The older man nodded. “Yep. My left elbow is aching something fierce. I’m afraid we might be in for a big one.”
The horse stomped her foot as if saying she’d do her job and fight through the wind and snow to get the mail delivered. Clayton pulled her out of the stall and began to saddle her. He said soothing words to the little mustang as he worked. Once the horse was ready, he led her to the doors. He looked to George. “Does your elbow always hurt when it snows?”
“Nine times out of ten it does.” George rubbed the elbow in question.
The sound of a bugle announced the arrival of the express rider. Clayton didn’t need to encourage the little mustang. She had heard the sound, too, and practically pushed him out the barn doors. He walked her to the right spot and held her head, waiting for the exchange. Not all Pony Express riders still used the bugle but some did. Most thought the added weight wasn’t needed and they would just whoop or yell as they got closer to the station. But if a young man had a cold and no voice, the bugle was his way of announcing his arrival.
Clayton watched the rider as he came in. His pale face told of his weariness. Clayton looked to the house, his thoughts on relieving the rider, but he knew he couldn’t. For one thing, he wasn’t dressed appropriately, and for another, he’d not warned Maggie that he’d be leaving.
As soon as the rider came to a stop, Clayton asked, “Are you well enough to continue?”
“I’ll make it to the next stop.” He jumped on the mustang.
Clayton wasn’t so sure. “Pete?”
“Don’t coddle me, Clayton. I have a job to do.” He spurred the little horse and away they flew down the Pony Express trail.
George chuckled behind him. “You can’t help but doctor folks, can you?”
Clayton took the reins of the mare. Her head drooped and her sides heaved. He walked back to the barn. “I suppose not. It’s in my nature to try to keep them from killing themselves.”
George slapped him on the back. “Well, I, for one, am glad you know a little something about doctorin’.”
Clayton spent the rest of the afternoon taking care of the horses and mucking out stalls. George talked his ear off about the new men and what fine young fellas they were. According to George, each man could eat more than a family of six.
Clayton had chuckled at that reference. He’d remembered himself and his brothers eating as if it were their last supper at every meal. His mother, Rebecca, would beam with delight at their compliments on her cooking.
The sound of a horse arriving drew Clayton and George back to the barn doors. They opened them enough to look out. Snow drifted softly from the sky, and cold air swirled it about on the frozen ground.
Sally Morris rode her horse up to the barn with a grin. “Howdy, Mr. Young. Would it be all right with you if I left Stardust in the barn? I don’t want her out in this weather.”
Clayton pulled the door open farther and helped Sally off the horse once she was inside. “I’m surprised your ma let you come over with the weather the way it is.”
George hurried to shut the barn doors.
Sally pulled her coat tighter around her slender waist. She cast her eyes to the ground.
“Well, she wasn’t home when I left.” The young girl looked up quickly and said in a reassuring voice, “But I told our cook where I was going and asked her to let Ma know when she returned from her quilting bee.”
Clayton felt an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach. What if Sally got stuck here at the ranch because of the storm? “Um, Sally, I think we’d best get you back home. This storm looks like it might be blowing for a spell.”
Clayton turned to retrieve Bones from his stall. He stopped at the high pitch in Sally’s voice.
Sally protested, “But I just got here and Maggie is expecting me.” Disappointment filled her eyes.
“Yes, but your ma will be worried sick.”
Sally shook her head. “No, she knows I’m here.”
Clayton opened his mouth to argue but quickly shut it as the barn door opened, letting snow and cold air inside. He looked to see who had just entered. Maggie walked inside. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her body. “Sally, what are you doing here? You shouldn’t have come in this weather.”
“That’s what I was trying to tell her,” Clayton said, folding his arms over his chest and trying to look stern to the girl.
Sally frowned. “I came because you offered me a job yesterday. Did you change your mind about me working here?”
“No, of course not. But that storm looks like it is here to stay. Why in the world would your ma send you out in a storm like this?” Maggie searched the girl’s face, and as the answer dawned on her she frowned. “She doesn’t know, does she? Or worse, she told you that you couldn’t come and you snuck out.”
Sally tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I did not sneak over here. Ma knew I was supposed to come to work today.”
Clayton watched Maggie as she studied the younger woman. It was as if she knew what the girl was thinking and what she wasn’t saying. “Look, Sally. I’m pretty sure your ma does not know you are here.” She imitated Clayton’s stance.
“Yes, she does. I’m sure Cook has told her by now.”
Maggie gasped. “You get back on that horse. I’m taking you home.”
Sally stared in disbelief. “You’re firing me?”
“No, I’m taking you home before this storm gets worse and you get stuck here. Your ma is probably worried silly.” Maggie turned to Clayton. “Would you saddle Snowball for me and keep an eye on the children while I’m gone?”
“No, I will not.” Clayton sighed. “I’ll take her back.”
“But she’s my responsibility.”
“And you are mine.”
Maggie straightened her shoulders. “I most certainly am not your responsibility.”
George chuckled, reminding them all that the old man was still there. They all turned to look at him with a frown. “Sorry. This is the best entertainment I’ve had in weeks.”
Clayton decided to ignore George and focus on Maggie. Her eyes narrowed and she placed her fists on her waist. Before she could say more, he reminded her, “You are my wife. That makes you my responsibility. I can’t have you catching your death of a cold in this weather, or worse, getting lost in the storm.”
The wind howled about the barn. Clayton saw Maggie shiver. Her eyes remained narrowed on him as she said, “Sally, get on that horse. You are going home now.” She continued staring at him. “George, saddle Snowball.”
Clayton felt George’s gaze swing to him. He answered the man’s unspoken question. “No. Maggie, you are staying here. I’m going.”
“How about we all just stay here?” Sally asked. She looked uncomfortable and a little nervous.
“Clayton, you can’t stop me from taking her home.” Maggie ground the words out through clenched teeth.
Clayton sighed. “No, I can’t stop you, but I’d like to think you’d give some thought to the children.” He waited for her to stop grinding her teeth. “What if something happened to you in that storm? What would become of James and Dinah? Have you thought about that?”
Maggie stood her ground.
He could see she was warring with herself. To help her not look weak in front of Sally and George, Clayton walked to her. He pulled her stiff body into his embrace. Softening his voice as he’d heard his adoptive father, Seth, do with his ma, Clayton said, “Honey, I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you in that storm. I’ll take her home and be back before you have time to miss me.” He kissed the top of her head as if it were the most natural action between them.
Maggie stiffened even more in his arms. “But what about you? Maybe we should just all stay home.” She sounded confused.
“I want nothing more than t
o stay home, but Sally’s ma is going to be worried sick. It’s best I take her home now before the storm gets worse.” Clayton tilted Maggie’s head back and looked deeply into her eyes.
Maggie relaxed in his arms. “All right, but promise you will come straight to the house as soon as you get back.” Her eyes told him that this was an act and she was angrier than a bull that had just sat on a burr.
Clayton released her. Was she angry because he had won their argument? Or was she angry that he’d dared to display affection for her in front of George and Sally?
Chapter Sixteen
Maggie paced the kitchen, certain she was going to wear right through the planked pine floor if Clayton didn’t return soon. He had been gone much longer than he needed to be. Dinner sat on the back of the stove waiting for his return. Snow continued to fall. It covered the ground and turned the world a brilliant white. Its beauty was lost on Maggie as she worried and paced.
His words, “Honey, I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you in that storm. I’ll take her home and be back before you have time to miss me,” echoed through her tired mind. Had he meant them? Or was it simply a show for George and Sally?
At first, she’d been angry with Clayton for insisting she stay home with the kids, but now that his lingering absence continued and her mind thought up all sorts of reasons he might be running late, she understood what he was saying. If anything had happened to her, James wouldn’t have a mother and Dinah wouldn’t have a sister.
Where was he?
The question ripped through her overactive mind. She silently prayed. Lord, please keep and protect him.
Maggie had to admit that she loved Clayton. She’d hold his words close to her heart even if she’d never know how he’d meant them. She would never let him know how she felt. What good would it do? She’d entered this marriage thinking she’d never trust a man enough to fall in love with him. And Clayton had made it clear he had no intentions of falling in love either. But whether or not he could love her, she did love him, and that love magnified her worry about his safe return in the storm.
As the little clock ticked on the side table, her heart raced with worry all the faster. She tried to sidetrack her thoughts of him lost or frozen in the snow by returning to her sewing. The blue material in her hands was turning into a beautiful shirt for Clayton, and she had enough material left over to make a matching one for baby James. Her heart warmed at the picture in her mind of the two of them together in their matching shirts. At least, it would be a touching picture if Clayton returned. Maggie continued to sew, each stitch a prayer, a plea, for her husband’s safe return.
Her gaze moved to the children. Both were napping. She should wake Dinah up or the little girl might not sleep tonight. Maggie’s gaze moved to the window once more. Dinah would want to know where Clayton was, and Maggie wasn’t sure she wanted to answer the little girl’s many questions. Questions she didn’t have answers to.
Maggie set the shirt to the side and quietly left the room. She pulled the door closed behind her and walked down the stairs. The aroma of beef stew and corn bread filled her senses. She continued into the kitchen. Maggie needed to keep busy.
The coffeepot was almost empty. Clayton would be cold and would need a hot beverage to help warm him up. Maggie made fresh coffee and then turned to the platter of cookies that sat on the counter. She looked to her coat that hung by the door. They’d made the cookies for the men, so they should have them. Maggie knew George provided hearty meals, but she feared the men didn’t get many treats. The cookies would cheer them on this dreary winter day. Maggie put on her coat, scarf and gloves then picked up the cookies and walked to the front door.
Her gaze moved up the stairs. She wouldn’t be gone long and felt the children would be safe for the few minutes she’d be out. Frigid air and snow blew into her face as she opened the door. Maggie sank deeper into her coat and closed the door behind her.
Ducking her head, Maggie walked to the steps. The boards felt slick under her boots. The thought that she probably should go back inside tried to sway her. She ignored the inner voice and stepped off the porch. Her leg sank up to her knee in the snow. Maggie shivered but pressed on.
Trudging through the snow seemed to take forever. Ten minutes later, Maggie raised her hand and knocked on the bunkhouse door. Weariness pulled at her, and it seemed the cold had seeped into her bones. She shivered. She should have listened to her inner voice and stayed in the house, where it was warm and cozy.
The door opened. Hal gasped when he saw her. “Mrs. Young, ma’am, what are you doing out in this weather?”
Maggie held the plate out to him. Her teeth chattered as she said, “I made these for you men earlier and I wanted you to have them tonight.”
He took the plate. “Do you want to come in and warm up?” Hal stepped back to give her room to enter.
“No, thanks. I need to get back to the children.” Maggie turned, dreading the return trip to the house.
Hal turned and handed the plate to one of the other men. He grabbed his coat and hat and stepped out onto the stoop with her. “I’ll walk you back to the house.”
The wind picked up, whipping snow about them. Maggie shook her head. “That’s not necessary. I’ll follow my footprints back to the house. There is no reason for you to be out in this weather, too.”
Hal pulled his hat down farther and squinted at her. “Clayton would have my hide if I didn’t escort you back.” He tucked his hands into his coat pockets and then stepped into her earlier footprints. “Just follow me. My boots are bigger than your tiny feet. It will be easier on you.”
Maggie nodded. Easier would be good. George came out of the barn. He shook his head when he saw the two of them out in the storm. His action made Maggie feel worse than she had before. She’d been foolish coming out in the storm. Not only was she out in the weather but now Hal was, too.
Maggie had no choice but to follow Hal. His head was down and his shoulders hunched as he pressed through the wind and falling snow. Her ears burned from the cold.
The sound of a horse snorting off to her right drew Maggie’s attention from her miserable thoughts. She’d know the form of Clayton anywhere. Even hunched over the horse and with his head down, Maggie knew it was him.
Hal called over the wind, “Looks like Clayton has made it back.”
He must have heard his name because Clayton sat up straighter atop Bones. The horse covered the ground between them at a remarkably fast pace, considering the depth of the snow. He stopped beside them. “Maggie, what are you doing out in this weather?”
“I’ll explain later.” Her legs felt as if she couldn’t lift them another step, and she could hardly feel her feet. Snow and ice clung to her skirts, making the effort even harder than it had been before.
Clayton kicked his foot out of the stirrup and ordered, “Climb up here. Bones and I will take you the rest of the way to the house.”
Maggie tried to lift her heavy, snow-laden skirts and put her foot in the stirrup. After two failed attempts, Maggie looked at Hal, who was watching her from where he stood. He stepped forward and said, “Mrs. Young, I’d be honored if you would allow me to give you a hand up.”
Shame filled her but Maggie nodded. “Thank you.” Within moments, she was in the saddle behind Clayton.
Clayton looked to Hal. “Head on back to the bunkhouse. I appreciate your helping Maggie.”
The young man nodded. He dropped his head to avoid the flying snow and then proceeded back the way he and Maggie had come. He stopped and turned. “Thank you, Mrs. Young, for bringing us that plate.”
Maggie grinned. Hal had no idea what she’d brought and yet he still expressed his thanks, when she should be the one thanking him. “You’re welcome, Hal. Tell the men I said you get extra for helping me get home.”
Hal turned and beg
an the short walk back to the bunkhouse. Clayton slipped his booted foot back into the stirrup and prompted Bones to take them to the house.
She buried her face against his back and wrapped her arms around his waist. Maggie knew Clayton was angry with her and he had every right to be, but she didn’t care. Her relief that he was home outweighed his irritation at her.
Clayton patted her hands. “Missed me, did you?” he called over his shoulder above the howling wind.
Maggie answered, “You have no idea how worried I was when you didn’t return earlier.” She snuggled closer, seeking his warmth.
When they were beside the porch, Clayton removed his boot from the stirrup once more and helped her off the horse. “I’ll be in shortly.” He lowered her to the ground and then waited for her to get back on the porch before turning Bones toward the barn.
Maggie walked as quickly as she dared on the slippery porch. Warm air welcomed her into the house, and she sagged against the door. Taking off her coat, scarf and gloves, she looked down at her skirt. The hem was caked with snow. It took her a few minutes, but she managed to get her boots and skirt off.
Water pooled at her feet where the snow was quickly melting. Maggie set the boots beside the door on the small rug and then scooped up her skirt. She hurried up the stairs, hoping she’d make it to the top before Clayton entered the house.
At the top, she giggled. Clayton was home. Relief washed over her with such force she felt tears enter her eyes. Tears of happiness? Not sorrow, for sure. She went into her room and put on a fresh skirt.
Maggie had already admitted to herself that she loved Clayton. She hadn’t wanted to feel this way toward him. How was she going to hide it from him? He wasn’t looking for love. If he suspected how she felt, would he leave? Abandon her like her father had? Maggie determined in her heart that Clayton would never know how she felt.
* * *
Over the next couple of days, Clayton and the men did the basic chores but spent most of their time indoors. Clayton had read, played tea party with Dinah, enjoyed desserts that Maggie baked and simply enjoyed life as he now knew it.
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