by Carol Arens
Pivoting about on her stool, she saw Travis standing below her window two stories down. Sitting as low as she was she would be properly concealed.
Lucky thing for her that Travis was standing in the open. There wasn’t a thing he could do to hide his bare chest...or the dusting of hair that arrowed away beneath his low-hung trousers.
“I’m moon bathing. What are you doing?”
“Hunting up a breath of cool air.”
“You find any?”
“Only that breeze that came up just now.”
“Sure do hope it’s cooler at the ranch.”
“We’ll find out soon enough. Ivy, honey, I just want to say how proud of you I am. No, more than that. I’m damned grateful. Thank you, from me and everyone at the ranch.”
“I’m grateful to you, too. For Agatha. I might have gone my whole life and never known I had a sister.”
“I only hope you’ll be happy.” While he spoke, he shoved his arms through his shirtsleeves but left the shirt hanging open. “I know you never wanted any of this.”
“I did want some of it, Travis. I wanted my sister.” Ivy shrugged, rested her chin in her palms then glanced down to double-check nothing showed above the sill that ought not to show.
“I just hope you won’t be unhappy.”
“I’m not unhappy with lavender soap. I even like the pretty colors of the dresses you bought me. Don’t like the way they tend to trip a woman up unawares, though.”
“Well, I reckon we ought to get some sleep since we’re leaving at dawn.”
“I reckon so. Good night, Travis.”
“Good night, Ivy.” He lifted his hand in farewell then turned to walk away.
He sure did have a manly gait, so surefooted and bold.
All at once he pivoted. His shirt flared wide, giving her one last glimpse of his chest.
“I like you, Ivy.”
Her belly tingled, as though he had run his fingers over her hot skin.
“I like you, too.”
She only hoped she would like William English half as much.
Chapter Nine
One week and one day later
Hills of golden grass rolled away in every direction for as far as Ivy could see. A breeze that had been with them all day, along with a shot of afternoon sunshine, gave the earth a warm shimmer.
“I’d like to know how a place that’s the same for miles on end can be so ever-changing,” she said.
“Where is this change, ma chère?” Madame asked. “It has looked the same all week long.”
“Ivy’s right. Things change by the moment, become dangerous even. It might seem predictable, but if a cowboy isn’t watchful he might not make it home.”
Was a cowboy so different from a river pilot in that? The thought lifted her spirits, helped make up for the fact that she was stuffed into a fluffy yellow dress.
This land was a mystery, whose ways she was determined to learn.
To begin, she studied the grass. If the wind blew it one way it looked golden, if it blew another it looked brown. Sometimes, a hill looked sky-high until you came upon it and found it to be no more than a gentle slope. Then riding over a hill that seemed a tame little thing, one would get caught by surprise because it had a downward slope that had Travis struggling to control the wagon.
Gosh almighty, when she thought about it, the Lucky Clover wasn’t so different than the Missouri in its changeability.
If she put her mind to it, maybe she’d learn to pilot the land the way she’d wanted to do with the river. There was plenty of rocking going on, be it steamer, wagon or horseback.
One thing was for sure, the earth always stretched on. Like the river it seemed to roll along forever.
They had crossed the border of the ranch last night and still the house was nowhere in sight.
Travis said it was a two-day ride from the eastern border of the Lucky Clover to the western border, and that was during fair weather. Going north and south took even longer.
With the ranch house on the eastern portion of the ranch, the trip from Cheyenne took only twelve hours.
As far as Ivy was concerned, that still made for a long wagon ride.
Gosh almighty, she was relieved that she could count on Travis to run this huge ranch. While she knew every board and nail of the Queen, she knew nothing about the Lucky Clover and it was vastly bigger than the boat.
“By glory, there’s another one of them little houses with a tree growing near it. Sort of small for anyone to live in though.”
“Those little houses,” Antie corrected.
“Your father didn’t mean them for living in. They’re for shelter in case of sudden storms. The tree can be seen from a distance so folks know where to hurry to. There’s enough food for a couple of men and horses to last a day or two.”
“I reckon my pa cared about his men.” That was something good to learn about him.
“He cared deeply for them...for everyone who calls this ranch home.”
After a time, the breeze with its constant whisper across the grass, and the regular clop of the team’s hooves, made her sleepy.
Just when she was about to nod off in a lovely little doze, the wagon hit a rut and jounced her up from the bench.
Yep, the land was unpredictable.
She clamped her frilly yellow hat to her head before it could take flight and disappear into the grass.
It sure hadn’t been her wish to travel in female trappings, but Antie had insisted, saying that folks needed to see their new “mistress” gowned appropriately.
Being someone’s “mistress” was an idea that made her stomach churn. But because Antie had agreed to come to the ranch in a bouncing wagon, sleeping under the stars, and with no proper bath at hand, all in order to insure that Ivy did not make a fool of herself in front of Mr. English, she hadn’t argued about the dress.
But gosh almighty, that last wagon jarring was bound to leave a bruise where her corset pinched.
* * *
Travis was nearly home. All day excitement had been building in him.
He could nearly hear the bawl of newborn calves, the shouts of cowboys in the yard and the laughter of the children who would be free of the schoolroom by now.
Yes, just there, if he strained his ears, he heard the school bell ringing out the time, four o’clock.
At this distance he could only pretend to smell what Señora Morgan was preparing for dinner.
Gazing down from the hill where he had drawn the team to a halt, his heart swelled. Home was never so precious as it was in this moment.
He was so damn grateful to Ivy for saving it all.
“Is that the house? Gosh almighty it’s big!”
“That’s the bunkhouse for the single men.” And it was big. Large enough to house thirty or more men. “The single ladies have a place attached to the main house.”
“Gosh almighty,” he heard Ivy whisper under her breath.
He was anxious to see the look on her face when she saw her own home.
“It must be one of them cottages down by the stream, then?”
“Those cottages,” Madame said in her teaching voice.
“The cottages are for the families.”
“I’m feeling a mite like a fish out of water, Travis.” She inched closer to him on the wagon bench. Damned if she didn’t still smell like the Missouri River—with a dash of flowery soap added in. “There’s a lot of people to be responsible for. Can’t see how my pa did it.”
“He had me to help, and so do you.”
From the small settlement below he heard the yip of a cowboy. Seconds later a pair of young cowhands on horseback raced up the hill.
“Mr. Murphy!” A fifteen-year-old boy with ha
ir the color of ripe strawberries drew his pinto pony up sharp only a yard from the wagon. “You’re home!”
The other rider circled the wagon on his palomino-colored mount.
“That her?” Jose Morgan, the sixteen-year-old son of the Lucky Clover’s cook, shouted, his blue eyes locked on Ivy in amazement. “You brought her home?”
“Meet your new boss, Miss Magee.”
“Pleasure, ma’am!” Mac snatched the Stetson off his head, circled it in the air.
“Yee-haw!” Mac’s shout boomed across open land, rolled down the hill. It had to have been heard down below.
“Mighty glad you came, Miss Magee.” Jose tipped his hat to Ivy then spun his horse about, racing down the hill after Mac.
“Welcome to the Lucky Clover, Ivy.”
All of a sudden he wanted to be home, to the main house. The urge kicked his heart against his ribs.
“Hang on, ladies!”
He urged the team to a gallop.
The wagon jolted downhill, rocking this way and that.
Madame du Mer screeched.
Ivy leaned forward on the bench, the grin on her face wide in exhilaration. Gripping the side of the wagon with one hand, she clamped her hat to her head with the other.
Yellow ribbons from the bonnet streamed out behind her.
“Yee-haw!” she shouted, as gustily as the boys racing ahead of them down the hill were doing.
* * *
Warm air rushed past Ivy’s face. The scents of grass, cattle and the muddy river a short distance to the west filled her senses.
The young cowboys’ shouts of exuberance must have been catchy. She’d even joined in a time or two—much to Antie’s disapproval. But the excitement was infectious.
There had to be a couple dozen folks running on foot behind the wagon, shouting and yee-hawing.
Some called out “Lady Boss!” while others called “Señorita Boss!”
Every one of them seemed overjoyed to see Travis.
Dogs of all shapes, colors and sizes barked and raced alongside.
Everyone was in right high spirits.
Travis urged the team past the settlement then around a bend at the foot of the hill where a long shadow announced the coming of evening.
Emerging from the shadow, Ivy spotted what had been hidden by the rise of the hill.
Her voice dried up within her at the first sight of her new home—or, more rightly, palace.
Why the place was nearly as big as the Queen!
For all that it was the size of a castle, it wasn’t made of stone like she’d read those cold fortresses were.
The Lucky Clover’s main house was made of whitewashed wood, two stories high and with wide porches, one circling the top floor and one the bottom.
Gosh almighty, it was something like the Queen in shape and color. Her heart caught in her throat, thinking that the structures could be sisters, or at least cousins. For some reason that was comforting.
To her great relief, there were trees. She was used to trees, was greatly fond of them. Over the years she had even given names to ones that grew along the shore of the Missouri. Like the river itself, they were a part of home.
This house had a yard full of green, leafy beauties. Many of them grew clear past the roof.
Maybe it was silly to imagine that the leaves, scratching against each other in the afternoon breeze, sang her a welcome song.
Perhaps she had played under them as a baby—she, Agatha and Mama.
In a land where shade was scarce, this was an oasis.
When they were still a hundred yards away, people came out the front door. They dashed down the stairs waving arms and aprons.
Gosh almighty, she didn’t think she’d be able to learn all their names, let alone be responsible for keeping roofs over their heads.
But Travis had said he would be there to keep the ranch running.
All she had to do was marry some rich man.
Most of the folks running out of the house were women.
Was one of them Agatha? Would Ivy even recognize her own sister?
But no. From what she understood, her sister would not be running.
Sorrow for the lost years hit her hard. She felt her smile sag; the excitement of seeing her new home for the first time faded.
Until this moment of reunion, she hadn’t fully recognized all she had lost when her mother took her from the ranch.
Of course, she’d gained as well. There was Uncle Patrick and all the men on the Queen she had come to love...and the river, the dear, beautiful Missouri River.
“You all right, honey?” Travis asked, pulling the wagon to a stop in front of the big white porch.
“A mite overwhelmed, I reckon.”
She scanned the faces of the ladies gathering about the buckboard. Some had dark hair and brown eyes, others red hair and green eyes. There were some with golden-blond hair.
Several of them appeared to be Ivy’s age.
“Where is Agatha?” she asked over the din of excitement and welcome.
“Your sister will be upstairs in her room. Ever since the fever, her nurse is afraid to let her out among people.”
That was gull-durned nonsense. Everyone benefited from fresh air and sunshine.
Ivy scanned the upstairs windows. A curtain moved, the last one on the left.
A young woman gazed down. Her hair was red but Ivy couldn’t tell what color her eyes were. All of a sudden a shadow crossed the window. A hand yanked the curtain closed.
Could be the shadow belonged to the nurse who didn’t believe in the healing properties of the outdoors.
“Señorita Eleanor!” A woman exclaimed, laying her hand on the side of the wagon, her grin wide. “Welcome home.”
Something about the woman’s greeting—the welcome home part of it—made Ivy wonder if she knew her from before, from when she was a baby.
“Howdy—” A petite yet sharp elbow jabbed her ribs. The reminder might have been painful had her middle not been protected by corset boning. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am.”
“Please meet Señora Morgan,” Travis said. “She’s probably the most important person living here, being that she heads up the kitchen.”
“Slim!” Travis shouted to a man crossing the yard on horseback.
The fellow reigned in alongside the wagon. “Slim, I reckon you’ve heard that this is our Miss Magee. Eleanor, this is Mr. Morgan, Maria Morgan’s husband. Couldn’t do without him either. He’s our head cowhand, keeps all the young hotbloods in line.”
“Thank you for coming, Miss Magee.” The weatherworn cowhand placed his hat over his heart, grinning. His eyes reflected the blue of the late afternoon sky. “Things have been glum for a while, not knowing what was to become of us, but now that you’re here... Well, you can see by all the celebration we’re back to who we were.”
He set his hat back on his head, tipped it to Ivy, then leaned down in the saddle to kiss his wife’s cheek.
Mrs. Morgan shoved Mr. Morgan away with a swat and a smile.
“Go tend to your boys before they annoy my girls.”
Mr. Morgan winked at Ivy. “Now that my lads know they have a future here, I reckon there will be some courting going on...some weddings too maybe.”
“You keep those boys in hand until the vows are said. I won’t have my girls forced into marriage.”
All of a sudden Señora Morgan covered her mouth, clearly embarrassed to have pointed out Ivy’s upcoming obligation.
She felt Travis stiffen beside her then make an effort to let his shoulders relax.
Now she understood his desperation to get her here. The whole time he’d been trying to convince her, he’d been seeing the faces of the people
he needed to protect. He knew the names and the dreams of those whose futures depended upon Ivy taking her place.
Until this moment she hadn’t felt the full impact of that responsibility. In her mind, it was Agatha she had come for.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Morgan,” Ivy leaned down to whisper. “I’m glad I’m here. And I’d be pleased if you, and everyone else, would call me by the name I grew up with. It’s Ivy.”
And at least, even after her marriage, she would remain here on the Lucky Clover.
In time she hoped to feel about the ranch the way she felt about the Queen.
Could be that one day the rolling plains and the muddy Platte would feel like home the same as the steamboat had.
And Travis would be here. She glanced over at him, feeling happy to see the joy on his face at being where he belonged.
At least she would not be separated from him.
Some folks might call her disloyal for feeling that way, given that she was about to become engaged to someone else.
But the fact was, she wasn’t engaged yet, hadn’t even met the fellow. What harm could it do to have softhearted feelings for Travis? They were friends.
No matter what happened with William English, she and Travis would be friends. With some effort, she scrubbed the image of his chest, bared to the summer moonlight, from her mind.
The image was a bit more intimate than it ought to be.
For now, all she wanted was to be reunited with Agatha. She knew for a fact that she loved her sister. This was a family bond. A love that a person was born with and would carry until her last breath.
It didn’t matter that she hadn’t even known about Agatha until recently. A sister was a sister.
“You ready to go inside? See your new home?”
“Reckon so,” she muttered under her breath, but then, remembering the person she was supposed to be, said more loudly, “Why, yes, I’d be delighted to, Mr. Murphy.”
Travis leapt from the wagon, like she wished she could do. But since she was a lady wearing a pretty yellow gown, she offered her gloved hand instead.
She felt Antie’s smile more than saw it. This acting a lady business was going to be a challenge, but for the sakes of all these people greeting her and wishing her well, she would smile when she wanted to grin, she would take small steps when she wanted to run.
