Winter Winds of Wyoming

by Fyffe, Caroline

  Courtney stood before the case, alone in the darkness.

  What on earth is she doing? Surely, Jessie’s done the same with her, sharing everything. Is Courtney after one certain item?

  Is she sleepwalking?

  When he saw her bend, set the lamp on the floor, and slowly reach forward, Tyler sucked in a breath.

  With both hands, she worked the handle.

  He suddenly wished he hadn’t been so curious. Hadn’t followed her around to the back of the house. He willed her to stop. Anything done under the cover of darkness boded ill.

  As far as he could tell, Courtney hadn’t moved. Should he tap on the window? Interrupt a weak moment? Stop her from making a mistake she’d no doubt later regret? He’d been taught at a very young age honesty meant everything. No clear conscience, no good night’s sleep.

  Whatever she’d taken fit in the palm of her hand. He waited, praying, wishing the next thing he’d see was her returning the article to the glass shelf.

  She closed the case and lifted the lamp from the floor. A moment later, the light was gone.

  In a panic, Tyler retraced his steps to the bunkhouse, not wanting to look back at the ranch house. Not wanting to see what he knew he’d see next. And right on target, her bedroom window glowed once again. He heaved a deep sigh. What now? What was he supposed to do with this information? He worked for Chase and Jessie and was loyal to a fault. But he cared for Courtney, too. What if she was just infatuated? Planned to return whatever she took in the morning, before anyone noticed? He didn’t want to get her into more trouble than she already had hanging around her neck.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “A fine kettle of fish,” Violet grumbled as she closed the door to a sorry-faced Dalton. How dare Dr. Thorn get sick! Everything rested on her antique shoulders. “Adaline, quit lookin’ like yer facing a hungry grizzly bear, twisting yer hands in front of yer skirt. We have things ta do!”

  Panting hysterically, Bao stared at them with wild, red eyes. Sweat ran down her temples. Her face squished into a frown, and she bore down.

  There wasn’t a thing left to do but get to work. Taking a steadying breath, Violet flipped the sheet coving Bao over the woman’s knees and looked closer. The smooth skin of the baby’s buttocks was visible. “Well, little lady, yer boy is comin’ out backwards—iffin I want him to or not. But we ain’t gonna let his unique position bother us none. Scooch right down here,” she commanded, not questioning Dr. Thorn’s advice relayed by Dalton. She’d never heard of a delivery like this, but for once, she didn’t feel the urge to dispute the wisdom. Taking Bao’s arm, she and Adaline eased the mother-to-be to the end of the bed.

  Bao’s face was frozen in fear at this new position. “You do this before?” she gasped in between pants and grunts. “Baby comes wrong?”

  “Nope, I sure haven’t. This here’s something new for both of us, but that’s the way we’re doing it,” Violet replied with confidence she didn’t feel. “I know ya want to push something terrible, Bao, but this youngster needs ta come slow, like pouring honey in December. Pant and don’t push. Can ya do that?”

  Seeing Bao nod, Violet was instantly transported back to the birth of her only child. The labor had been long and painful, but in the end, the midwife laid a perfectly formed little boy in her waiting arms. My Tommy. Will I ever see you again?

  Adaline shook her arm. “Violet?”

  “Stop pestering me! Can’t ya see I’m busy?” She looked at Bao, whose cheeks resembled a squirrel’s filled with nuts. “That’s good panting, girl. Take some rest between breaths.”

  Almost instantly, Bao cried out again and bore down.

  “Easy, now. Easy, now. Good, the butt end is out.” The doctor’s instructions flashed in her mind like bats out at sundown. “Now, the rest of ya can keep still!” Violet was barely aware of anything around her except the sight of the baby’s hind end. Not Adaline or even Bao as the mother cried out in pain. “No pushes, not till I say so. I need ta get these legs out. No pushes a’tall.” Lord Almighty, hilp me now. “Bite the leather if ya have ta push, nothing more.”

  Going slowly, Violet carefully hooked one scrawny leg with a finger and gently brought out the appendage resembling a chicken wing.

  Behind her, Adaline sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Don’t ya faint on me, Adaline! I’m gonna need you.” Expecting to hear a thump, Violet didn’t take her eyes off the job at hand. “Keep holding back till I have this other bony limb, Bao. Puff, puff, puff. Like a train chuggin’ up a hill.” Feeling a little dizzy herself, Violet repeated the process.

  When she saw the babe was indeed a boy, she straightened, feeling a tiny stab of jubilation at being right. “Jist as I predicted. No girl would ever come out butt first.” She glanced up at Bao to make sure the mama had heard, but she was in the middle of the contraction, alternating biting the leather and puffing like a fish out of water. The months of Bao’s pregnancy came flooding back. From dawn to dusk the woman worked herself to exhaustion without complaint.

  “Shoulders are delivered. Hand me the towel.” This was part she’d been dreading. Thorn had instructed her to wrap the baby so it didn’t get cold and gasp while still in the womb. Any such act would be very bad. Then, to let the baby hang for a couple moments without support. Following direction, she slowly let the baby go.

  If Adaline’s gonna faint, now would be the time. I jist might faint myself.

  “One, two…” Violet gently took hold once more. “Little pushes now, Mama. Time’s come fir this young’un to be born.” A wave of dizziness hit Violet, and she swayed to the side.

  “Violet!” Adaline cried.

  Bao was too busy breathing, gasping, and clenching the sheet to have heard Adaline’s distressed cry.

  The next instant, the tiny baby boy, as still and blue as death, laid in her hands. Remembering this part well, she grasped his heels, held him up, and swatted his bottom, bringing a howl of outrage. “That’s what ya get for scarin’ ten years off my life. I don’t have that many left.” A swift punch of pride gripped her, making stars dance before her eyes. She might be old, but she wasn’t dead yet.

  “Bao?” Mr. Ling called through the door in a shaky voice. “Bao?”

  “Leave us be!” Violet snapped. “Things still need doin’. Cleanin’, cord cuttin’, and deliverin’ the afterbirth, unless ya’d like to attend to her yerself.”

  Silence was her answer.

  “Didn’t think so. Ya’ll be the first ta know when she’s ready for visitors.”

  Thirty minutes later, with Bao back on her plumped pillows, Violet placed the cleaned and wrapped infant in Bao’s waiting arms. “Ye’ve a fine, hungry son,” she said, unable to keep a ring of pride from her voice. Perhaps she wasn’t as old as she thought. “He looks as if he has no idea what jist happened,” she said on a chuckle. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Slumped at the bunkhouse table, Tyler rubbed his gritty eyes, having slept very little after last night’s revelation about Courtney. The room was quiet. Everyone besides the cook was gone. His back and neck ached. A dull throbbing thumped his temples, worn out from the troubling thoughts dogging his heels all night. The vision of Courtney taking what he believed to be the gold eagle coins from Chase and Jessie’s keepsake cabinet had left a burning hole in his chest. She wasn’t that kind of a girl, was she? No matter how much she pushed people away, he wouldn’t believe Courtney a thief.

  Lifting his cup, he gulped down several mouthfuls of the strong brew Tater Joe, the bunkhouse cook, had set before him, doubting even the strength could chase away the cobwebs in his brain. He’d not like to tell Chase what he’d seen, but he did work for the man. Chase and Jessie had treated him well, enabling Tyler to care for his father and siblings back home. At every turn, the big-hearted couple treated him like family.

  Since coming to the Broken Horn, he’d settled in Logan Meadows and made an ef
fort to make friends. He liked living here. He owed the Logans his loyalty. Besides all that, eighty dollars, even without the sentimental value, was a hell of a lot of money! Why did she need money like that? Was she planning to run away? The gold eagles’ absence wouldn’t go unnoticed for long.

  Tater Joe cocked his head as he leveled his gaze on Tyler from his spot in front of the enormous, cast-iron, almost-too-large-for-the-room stove. “What’s got you down in the mouth, boy? You were fine when you hit the sack last night. Coffee too strong? My biscuits weighing heavy in your gut? What? Don’t hold back on me.”

  Tater Joe’s standard overalls were protected by a none-too-white apron; a raggedy leather jacket, stained black at the elbows and cuffs; and an old red bandanna folded into a narrow strip and tied around his head to keep his stringy gray hair out of his face. Looking at the fifty-year-old man could curb anyone’s appetite—until you got to know him.

  Belying the way he looked, Tater Joe was well-educated and quite articulate—having completed his eighth grade year. When he wasn’t cooking and straightening the bunkhouse to a livable condition, he was reading philosophy. Books with three-inch-long words which made Tyler break out into a sweat. Tyler wondered how the man had come to cook for a bunch of hungry cowboys at the Broken Horn ranch. He never complained, even when the men did about his fare, and he never spoke of his past.

  Tyler shook his head and gave a half-smile. “Nothin’, really, Tater Joe. Just one of those nights. Tossed and turned. Didn’t get much sleep.” He looked down into his cup. He best not give Tater even an inkling or the man wouldn’t quit until he’d heard the whole story—and Tyler wasn’t ready to spill his guts quite yet. Not until he had a chance to speak with Courtney. Tyler had watched the cook fish information out of Gabe and Jake before. When he was on a mission, he stopped at nothing.

  With strong movements, the cook scraped at the bottom of the iron skillet with his wooden spatula. “If you say so. I heard the door creak last night and got up to take a look. Make sure no grizzly hadn’t snuck inside. You were outside looking at the moon. Or, at least, that’s how you appeared. Was something else going on?”

  Damnation! Tyler straightened. Had the cook seen more? Surely, he’d not keep anything back from Chase if he had. Not a robbery like that. If Tyler didn’t speak up, the facts might appear as if he’d been in cahoots with Courtney. They’d spent some time together. Or maybe the blame might fall on him alone.

  Tater set his spatula on the counter and wiped his hands on his apron. “Not rattling your cage, Ty. You look like you’ve painted yourself into a corner. I’m friend, not foe. Talking notions through sometimes helps. As my mama used to say, two brains are better than one.” He pointed to his head and then at Tyler. “You agree?”

  The tone meant look out. He wasn’t through with Tyler just yet. Once the cook had an idea in his head, he was like a hungry badger—and hung on for dear life. He’d put on his ciphering hat and couldn’t wait to dig in. “Sure, I do. My pa says the same all day long. Just, I don’t have anything bothering me. Not a sin to have a restless night. Nothin’ to be troubled over.”

  Tater Joe tented one brow. “If you say so.”

  The ranch hands were Tater Joe’s family. Being older, sometimes he came down a bit heavy-handed with his concern. But most times he was good-hearted. Tyler wished he’d back off.

  The door opened and Chase, of all people, strode inside, his jaw covered in the whiskers he’d yet to shave. Blowing breath into his reddened hands, he smiled. A leather jacket, but much longer than Tater Joe’s, complemented his large frame and almost touched the floor. His boots, already wet stained, proved he’d been out to the corrals. He wedged off his hat and skillfully ringed a hook on the hat rack, making the headpiece twirl several times before slowing to a halt.

  “Mornin’, Tyler. You’re just the man I wanted to see.” He glanced about, then leaned to the side to see into the long room which held all the single beds. “Gabe already out and about?”

  “Sure is. Went out early.” Tyler had finally fallen asleep around four, only a half an hour before Gabe rolled out of bed. Soon after, the rooster had begun to crow and sleeping was impossible. The scent of bacon drifted around, followed by coffee. This was a day he’d operate on little sleep and fall into bed the minute the December light faded over the hills. Nothing would wake him then.

  Chase shrugged and straddled the bench. “Fine. I’ll speak with him later.” He glanced over to Tater Joe at the stove. “Any coffee left?”

  “I’ll pour you a cup.”

  “Thanks. The coffee out here has more of a kick than what Jessie brews. I can use that today.”

  Within moments, Chase had wrapped his hands around the large porcelain cup. “Tyler, I got to thinking this morning. I never got back to you on your request for a few weeks off—so you could go home and see your family. I have no objections. The ranch is buttoned up until spring. You’re welcome to go and return around March or April. You’ll always have a job at the Broken Horn.”

  Tyler glanced up, his thoughts elsewhere.

  “You still thinkin’ about goin’ home for Christmas?” Chase asked. He took a large slurp of his coffee, his eyes twinkling.

  Chase was in a jolly mood. With all the happenings in town of late, Tyler had forgotten about his request to go home for a short while. He missed his younger sisters and brothers. Being the oldest, he was protective, liking to know what was happening in their lives. In short, he loved them—just like Jake loved his two sisters he’d just gotten to know a short time ago. Going home at Christmas would be nice—would’ve been nice. Now he wasn’t so sure. “Uhhh, yeah. Still thinkin’...”

  “Just thinking? Well, you’re free to go. I hope you’ll return in the spring, though. I don’t want to lose you. You’re a darn good hand. And who knows how long Jake’s gonna want to stay on? He’s married and fixing up the place on Shady Creek. The Broken Horn won’t run itself.”

  Tyler sipped his coffee thoughtfully, feeling Tater Joe’s hot stare on his back. The cook was hoping to prove himself right with the answer he’d give Chase. Tyler should tell Chase about Courtney immediately—but he didn’t have the heart. Could be she’d changed her mind last night, after Tyler had gone inside the bunkhouse, and returned the coins. That was possible. He owed her at least a chance to set things straight before saying anything. After which, if she refused, he’d go to Jake first and then Chase. Even though he’d circled around to his conclusion, this plan stuck in his craw—being he never told a lie or broke any laws—he followed the rule book. Honesty was everything. “I’d like to go, but not until next month. Too close to Christmas now.”

  Chase’s face fell. “I’m sorry! I know how much you wanted to spend time with your family.” He rubbed a hand over his whiskers.

  Tyler couldn’t let Chase believe his late response to his request was the reason. Especially after the lecture he’d just given himself about honesty. “Naw, better this way, Chase. Even if you’d told me four or five days ago, I’d come to the same decision.” He thought of Courtney and her taking the coins from the cabinet. But then the image in his mind changed, and he was holding her in his arms. Staring into her eyes. Heat warmed his face, and he glanced away. Courtney might be in trouble. Now was not the time to leave the Broken Horn, not while she was making life-changing, stupid choices. “Goin’ would’ve been nice, but now, with Christmas only twelve days away, I have a hankering to spend Christmas here in Logan Meadows. The place is beginning to feel like home. The trip back to the Dakotas will happen when it’s supposed to.”

  Chase nodded and took a drink from his mug. His gaze slid over to the cooking area. “You want to give me some suggestions so you don’t end up with a doll for Christmas, Tater Joe? Sarah is set on giving her Tater Joe a present. I’ve heard ribbons, dolls, and even a kitten being discussed. Jessie’s trying but not getting far. Help us out here, will you? Jessie and I are at our wits’ ends.”

 
The cook’s face brightened. “She sure makes the sun shine on a rainy day. Don’t know why she’s taken such a liking to an ol’ crustacean like me, but I’m not complaining. Her voice is like a flock of sparrows and twice as squirrelly.”

  Chase laughed. “Could be your sourdough flapjacks, if you were to ask. But I’m not. She likes you. Any ideas on a gift?”

  Tyler sipped his coffee, thankful the conversation had drifted elsewhere. Surely, Chase couldn’t have discovered the disappearance of his coins. He’d never be this happy. And what of Tater? Did he know and was testing Tyler to see what he would do?

  Tater plucked at his dirty apron and examined a few stains. “I could sure use another one of these, so I don’t have to wash so often. I can’t stay clean for long.”

  Didn’t look like the garment had ever been washed.

  Chase brightened. “That’s a darn good idea. And easy enough for Jessie to sew up before Christmas. She told me not to leave the bunkhouse without some ideas straight from your mouth. She and Courtney left early this morning for town. Got word Mrs. Ling gave birth and are taking the family a meal.” He shook his head. “Those women keep this town running smoothly, I can tell you that. Now I just need to figure out what to give my wife for Christmas. She says not to give her anything, but that’s no fun—and I know from years of experience, she really doesn’t mean it. Come Christmas morning, she’s as excited as the children, maybe even more. I need to make her see how much she’s changed my life. Before I met Jessie, I was a tumblin’ tumbleweed.”

  Chase’s voice had grown softer with each word until he was mumbling. He smiled into his coffee cup, lost to good memories. He looked up and nodded. “It’s true, fellas. She turned my life around. Made each day worth living.”