by Debra Samms
"A cattleman's wife can't be afraid of a cow. And on a ranch, there's nothing more important than keeping gates closed and locked."
"I'm sorry," she whispered again.
"All right. I'll show you the garden and the smokehouse. Then you can go back to the house and help Millie."
She nodded silently, still looking down, and then followed his boots towards the horse paddock.
Right in front of the paddock was a small building with four walls and a door. "Smokehouse. We've got mostly beef, of course, but sometimes a little venison or elk meat or even some salmon."
They walked past the smokehouse to a very large garden. "Half an acre," he said, and she could hear the pride in his voice. "Fresh food at least half the year. Corn, carrots, rhubarb, beans, potatoes, tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbage – a little of everything. You'll be needed to work here, too."
"I'll be glad to," she whispered, glancing back at the barn.
Raymond walked into the garden. "The rhubarb is about ready to cut now," he said, and then looked up at her. "You cook?"
She smiled politely. "Yes, Mr. Cowan. I cook."
"There should be plenty here for rhubarb pie. Here – " He took a small knife from his belt and searched around through some large leaves on the ground.
Then he stood up straight, and looked all around the large garden, and then right at Catherine. "It's gone."
"What's gone?"
"The rhubarb. There were four big plants here. The stalks have been cut on all but one of them. It's gone."
She walked out into the garden with him. "Birds? Raccoons?"
He looked at her like she had just spoken Russian. "Birds wouldn't carry off stalks of rhubarb. And raccoons aren't this neat."
"Maybe Aunt Millie, or – "
"I don't think so. She's been waiting for this to be ready. She asks me about it every day. And she wouldn't have dropped these leaves. They would have gone into the compost heap."
Raymond stood up straight, his fists clenched. "Something else is going on here."
CHAPTER SEVEN
A few days went by, and Catherine did her best to settle in. She avoided the barn and worked mainly in the house alongside Aunt Millie. There was plenty to do when it came to cooking and washing for six people.
Yet she did not mind doing these same tasks now, even though she'd grown very tired of them in Boston. This was her own family now and that made all the difference.
But one morning, Raymond came back in the house looking very angry. "There's a quarter side of beef missing from the smokehouse. Neither one of you took it?"
"No, Raymond," said Catherine, and Aunt Millie shook her head.
"All right. The boys and I will have to start sitting up at night with a shotgun."
He walked outside again, but Catherine turned to look at Aunt Millie. "We're going into town today, aren't we? I might have a better idea!"
***
Late that afternoon, Catherine and Aunt Millie and Raymond's youngest brother, George, were on their way back from Salmon Jump in the wagon. They had sacks of flour and sugar and cornmeal from the Mercantile, along with some lengths of good cotton fabric and packages of buttons, needles, and thread.
And one very special purchase that Catherine had made for Raymond.
As the wagon rattled along with George at the reins, he stole a glance at Catherine and cleared his throat. "I've been thinking," he began. "I've been thinking about doing what my brother did."
"What's that, George?"
He cleared his throat again. "Writing to a girl back east, and asking her to come out here and marry me. Henry's thinking of doing the same."
She looked at George, and then at Aunt Millie, and both women laughed with delight. "Oh, George! I think that's wonderful," Millie said.
"And I know just the address for you and Henry to write to!" Catherine said. "I'll help you with the letter, if you like. And I'll tell you all about two of the hardest-working young ladies of good character that I've ever known. I think you'd be proud to know them, too."
***
As the wagon rolled into the yard between the house and the barn, Raymond came out of the barn to meet them. He walked around to the back of the wagon to start the unloading – but then stopped.
"What is this?"
Catherine stepped down and hurried around to stand beside him, beaming with pride. "It's what will keep you from having to sit up at night keeping watch with a shotgun."
Standing in the back of the wagon, tied to the side by a length of frayed rope, was a happy, tail-wagging, blue-tick coonhound puppy.
"This is Robin," said Catherine, laughing as she petted the very friendly young dog. "I thought he looked a little like a robin's egg, all blue and speckled."
"This is one of those Indian hounds. Isn't it?"
Catherine paused. "I bought him from the children outside the Mercantile, yes," she said. "I used money that I bought with me."
"You shouldn't have interfered. Those children belong on the reservation."
She let go of the dog. "Reservation? What do you mean?"
"Don't you know anything about it? Indians live on land set aside for them. They've got their place and we've got ours."
"Then – why are those children – "
"Their father worked for a man in town. He chose that over the reservation, even though it meant living in a shack at the edge of town. But the father was killed in an accident. The mother stayed where she was with the children."
"But – in that case – wouldn't it be better to send word to the reservation, and let someone come and take them?"
He sighed, and she could feel the tension and frustration in him. "I'm trying to tell you. It's not our place. If they want to go, they'll go. But they've stayed. As long as they don't cause any trouble, nobody will bother them."
He started to walk away. "And tie up that dog where he can guard the smokehouse and the garden."
Catherine grinned, in spite of her concern for the children. "Hear that, Robin? You've got a job. And a home!"
***
That evening, as everyone sat together at the supper table, Catherine presented both George and Henry with a folded piece of paper. As each one cautiously opened his note, knowing everyone was watching, Catherine spoke up.
"There is a name and an address on each of those papers," she said. "Those are my two dearest friends. I can't say for certain that they'll accept, but I do know that a man could do no better than to win one of them."
The two younger Cowan men grinned shyly at their sister-in-law, and she saw that each of them placed the paper securely in his shirt pocket. Aunt Millie and Uncle Andrew seemed both pleased and amused.
When supper was done and the cleanup was finished, Catherine caught up a bucket and a lantern and started towards the back door. "I just want a little extra water for the basin in my room," she called to Millie. "I'll be right back."
She walked out into the darkness of the yard and placed the lantern down beside the well. As she hooked the rope to the bucket and lowered it down towards the water, she heard the back door open and close.
Raymond walked out to join her.
"Thank you for bringing me the dog," he said. "It might be a good idea."
"You're welcome," she said with a big smile. "Think of him as a wedding gift."
"I just hope he chases off whoever's pilfering from us."
Catherine pulled up the bucket of water and set it down on the ground. "Maybe we'll have another wedding out here pretty soon. Maybe even two."
He glanced at her, a tall shadowed figure in the faint light from the house and from the rising moon, just past full. "They need wives," he agreed.
"And my friends Bridget and Moira hope to find love. This could be their very best chance."
"Love? Catherine, do you think my brothers want to marry to find love? They hope to find wives. That's all."
Her happiness drained away. "As you did," she whispered.
"Well, y
es. Of course. No one expects love inside of marriage, especially when it's an arrangement. If it comes later, then I suppose that's fine. But – surely you knew – when you came out here to marry a man sight unseen – "
She turned away, resting her hands on the well. "I did hope to find love. If I wanted only an – an arrangement, I could have stayed in Boston and saved myself a very long trip.
"So, love is important to you."
"I am a woman. Of course love is important to me."
"But it's more than that." There was suspicion in his voice. "How would you know about love, unless you'd known it before?"
Catherine whirled to face him. "What do you mean?"
"Has there been another man?"
She stared him down with all the coldness she could summon. "There has been no other man. Was I in love once before? Yes. I was. But we did no more than speak to each other." Catherine turned away from him again.
"Then you married me to escape a love affair."
She caught her breath. "No – I – I mean – " Again she looked straight at him. "Yes. I loved someone. But compared to you, he was nothing but a boy. You are – you are a – "
He stood very still, staring down at her.
Catherine closed her eyes. "I accepted your proposal because I wanted a family of my own more than anything in life. Yes, I hoped love would follow. But Mr. Cowan – "
She raised her head and looked him in the eye. "If you do not require love in marriage, then why should it matter if I love you or love another?"
Her temper was flaring. She turned to go back inside the house.
"Catherine," he said, and his voice was low and ominous.
She stopped.
"You are a beautiful woman. But that is not enough to keep you here."
Suddenly she felt cold all over.
"You are very much an outsider. You don't know our ways. I need a strong wife – a cattleman's wife – not a soft-hearted city girl."
Catherine could hardly breathe.
"If you cannot learn to live in Oregon, instead of Boston, I will have no choice but to send you back before this goes any further. It would be kinder that way, when all is said and done."
She could not move at all. "Surely you would not send me back," she whispered.
He sighed. "As I said, it would be kinder – "
But she found the strength to interrupt him. "Mr. Cowan, I hoped my husband would want me – perhaps even love me – and find me worthy. But if he does not –
Catherine turned to face him, pulling her shawl – and the last shreds of her pride – close around her. "If he does not, then I promise you that I will pack my things and leave for Boston on the very next train. I love Clear Springs Ranch and all the people on it, but I have no wish to remain where I am not truly wanted."
She turned and hurried back into the house, going straight to her room and bolting the door behind her.
***
For some two weeks, the feeling was cool at the ranch in spite of the warm spring sunshine. Catherine spent her time working beside Aunt Millie as much as possible while avoiding Raymond. Though she kept an outward demeanor of calmness and courtesy, inwardly she was terrified that Raymond might, at any time, decide to pack her up and send her back to Boston . . .
. . . and she soon learned that she could not hide such a thing from Millie.
"Catherine," Aunt Millie began, "I'm not blind. I know you're having some difficulty learning our ways out here. But I think that's only to be expected. I think you're doing just fine."
Catherine smiled at her, grateful for the kindness. "Thank you. But, yes. It's true that he – that Raymond – has his doubts about me." She paused. "I'm so afraid that he's going to send me back. In truth, it is my worst fear."
"Oh, but my dear – he's just – he wouldn't – "
"Aunt Millie, it doesn't matter what he might do. One word from him and I will pack up and go on my own. As much as I love this place – and all of you – I do not want to be here if he doesn't truly want me."
***
Then Catherine got up one morning to find that none of the men were in the house, even though it was time for breakfast. "They're in the barn," said Aunt Millie, and her voice was serious. "You'd better go see."
She hurried out to the barn to find Raymond, his two brothers, and Uncle Andrew standing outside of Rosie and Starflower's pen. The gate was open, and they all turned to look accusingly at her.
"What – what happened?"
"They're gone," said Uncle Andrew. "Rosie and her calf. Nowhere to be found."
Raymond peered hard at her. "Did you leave that gate open again?"
"No! No, I didn't! I'm sure of it. I always check every time. And – well – you know I don't go in the pens anyway, if I don't have to."
"Yes. I know." Raymond turned away.
Then George spoke up. "Even if the gate was left open, Rosie wouldn't have gone far. She wouldn't have left the other cows and her home barn. But she's just gone."
"And that dog never barked." Raymond shot a look at the blue-tick puppy trotting happily around the yard, and sighed with anger and frustration.
George and Henry looked at each other. "We'll start taking turns sitting up at night with the shotgun."
Raymond nodded. "All right. That dog's not doing its job, so somebody else will have to. Now, let's get back to work." He left the barn, walking past Catherine without a word or a glance. Coldness followed in his wake.
***
Most of the time, after a full day of hard work, Catherine slept very soundly in her comfortable bed. But that night she suddenly sat upright in the bed and looked around at the darkened room.
Robin was barking and howling. Someone outside was yelling. It was a voice she did not recognize. But it was shouting, "Fire!"
She threw a skirt on over her nightgown and got her boots on faster than she ever had, and tore outside through the back door.
She suddenly stopped. Frozen in place. Before her, she saw her worst nightmare come true.
The front of the barn was on fire. Flames engulfed the front of the barn. Smoke poured out from the doorway. Henry, who had been sitting watch that night, lay face-down near the well with Aunt Millie tending to him. George, Henry, and Andrew worked with blankets and with shovels full of dirt and with buckets of water from the well to fight the flames.
But Raymond was not among them.
"Raymond! Raymond!" cried Catherine, running towards the barn.
But Uncle Andrew grabbed her arm. "He's in the barn. Getting the livestock out. Go help him. But watch out!"
She dashed around to the back of the barn and saw two figures inside, silhouetted against the bright flames, working to get the horses and the cows out. "Move!" yelled Raymond, and cracked a bullwhip at the two loose horses in the aisle. Catherine stepped back just in time to let them gallop past her.
Then Raymond threw the whip at her. "Keep them out! They'll try to come back in. Crack that whip and keep them out!"
Raymond and the other person – she did not know who it was – kept working to get the stalls and pens open and drive the animals out. And to her horror, Catherine saw that the two horses were indeed at the back of the barn and trying to get back in.
She swung the whip wildly at them to chase them away. "Get out of here! Go!" she yelled, swinging the whip hard at them again and again. And then she managed to make the whip crack.
The horses turned and ran around the outside of the barn, heading towards the yard. Behind her came three more horses, and then the two cows and calves. Raymond cracked his own whip while the other person swung his arms and yelled to drive them away.
And then, in the light of the flames, Catherine saw who the other person was.
It was Joseph. The Indian boy who had sold her the puppy.
***
Finally, the fire was out. The awful smell of smoke and scorched wood hung heavy in the air, but all of the animals were safe and closed up in the horse pad
dock for now.
Catherine was greatly relieved to see Henry sitting up against the well, with Aunt Millie giving him water and washing his face with a wet rag. "How is he?" Catherine said, crouching down beside them.
Millie shook her head. "Smoke got him. He'd dozed off when the fire started. But I think he'll recover."
Raymond, Uncle Andrew, and George came over to the well to get water to splash on their faces and wash away the soot and grime from the smoke. Behind them was Joseph.
Catherine stood up and walked to Raymond. "You're safe?" she asked.
"Yes. Everyone is. It's just Henry."
"Millie says he'll be all right. But – how did it start?"
Raymond shook his head. "Don't know for sure. But there was a lantern fallen down at the base of one of the support posts. Henry might have hung it up there, and then the hook gave way and it dropped to the straw below." He took a deep breath. "Could have been worse. We're all here and all the stock is out."
"Yes. Much worse. But – " She turned and looked at Joseph, who stood alone at the edge of the yard. "You're the one who yelled the warning for everyone, aren't you?"
He looked sideways at her, and nodded silently.
Catherine took a few steps towards him. "Joseph – why are you here in the middle of the night?" she asked gently, though she already knew the answer.
"I came to take food," the boy said quietly. "For my mother. And my two sisters. My father is dead."
"I know that," Catherine said. "You came here first because we had no dog – and then you came because the dog we got already knew you, and wouldn't bark."
He nodded again, and then broke into a sheepish grin. "Yes."
Catherine turned to Raymond. "He could have run away. He didn't have to yell for help. He could have left Henry where he was, and saved himself. But he didn't. He risked his life to help us."
Raymond paused, staring at Joseph for a moment. Then he walked straight over to him. The boy stepped back, nearly ready to run – but then Raymond extended his right hand.