Rancher's Woman

by Sarah Christian

  Remote miner's camps in the Black Hills made for good business and there was a little here and there in Sweet Town itself, but his biggest source of income was getting meat out to the nearest Indian reservation. Their treaty with the US government meant they were owed meat to survive, and he wondered if they would have been given anything but moldy salt pork if he hadn't been available for the contract. The money was good, but it was clear keeping the essentially imprisoned people healthy and happy was a low priority for the government.

  Whether European princes or elected officials, it seemed inevitable that anyone with power enough would make those beneath them suffer, Jachym thought dourly.

  After his threat, the men began chatting among themselves about the cattle they'd be retrieving from Nebraska soon. The younger, less experienced ones were as excitable as schoolboys, while the older ones like Froggy and Paul showed a more restrained relish, clearly looking forward to the change of pace but doing their best not to show it.

  Once his bed was prepared, Jachym stripped off his boots and belt and climbed in. His hands slid under his pillow to provide a little extra padding to his head and he stared up at the ceiling. How like living back in the barracks this was, listening to the chatter of other men whose lives all depended on one another. Yet how dependable were they really? His livelihood rested in their hands.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  It wasn’t only beef cattle raised on the ranch. There were chickens, pigs, turkeys, and milk cows all providing food for the larder. The garden Esther envisioned would enhance their meals with fruits and vegetables, both fresh and preserved. In the meantime, she had to rely on what stores she was able to buy from the mercantile. Flap jacks and fried potatoes steamed up the kitchen considerably, but the dried apple compote that was simmering on the stove lent a delightful aroma. Next year she hoped to can apple sauce and pie fillings.

  The back door opened and she heard the now familiar sound of Jack’s boots, stomping on the floor to loosen the barnyard dirt. “Good morning,” she called out to him, as she flipped a pancake. When he didn't answer, she looked up and saw him standing in the doorway, dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders drooping. She dropped the spatula and stepped toward him, “What happened?”

  He sank into a chair at the table. “Remind me to order up some better mattresses for the hands.” He propped his head up on one hand. “Those beds are very uncomfortable.”

  Esther laughed. “Didn’t you sleep well?” She picked the spatula up and resumed turning the golden brown flapjacks.

  “No, as a matter of fact, I did not. The pillow was flat, the mattress lumpy, and the blankets were scratchy.”

  She didn’t feel much sympathy for him. While it was admirable of him to voluntarily stay in the bunkhouse in a misguided effort to spare her reputation, there was no need for him to do so. He could have been comfortable and snug in his own bed in his own house.

  “Don’t you feel sorry for me?” he asked, making the saddest face she’d ever seen on a grown man.

  “Actually,” she said, as she poured more batter on the hot griddle, “I don’t. It was your choice to sleep out there.” She reached to the back of the stove and grabbed the large coffee pot. “Have you come to your senses?”

  He watched as she poured the steaming liquid into a cup for him. “Until you accept my proposal, I stand by my decision.” He took a tentative sip and gasped. Esther wordlessly poured a bit of cream into his cup from a small pitcher before turning back to the stove. “Ah, perfect,” he sighed as he drank some of the now cooled coffee.

  The sound of Ipp walking in from the other room, his nails clicking on the wood floor, made them both look up. “There’s my dog. I wondered what happened to him.”

  Esther set a towering platter of food in front of Jack. “He scratched at the door in the middle of the night so I let him in.”

  “Traitor,” Jack hissed at the dog before looking at the stacks of pancakes. “Surely that’s not all for me.”

  “Of course not, silly. It’s for the boys. If you would take it out to them, I’ll have your plate on the table by the time you return.” Turning back to the stove, her enthusiasm for cooking restored now that her duty to the hands was done, she put a drop of vanilla into the pancake batter to liven it up.

  Jack’s lack of sleep hadn’t diminished his appetite at all, and Esther was gratified to see him enjoying the breakfast she’d prepared. When the final bit of compote had been spooned generously over the last pancake, she started gathering the dishes from the table.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said as he washed down his last bite. “Tomorrow the men leave to drive my cattle up from Nebraska.” He reached around her where she stood at the counter in front of a pan of hot sudsy water and dropped his plate in.

  How easily he could make her breathless, she marveled. She should be jaded, immune to the charms of men, after what she’d been through. But when he came close she felt as innocent as a maiden. More to cover up her own confusion than anything else, she turned toward him and put her hands on her hips. “Are you just realizing that now?”

  “Very funny,” he countered, propping one hip on the edge of the table. “It would be nice to give them a good send off. What would you think of having a big dinner tonight for all the ranch hands?”

  While it was a fine gesture, and one she was sure other ranchers probably offered in one form or another, she didn’t like the idea of it just being her and a bunch of men, eating dinner together. Taking them their meals and mending their clothes were more in line of her job as housekeeper, but socializing with them could be awkward. “I’ll do it but only if you’ll invite some people from town.”

  His face brightened and he smiled. “We’ll make a proper party of it,” he said happily. “Shall we make a list?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  After discussing it with Esther, Jachym had sent Froggy into town with a list of people to invite. There were only so many he could accommodate, so it wouldn't be a grand affair like some of the parties he'd heard about the mayor hosting. Still, it was a way to introduce himself into the community. Of the ranch hands, Paul had a bit of experience cooking for the other men, so Jachym put him to work helping Esther cook while he directed the others in setting up tables and chairs outside, where it would be easier to entertain a crowd.

  Movement down the trail made him look, squinting to see into the distance. They were far enough away it was difficult to tell who was coming until he caught the distinctive bright red hair of the mayor's wife. “The O'Cuinns are going to get here before anyone else,” he called through the open kitchen window.

  Esther settled a pie there on the window ledge to cool. “That's nice. I'm surprised Bridget wanted to come out all this way with how close to her lying-in she is.”

  That bit of idiom had left Jachym completely lost at first, until someone finally explained to him that it was a euphemism for a woman giving birth. Speaking directly to matters of pregnancy and labor wasn't deemed polite. The first few times he'd heard the reference, he'd assumed the women in question were dying.

  “The mayor being the first one here isn't good,” Jachym explained. “Everything looks empty. He should come when there are others, so he makes an entrance to a crowd.”

  Esther passed him a hot bowl of freshly baked cornbread, wrapped in a towel. “Have you met Lore?”

  “Mayor O'Cuinn? Only briefly at the church.”

  “He probably came early so he could get more food. I don't think he cares about making an entrance.”

  Whether Mayor O'Cuinn cared about making an entrance or not, he made one. The buggy looked to be new, but the wood wasn't yellow with freshness or painted a utilitarian black like most of the carts used out on the frontier. Someone had seen fit to paint the whole thing red, with black and white wheels. The buggy pulled up and the mayor called out a greeting before he jumped down and circled around to hold his hands up to his wife. Two other young women had sat behind them and took ho
ld of the massively pregnant Mrs. O'Cuinn under her arms to help her in her climb. From what Esther had explained to him about her history, Jachym assumed the young women were some of the other soiled doves Bridget O'Cuinn had given a second chance to.

  “Esther,” the mayor bellowed in the direction of the house. “Be a love and come out here so we can get a look at you, lass.”

  “Paul, get the mayor's horses settled,” Jachym called, then came to the mayor's side to offer his hand. “A pleasure to have you here today, Mr. O'Cuinn.”

  “Aye, and a pleasure to be here as well.” Lorcan grasped his hand for a firm shake and gave him a slap on the back. As soon as Esther stepped out into the yard he pulled her off her feet in a bear hug that made Jachym frown.

  “He's just like that,” Bridget said quietly. “He loves a party where he doesn't have to do anything but eat and talk.”

  Others began to arrive shortly after that. Because of their wealth and local influence, Jachym had invited John Bjugstad who owned the bank and Mack Coffman, along with their wives. Though the man worked with his hands and had been dubbed “the carpenter” by the townsfolk, Jachym had learned he was heir to some great fortune back east and had big plans for building up Sweet Town. In truth, he was more of a town architect than anything else, and Jachym could see the benefit to making friends with a man like that. Esther had also requested that the Ritchies be invited, as they had saved her life when she was stabbed and she clearly had a great deal of fondness for them after the experience. When Pastor Whitney and his family arrived, however, he could see the tightening of Esther's lips, her eyes narrowing.

  “I couldn't invite everyone in town, but I had to invite the pastor,” he told her.

  “It's fine. I just worry how disapproving they'll be.”

  But as far as Jachym could tell, Pastor Whitney was nothing but gracious and kind to Esther. He had, of course, taken great pains to explain to the pastor that Jachym was no longer sleeping in the house. He hoped that might have had an influence.

  After getting a cup of coffee, John Bjugstad worked his way in between Mack and Doc Ritchie, who'd been speaking to Jachym. “You have a good spread out here, Mr. Marek.”

  “Thank you.” He paused, thinking over what he'd seen and heard of the people in town. The Bjugstads were fierce patriots, from what he'd seen, and not terribly warm to immigrants who failed to assimilate. “Call me Jack,” he added. “I'm told it's more American.”

  John Bjugstad laughed heartily and took a sip off of his coffee. “Jack, yes. That's good. I like that. Well, Jack, if you were interested in expanding your operation, I'd be happy to offer you a loan. I think it would be a grand investment in the future of the town.”

  Jachym leaned back from Bjugstad to just stare at him for a moment. He knew better than to go into debt when he didn't have to, but the offer was interesting, and these did make for good connections for his future. Perhaps this party would turn out to be more valuable than he'd hoped.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  From the kitchen window, Esther could see the group gathered around the table outside. As the sun went lower in the sky, that area would soon be in shadow and considerably cooler than it was now. She bit her bottom lip as she counted how many guests they had. They would fit in the sitting room if some spilled over into the kitchen, but it would be crowded. Undecided as to whether she should start moving them indoors she hesitated at the window, looking out into the yard. Bridget was standing and staring off into the distance, her face somewhat vacant. That was unusual behavior for her friend. The redhead was usually in the middle of every conversation.

  Esther stood on her toes and leaned closer to the glass. Lore was laughing at something the banker said and Jack was talking with the carpenter. No one was paying any mind to Bridget.

  Outside, she looped an arm through Bridget’s and leaned close. “Would you like to come inside and put your feet up?” she whispered.

  Bridget nodded. “Aye, my back is aching something fierce.”

  Esther walked with her toward the house and as they passed the doctor’s wife, Mika, she looked up and nodded at the two women, falling into step behind them.

  Ipp sneaked in the door with them at the last minute and began whining and pacing. Mika lay her hand on his head and spoke some words that Esther couldn’t understand. Ipp’s reaction was immediate. He went to a corner and after circling twice, lay down with his chin on his paws. Though his eyebrows twitched and his eyes followed the movements of all three women, he stayed quiet.

  While Bridget paced in the sitting room, Mika went into the kitchen and filled a large kettle with water from the pitcher pump installed on the counter. Esther came up behind her and leaned close. “Is she having her baby now?”

  Mika continued her task. “It’s babies. There are two. And she likely is starting her labor.”

  Excitement and terror gripped Esther. She knew how scared Bridget was, though she didn’t know why. Of course, every woman knew she could die having a baby, and certainly that was frightening, but her friend’s fear seemed greater than that. “Is she in greater danger because there are two?”

  Mika hoisted the kettle onto the top of the cookstove and turned to look at Esther. “That’s an interesting thought,” she said as she pushed past her and went into the hallway, opening doors to bedrooms.

  “Perhaps if you tell me what you are looking for I can help you find it?” Esther had followed the Indian woman.

  “I am looking for a room she can birth in.”

  “What?” her voice raised into a squeak. Realizing she might upset Bridget, she clapped her hand over her mouth. As soon as she trusted herself to speak quietly she leaned in closer. “Why would she have her babies here? I thought it took a long time for first ones to be born.”

  Mika nodded when she looked into Jack’s room. It was the largest room, the bed wide and long to accommodate his height. “They usually do take a long time but you never know with twins. Besides,” she said ominously as she turned and looked directly into Esther’s eyes, “she’s been in labor for hours already.”

  “How do you know?” Esther clutched her arm.

  “I’ve been watching her. She may not have known for awhile. Or she might be in denial because of fear. We will play along.”

  Esther looked down the hall to the sitting room where Bridget still paced, though now she was pausing and leaning over the back of the divan, one hand pressed against her back. “How do we play along?”

  “We will act like we don’t notice her behavior. You go make some tea. I will prepare this room and then we’ll inform her husband.”

  The first thing Esther noticed when she stepped outside to get Lore’s attention was how the temperature had dropped. She couldn’t invite anyone into the house now, not with a birth about to take place. She went to Lorcan and whispered for him to come with her, she and Mika wanted to speak to him. He looked mystified but followed along.

  “Your wife’s time has come,” Mika said bluntly.

  “Blimey,” he shouted, “we must take her to the clinic immediately.”

  The others in the party looked in their direction. Doc Ritchie and Jack came right over to them.

  When Mika explained to her husband that Bridget was in labor, possibly hours into it, he agreed that it was too risky to move her. “She’ll be more comfortable here,” Jacob Ritchie said.

  “But Doc,” Lore cried, “she needs medical care.”

  “My wife is better than a doctor at midwifery. We’ll leave her to do what she does best. But if there is a problem, I will be here, too.”

  Esther backed up against the house and put her hand to her chest, futilely trying to slow its erratic beats. She looked up and saw Jack’s face drained of color. He must have sensed she was looking at him because he turned and their eyes met. He stepped toward her and put an arm around her shoulder. “I’m frightened,” she whispered, but he didn’t respond.

  “I’ll need a couple of assistants. Beulah,
you’ve had a baby before. You will help. And Esther, you as well.”

  “But I’ve never had a baby,” she cried out. Her eyes wild with panic.

  The banker’s wife, Helen had joined the group. She herself was soon going to have a baby in the coming summer but instead of having any sympathy for the situation, she pressed her lips together in disapproval. “This is wholly indecent,” she managed to grind out from behind her puckered lips. “Considering Miss White’s previous work, it’s improper to allow her anywhere near a birth room.”

  It would always be the same, Esther thought. Even so, it hurt to hear Mrs. Bjugstad proclaim her to be unfit for decent company. She turned her face and pulled away from Jack.

  Lore looked at the stout woman quivering in outrage and his eyes flashed. “Everyone who is not directly involved in this situation should leave right now.”

  Esther began to walk away but a hand grasped her shoulder and stopped her progress. “Not you,” Lore said. “My wife trusts you. You should remain and help Mika.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  There wasn't much sense in leaving the food out on the tables for the wildlife and sending people in and out of the kitchen while a woman was laboring within didn't seem quite right to Jachym, so he had what was left over brought to the bunkhouse instead. There was a small kitchen area for the bunkhouse, just big enough to have the food stored there.

  “I believe we'll be heading back into town now,” Bjugstad said once things had been put away. He shook Jachym's hand, then went to get his horse and buggy ready to leave. The Coffmans made their exit not long after, providing a ride to the girls who worked for Bridget as well. With his wife midwifing, Doc Ritchie was clearly going nowhere and settled into a chair on the porch of the bunkhouse, sipping a cup of coffee and watching the sunset. Pastor Whitney was similarly limited, with a small child to care for as well. He rocked young Jonah, the little boy's head on his shoulder, and looked about ready to fall asleep himself.