by Danni Roan
Rock’s Revelation
Tales from Biders Clump
Danni Roan
Copyright © 2019 by Danni Roan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.
FIRST EDITION
https://authordanniroan.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Mary Ellen Bigsby placed her bifocals on her nose, adjusted her hat, lifted her bag and stepped out the door closing it behind her for the last time.
She was no longer needed here, and it was time to move on. Placing her key in the flower pot by the door she turned and scanned the town.
The school bell had not yet rung as the town woke slowly, and she sighed gazing at the building she had given her youth to. As the now retired teacher of Crofter, she hoped that her job had been well done, but now it was time for a new younger generation to take over the education of the town’s children.
Straightening the ruff of her traveling gown, she squared her shoulders and headed for the depot, patting her reticule to assure herself that her ticket to Biders Clump, and the home of her favorite author, was still there.
It was a middle aged woman’s whimsy to travel so far, but she simply had to see the Wyoming landscape and understand for herself the magic of the words she had read in the pages of those amazing books.
Patting a wisp of graying hair into place as she stepped up on the platform, she adjusted her corset discretely, they never seemed to be small enough, and headed for the ticket agent.
“Where you headed Miss Bigsby?” the sleepy looking man behind the barred window asked. “Off to visit family?”
“I have no family left, thank you Terrance,” Miss Bigsby stated. “I’m off on a little adventure to see what I can see.”
“Just like the old bear, hey?” Terrance asked with a chuckle. “You know like the song you used to teach us in school. The bear went over the mountain,” the man sang a line.
Mary Ellen smiled. “Yes I suppose so.”
“Well you have a good journey and be sure to stay warm,” Terrance said with a smile.
Mary Ellen accepted the hand of the conductor as she stepped up onto the step of the train car amidst a puff of steam.
Hesitating just a moment, she turned her petite form to gaze over her town one last time before disappearing into the warm car and taking her seat.
Pulling her favorite book from her bag she smoothed the pages and lost herself in another world.
***
Spring was creeping slowly toward Biders Clump in fits and starts. First with heavy snow then a gentle warming that brought with it new friends and old family.
Rock Bannon rolled into town on his oversized horse, with his oversized hat and his oversized coat protecting him from the icy chill of the wind that whistled out of the Rockies to scour any snow that had lingered into shady patches where it could stay well into April
“Rock,” George Olson called as he looked up from the book he was reading on the front porch of the Biders Clump Boarding house. “What brings you to town?”
“Cam sent me to pick up some items he ordered for the house,” Rock replied pulling rein at the hitching post, and leaning on the pommel of his saddle. “Cam says he’s modernizin’ to make things nicer for Quil. He seems to think that with a growing family he needs to improve on stuff.”
George Olson chuckled, his dark eyes bright with laughter. “Young folks are always looking forward,” the older man said. “Do you know what it is he’s getting?”
Rock shook his head. “No, only that he said to hire a wagon if I need it. He’s full of ideas Cam is, but he’s good to our Quil, so I don’t have nothing against it.”
Rock, a long-term hand at the Adams Rocking A ranch, had put the fear of the Lord and a few other things into Cameron Royal on the day he had married Aquila Adams, but had soon become fast friends with the younger man.
“Them Adams women have had enough troubles over the years, so I reckon it’s kinda’ sweet that Cam wants to make life easier on Quil,” Rock mused.
George nodded his head, his shock of salt and pepper hair moving in time. “When Andrew passed leaving Maud to manage the ranch and raise those three girls things didn’t go so well. Least not till Cameron Royal turned up to ram rod the spread.”
Rock smiled, lighting his rugged face, like a ray of sun painting the mountains with a golden glow. “Me an’ the other fellas would have stayed on and worked for free if Maud woulda’ let us,” he said. “Billings and Will both didn’t want to go, but she said she couldn’t pay us, and old Harland was offering top pay so we moved.”
“I always thought it was a shame when Maud had to sell up that fine saddle stock Andrew had worked so hard to get. Nearly broke my heart to see them girls let go of their horses, but now they each have them back and husbands to love to boot.” George studied Rock whose chiseled face had taken on a rosy hue.
“Seems you fellas from the Rocking A bought up a good bit of that stock,” George continued watching as the big man became more uncomfortable with every word. “I even heard that Sugar, Priscilla’s little white horse turned up in a stall one morning with only a note sayin’ to keep him.”
By now Rock was crimson with embarrassment. It was obvious that George and Byron, the hostler at the livery stable, had put two and two together and figured out he’d brought the horse back to its rightful home.
“I’m just glad that Maud and Harland were able to sort out their differences and buried the hatchet after so many years.” Rock said changing the subject. He knew that he, Billings and William had all bought the Rocking A stock with their own money and made sure that Sugar, Ginger and Spice had all returned to their girls.
“I’d say they more than buried the hatchet,” George chuckled. “After years of out and out hatefulness, they up and got married and are about as happy a couple as I’ve ever seen.”
“It always pained me to see them two fightin’ and such,” Rock muttered as the sound of a train whistle drifted toward them.
“That’s cause you got a heart as big as the rest of ya,” George said with a grin.
“Have you met the Bentley’s kin yet?” Rock asked changing the subject again. He didn’t like too much attention and got more than his share because of the way he was made. On top of that recent events had left him feeling awkward and out of place.
“No, they’ve been keeping close to the mercantile at the moment. Seems that young man traveling with them took a bump to the head and is recuperation.”
George’s eyes twinkled with an inner light as he leaned toward the man on the horse. “I reckon we’ll be havin’ another wedding right soon by the way that Sara Jane looks at the man though.”
Rock laughed a deep rumble that rolled from his chest like an avalanche. “George Olson, you’re an old gossip is what you are.”
“I reckon I am,” George admitted. “But I’m old enough that no one minds. Besides, I like weddings. Polly Esther cooks up a storm any time there’s a shindig, and my wife can flat out cook.”
“You mean she
bakes and you get to sample the treats,” Rock said lifting his head as the train whistle grew louder.
“Seems to me you’ve taken advantage of those tastings a time or two yourself,” George added smugly.
“You’d be crazy not to sit at Miss Polly’s table when offered,” Rock agreed as the clatter and rattle of a train approaching the station echoed across the sleepy town. “I’d best get on over to the station,” the big man drawled nodding to George.
“Well you stop on by on your way back to the ranch then,” George called as Rock laid the reins across his big Palomino’s neck pivoting toward the street.
“I’ll tell Polly you’re comin’ and maybe she’ll whip up a few cookies for us,” George shouted as Rock trotted away.
Chapter 2
“Young man, young man,” a female voice, smooth and resonant as if used to being listened to, drifted over Rock as he shifted a heavy crate toward the edge of the platform.
“Young man,” the voice demanded this time being accompanied by a sharp rap on the elbow with an umbrella.
“Ma’am,” Rock turned slowly tipping his hat automatically as he looked down on one of the tiniest women he had ever seen.
“Oh, pardon me,” the petite woman said, letting the umbrella handle fall back into the crook of her elbow.
“I’m sorry you’ve been put out ma’am,” Rock said taking in the woman’s sensible traveling gown and smart hat. “I’m afraid it’s been a fair spell since anyone called me a young man.” He smiled kindly pleased when the woman returned the gesture.
“Now, how can I help you?”
Mary Ellen Bigsby gazed up into the craggy face of the hulking cowboy and wondered if they grew everything big out here in the wilds. When she had first called out to the man, he’d been bent over a crate, his back to her. With the ease that he had been shifting the heavy crates, she had mistaken him for a much younger man.
“I do apologize,” Mary Ellen said. “I hope you’ll forgive me, I assumed you worked here.” She looked toward the wooden boxes he’d been moving to the edge of the platform only moments ago. “I’m afraid I’m new to the town and don’t quite have my bearings.”
“We get new folks here all the time,” Rock offered. “All sorts of folks pass through Biders Clump.” He thought back to the events of only two months ago, and how he’d found Agnes Ratner and her family alone in the snow. “I’m Rock,” the big man continued. “I’d be happy to help you if I can.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” the little woman’s eyes twinkled merrily at the mention of his name and a grin tugged at her lips. “Could you point me in the direction of a hotel or boarding house though? I’d be ever so grateful.”
Rock smiled. “You wait right here ma’am, and I’ll fetch the wagon and take you right over to Miss Polly and Mr. George. They’ll be right pleased to see you.”
Before Mary Ellen could respond the big man had tossed himself into the saddle of a large golden horse and galloped away.
“Here five minutes and I’m already a nuisance,” Mary Ellen fussed. “I declare I’ve left my manners in that miserable train car.”
She turned seeing her trunk being dropped onto the platform along with a large carpetbag and small crate of books. It was just about all she had in the world, but it was all she needed.
Hurrying to the trunk she grasped the handle and began to tug, but the thing would not budge. What had ever possessed her to pack up her entire wardrobe?
The rattle of a buckboard caught her ear as the man called Rock returned, his big horse now lumbering along tied to the wagon as the team came to a stop.
“Here, let me,” Rock said springing onto the planks and hefting the heavy trunk in one hand. A moment later he returned for the box and the bag placing them carefully in the wagon.
Mary Ellen walked to the edge of the high platform and looked down at the wagon. “I’m sorry to be such a nuisance,” she chided. “I think the rocking of my journey has rattled my brain.”
“You ain’t no trouble,” Rock said reaching up and lifting her down from the platform as well, making her scream.
“Sorry,” Rock said his face going crimson as he placed her into the wagon like some china doll. “I’m used ta just doin’ things I guess.”
Mary Ellen stiffened her spine giving the man a reproving glare as her heart pounded in her chest. What kind of man simply picks a woman up and plunks her down in a wagon? Things certainly were different out here in the west.
She squirmed slightly on the hard seat as unfamiliar warmth filled her body.
“Just don’t do it again,” she barked, watching as the man grasped his own crates, hefting them into the wagon one at a time.
Rock blushed as he made his way around the wagon giving Pal a pat as he skirted the animal’s rump. He hadn’t even thought about what he was doing when he’d lifted the little woman down to the wagon seat. Sure, he was only trying to be helpful, but he’d never been so forward with a woman in his life. She was so small, and it was such a simple move.
The wagon bucked and rocked as the cowboy hauled himself aboard and Mary Ellen grabbed the seat to steady herself.
“I’m right sorry about being so forward earlier,” Rock said his face hidden below his wide brimmed hat. “I just figured you didn’t want to go all the way along to the stairs.”
“That’s quite alright Mr. Bannon,” Mary Ellen said softly. “And please call me Miss Bigsby. It’s just that you startled me you know.”
“Yes ma’am,” Rock said shaking out the lines and setting the horses in motion for the short drive to the Olson’s boarding house.
“Mr. Bannon you don’t happen to know a Quil Adams do you?” Mary Ellen asked gazing about her as they trotted along the hard packed street.
“Aquila? Sure I know her. I work for her and her husband Cameron.”
Mary Ellen sat up straighter almost tipping off of the seat. Her feet barely reached the foot rail and she had no good way of bracing herself on the tall seat. It didn’t help that the bench sloped the other direction as the weight of the man next to her pressed the leaf springs.
“You work for Quil Adams?” she tried to curb the excitement in her voice.
“Yes ma’am. I’ve known Quil since she was just a little thing. I come to work for her pa years ago and am back at the Rocking A again now.”
Mary Ellen’s heart fluttered. This lump of a man actually new the woman who’d drawn her here with her words. For the first time since getting off of the train, she looked up taking in the spectacular snow covered peaks of the Rocky Mountains.
The cold breeze carrying the scent of ice, granite, and wide-open spaces took her breath away, and she didn’t want the drive to stop.
“It’s beautiful,” the woman beside Rock gasped as she gazed upon the mountains, absently placing her hand on his arm. “I’ve read so much about these mountains. I’ve even seen paintings and tintypes, but to see it with my own eyes…”
Her voice dropped away as Rock pulled the horses to a stop in front of the boarding house, and he gazed up trying to take in the vast expanses of the still frozen mountains as one who had never seen them before.
“I reckon they are pretty special,” Rock said setting the brake and tying off the lines. “I’ve spent most of my forty-two years seein’ them, so they don’t catch my eye like they should any more.”
Mary Ellen turned wide eyes on the man who had been kind enough to help her to the boarding house, realizing with a start that her hand still rested on his solid forearm.
“I come from a place where the mountains are so old that they’ve lost their craggy peaks and have grown over with trees. They are beautiful, but to see this, to witness these rugged untamed ranges,” she shook her head her words failing her.
Rock looked down at the small hand still resting on his arm and smiled. “I’m glad you like it then,” he said climbing from the rig with a jiggle and bump.
“Rock, that you?” George asked stomping ou
t of the house and slipping into his coat. “Oh, pardon me,” the old man said. “Didn’t know Rock had comp’ny.”
Rock hurried around to the other side of the buckboard and offered Miss Bigsby his hand, but she seemed to struggle reaching a rung on the wagon wheel with her foot. She simply wasn’t tall enough to climb down easily.
“If you’ll excuse me ma’am,” Rock said grasping her by the waist and in one smooth turn placing her feet on the top tread of the stoop.
“Thank you,” Mary Ellen said, “I’m sorry to be so much trouble.”
“George this here is Miss Bigsby and she’s come to Biders Clump for a visit. I brung her here, so’s you can get her settled.”
“Thank you Rock,” George smiled. “I’m sorry I didn’t meet the train myself today,” George apologized as Rock turned back to the wagon and grasped the trunk and bag he’d stowed there only minutes earlier.
“Miss Bigsby you come right on in, and Rock if you don’t mind takin’ that trunk up to the lavender room, I’d appreciate it. Then we’ll have us a little treat.” George’s dark eyes twinkled. Not only did he get some piping hot cookies straight out of the oven, he didn’t have to carry the heavy trunk up stairs.
“I’d be happy to,” Rock nodded as George held the door for them. “What about the crate, Miss Bigsby?” he asked.
“Oh, if you don’t mind leaving it in my room as well,” the tiny woman piped stepping through the door and out of his way.
“George is that you?” a woman’s voice floated down the hall, pitched perfectly to be heard at the front door. “You only just left.”
“We have a guest Polly,” George called back closing the door and ushering Miss Bigsby into the warm kitchen at the end of the hall that smelled like butter and cream and sugar and cinnamon.
“Hello and welcome!” the woman in a bright flowery apron called as Mary Ellen stepped into the kitchen. “I didn’t know we were expecting anyone today.”
