Gifts of Love

by Raine Cantrell

  With a black scowl he gazed at the woodpile. At the rate he was chopping, he’d have another two fields cleared of trees and enough wood to burn through two winters.

  “You look fit to take on a grizzly, boss,” Ketch noted, glancing from Mace’s face to the ax resting against the chopping block. “Better put an edge on that blade, you’re wearin’ it plumb out.”

  “Old man, ain’t you got nothing to do but devil me?”

  “Sure. I come to tell you there’s fresh hot coffee an’ a heapin’ plate of oatmeal cookies waitin’ in the kitchen.”

  “Ain’t got time.” But Mace threw a quick look toward the house, licking his lips.

  “Figure you’d say that. Well, there’s a mare penned up in there that needs the sass taking out of her. You figure that’s somethin’ you got time for?”

  A grin cracked Mace’s lips. “You go an’ muddy up her floor again?”

  “No way. An’ Miz Erin don’t never say a word ’bout that. Truth is, she don’t say much ’bout what she’s aneedin’. Man like me, who’s been round a while, can figure it out all by himself.”

  Mace hefted the ax handle to his shoulder and turned for the barn. “Maybe I’m not as smart as you.”

  “For sure,” Ketch agreed, shaking his head as Mace disappeared into the barn. He stood there, rubbing the back of his neck, wondering what it would take to bring these two together. First there were the weeks where Mace stripped her hide for no good reason. Now, they walked around each other like each carried a pile-high egg basket and didn’t dare drop one.

  Something had to come to him. Mace was still hurting, still believing that he caused Sky’s death, and Ketch knew the why of it. Plumb foolish notion, to his way of thinking, but Mace didn’t see it his way. He gazed at the house, grinning to see that the kitchen curtain was back in place, but his thoughts only turned to Erin. She was hurting, too. A man had to be blind not to see that she was trying hard to look pretty and hide her growing belly. If she raised her skirt and apron hems any higher, her knees would be showing. He guessed she was as blind as Mace. How could she not see the man’s gaze lingering on her every move? If she was all that ugly to him, why would Mace be killing himself just so he could sleep?

  “The two of ’em go beyond mules,” he muttered, heading for his horse. “They go all the way to mountain hard rock, jus’ as thick an’ jus’ as stubborn.”

  Once Mace saw Ketch amble out of sight, he headed for the house. Just for hot coffee, he told himself. A mean wind was blowing, forcing him to gaze at the building clouds in the far distance.

  Maybe the temperature dropping to zero would help cool him off, he idly noted, longing for any kind of a distraction.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mace lowered his gaze, spotting the lone rider coming into his range of vision. He knew the hammerhead roan was Ray’s, and knew Ray wouldn’t be riding the horse all out unless there was trouble. Serious trouble.

  “Mace!” Ray yelled, unaware that he already had his attention. “The cows are drifting off by themselves,” he informed Mace, sawing hard on the bit to control the horse. “The wind’s whipping snow off the peaks and we can hardly see.”

  “Saddle Tariko. I’ll be right with you.” Mace asked no more, for cows drifted off alone only to calve. No matter when he bred them, they all seemed to give birth at the same time. He ran for the house, yelling back, “Find Ketch!”

  Throwing open the kitchen door, he was assaulted by the heat of the room. “Erin! Erin!” he shouted, grabbing his heavy jacket and gloves from the hooks by the door.

  Responding to the urgency in his voice, Erin ran into the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

  “Cows are calving and there’s a storm coming in. Keep the coffee hot and get Jake and Becky to go down to the barn. They’ll know what to do.”

  He was worried, yet she was annoyed that all he wanted from her was to keep coffee hot. “There must be something else I can do to help?”

  Mace finished tugging on his gloves, sparing her a quick look. “You can’t ride, can you?” A quick shake of her head brought his sigh. “That’s all the help I need now. Someone to ride and lift newborn calves up in front of them to bring them in. Tell Becky to use the front box stall.”

  He was at the door when Erin, for reasons she didn’t question, ran to him. “You’ll be careful?”

  Mace gazed down at her anxious expression. “Sure. And you say a prayer.”

  “Yes,” she whispered as the door closed behind him. A chill rode her spine, one that didn’t come from the cold that slipped inside from the opening and closing of the door. Mace’s eyes had been bleak. Could he lose the calves? She swore at herself for knowing so little, but he had given her little enough to do, and she set to it.

  The men would be cold and hungry whenever they came in, so her first priority was food. She had intended to fry the chickens Ketch had brought her this morning, but soup would be better. Feeding the stove, she soon had water heating, the chickens cut up and herbs sprinkled on top. A trip to the root cellar provided her with onions, carrots and potatoes. She doubled what she would have normally put in.

  Once the soup was simmering, she headed outside to find the children.

  She wrapped the shawl tighter around her head, bending against the fierce power of the wind that cut through the cloth of her coat. Becky was found easily enough—she was in the barn with Tariko’s unnamed colt—but there was no sign of Jake and Scrap.

  “Becky,” Erin said, “your father said you would know what to do and for you to use the front box stall. Tell it to me, so I can help.”

  “You can’t,” the child answered, carefully closing the door to the colt’s stall and securing the latch. “I’ve got to get the hay bales down from the loft. You can’t climb the ladder. The men’ll bring in the calves as they find them, likely using the wagon, and then go out to find more until they can’t see.”

  Erin was shocked that this was all delivered in an emotionless voice. But before she spoke, she realized that to Becky this was part of the life-and-death cycle of ranch life.

  “Becky, wait until I find Jake. We’ll do this together. I can and will help you.”

  “Last time I saw Jake with Scrap, they were down by the big woodpile. Jake’s still trying to teach Scrap to hunt wood rats.”

  Closing her eyes with a shudder, Erin hoped the puppy didn’t catch one. “Just wait for me.”

  “All right.”

  Braving the cut of the wind again, Erin wrapped her arms around herself to keep her body warm as long as she could. The woodpile behind the shed showed no sign of Jake, but Erin knew he loved to climb the cut lengths of logs waiting to be split into firewood. She had tried to tell Mace to stop him before he fell and got hurt, but her warnings had landed on deaf ears. Shouting against the rising wind, she made her way to the springhouse, but that, too, proved empty. The wagon shed, pigpen and henhouse left her with only the men’s bunkhouse to check for Jake. She rarely stepped over the threshold, respecting the men’s right to privacy, but she was growing anxious as time passed and she couldn’t find the boy.

  Erin spared a few minutes to feed the wood stove so the fire wouldn’t die, but once more she didn’t find Jake.

  On her way back to the barn, she decided to check the soup and was flooded with relief when Jake was found at the table, munching cookies.

  “Where were you?” she demanded, her own fear bringing an unaccustomed harshness to her voice.

  “Playing.”

  “You didn’t hear me calling you?”

  “No, Erin. Me and Scrap—”

  “Never mind. You’re safe. But Jake, please, don’t go off without telling me where you are. I worry about you getting hurt.”

  “I’m a boy, Erin. Boys don’t get hurt. And I’ve got Scrap.”

  At the second mention of his name, the pup yipped and pawed Jake’s leg for attention.

  Stirring the soup, Erin closed her eyes and knew she would have to tackle Mace about t
his again. But not now. She didn’t know when the men would begin coming in with the calves and she wanted to prove to Mace and to herself that she wasn’t useless when he needed all the help she could give him

  “Bundle up. We need to go down to the barn. Your father is bringing in new calves that must be kept warm.”

  Jake nodded, grabbed two more cookies that she didn’t have the heart to deny him, and followed her with Scrap.

  Erin felt frustration build when she entered the barn and found Becky up in the loft, pushing hay bales down to the floor where the force of the fall had split a few of them. Taking up a pitchfork while Jake took hold of another one, she began pitching hay into the box stall.

  “Erin,” Becky called out, standing near the edge of the loft. “You shouldn’t be doing that. Papa said you can’t lift heavy things.”

  “But he’s only got us here to do this, Becky.” Erin knew all the hours of hard work had honed her muscles, and was careful not to lift too much hay at any one time. But with three bales still to go, she felt the ache begin in her lower back and paused a few minutes to rest. Becky was scrambling down the wooden ladder, rushing to her side as Erin gently stretched.

  She had to open her coat, for despite the chill in the barn from the wind that penetrated every crack, she was sweating from her labor. Erin’s eyes widened in surprise to find that both Jake and Becky were staring at her.

  “Is the baby moving again?” Jake asked first, his gaze lowering from her face to her belly. “Will you let me feel it again?”

  “You got to do it last time, Jake, and I missed it. I go first.”

  Erin felt her throat close and tears threaten. She couldn’t speak, so she held open her arms to each child, hugging them close. The love they had brought into her life filled so many of the empty spaces she had lived with for far too long.

  With one hand hovering close to her rounded stomach, Becky glanced up at Erin. “Can I touch? I promise I won’t hurt her.”

  “You won’t hurt—”

  “What makes you think it’s a her, smarty?” Jake demanded.

  “She’s gonna be a little girl for me to take care of and play with, so there!”

  “Is not!”

  “Is, too!”

  “Hush, now, both of you,” Erin scolded, but without heat. “The baby isn’t moving now, ’cause it knows we still have plenty of work to do. But if it moves, I promise to let you know.”

  Rubbing his head against her, Jake sighed and asked, “Is it really gonna be a girl, Erin? I want a boy to play with.”

  “I don’t know what it will be, Jake. I only pray that the baby is strong, with—”

  “I know, I know,” Becky sing-songed, “all the right number of fingers and toes, two eyes, two ears, one mouth and a nose!”

  Their laughter was cut off abruptly as shouting was heard outside the barn doors.

  The three of them ran forward, fighting the wind that threatened to tear the doors free from their grips. Erin pulled the children to her side as Pete drove the high-sided farm wagon right into the barn. He jumped down to lend his strength in closing the barn doors. Once they were secure, he lowered the tailgate of the wagon and began to lift the bleating calves down.

  Jake stood by the stall door, making sure none of the calves that Pete placed inside could get out. Erin and Becky finished forking hay into the stall.

  When the last calf was securely inside the stall, Pete stood with his head bowed for a breather. Erin touched his arm to gain his attention, for the frantic cries of the tiny animals made it almost impossible to speak in a normal voice.

  “How bad is it, Pete?”

  “This group was gathered before the snow hit us. I don’t know how many we can save.”

  He was already turning, settling his hat, when Erin stopped him. “Take a few minutes and go up to the house. There’s hot soup and coffee on the stove. Becky, Jake and I will take care of the horses.” She pushed and tugged at his arm and finally he left them.

  Erin set to work with a vengeance, drying off the horses with burlap sacking. She watched Jake and Becky as the two of them entered the calves’ stall and began piling hay up the thick wooden sides to keep the seeping cold away from the newborns. Their urgent bleating filled the air, the cries for their mothers and milk touching her deeply. Pete came back far too quickly to please her, but he nodded to show that he had helped himself to the warming liquids.

  “You’d better get back up to the house,” he warned her. “Boss ain’t gonna like knowing you’re down here. And it’s too cold for you.”

  Shaking her head, Erin stood back as he climbed up on the wagon and pulled his bandanna up across the lower half of his face. With a curt nod to show that he was ready, she made her way to the doors, struggling again with their weight.

  The darkness outside stunned her. It was barely early afternoon, yet it appeared to be already dusk. Once again, not knowing how long it would be before another wagon would come in, Erin decided to take the children up to the house and get them fed. The pitiful cries of the calves reminded her how helpless she was to help them, but she could care for the children’s needs.

  Ushering them before her, Erin entered the steamy warmth of the kitchen, and it wasn’t until that warmth seeped through her clothing that she realized how cold she was.

  The hot soup helped, but she kept thinking about Mace and the men, out there in the freezing weather. While Jake and Becky had second helpings of the soup, she started to fill every pot and kettle she found with water and set them on the stove. With the children’s help she dragged the big wooden tub into the kitchen.

  “Blankets,” she said almost to herself. “We’ll need plenty of those.” With a stack of mixed blankets and quilts set on one chair, and bowls, bread and cheese along with cups placed on the table, Erin glanced around to see if she had forgotten anything.

  “We should get fires started in the other rooms,” Becky suggested, setting out spoons and knives.

  “Good, Becky. And once we’re done, we’ll go down to the barn. There must be something we can do to help those calves.”

  “Ketch’ll feed them when he comes,” Jake told her.

  “Feed them what?” Erin asked, already thinking that if they started it would be that much less for Ketch or anyone else to do.

  “Bessie’s milk. ’Course, she ain’t got much to give now since she don’t have a calf of her own, but that’s what he uses.”

  “And thinned down with water, it’ll still be rich enough to make do,” Erin murmured to herself, slipping into her coat. She knew little enough about calves, but any animal newly born nursed. The thought stopped her. They couldn’t drink the milk from a pail. How was she going to feed all those calves?

  She needed something, she thought, scanning the kitchen, to make a teat for the calves to suck. “What does Ketch use to feed them?” she asked after a few minutes and coming up empty.

  “His fingers,” Jake supplied. “You get messed, but Ketch said it’s best. Hand’s warm, you know.”

  Erin glanced down at her work-roughened hands. Her smile was bright when she thought of being able to save time and work for Mace. And maybe save those calves, a tiny voice added.

  Bessie, good-natured cow that she was, didn’t mind having her milking time disrupted by a few hours. Erin stroked her behind the ears, scratching the taffy-colored sleek fur, and spoke softly to the cow. “You’ll be good and not kick over the pail on me, won’t you, girl?” Stroking her fatted side, Erin reached down and moved the three-legged stool into place. The tiny seat barely allowed her to balance her weight on it, but she set the wooden bucket beneath the cow and began to wash her before milking. All the while she coaxed the cow, who had turned her head in the stanchion as far as the wooden bar would allow to watch Erin.

  “Such pretty brown eyes, Bessie,” Erin murmured, spreading her legs and leaning forward to gently grasp two teats. “And you’re going to keep that tail still and not swish it back and forth over my head
, right?” With steady tugs, the warm milk hit the sides of the pail. She made sure that there was plenty of molasses-sweetened grain for the cow to munch on while she milked.

  When done, praise and pets were given before she left the cow and with the children’s help, fed the fifteen calves in the box stall.

  It was messy, but she had expected that. What she wasn’t prepared for was the butting of small heads against whatever part of her body the calves could reach, along with the difficulty of telling one from the other.

  Latching the stall door, Erin set the empty pail down, collapsing against the side of the stall and sinking down, overcome for the moment.

  She rested her head against the wood, Becky leaning her head against her chest, and closed her eyes. She knew she should get up and go to the house to warm herself and the children, but nothing could force her to move.

  Nothing but the sound of the wagon once again approaching the doors. Cosi was driving this time, with almost twenty calves that he explained they had the devil’s own time trying to round up.

  “Can hardly see up there,” he managed to whisper through lips numb with cold.

  When he made no mention of Mace, Erin had to ask.

  “Pete never said nothing about you being down here,” Cosi said. “If he had, the boss would’ve come himself. The wind’s stronger, making it hard to see. Don’t know how much longer any of us can stay out,” he added, rubbing his arms and stamping his feet.

  Mixing water with the milk again, Erin gave a bucket to each child, warning them to try to find the new calves to feed. “I’ll be back,” she said, “after I feed Cosi.”

  Once the soup and coffee had done their work and warmed him, Cosi helped her fill the washtub and set fresh water to heat.

  “Will Mace come in at all?” she asked him.

  “Boss’ll be last. He’ll be dragged back by Ketch. Thing is, Miz Erin, if the calf has just been born, we gotta wait till mama licks her baby over so she’ll know which is hers. But storms like this have happened before, and if need be we’ll just grab them and hand raise them. Snow’s blowing so that we’re working blind.”