He watched Smokes blow out a smoke ring and then inhale it back in. Smokes gave a large smile and a cloud of smoke escaped through discolored teeth. Everett winced. Smoking was a vice that he was not interested in. He figured by the end of the day he smelled bad enough, he didn’t need the scent of burning tobacco permeating his clothes.
“What do you want me to do, boss?”
Everett shoved the gloves into his pocket. “I want you to take the lead and I’ll meet you before you get to the first fence.”
Smokes nodded and crushed the cigarette out on his belt buckle before tossing it to the ground. He turned his horse towards the barnyard and gave a yell to the men that were waiting. Everett turned Shadow in the other direction and rode towards the large house.
The house sat in the middle of the ranch. It was surrounded by grazing land, two large gardens, and a creek that fed into Flat River. The house was two stories tall, which was unique to the area. Most houses were made from sod, but Weston Chapman insisted that his bride not live in a dirt abode. The homestead was a wooden house made from the trees that grew next to the river.
Marmee and Pa had their bedroom on the upper level. No one ever went up there. It was his parents’ private place, away from all the noise of eight rambunctious children. The lower level was a large room with a stove in the corner and a tall stone fireplace on one wall. Everett remembered gathering the large stones from the creek and riverbeds when he was young. Jutting from the main room, like spokes on a wagon wheel, were several hallways that went to different rooms.
His sisters’ bedrooms were on the west side of the house and the brothers’ rooms were on the east. There was also a sitting room for Marmee and an office for Weston. His parents were proud of the house they had built to accommodate such a large family. However, Weston’s pride was the flower garden he built for Marmee in the back of the home.
Most men would have thought it a waste, but Weston Chapman wasn’t like most men. He did everything he could to make sure that his wife was happy. If it meant going to Colorado to find flowering plants, then he would go to Colorado. There were even plants from the Orient that had been brought by traveling merchants. Marmee had a garden that would rival the ones in Boston.
Everett had no time for flowers. He was too busy keeping up with the cattle. It wouldn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t as if he was going to get married. He had seen what falling in love had done to his brothers. They were happy, yes, but they didn’t take much time for anything else. If it meant spending less time with his family, then he wouldn’t get married at all.
There weren’t many women in Flat River. The country was harsh. The only woman Everett could even think of was … he shook his head. He didn’t want to go there. Annamae was a child the last time Everett had seen her. They were in school together, but he hadn’t seen her in nearly ten years.
That was about the time Owen was humiliated in front of his family and friends. Owen was set to marry the neighbor’s daughter. Everett thought it was odd because he didn’t realize that Owen was even courting anyone. One day they were all fishing at the creek, the next day Owen announced he was going to be married by the end of the month.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Everett rode to the porch. Alice was sitting on the porch swing. She was scribbling in a leather journal as she gently rocked the swing back and forth.
“What are you doing, Pint Jar?” he asked, dismounting Shadow before tying the horse to the porch railing. He took the steps in one leap and landed on the wooden boards with a thud.
Alice looked up and a smile broke across her face. Everett was happy to see her smiling. She hadn’t smiled in quite a while. Alice was kidnapped by a trusted member of the clergy. It took several weeks to find Alice. They wouldn’t have her back had it not been for Penelope going undercover in San Francisco.
Penny returned home with a traumatized Alice and a husband.
“Ev,” she said, folding the journal and lifting herself to uncurl the leg she was sitting on. “Nothing special. Just writing down my thoughts.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“I’m thinking about why you would be back at the house when you are supposed to be moving the herd to the southern pasture.”
Everett gave a little laugh. “You sure know a lot, Alice.”
Alice shrugged. “I just pay attention.”
“Here,” Everett said, pulling the leather gloves from his pocket.
Alice took the leather gloves. “What are these for?”
“I got them wet and the leather shrunk. I figured you could have them.”
“What would I do with them?”
Everett rubbed his chin. “Well, you could wear them when we go out to check on the herd.”
Her eyes grew big. “You’d let me ride with you?”
“When you are ready.” Everett pulled open the door. “And when you are ready, you’ll need a pair of gloves.” He gave Alice a wink and disappeared inside the house.
Marmee must have heard the door open as she popped her head through the door of her sitting room. “What are you doing back home?”
“I need to find a pair of gloves. I think Pa had a spare pair.”
“He’s in his office. He’s been in a mood all morning.”
Everett smiled. “I’ve been warned.” He walked to the opposite hallway, his boots thudding against the floor. His father was sitting behind a small desk, scribbling figures in a ledger. Everett knocked on the door before entering. Weston closed the book and looked at his son. “Everything alright?” Everett inquired.
Weston took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, tossing his spectacles on the desk. “The numbers aren’t adding up, and I am not sure what is missing.”
Everett leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “What do you mean?”
“Just that the numbers don’t reconcile. It seems we are short twenty steers.”
“Maybe they are off near Mustang Hill.” Mustang Hill wasn’t a hill, it was a rock formation jutting from the ground. Wild horses ran free around the stone outcroppings. “I’ll ride over there with Slim and see if we can find them.”
“Let’s hope they are there. I don’t want any more rustling on this ranch.”
Everett nodded. Around the time Owen was due to marry Sarah Hartman, cattle started disappearing from the ranches in Flat River. The Chapmans lost nearly a hundred head of cattle. It turned out that the Hartman Family was in business with Duke Richards and he was organizing the thieving along the ranch line. That was why Sarah left Owen at the altar. She was involved as well, and she ran off with Duke Richards, escaping the state.
Several years later, Duke was captured and hung for cattle rustling in the New Mexico territory. Sarah just seemed to disappear after that.
Not that it mattered to Everett. He hadn’t seen the Hartmans since that fateful wedding day. If he didn’t see them again, it would be simply fine by him.
“I need a pair of gloves. I was wondering if you had a spare.”
Weston leaned back in his chair. “What happened to yours?”
“The leather was too tight. I gave them to Alice.”
His father nodded. “There’s a spare in the cupboard.”
Everett walked to the wooden corner cupboard and opened the top door, revealing shelves inside filled with ledgers, extra rope, and several pairs of leather gloves. He picked up several pairs, matching them to his hands. When he found one that fit, he closed the cupboard and headed towards the door. “Thanks, Pa. I’ll pick up another pair when I get to town.”
Weston didn’t say anything. He put his glasses back on and opened the journal once more. Everett snapped the leather gloves against his hand and headed back outside. He gave a little wave to Alice, jumped over the steps, and quickly mounted his horse.
As he rode to catch up with the herd, he could hear the men yelling and the dogs barking. Five dogs were working to guide the herd tow
ards the south pasture. The dogs were ones that came back with Weston from Owl Creek. Everett had never seen dogs that color before. They weren’t black, they weren’t gray. They had blue colored fur, with large blocky heads, thin bodies, and very long legs made for jumping out of the way of a kicking steer.
He dug his heels into Shadow’s side, urging her to move faster. As he approached the group, he could see the herd was moving at a much faster pace than he would have taken them. The dogs were circling, nipping at the beast’s ankles. He could hear the snorting from the longhorns.
Suddenly a great cloud of dust came from behind the herd and Everett heard the yelp of a dog.
He heard Slim’s voice rise in the dust. “Stampede!”
The cowboys repeated the word, almost giving energy to the herd to keep running.
Everett approached from the rear, lifting his bandana to cover his mouth and nose from the rising dust. A cowboy named Sawyer was riding at the back, following the herd in case they made any sudden turns. Sawyer came from Texas and was very experienced with the longhorns.
“What happened?” Everett called, keeping pace with Sawyer’s horse.
“Not sure, boss. They were fine one minute and the next they took off like the devil himself was chasing them.”
Suddenly the herd turned west and were headed for the open plains at full speed. Everett could see Slim low on his horse headed for the lead animal.
“I think he is going to try to mill them. Be careful,” Everett called, racing around Sawyer, and heading toward the right side of the herd. He spied Slim moving into a position to turn the cattle into themselves in an act known as milling. If Slim did it correctly, the herd would gather in a circle and stop running.
The lead animal must have anticipated the move, as it turned towards Slim’s horse and tilted its head, pointing its sharp horn towards the horse and rider. Slim quickly turned his horse away from the longhorn and allowed him to pass. The lead animal shifted directions several times and continued towards the open grassland.
“Slim!” Everett shouted, riding up next to the man. “You alright?”
“Yeah. It didn’t catch anything.” Slim took off again towards the lead steer, Everett in pursuit.
Cowboys were riding on both sides of the herd, following the stampede.
The lead animal must have spied something in the distance as it suddenly changed directions and began heading towards a cloud of dust that was quickly approaching. As they got closer, Everett could see the cloud of dust was the stagecoach headed towards Flat River.
“Stage!” Everett yelled, passing Slim to race towards the front of the herd. He laid low against Shadow’s neck, urging the horse to move faster. He could hear Shadow’s snorts as she raced with the herd. The herd changed direction once again. The air was filled with men yelling, excited barks from the herding dogs, and snorts from the cattle.
They were approaching the stagecoach at an alarming rate.
Everett leaned up enough to pull his six-shooter from his holster and fired several shots in the air. The stage driver pulled on the reins to stop the horses, but there wasn’t enough time. The horses reared as the cattle ran in front of them, causing the coach to fold upon itself. The sound of the wood cracking could be heard as the coach crashed back to the ground.
As they passed the coach Everett could hear the men. Sawyer approached the front of the herd from the left. The cattle were starting to slow down as exhaustion started to catch up with them. Sawyer signaled to Everett to start guiding the lead steer into the rest of the herd. It only took a few minutes for the stampeding cattle to calm down and start walking calmly in a circle.
The cowboys gathered, slowly riding on the outside of the circle to keep the cattle contained.
The lead animal fell to its side, huffing as it let out its last breath. The cowboys guided the group of cattle away from the dead animal.
Everett jumped off Shadow and ran to the beast laying on the ground. Sawyer jumped from his horse as well and joined Everett looking over the animal.
“Did his heart give out?” Everett asked. He had never seen an animal run so hard and then just fall over like that.
“No,” Sawyer said, wiping his forehead with the bandana. “Look at the leg.”
Everett kneeled and ran his hand over the rear leg of the animal. It was swollen and he could feel the heat radiating through the leather glove. There was blood caking against the fur. As Everett moved the short hairs aside, he could see two perfect circles.
“He was bit. Most likely a rattlesnake.” Everett stood again and wiped his gloves on the leather stovepipes wrapped around his legs. “Explains why they took off like they did. Also explains why he dropped dead. The venom hit his heart.”
“I guess we leave it for the vultures?” Sawyer asked.
Everett nodded. “We can’t salvage the meat. It has been poisoned.” He walked back towards his horse. “Slim!” he yelled. “Lead them to the pasture, I’m going to check on the stage.”
Slim tipped his hat. “Move out!” he yelled, taking the lead.
“Want me to go with you?” Sawyer asked.
“Yeah. I don’t know what kind of help they might need.”
They mounted their horses and turned, trotting back towards the stagecoach.
What Everett saw put more fear in his heart than any rattlesnake could.
There was a woman in a bright blue dress and jacket marching towards them.
Everett could hear her yelling as she stomped towards them. As she approached, Everett could feel the anger rolling off the woman in waves.
She was a little thing. Probably no taller than Alice. Her hat with some sort of long feather on it was falling from her head. Only a pin or two stopped it from falling to the ground. Her hair was in disarray and her clothing was covered in dust.
Everett could tell she had hair the color of summer wheat and sharp blue eyes that flashed in anger. Her cheeks were flushed against her porcelain skin. They reminded Everett of the apples growing on the trees in Marmee’s garden. Her lips were pink, and her jaw was clenched.
As she stopped before the two horsemen, she stamped her foot once in anger.
“I demand you get off that horse this instant and tell me who is responsible for interrupting my trip.”
Chapter 2
Polly Phillips straightened her back, trying not to let the cowboys see her trembling. The jolt of the stage bucking shook her to her core. But she was alive.
Now she was mad.
When the stagecoach driver assisted her from the stage, and she saw the group of cows and men milling around, her anger took flight.
How dare they cross a herd of cattle on what appeared to be the only road around for miles? The six-day trip took nearly ten days due to the train breaking down. Of the towns they were shuttled to, only one had a telegraph, and unfortunately, it was broken. She had no way to send a message to Ellie that she was arriving late.
Hopefully, her friend was able to make an inquiry and discover when Polly was going to arrive.
She was able to secure a stagecoach ticket from a town, whose name she could not recall, to Grand Platte. She was shoved in the coach with several men, women, and children that hadn’t bathed in weeks. Thankfully, there was enough lavender water in a bottle she kept in her purse, to keep her handkerchief pleasant smelling. Once she arrived in Grand Platte, she had to wait overnight for the stage to take her to Flat River.
People, she learned, did not often come to this small town in western Nebraska. Normally a stage would travel twice a month to the little town, and only if someone was needing a ride. What kind of town had Ellie moved to?
Granted, the scenery was spectacular. Lush prairies scattered with trees displaying leaves in crisp autumn colors. Rugged bluffs rose from the ground; some covered with green grass and snowy patches and others simply jagged rock. Ellie’s letter hadn’t captured the full beauty of what Polly was experiencing. She saw buffalo, wild horses, and cattle for a
s far as the eye could see. If she had been in a better frame of mind, she might have enjoyed it more.
Instead, she was tired and cranky. Her arm hurt from knocking it on the coach wall when the horses reared, and she was shaking in her boots as she stared down the two cowboys on horses.
What she would give for a hot cup of tea, a hot bath, and a warm bed.
The two cowboys looked at her. One was older, perched on top of a horse the color of the softest leather. He wasn’t wearing a hat and his dirty blonde hair brushed his shoulders. Polly was surprised he wasn’t wearing a hat as Ellie mentioned everyone wore them on the ranch. Stetsons, she called them. He didn’t have a jacket on, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows revealing dark hair on his forearms. The second cowboy sat on a dark gray horse with a white muzzle.
“Who is responsible for this?” she asked, crossing her arms across her chest.
The cowboy on the dark horse leaned forward in his saddle, crossing his arms over the saddle horn. He pushed his hat back revealing eyes the color of chocolate candy. His hair was a dark brown, and Polly could tell it was cut short against his head. He had full cheeks and a pointed chin, with a peppering of hair above his lip. He gazed at Polly with those deep eyes and the shaking subsided, turning into fluttering in her chest. She placed her fingers over her heart and took a step back, her heel catching in the hem of her skirt. Jumping to release the boot, she turned to look at the man again. His eyes crinkled and he let go a slight chuckle at the sight of her jumping around.
Polly straightened her spine and brushed her skirt. She reached her hand up to flatten her hair and realized her hat had fallen to the side. Her chignon was falling from the pins and she felt a wayward curl touching her shoulder. She tried to adjust her hat but only succeeded in causing her hair to slip further from underneath it.
She closed her eyes, gave a small sigh, and counted to five. It was a trick she learned at the fancy finishing school her father insisted she attended in Atlanta. She opened her eyes and reached up to remove the hat. The giant feather, which was all the rage in Atlanta, seemed very out of place now. It tickled her skin and she yanked the pin from the hat. Tucking the hat underneath her arm, she quickly pinned her hair back in place. It was still messy, but at least it wasn’t falling.
Everett Page 2
