by Danni Roan
“But you love Papa now don’t you?” Matrice asked a hitch in her voice.
“Oh darlin’ I do. You see your pa might be a stubborn man, but he’s a good man. We married, and he even scraped together a few extra coins to buy me a new dress. It wasn’t nothin’ fancy, but it was new and right pretty. In some ways I think Noah worked hard to be a good husband because I didn’t love him right away. He couldn’t count on me puttin’ up with nonsense since my heart wasn’t his.”
Matrice smiled. “You think people who are in love think that way?” she asked with a slight blush.
“I don’t know,” Agnes said with a smile as she stacked the plates together. “All I know is that once I tied myself to your Papa, he did everything he knew how to make me love him and in return he learned to love me as well.”
Matrice rose from her chair and walked to her mother wrapping her arms around her. “Mama, you are so strong and so smart. I don’t know how you managed all those months with Papa far away.”
“I did it because I had to honey,” Agnes said. “My heart was weary unto fainting by the time your Papa came to us again.”
Matrice squeezed her mother tight again. “I’m sorry Mama,” she said. “You’ve given up so much for all of us.”
Agnes patted her daughter’s cheek. “You’ll understand one day,” she said. “When you have children of your own, you’ll understand.”
“Mama,” Beatrix came rushing into the kitchen, “Atrum’s not letting me pet the lambs.”
“She keeps upsetting the ewes,” Atrum stormed in behind his little sister. At eight he had taken on a lot of responsibility in helping Bruno out with his sheep and felt very possessive of them.
“Are you being gentle with the lambs,” Agnes turned hard eyes on her youngest child.
“I just want to hold them,” Beatrix replied a hint of guilt in her voice.
“Well how do you think I’d feel if people just came in here any time they wanted and started to pick you up?” Agnes asked.
“I suppose you wouldn’t like it much,” the little girl replied.
“Then you think about that next time you go to the barn and you mind your brother. Bruno said he’s doing real good with the sheep, so he knows best.”
“Yes ma’am,” Beatrix drawled reluctantly.
“Here you all are,” Noah Ratner said striding into the kitchen with a bright smile. “I wondered where my family had gotten to.” He wrapped an arm around Agnes kissing her cheek and making her chuckle.
“Atrum I’m going to need your help loading up some supplies soon.” Mr. Ratner added. “Matrice, I see you’ve made it home from town,” he added his voice cooling.
“Yes, Papa,” Matrice said stiffly.
“I suppose that young savage brought you back,” Noah growled.
“Papa, why do you have to call him that,” Matrice bridled. “He’s no more a savage than you or me.”
“Now I don’t want you starting this again,” Agnes spoke up. “Francis has been a real help to us Noah.”
“Perhaps he has been, but that doesn’t mean I approve of him carrying on with my daughter.”
“We are not carrying on!” Matrice shot back. “Francis is a good Christian man and has his own sense of honor. Besides what kind of girl do you think you raised?” she said her voice shaking.
“That will be enough young lady,” Noah barked. “I’ll not have back talk from you. We’re leaving here at the end of the month and that will be an end to the nonsense.”
Hot tears sprang to Matrice’s eyes as she spun on her heel and raced away out of the house.
“Atrum you take Beatrix back to see the lambs and show her how to be gentle and not upset the sheep,” Agnes said giving the boy a hard look.
“I know what you’re going to say Agnes,” Noah said as his son wrapped an arm around his little sister leaving the room. “But I’m not backing down on this. What kind of life could Matrice possibly have with a man like Francis? Or should I call him Lame Antelope?”
Agnes’ shoulders sagged. “Noah, you can’t change her heart,” she said walking to the stove and pouring them each a cup of coffee. “If you’d only seen it the first time they met,” she added shaking her head. “It was like someone had bottled a thunderstorm up and put a cork in it.”
“She’s young, she’ll get over it,” Noah persisted taking the cup of coffee and pulling Agnes onto his lap. He’d missed his wife and children terribly in the months it had taken him to work off the debt they’d made outfitting their wagon.
“She’s older than I was when we wed,” Agnes said draping an arm over his shoulders and sipping from the mug in her other hand.
“That was different,” Noah said. “We were more mature. We’d been through some rough times already.”
Agnes looked down in the dark handsome face of her husband. The first days of his return had been awkward and fretful as he recovered from being lost in a winter blizzard. They had needed to readjust to being together and talking things out again instead of making decisions independently.
“Noah, I don’t think you’re right on this,” she said softly. “I think all you’re doing now is driving a wedge between yourself and our daughter.”
“You can’t mean that,” Noah said looking up at Agnes. She was as pretty to him now as she was the day they had married. He saw so much of her in Matrice, but not the sense of responsibility or seriousness. “Honey, what would her life be like? If she marries Francis where will they ever go that people won’t shun them? What about their children? They’ll be part of two different worlds, but never truly belong in either one.”
“But they’ll have love,” Agnes said leaning forward and kissing him softly. “I don’t think you can force a heart Noah. You can only hope it grows to what it is meant to be.”
“How do we even know this boy loves her?” Noah asked studying the depths of his black coffee.
“You can see it,” Agnes intoned. “Perhaps it’s time you got to know Francis.”
Noah looked up into brown eyes that had filled his dreams for months. “When did you get so wise?” he asked a sad smile tugging at his lips.
“I married a wise man,” Agnes said standing and smoothing her skirts. “He taught me that we can all learn and grow together if we choose to.”
“Matrice!” Noah bellowed making Agnes laugh. “Matrice!” he called again this time winking at his wife as his teary eyed daughter scurried into the kitchen. “Go tell that young man to come for lunch.”
Matrice squealed launching herself into her father’s arms and hugging him tight, oblivious to the coffee she sloshed from his cup onto the floor.
“Thank you Papa, thank you!” she cried jumping back up and rushing through the door.
Chapter 11
“Is Miss Polly expecting you for lunch?” Rock asked as together he and Miss Bigsby ambled into town.
“I didn’t tell her to expect me. Honestly I thought I’d be out in the mountains a bit today.”
“How about some lunch at the Grist Mill then?” Rock asked.
Mary Ellen looked across the street toward the small restaurant that sat almost at the center of town.
“Is the food good?” she asked as Rock turned toward the hitching rail.
“Tate makes some pretty fine fair,” Rock said, “and if Prissy is cookin’ it’s even better.”
“Isn’t Prissy Quil’s sister?” Mary Ellen asked pulling Miss Betsy to a stop.
Rock climbed from the saddle giving Pal an affectionate slap on the neck, as he tossed his reins over the hitching rail.
“Allow me,” he offered as he made his way around the other horse and lifted his hands for Miss Bigsby.
Mary Ellen looked down at the big cowboy and grinned. “It seems you’re always lifting me up or down from something,” she said as she placed her hands on Rock’s shoulders letting him heft her from the saddle.
Rock took the little woman by the waist as she placed her hands on his shoulders,
lifting her from the saddle and set her on the ground. Her hands were warm and steady on his shoulders and he smiled down at her as she gained her feet.
“You’re very kind Mr. Bannon,” Mary Ellen said. “You have been extremely helpful since I’ve arrived in Biders Clump.” Her eyes met his, and she could see something deep in them that she’d never noticed before.
Rock stepped back releasing Miss Bigsby while noting the curve of the tiny woman’s cheek, and the intelligent light in her eyes. She was so small, but still willing to try everything Biders Clump had to offer.
Rock had always thought that hearty women meant hefty, even buxom, but this little one was plenty scrappy.
“Shall we?” he asked offering her his arm as he shook the thoughts away.
Mary Ellen laid her hand in the crook of the cowboy’s arm and walked up the stairs and into the restaurant. She couldn’t help but wonder what a man like Rock Bannon saw when he looked at her.
His dark eyes had been so kind and frank as he lifted her from the saddle that she’d felt as if she’d had a glimpse into his soul. In all of her reading she’d heard that men in the west were especially respectful to women, but this seemed to go further than that.
Shaking her silly thoughts away and chastising herself for her fanciful notions. This trip to Wyoming was addling her sensible brain. She was too old and settled to follow these ideas.
The smell of fresh baked goods and savory food filled Mary Ellen’s nostrils as she took her first step into the quaint eatery.
Directly in front of her stood a table covered in golden pastries, crusty loaves, and crisp pies.
“That looks wonderful,” she said as Rock led her into the warm dining room pulling out a chair for her along the way.
“Rupert is the town baker,” Rock said. “He’s married to Priscilla, and I’m mighty glad he finally got around to it too.”
Rock started at his own words shaking his head. “I’m sorry, that ain’t my tale to tell, but our Prissy sure was pinin’ away for him awful a while ago.”
A young blonde woman in a dark apron hurried toward them a bright smile on her plump face.
“My goodness Rock I don’t know what wind blew you in here, but I’m mighty glad to see you,” she said pulling a paper from her pocket. “
“Prissy, I just saw you out at Maud and Harland’s place last week,” Rock protested. His eyes were full of affection and Mary Ellen could see that the man doted on the Adam’s girls.
“Yes, but I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve stepped into the Grist Mill for a bite,” Priscilla Adams-Rutherford said.
“I’m Prissy by the way,” she said finally turning to Mary Ellen. “You must be Miss Bigsby. Quil told me you came all the way to Biders Clump to see where she lived.”
Mary Ellen blushed. “I’m afraid it’s an old woman’s fancy,” she confessed feeling a bit silly, but still happy she’d decided to make the trek.
“Old!” Prissy hissed, “You don’t look a day over thirty-five. Why Rock here’s got a few more years on him than you have, and I’d never think of him as old.”
Mary Ellen smiled again her cheeks rosy. “Aren’t you sweet,” she said still not accepting the young woman’s words as truth. She was too accustomed to being the old spinster school teacher to think of herself as anything else.
“Now what would you like to drink?” Prissy said, abruptly changing the subject. “I have elderberry cordial, or if you want something hot, there’s tea and coffee. Oh, and there’s milk if you like that sort of thing.”
“I’ll just have coffee,” Rock said. “What’s on the menu?”
“You don’t worry about the menu,” Prissy sassed. “I know what you like, and what’s best, so I’ll bring you what I’m making. Trust me you won’t be sorry,” she added with a cheeky grin.
Mary Ellen looked between her two companions and wanted to giggle. My but the girl had spunk and to sass a man as big as Mr. Bannon at that. “I think I’d like a cup of tea,” she said quietly. “I’m a bit chilled after my ride.”
Mary Ellen watched as the young woman turned away heading back to the kitchen. “I guess it’s Priscilla’s day to cook.” She smiled again when she saw the pride in the big man’s eyes.
“You won’t be disappointed today then, anything Prissy cooks is good.”
“These girls are really special to you aren’t they?” Mary Ellen asked as another young woman brought their drinks to the table.
Rock tugged at his ear and shrugged. “I’ve known ‘em since they was born,” he admitted. “They’re as close to family as I ever had.”
Something in Mary Ellen’s heart turned over in her breast. Who would think that this boulder of a man could be so soft hearted?
“I’m not keeping you from your work am I?” Mary Ellen asked. “I mean I’m sure there’s a great deal for you to do on the ranch.”
Rock smiled shaking his head. “Today’s my day off,” he said. “I was just going out to have a chat with Bruno about some shelves for Quil when I ran into you.”
“Do you think me a complete ninny?” Mary Ellen said sipping her tea.
“Not at all,” Rock said. “You’re just learnin’ something new. Tomorrow you can see how it is to wrangle cows.”
“Who’s wrangling cows?” Prissy asked coming back with a heavy tray laden with food.
“Miss Bigsby is planning on coming out to the ranch tomorrow to see how we move Herman.”
Prissy giggled making Mary Ellen look up in question. “You’ll have a wonderful time,” the younger woman said. “Now enjoy your meal.”
Mary Ellen looked down at a beautiful pot pie covered in a perfect golden crust.
“This smells divine,” she said picking up her fork.
“Anything Prissy makes is good.”
The next few minutes were spent enjoying the meal.
“So what will I see tomorrow?” Mary Ellen asked as she crumbled another portion of crust into the piping hot chicken and vegetables swimming in a thick rich gravy.
“Mostly cows,” Rock said a twinkle in his eye.
“Is it like what Quil puts in her books?”
“I don’t know,” Rock admitted. “I haven’t read them.”
Mary Ellen gaped at the big man. “You haven’t read Quil’s stories?”
“No ma’am. I’m more the doing kind of fella and don’t read much. I do like listening to Miss Polly’s tales though,” Rock corrected. “They can be right fun.”
“I can’t imagine not reading,” Mary Ellen said.
Rock shrugged feeling small and insignificant. “I never had much time for it I guess,” he said turning his attention back to his meal.
Mary Ellen watched Rock as he turned his eyes back to his meal. How could anyone not find time to read? She wondered. Looking up and studying her companion and sudden realization came to her.
“How old did you say you were when you came to Biders Clump?”
Rock looked up from his meal. “About fifteen,” he said.
“And where did you come from?”
“I lived out in Iowa,” the big man said. “When my parents passed, I saddled up and headed west.”
Mary Ellen looked at the man her heart softening toward him. “You’ve been working at the ranch ever since.”
“Yes ma’am.”
They finished their meal over simple chatter then Rock paid for the meal. “I’ll take the horse back for you,” Rock said as they stepped out the door into a brisk wind.
“No, I’m going to ride back and show Miss Betsy who’s boss.”
Rock chuckled, the throaty rumble filling the stoop.
Rock pulled the mare over to the steps and held her as Miss Bigsby clambered up into the saddle.
“Thank you Mr. Bannon.”
Rock grabbed Pal’s reins and swung up trotting after the little woman on the old gray mare.
“Well lookey who’s back,” Byron said walking out of the stable with a pitchfork in hand. �
��How’d you do?”
“I’ll have to admit it didn’t start out so well,” Mary Ellen confessed, but with a little help from Mr. Bannon, I think I’m getting the hang of it. Can I please have the horse again tomorrow?”
Byron took the horse by the bridle and led Miss Betsy to a mounting block.
Mary Ellen slid down the side of the horse her toes touching the block as she stepped down.
“See ya tomorrow,” Byron said leading the horse away.
Rock climbed out of the saddle and offered Miss Bigsby his arm turning to walk her to the boarding house.
It had been an interesting day, and even though the woman barely came to the middle of his bicep it was nice to think he had been of some use to her.
“I’m an early riser,” Mary Ellen said as they stopped in front of the boarding house, “so please don’t let me keep you from getting out on the range first thing.”
Rock nodded. “I’ll see you right after breakfast,” he agreed, tossing the reins over Pal’s neck and placing a foot in the stirrup. “Have a nice evening,” he added tipping his hat as he swung up and rode away.
Chapter 12
Rock grinned as he stopped in front of the boarding house and found Miss Bigsby waiting for him.
“Mr. Olson brought the horse to me today,” she said with a grin as she stood on the end of the stoop and stepped into a stirrup unaided.
“You look like you’re determined to set Miss Betsy straight today,” Rock said with a grin.
“I’ll do my best,” Mary Ellen said hitching her leg around the saddle horn. Now that she understood how to do this she felt more confident on the horse.
“I’ll just need to stop at the mercantile a minute on our way out of town. They have a parcel for me.”
“Just a minute you two,” George called hurrying back out onto the stoop as they turned their mounts away. “Polly made you up a little lunch for when you stop for noonin’. You got your parcel from the Bentley’s yet?” he added with a grin offering Rock the small basket.
Rock reached down and took the short basket from George’s hand, twisting in the saddle to secure it over the skirt of his saddle. “I’m headed over to pick it up now.”
