”

  Sophie couldn’t hold back a smile even though the tears didn’t quit flowing. Clay rubbed a rough thumb across one cheek. His touch was so gentle that Sophie felt as if she were made of the finest crystal. “Please don’t cry, Sophie darlin’. You know I can’t stand cryin’.”

  His sweetness and concern made the tears flow faster.

  “When you cry I feel like some kind of a monster who has hurt you or scared you half to death or. . .”

  Sophie lunged forward, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him hard to get him to quit talking crazy. She pulled back and smiled at his stunned expression. Softly enough to ensure privacy in the crowded house, she said, “A woman doesn’t always cry when she’s sad or hurt, Clay. I was lying here thinking that God gave me a miracle when he sent Adam, Luther, and Buff to me.”

  “He did, didn’t He? A true miracle.”

  Sophie nodded and swiped at her tears. “And He gave me a miracle when He sent you.”

  Clay looked confused. “It’s the other way around, near as I can tell. You saved my life. You pulled me out of that creek and patched me up. You’re the only one in this room who’s a miracle.”

  Sophie kissed him again, then tucked her head under his chin and hugged him. Clay held her so tight it hurt, and it was the best hurt in the world.

  At last she pulled back far enough to see him. “We are just going to have to disagree about who the miracle is.”

  Clay smiled and brushed the hair off her soggy face. “I reckon that’s a disagreement I can live with.” He offered her a handkerchief.

  Sophie turned away a bit and blew her nose and clenched the handkerchief tight. “I keep thinking about how you came here and how much better my life is because of it. Then I thought about God doing a pure, real live miracle just for me, and I was so honored and humbled, it made me cry.”

  “Kinda like when the girls cried over the baby?”

  “Just like that,” Sophie said, relieved he understood.

  “Waste of water and salt,” Clay grumbled.

  Sophie smiled and kissed him again, and only the men in the next room, who might be listening, and a twinge of old fear kept her from telling him she had fallen in love with him.

  “Try an’ get some rest, darlin’.” Clay pressed her back against her pillow.

  Sophie nodded. Clay stood and took a couple of steps toward the door. He paused and looked back at her, and then he awkwardly came back, leaned over, and kissed her on the forehead, then the cheek, then her lips.

  He brushed her hair back again. “You and the girls, and this life I’ve got myself into, will always be a miracle to me, Sophie.”

  As if he’d embarrassed himself, he straightened away from her and hurried from the room.

  Sophie lay there awhile and did a little more crying, but she was very careful not to think help me, not wanting to overtax the Lord’s supply of miracles or Luther’s and Adam’s supply of patience. She curled onto her side and hugged Clay’s baby in her arms and let her eyes drift shut, thinking she’d just rest for a second, to please Clay. The next thing she knew, Clay was pulling her into his arms, and she woke in the pitch-black room. She was just awake enough to say, “I need to make biscuits.”

  Clay snuggled her up close. “You just rest.”

  She thought how odd it was that he was so fixated on her need to rest. She had to explain to him how tough she was and how hard she had always worked. Really, her husband didn’t know her at all. And she’d tell him so, as soon as she finished her little nap.

  “Percy never came back,” Harley said. “Something’s gone wrong.”

  Judd threw back his blanket and started pulling his boots on.

  Harley said sharply, “We’re breaking camp!”

  Eight of the ten men left were asleep. Harley’s voice woke them as if it were a rifle shot. The two men on watch came charging into the camp. A quick glance at the heavy-lidded eyes told Judd they’d both been asleep. Judd didn’t waste his lead on them.

  “If they’re caught, they might tell where we’re hid out,” Harley said.

  Judd looked around the campsite. “If they’d have done for McClellen, they’d have come b
ack into the camp hootin’ and hollerin’. You’re right. We break camp.”

  Harley was already saddling his horse. Judd noticed he wasn’t particularly interested in what the rest of them did or if Judd agreed with him. Harley had lived longer than most men in his profession, and Judd trusted his instincts.

  Harley said, “Let’s head into the Santiagos for a few days then figure what to do next.”

  “What if you’re wrong?” one of the men asked. “What if Percy comes back? He won’t be able to find us.”

  “The three best trackers we have went with him. They’ll find us.” Judd hoped they wouldn’t, since he was sure they’d have a posse with them when they came back—if they came back. He knew what kind of a man Percy was. A low-down, cowardly coyote who’d sell his own mother to save his skin.

  “We’ll drop back and come up with a new plan to get that ranch,” Judd said. “We killed Edwards; we can kill his twin brother.”

  “We’ve been watching long enough to know McClellen’s nothing like his tenderfoot brother.” Harley spurred his horse and didn’t look to see if anyone in the gang was with him.

  Judd fell in behind him. As he pushed his horse into a gallop, he realized he was running. This was the second time McClellen had made them run. The defeat tasted like ashes in his mouth.

  N I N E T E E N

  The ranch settled into a routine with the capture of the four outlaws. Every cowhand did his work as usual, but all kept their guns close at hand and stayed on razor’s edge. As a week slowly passed, Sophie began to hope the rest of the gang had hightailed it.

  Parson Roscoe picked this Sunday to yell at them again. Sophie thought the man was on to something, changing the tone of his sermons from week to week. She certainly listened to every word he said. But why wouldn’t she? He’d obviously heard how Sophie had lied by omission to her husband, and he’d written the sermon just to scold her.

  She thought it was rather rude of him to pick on her, especially since she’d been trying to be more loving and a more obedient wife. But she had only decided about being a better wife after the run-in with the outlaws, so maybe the parson already had his sermon written, based on the way she used to act. Besides, it was a full month into her marriage, which was kind of late to begin behaving herself, so she figured she deserved it.