Wild Rain

by Beverly Jenkins

  “Emily is a crusader. She doesn’t believe marriage holds much benefit for women,” he explained.

  Spring raised her cup in silent tribute.

  He smiled. “I sensed you’d agree with her.”

  “So you don’t want to marry her because she doesn’t want to marry you?”

  “In part, but the other part is if I do marry, I want it to be to someone who fills my heart the way my mother fills my father’s heart. He adores her.”

  Something rippled through her that was both faint yet powerful. For a moment she felt entranced, unable to do anything but look into his eyes and let him do the same to her. She broke the invisible thread and concentrated on cutting her steak. Realizing her hand was shaking, she cursed inwardly and drew in a breath to calm herself. “So you believe in love.” It was more statement than question.

  “I don’t know if that’s what it’s called, but for the sake of conversation, yes. My mother is the light of my father’s world. You see it in his face whenever she walks into a room. I’d like to feel that way about the person I pledge my life to.”

  “And it doesn’t happen with Emily,” she stated quietly.

  He shook his head. “But she’s incredibly smart, funny, and a good friend.”

  Spring thought him way more complicated than she’d initially assumed. His description of his father and mother fit how Colt and Regan felt about each other.

  He added, “Of course, I may never find that person, but I’d like to hold out and see.”

  Once again she was caught by the spell in his gaze. Tearing herself away, she said, “Good luck.” What she didn’t say aloud was: What in the hell is wrong with me?

  “Thanks.” He offered up a toast. “Have you ever been in love?”

  She glared.

  “My apologies. Even I know that was too nosy to ask.”

  “Just eat.”

  After the meal, they did the dishes. This time he washed, and she dried. They worked silently, which suited her just fine. Because of her mood, she wanted to ignore him but found that difficult. Like before, there were inadvertent touches, and though she tried not to, she found herself studying his strong hands, along with the cut of his jaw and the slope of his shoulders in the blue shirt he wore. That her eyes kept straying to his was frustrating. She uncharacteristically wondered if her glare had hurt his feelings, but there was nothing in his face or manner that said she had. Oddly enough, when their eyes brushed, he seemed quietly amused, as if he held the answer to a private riddle. She wanted to ask what it meant because it further fed her inner grumbling. Instead, she took the wet dishes he handed her, dried them, and put them away.

  When they finished the task, he asked, “Is there anything else I can help you with? You’ve taken me in and fed me. I’d like to feel as if I’m at least earning my keep.”

  “No, but thank you for asking.”

  “Then I’ve some reading I want to catch up on. Have a good rest of your evening and thanks for dinner. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  And he walked out and left her alone in the kitchen. She told herself good riddance because she’d had enough of his company and nosy questions for one night, even as a voice inside called the lie.

  The following morning, after feeding the horses, Spring looked around the landscape surrounding her place and decided the snow had melted enough to make the trip to her brother’s place.

  McCray had breakfast started when she entered the house. “Morning,” she said. The air was fragrant with the scent of bacon.

  “Morning.”

  He paused scrambling the eggs to take her in while she did the same, and for a moment that was all either seemed capable of doing. Whatever was happening seemed to be growing but she was determined it not become any stronger. Pulling herself free, she said, “The snow’s melted enough that we can ride over to my brother’s today. It’ll be muddy, but I don’t think it’ll be too bad on our mounts. Is your knee healed enough to ride?”

  He nodded.

  “If my brother’s back, he can take you into town to get your room.”

  “And if he isn’t?”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to do it.”

  “I don’t want to impose upon you any more than I have already.”

  “If I don’t take you, who will? I can ask Odell if you prefer.”

  “No. I’ll take your company over his any day.”

  “He’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

  “If you say so. Once I get my gear packed, I’ll be ready to leave. How far away does your brother live?”

  “On horseback about twenty minutes. It’ll probably take us a bit longer today with it being so muddy.”

  “Does he live on a ranch, too?”

  “No, but he has a fair amount of land.”

  After breakfast they saddled their mounts.

  “That’s a fine-looking stallion,” he said to her as they rode slowly out to the road.

  “This is Cheyenne. Have had him now about eight years. He was a sickly foal when I found him. I don’t know if he lost his mother or got separated from his herd, but he was near death, so I brought him home. We’ve been together ever since.”

  “I’ve never seen such a magnificent animal.”

  “There are hundreds of wild horses here. Wranglers bring them in, break them, and sell them. Where do your horses come from back East?”

  “Usually from the owners of horse farms, but I’ve no idea where their stock comes from. Many breed them, I suppose.”

  “You should always know where your mounts originate. Some sellers aren’t always honest. If you don’t know what to look for they can take advantage and stick you with a sick or deformed animal.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  As they kept the horses to a slow walk down the road, Spring wouldn’t admit to having enjoyed McCray’s company, only that he’d been a houseguest she hadn’t immediately wanted to be rid of. It made her wonder if that meant she’d been lonely over the course of the long winter months. Having her breakfast prepared for her had been novel, and holding conversation with someone other than her horses had been, as well. Usually when she wanted talk or company, she rode over to Regan’s or Odell’s. Rarely were conversations held at her table.

  She glanced his way and wondered what he thought of her. Not that it mattered. She made no apologies for who she was, but knew she probably wasn’t like his female acquaintances at home. Would he go home and make jokes to his friends about her buffalo coat, buckskins, and unconventional ways? Not that that mattered, either, or at least she told herself it didn’t. Being a hothouse flower needing care and watering by a man wasn’t anything she desired to be. Like many unmarried women in the West, she saddled her own horse, chopped her own wood, and shoveled her own snow. Society dictates or not, she didn’t want children—never had, which would undoubtedly shock any man loco enough to come calling; not that there’d been any nor would be, for that matter. And that meant she wouldn’t have to worry about being challenged to change her mind.

  “What’s it like around here in the summer?” he asked.

  “Beautiful. Green. Lots of wildflowers. Big blue sky.”

  He studied the still snow-covered landscape and mountains off in the distance. “I’ll bet it’s something.”

  “It is. No streetcars though.”

  He shot her a smile. “Do folks climb the mountains?”

  “Sometimes, but I’ve never known anyone to go all the way to the top. Odell said the Natives worshipped them. They believed their gods lived on the summits.”

  “So they have stories?”

  “Yes, just like most groups of people do, I suppose.”

  “My father said when he was young, the old slaves told stories of the African gods. Sadly, most of the tales died with them.”

  She wondered what those tales had been like. Were there tricksters and magical beings? Were some gods evil and others good? Her mother, Isabelle, had been enslaved then freed as an
adolescent. She’d never talked about her experiences though. McCray said he wasn’t ashamed of his past. Had her mother felt differently? Was that the reason she never discussed those years, or did she simply want to forget because life had been too painful? Spring wondered what her mother would think about what her daughter had been forced to do to survive after her untimely death. Not wanting to open old wounds, she turned her thoughts away from those heartbreaking times and concentrated on the warmth in the air and the brilliant blue sky above.

  Like the road, the gravel path leading to her brother’s house was thick with mud from the melting snow. “We’re here.”

  They dismounted and he eyed the surroundings. Seeing the unfinished structure behind the house, he asked, “Are they putting on an addition?”

  “No, it’s going to be the town’s first hospital. Colt has an office in town, but he’d like to treat people away from town, too. He’s also adding a room where patients can stay overnight if need be.”

  She led McCray up the steps to the porch and knocked on the front door. It was opened by her seven-year-old niece, Anna.

  “Aunt Spring!” the girl cried joyfully and launched her small frame into Spring’s embrace.

  Grinning, Spring picked her up and hugged her close. “Hello, Anna. How are you? How’s your pony Shadow?”

  “I’m fine. Shadow, too. I have to wait until the snow melts some more before I can go riding. It’s so good to see you. Colton Fontaine spit up all over Mama. She’s in her room cleaning up.”

  Spring saw Anna eyeing her companion, and so made the introductions. “Anna Lee, this is Mr. McCray. He’s a newspaper man and is going to do a story about your father. McCray, this is my niece, Anna.”

  “Hello, Miss Anna. It’s my pleasure to meet you.”

  “Hello,” she replied shyly. “Pleased to meet you, too.”

  Spring put her back on her feet, and they entered the house. She was just closing the door when Regan appeared with her son in her arms. Spring noted the bags of exhaustion below her eyes.

  “Hello, Spring,” Regan said. “Is this the newspaper reporter Odell told me about when he stopped by yesterday?”

  “Yes. Name’s Garrett McCray.” Spring turned to him. “McCray, this is my sister-in-law, Regan Carmichael Lee.”

  He nodded. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Lee.”

  “Same here. My husband’s been expecting you. I’m sorry he isn’t here. This small bundle of sometimes joy is our son, Colton Fontaine Lee.”

  McCray stepped closer and peered down at the blanket-swathed infant in her arms. “Hello there, little fella. How are you?” He then asked Regan, “How old is he?”

  “He’ll be six weeks old tomorrow.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  Anna said, “He cries so loud sometimes.”

  McCray said to Anna, “Crying is what babies do. They grow out of it, though.”

  Anna replied, “Libby has a baby sister. She cried a lot when they first got her, too. Now she crawls around on the floor.”

  Regan explained. “Libby is Anna’s best friend.”

  “Ah.”

  Regan said, “My husband has been looking forward to your arrival but unfortunately, there’s a measles epidemic up at Rock Springs. Hopefully, now that the weather has broken, he’ll be home soon. Odell said Spring rescued you from the storm. Good thing she found you.”

  Spring cracked, “As long as we have Odell, we’ll never need a newspaper.” The old trapper had ties to nearly everyone in the Territory, and if there was news to be told, he could be counted on to spread the word. “I’m going to take him into Paradise so he can rent a room from Dovie.”

  “Okay,” Regan replied. “Welcome to Paradise, Mr. McCray. As soon as my husband returns, I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.”

  “I’d appreciate that. I’ll let you get back to your day. Was nice meeting you.”

  “Same here.”

  Spring placed a kiss on the cheeks of Regan, Anna, and Colton Fontaine, then led McCray back out into the sunshine.

  “Sorry for having to take up more of your time, Spring.”

  “I’m fine. Just mount up.” She couldn’t recall a man quite so apologetic, and she wondered who he really was beneath the gentlemanly facade. Could he simply be who he’d shown himself to be so far? A well-raised, nice man?

  They resumed their ride and at one point he asked, “What are the politics like in Paradise? Might need it for background for the story.”

  “Things are more progressive now that there’s a new mayor. His name is Randolph Nelson. That was his beef we had for supper last night.”

  “Ah. He’s Republican?”

  “Yes. Head of the local party. The old mayor, Arnold Cale, was Republican, too, but he and his cronies were voted out mainly for refusing to pay for a schoolteacher.”

  “Why would anyone be against that?”

  “Just cheap and not being very educated themselves.”

  “Is your brother active in the political arena?”

  “No. Colt’s more focused on his doctoring.”

  “I see. Is it true women vote out here?”

  “Yes. Since sixty-nine.”

  “Some folks back East are against women voting.”

  “Just the men, right?”

  His amusement showed. “Mostly, yes.”

  “The Territory hoped giving us the vote would draw women from back East and help grow the population.”

  “Has it worked?”

  “A bit, but women aren’t arriving in the droves hoped for.”

  “Do you vote?”

  “Of course.”

  “Colored people aren’t challenged?”

  “Not yet, but I’m guessing it’s on the way. Last year Regan was on a stagecoach outlaws tried to rob, but she wasn’t allowed to testify against them at the trial because of her race. How is it back East?”

  “Getting worse by the day, seemingly.”

  “Another reason to stay out West.”

  “Might not be a bad idea. Just seeing all these trees and imagining what they look like in warm weather, and what I could build with the wood, makes me want to stay and find out. I’ve met some interesting people here, too.”

  “Yes, Odell is interesting.”

  He laughed. “I meant a certain woman who wears buckskins and a buffalo coat. She’s somewhat prickly but that seems to be part of her charm.”

  Spring turned to him. “I thought you were talking about me until you added that charm part.”

  “I find you very charming.”

  She stopped her horse and searched the sky.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for the lightning that’s coming to strike you dead for lying.”

  “You don’t think you’re charming?”

  “Charming is used to describe dainty women wearing pretty dresses who drink tea from little china cups.”

  “Not to me,” he said quietly. “Charming can be strength, intelligence—an unconventional way of looking at life.”

  She found herself entranced again but fighting free because she had no business being attracted to a nosy newspaper man. She said, “Let’s go so you can get settled in town, and I can ride home.”

  “Lead the way.”

  Chapter Four

  Garrett’s first thought upon arriving in Paradise was how small it was. As he rode beside Spring down the main street, he took in the businesses and shops: Miller’s Grocer, the medical office of Dr. Lee, the sheriff’s office, and Beck’s Undertaking. A few men on the walks in front of the grocer’s called hello to Spring, and asked, “That the newspaper fella?”

  “It is.”

  “Heard he was being chased by a bear when you found him.”

  Garrett’s jaw dropped. A bear?

  She smiled. “There was no bear.”

  Someone yelled, “He going to let other people be in his newspaper story?”

  “I don’t know. You�
��ll have to ask him.”

  Garrett was amazed that they already knew about him. He supposed small-town folks had nothing better to do than share gossip—true or not.

  “Is there a telegraph office?” he asked Spring. “I want to let my family know I arrived safely.”

  “Yes. Odell runs it. It’s across the street from the boardinghouse.”

  Garrett still wasn’t sure how he felt about being tested by the old man, but having passed it, he supposed he shouldn’t hold a grudge.

  She stopped at the far end of the street in front of a simple house whose green paint looked new. “This is the boardinghouse. Regan owns it but Dovie Denby runs it. She also has her seamstress shop inside.”

  They stepped up onto the porch and before she could reach for the latch to open the door, he reached for it first.

  “What’re you doing?” she asked.

  “Getting the door.”

  “Being a gentleman again?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can open the door for myself, McCray.”

  “I know that.”

  “Then step aside.”

  “Remember the talk we had about respect?”

  “Remember what I said in response?”

  A female voice interrupted them. “For heaven’s sake, Spring. Let the man open the door. Nobody else around here has balls enough to try and treat you like a lady.”

  Garrett turned to see a red-haired woman dressed in an elegant green day gown. She was standing at the base of the steps with a small group of curious onlookers that included Odell.

  Spring groused, “Go away, Glenda, and take Odell and his checkers partners with you.”

  Garrett had no idea who the woman was, but that was quickly remedied. Ignoring Spring, she walked up and stuck out a hand encased in a green glove that matched her dress. “I’m Glenda Cale. My husband, Arnold, owns the bank and is the former mayor.”

  “Garrett McCray.”

  “If you’re thinking about courting our Spring, know that she’s going to ride you hard and put you up wet, but she’s worth every argument the two of you are going to have. Welcome to Paradise.”