The Woodsman's Rose

by Gifford MacShane

  “Or maybe,” Daniel added, “we won't be able to catch this herd at all. If there’s a wide open range on the other side of that rim, they can run forever.”

  “There won't be,” Jake said. “I feel it in my bones.”

  “I hope your bones are right!”

  They sat in peaceful silence for a while, then Jake spoke up hesitantly. “You gettin’ married, Daniel?”

  “Sure am. As soon as Annie’s ready.”

  “What’s she waiting for?”

  Daniel’s pipe had gone out and he tapped the ashes into the fire before answering. “Gran told me once that a woman’s like a little bird―she’ll know when she’s ready to build her nest. I can’t tell you more than that; Annie’s not ready, and I’m just going to wait until she is.”

  Another silence enveloped them, and again it was Jake who broke it. “Do you miss her?”

  “Sure, but it’s only for a few days.”

  “I meant Gran,” Jake murmured.

  “I sure do. Especially when I need advice.” Daniel let out a short chuckle. “Though I’ll tell you something... I think some of those ‘old Irish proverbs’ were stuff she just made up.”

  Jake laughed, then confessed, “Sometimes I dream about her.”

  “I know. I think we all do.” Daniel lit his pipe and gave his brother a nudge with his foot. “You better get to bed now. Mornin’ comes early these days. And remember―tomorrow night, you make the biscuits!”

  AS JAKE SNORED SOFTLY, Daniel lay awake listening to the familiar sounds of the nighthawk and owls, the coyotes in the distance. A small animal, probably a grasshopper mouse, was ferreting through Jake’s belongings, but the food he wanted had been bound in a blanket and tied in a tree.

  Bats swooshed overhead. There must be a cave nearby, in the walls of the canyons. This complex network of canyons and mesas was the only part of the Arizona Territory he hadn’t fully explored.

  He was at home with nature, felt a serenity of spirit in the remote recesses where few men ventured. The occasional crackling of the fire, the scent of the pines, the eternal brightness of the stars―all were balm to his soul. He breathed the night air deeply, content in the knowledge that he was at peace with the earth, believing in his Navajo friends’ prayer that always ended “All is well.”

  After a while, he set his mind on the days to come. The most important thing he’d have to teach Jake was patience. A smile crept under his mustache―his brother was full of life, full of energy, and it was going to be difficult for him to even stand still, let alone accept the time it would take to catch and break these horses. But I have learned patience, and Jake will, too. There are just some things worth waiting for.

  Like Annie.

  He cast his mind back to the previous spring and the day of Adam and Jesse’s wedding supper. Annie’s heart had been broken at the realization that Brian—the one she’d loved since childhood—would never be more than a friend. For Brian’s heart, like Adam’s, now belonged to Jesse. And what was given there was given forever.

  Though her pain had hurt him, Daniel felt a small seed of hope take root in his heart. He took a chance, told her of his love, begged her to consider it. When she consented, he thought himself the luckiest man alive.

  He’d wooed her gently, tenderly, unwaveringly. Until she confessed that the affection she’d felt for Brian was dwarfed by these new emotions—feelings that ran so deep, she could hardly name them. She’d accepted his proposal and his ring at Christmas, but she was reluctant to set the date for their marriage.

  Her face floated before him now, with her elfin smile and hair the color of a wheat field in the sun. So soft, so fine in its long braid. And her eyes...

  It had taken him years to find the words to describe her eyes―green and blue and gray at once, ringed around with deep navy―the color of the wild sea. Her eyes made him believe that she was fey.

  Her eyes could see into his heart, into all their hearts. And a gift, inherited from her mother, allowed her to see glimpses of the future.

  He wished her good-night and the vision faded, but not before he caught a little wink. He’d be patient. Yet sometimes his patience warred with his heart. How much time would they have together? How much before Annie succumbed to the tortuous headaches she suffered more and more frequently? He watched the stars on their slow journey and offered a prayer to the ancient gods.

  Let her accept me. Let us live together and be happy. Even for a little while. And all will be well.

  Chapter 3

  Two days later, the brothers were looking down from the rim of the canyon wall as the mustangs disappeared around the bend.

  “The gods must smile on you,” Daniel said. “I just can’t believe it!”

  The trail used by the herd was some fifty feet wide below them and a quarter mile long, but at each end there were narrow gaps in the canyon rim permitting no more than three horses abreast.

  “What we need to do is block off that north entrance with a fence. We can build it today and put it up tonight after they come through. Then we need another gate we can swing shut behind them when they come back from watering.”

  “They’ll be trapped in this place.” Jake eyes were alight with glee. “We can catch them all!”

  “We don’t need them all. And we don’t have the time or the manpower we’d need to catch them all. No, we’ll stick to the two we picked out. But it’s sure gonna be a lot easier than I expected.

  “Come on, brother, I saw a stand of young birch a ways back―they’re just what we need for the fences.”

  They cut the trees into poles. For the north fence, they built two portable units, both high and strong, and covered them with branches to make it look like a natural barrier. They pulled the sections close to the gap―as close as Daniel thought they could get without warning the herd. Then they cut more poles for a simple post-and-rail fence for the narrower southern entrance.

  That evening, the mustangs came through the northern gap without hesitation and as soon as the last few disappeared along the trail, Daniel and Jake began to drag their fences into place. They had less than an hour to situate them and lash them together with the long, tough rawhide strips Daniel produced from his pockets. Rawhide would hold up better than vine, he told his brother, and nails or barbed wire were out of the question. He was careful to explain that the barriers they built would cause no harm to the mustangs and that, if hysteria infected the herd, they’d have to set them free before any injuries occurred.

  The moment the barrier was complete, the brothers retreated, climbed to the canyon wall and made their way to the southern gap, being certain to stay downwind of the herd. After drinking, the mustangs came back through and approached the branch-built wall curiously. Then the old king caught the scent of man. He snorted and turned, reared up and whistled a challenge. But Daniel and Jake were already blocking off the southern exit, sliding the rails into their makeshift fence, the posts of which leaned in against the canyon walls. The white stallion pawed the ground but didn’t approach them.

  The Donovan brothers made their beds on the other side of the post and rail fence. The mustangs congregated at the opposite end of the trap, and followed the white stallion in restless circles until the dawn broke.

  Just after sunrise, Jake helped his brother reinforce the southern gate. They’d found a crevice in the canyon wall they used as additional support for the right side. On the left, they moved several boulders in to support the posts. Daniel tested it against his weight.

  “All right, Jake,” he commanded, “you watch me. I’m going after the mare. You sit there on the post―if any of them come near you, flap your hat at them. Don’t scare them, just wave them away. Here we go.”

  With his lariat held low, Daniel jogged noiselessly toward the herd. They milled and turned but he ignored their activity, concentrating instead on the sorrel mare. Fear filled her eyes as she realized she was his prey. Though she was tired from the night’s milling she pranced awa
y, but he ran straight at her and when she reared, he threw the lasso high and wide. It came down over her head and one leg, and he tightened it with a deft flick of his wrist. She snorted and whistled when she realized she was caught.

  The herd scrambled away. Daniel dug in his heels as she strained against the rope. He pulled himself closer to her hand over hand, until he was less than ten feet from her. Then he addressed her silently.

  Little sister, you have no need to fear me. You will not be hurt. You will be changed, but you will not be hurt. Little sister, I have come to ask your help. I need your help for my friend, my brother. You will be changed but you will not be hurt.

  For the better part of an hour, he stood eye to eye with her. Finally she quieted and he backed away. Reluctantly she followed his lead, though her body still shivered with fear. He led her to a tall tree at the side of the trap, tying the lasso around it, giving her little room to move.

  Daniel turned to his brother and asked, “Want to try it?”

  “Oh, yeah!” Jake grabbed his rope and built the noose. Like Adam, he was left-handed, and it made him seem awkward at times. But the natural skill was there.

  “Concentrate on the one horse,” Daniel said, “and ignore all the others. Let him know you’re after him. And wait ’til he rears before you throw. Try to get the rope over a foreleg, too, so we don’t have to choke him to bring him down.”

  Eager as he was, Jake couldn’t concentrate on the single horse. His first two attempts at roping the colt had failed, and Daniel could see his frustration building, but before he could speak, Jake threw his lariat again. He was off balance and fell backward even as the rope caught the ears of a bay mare. She reared, pawing the air as he tried to scramble away. Her hoof crashed down on his left boot, pinning him there. As the mare rose up again, Daniel ran to his brother, grabbed his collar and yanked him back. Jake started to thrash and moan.

  “Keep still!” Daniel’s whisper was adamant as he crouched down beside him. “Be quiet. The herd’s riled up. Don’t do anything more to upset them.”

  They waited, not moving from that spot. Almost an hour later by Daniel’s reckoning, the mustangs finally quieted.

  “How bad you hurt?” he asked Jake.

  “I’m OK. She caught the side of my leg more than the front, then kind of slid off. It hurt like hell at first, but it’s way better now.”

  “Let’s see.”

  Jake pulled his pant leg up and scrunched the soft leather boot down. A purple bruise shaped like a crescent moon stood out against his white skin. He poked at it gingerly.

  “Ouch,” Daniel commented. “Think you can walk?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  Daniel helped Jake to his feet, watched him take a few tentative steps, and shake his leg out. He limped a bit but it seemed no permanent damage had been done.

  “All right, boy-o, watch and learn.” Again the studied approach, the intelligent response, the perfect throw. And another hour spent in soothing and calming the colt while the herd milled restlessly.

  Daniel tied the trembling pony next to his dam, watched their silent commiseration, and motioned to his brother. “Stay here and watch them while I take down the barrier.”

  As Daniel skirted the trap, the herd pranced away from him. The barrier wasn’t as sturdy as it appeared; he dismantled it quickly. He climbed on a rock to watch the king trotting back and forth, his tail high, his mane almost sweeping the ground, his nostrils blowing out the scent of man. Finally the stallion reared and trumpeted a warning blast at Daniel, leaping out at a gallop, whistling for his band to follow. By twos and threes they crowded out of the gap in the canyon wall, ignoring the man who sat and watched and marveled at their beauty. They ran after their king and didn’t stop until they were many miles away.

  “A good day’s work,” Daniel said as he came back to Jake and the captured horses. His brother was staring at his boots. “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m no damn good at this, am I?”

  “You just need some experience. It’s not as easy to do something as it is to watch. You think I’m good at it, but it’s only because I’ve been doing it for eight years or so. How do you think I felt the first time I went out with Alec?”

  “How?”

  As he fashioned hackamores for the captives, Daniel answered, “Pretty damn stupid. There I was, with this kid who was fifteen years old―and I was a big man of twenty. I chased a roan mare all over creation, and never once came close to catching her. Then Alec made me sit down and he caught her without even raising a sweat! But I learned, Jake. The same way you will. The hardest thing is to ignore the other horses, to stop worrying about what they’re doing behind you. And the next hardest thing’s learning the patience it takes to gentle them. But you take these two to Alec and he’ll show you how it’s done. And maybe he’ll take you out with him this summer.

  “Now let’s get these two back to the corral and stop in to see Adam and Jesse for a few minutes.” Daniel grabbed his rifle and gathered the hackamores, gently urging the captives to follow in his wake. His brother walked beside him, matching the woodsman’s strides with his own.

  Chapter 4

  The clearing where the cabin stood seemed deserted. Handing Jake the mustangs’ leads and signaling for him to wait, Daniel stepped silently onto the porch and crossed to the open door. He saw Adam sitting in the rocking chair by the hearth with Jesse on his lap, her tawny hair disheveled, a tear lingering on her cheek. But she was asleep now, her hand caught in the bandanna at Adam’s neck, her face soft and sweet in repose. As quietly as he’d entered, he backed out again.

  He put his finger to his lips as Jake began to speak. Taking one of the youth’s arms, Daniel guided him away from the porch.

  “Jesse’s sleeping,” he whispered. “I’ll get our horses and meet you down the lane.” Jake nodded and, taking up the captives’ leads, moved the mustangs down around the cottonwood grove and onto the trail that would lead them home.

  Daniel took his time saddling their horses, working slowly and calmly, remembering the first time he’d seen his sister-in-law. “Little Jesse Travers” she’d been called then, and she’d had a reputation in town as a drunkard, a tramp, and a killer.

  His skill as a tracker was known far and wide, and a prospector had asked Daniel if he could determine who had assaulted and robbed him. He’d tracked bootprints and then hoofprints to the canyon where Russell Travers lived with Jesse and their crippled father. Not finding his quarry, Daniel instead had spied Jesse stumbling from a grove of sycamores near the stream that ran through the canyon. He’d been surprised at the smallness, the delicacy of her—she was nineteen, but could pass as a child of ten or twelve. She staggered again and he’d thought she was drunk. Then he saw that her face had been beaten savagely, her clothes half torn off her body, her hand clutching the remnants of her blouse over her bosom. The marks of human teeth had raised a purple welt upon her neck.

  The blood froze in his veins as Daniel realized the only other tracks leading to the cabin belonged to her brother. But before he could move, before he could help her, the doctor arrived to treat her father. He’d haunted the clearing for most of a month, hoping to keep her safe, but Russell Travers found another outlet for his violence, and had attacked Elena Twelve Trees in the village, in her own yard.

  Daniel recognized the bootprints of Elena’s attacker—the slightly turned-out left foot, the slice of leather missing from the sole—and he’d seen the purpling bite upon her neck. He blotted the tracks out, sure that Alec would do murder if he realized who had killed his mother. In spite of Alec’s threats and demands, Daniel wouldn’t identify the killer without more proof. He’d hoped to find evidence he could pass on to the town’s constable, but only days later it was too late for justice: Adam shot and killed Travers as he robbed the town’s only bank.

  Over the past year, most in the village realized all of the filthy rumors about Jesse had been perpetrated by her brother to keep her away
from the town. To keep the town from knowing the truth about him. But there were still those few who clung to the old gossip.

  From that first time he saw Jesse, Daniel had sworn to protect her. He was one of the few who knew that the baby she lost the previous year had been her brother’s. That she’d agreed to marry Adam to spare her child shame; that they hadn’t lived as man and wife for more than a full year after their marriage. And he was sure Jesse was unaware of the extent of his knowledge.

  Now, after an arduous ordeal, and only with Adam’s help, Jesse had almost regained her trust. Had almost found a safe place to live. She was secure in the love of his large family, but the outside world could still batter her with fear.

  Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, then pulled himself back to the task at hand. He needed to keep their horses calm as they met the new captives. His mare was a bit skittish, obviously scenting the newcomers on his clothes, but the black filly Fancy ignored it, and Bucky settled down when Daniel mounted her.

  As he and Jake started toward home, Daniel was satisfied to see that, in spite of the tension in the sorrel mare’s gait, the young stallion was in synch with Fancy, stepping out with his head held high and taking an occasional playful head-butt at his dam’s side.

  “Jesse’s okay now, isn’t she?” Jake asked.

  Daniel’s head whipped around—but the look of concern on his brother’s broad face made him temper his remarks. “She’s better, and I think that’s all we can expect right now.

  “Listen, Jake, let’s not forget it’s only a year since her father died. It would take us longer than that to get over Dad’s death. And Jesse was as close to Gran as any of us, so she’s got that to deal with as well.”

  “Gee, I didn’t think about that.”