The Rancher Inherits a Family

by Cheryl St. John

  She handed him the reins, their fingers brushing. Her cheeks flushed, making her all the prettier. She gave a breathy half laugh. “That probably wasn’t my most graceful moment.”

  “You caught on more quickly than anyone I’ve ever taught.”

  “So, you’ve never taught anyone before?” she teased.

  “No, I have. I was serious.”

  “Well, after yesterday’s lesson, that’s encouraging. If someone starts shooting at me, I won’t bother shooting back, I’ll just ride like the wind in the other direction.”

  He laughed out loud and lifted the reins to the front of the horse, putting distance between them and bringing a sharp pain to his ribs. “It’s good to know our strengths.”

  “You’d better rest,” she said.

  The boys joined them, and Dewey took the horses into the barn.

  Seth watched her take Little John’s hand and guide the boys out the gate. Tate and Harper chattered as they walked across the grass toward the house, and she replied in soft tones. For the first time, he truly regretted not having time for a woman in his life. As soon as he was able to ride and work, his days would once again be filled with horses, planting and chores. If he decided to take a wife once things settled down, he didn’t want to make one feel as though she was second fiddle to a ranch. He wouldn’t want Marigold to—

  He stopped that thought right in its tracks. Marigold Brewster hadn’t come here looking for a husband.

  He wasn’t husband material anyhow. He already had three youngins he hadn’t been prepared for. They were all he could take on now.

  She disappeared into the house but her scent hung in the air, an elusive reminder of regrets he hadn’t been aware of until now.

  * * *

  The congregation was abuzz Sunday morning. Marigold was thankful for the Halloways flanking her as their little group made their way up the center aisle.

  “Miss Brewster!” Leah Gardner, towheaded baby on her hip, made her way to greet her. “This is my husband, Daniel.”

  The tall, brown-haired man beside her gave Marigold a friendly smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you already. I hope you’re getting adjusted at the school.”

  “Yes, thank you. I’ll be on my own this coming week, and I’m confident it will go well. Beatrix Werner is going to be an important help. She’ll be working with the German-speaking students.”

  “That’s good news,” Daniel said. “And these are the young ones, Seth?”

  “These are the Radner boys,” Seth said from over her shoulder.

  “How’s the arm?”

  “Arm’s good. It’s these ribs that have kept me down.”

  The first strains of the organ threaded though the building, and the people made their way into the rows of pews. Evelyn had gone in first, guiding Tate and Harper ahead of her, leaving Seth and Marigold together with Little John.

  “We have much to be thankful for this beautiful April morning,” the reverend said from the front of the church. “I see several new faces, so I’ll introduce myself. I’m Reverend Taggart. Playing the organ is my daughter, Hannah Johnson.”

  “That’s James’s wife,” Seth whispered.

  Marigold spotted James holding a toddler on his lap on the other side of the aisle.

  “We came to Cowboy Creek the same way so many of you did, after seeing advertisements in the newspaper and traveling by train,” Reverend Taggart continued. “Fortunately, our train did not derail. Today we are thanking God for His provision and protection. With us we have several newcomers who were involved in the train accident, and we want to welcome you. If this is your first Sunday in Cowboy Creek, please stand and introduce yourself.”

  Several young women stood, and Seth nodded encouragement to Marigold to stand as well.

  Reverend Taggart indicated a young woman to Marigold’s far left. She turned hesitantly to face the people. She had a full curvy figure, and lustrous brown hair. Her face was heart-shaped, and Marigold found her lovely. “Good morning. I’m Sadie Shriver. I’m from Philadelphia. Thank you all for the warm welcome.”

  “Miss Shriver,” the reverend said. “I understand you’ve already found employment.”

  Sadie smiled, making her features all the more stunning. Some fellow was going to snap up this bride-to-be. “Yes, I’ll be starting work at the telegraph office.”

  Congratulations rose here and there from the church members. Sadie sat again.

  The reverend smiled at a petite young woman with jet-black hair in perfect waves, and she turned toward the congregation. She was thin and delicate-looking with porcelain skin. Her ebony gaze flitted uncomfortably from person to person. “I’m Deborah Frazier. I want to thank those who came to help the day we arrived. It was frightening, and several people were hurt, but we were treated kindly and taken care of. So, thank you.”

  Two other prospective brides, including a brunette named Molly Delaney, introduced themselves, and then the reverend’s attention lit on Marigold. “And you, miss?”

  Her stomach dipped, and she glanced down at Seth beside her. He gave her a reassuring nod. It wouldn’t do well for the new schoolteacher to tremble or faint, so she took a deep breath. “Good morning. I’m Marigold Brewster, the new schoolteacher. I was teaching in Ohio before seeing the advertisement for the position in Cowboy Creek. After corresponding with Mr. Canfield and the superintendent, I was delighted to accept the council’s offer. I’ve already met your school-age children. Mrs. Thompson graciously stayed on this past week to help me become oriented and get to know the students.”

  She glanced around at the faces and expressions, most of them encouraging. “The children are bright and well-behaved, and I’m excited to work with them and to get to know the families—to get to know all of you better. Thank you for this opportunity.”

  Her introduction was met with a smattering of applause and smiles from the parents.

  She seated herself, and Little John climbed onto her lap. She sensed Seth’s gaze and glanced to the side, finding him studying her. He gave her a quick smile and glanced away. Evelyn smiled broadly over the boys’ heads.

  Hannah was an accomplished organist, and Marigold looked forward to her coming to her class for music lessons as well as having her play for programs.

  She got to her feet with the congregation, and Little John stood on the pew beside her so she could keep her arm around him as they all sang.

  “‘Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty! Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee—holy, holy, holy! Merciful and mighty, God in three persons, blessed Trinity!’”

  The familiar melody and words lifted her spirits and comforted her. Voices rose in song around her. How amazing to think people had been singing this same song of praise in homes and churches for many years. People were not so different. No matter where they lived, they had hopes and dreams, lived through troubles and trials, loved their families, loved the Lord, worshipped.

  After the songs, Little John climbed back onto her lap as Reverend Taggart read a passage from the first letter to the Corinthians. Little John’s weight against her breast and his soft hair under her chin reminded her of many, many Sundays with Violet. She longed for the child she adored, and the ache brought quick tears to her eyes. Fumbling for her handkerchief, she blotted her eyes and held back the sobs that rose in her throat. She could see her, feel her, as real as the child she now held. Marigold closed her eyes and silently prayed for Violet’s safety, petitioned God to help her niece feel safe and at peace. She prayed for her comfort and well-being. Knowing Violet was with a stranger—even though he was her father—broke her heart.

  * * *

  Seth couldn’t miss the pain on Marigold’s face. At first he thought perhaps Little John’s weight was too much for her and that he should take him, but then at the tears she quickly wiped, he realized the weight was on her heart. Like
so many of them, she’d lost family, but maybe there was more.

  Tate and Harper were surprisingly well-behaved during the service. He told them so after the reverend ended with a prayer and invited everyone to join the welcome celebration outside. Makeshift tables had been set up along the church and covered with an assortment of tablecloths. A bevy of women set to work arranging dishes and trays, his mother among them. He was glad to see how she’d joined in and made herself part of the community since they’d been here, making friends and joining the ladies’ circles.

  Several parents surrounded Marigold, introducing themselves and asking her questions. She set down Little John, and Seth took his hand and led him a short distance away. “She’s talking to the parents of her students now,” he told the boy. “We’ll wait over here, okay?”

  A straw hat shaded her face, and the blue ribbons on it matched the trim of her gauzy white dress. A cascade of red-gold curls hung down her back under the hat and caught the sunlight. She’d camouflaged the pain he’d seen earlier, and was now smiling and nodding. She rested her hand on the shoulder of a child who joined them.

  “Looks as though our new schoolteacher is making friends. The parents seem to like her.”

  Seth turned to Will Canfield, who’d come up beside him. The man wore his usual shirt and vest with a black tie, the chain of a pocket watch visible. Seth extended his broken arm and Will gave his hand an easy grasp. “She’s great with children.”

  “I hope we made a good choice,” Will added.

  “Why do you say that?”

  Will nodded, indicating the cowboys standing to the side, hats in hands, waiting for introductions. “A man or a mature woman might have been a better choice. Young women don’t last long at the job.”

  Will was probably right. As the parents and students moved away, the fellows vied for Marigold’s attention. She spoke to each one, still smiling.

  A brunette wearing a green plaid dress was receiving as much attention as Marigold, though her smile had worn thin, and she glanced around as though searching for an escape. Seth recognized her as one of the brides who had introduced themselves. She noticed him and Will, excused herself from the cowboys and made her way over, skirts swishing. “Hello, gentlemen.”

  “Welcome, Miss...” Will began.

  “Delaney. Molly Delaney.”

  “Miss Delaney. I’m Will Canfield. My wife is that little spitfire at the end of the dessert table over there.”

  Molly glanced in the direction he indicated. “She’s lovely, Mr. Canfield.” She looked up at Seth and then down at the toddler at his knee.

  “This is Seth Halloway.”

  “And which one is your wife, Mr. Halloway?”

  “I don’t have a wife.”

  She had long-lashed dark brown eyes that lit with a new fire at the news. “But this little one? You’re a widower?”

  “No, miss. I’ve recently become a guardian.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Both of you.”

  Will smiled and excused himself from the conversation, leaving Seth and the brunette standing together.

  “What do you do, Seth?”

  “Raise horses. Have a spread to the south.”

  “Is there a house on your farm?”

  “Ranch. And yes.”

  “Of course. I traveled with Deborah, Sadie and the others.”

  She’d introduced herself in church that morning. “But you’re not from Philadelphia?”

  “I only boarded the train there. I’m from Sullivan, actually. I’m staying at Aunt Mae’s boardinghouse.”

  The brides always stayed at the boardinghouse. He glanced over her shoulder to find Marigold in yet another group of men, this one including one of the barbers, Jake Osborne, and Freddie Simms. Freddie had been with him when they’d discovered Marigold and the boys under the rubble in the train car. “I trust you’re comfortable.”

  “Oh, yes, quite. Have you had a chance to sample any of Deborah’s desserts yet? She fancies herself quite the baker. I don’t eat sweets myself.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “I understand you were injured in the train wreckage. Are you all right?”

  Marigold appeared to be laughing at something Freddie said. He answered Miss Delaney without looking her way. “Yes. Good.”

  Little John tugged at Seth’s pant leg, pulling his attention away from Marigold. Seth glanced down. Little John motioned him nearer, so he leaned over. “Are you thirsty? You want water?”

  The child whispered in his ear.

  “Oh!” Seth straightened and looked around. Marigold was still surrounded by admirers, his mother was serving casseroles and Tate and Harper were nowhere to be seen. The task was his alone. “All right. Let’s go. Excuse us, Miss Delaney.”

  He took the boy’s hand and led him out behind the church, where there was a row of outhouses shared by the church, Booker & Son, the dressmaker’s shop and Godwin’s shoe shop.

  Several minutes later they exited a privy with Seth feeling quite accomplished. “We avoided a calamity, didn’t we, little man?”

  Little John merely returned his stare.

  “Let’s find the wash barrel and then we’ll get something to eat. You’re probably hungry after your busy morning, what with all the singing and talking to the ladies.”

  Little John reached toward Seth with both arms in the air.

  “Oh.” Seth didn’t take time to rationalize his next move or the repercussions. The child was showing not only a yearning to be held, but also acceptance. “Okay.”

  Seth used his good arm to scoop him up and hold him against the side that didn’t scream in objection. Just the exertion of the movement made jagged pain shoot through his side. He paused a moment and breathed slowly, then got his bearings and headed for the wash area. Little John patted his cheek. He looked into the boy’s eyes, and his heart expanded in his chest. He’d never been around children, especially any this young. Providing a home, food on the table, schooling and taking them to church was all well and good. What he hadn’t thought about was the rest. Being an example, showing them acceptance and love, guiding them in the ways of the Lord, teaching them to be men. How would he know how to do that? His mother was a help, of course, but she’d already raised her children.

  The sound of iron clanging echoed across the lawn. Dewey had joined Gus and Old Horace at their favorite spot behind Booker & Son. When the two weren’t on their benches in front of the building, observing the comings and goings of the townsfolk, they were back here playing horseshoes.

  “What are you doing?” Marigold showed up and reached to take Little John from him. “You could hurt yourself.”

  “I’m fine. We’re going to wash so we can eat.”

  “I’ll help.” She set down the boy, soaped his hands and lifted him to rinse. He and Seth shared a towel. She smiled. “Let’s go get some food.”

  He’d thought about what Jessie would have wanted for his boys, why Tessa had chosen him, of all people, and figured she’d trusted him. He aimed to live up to her faith in him. Seth didn’t want to let anyone down.

  But he was in over his head, and he knew it.

  Chapter Six

  They arrived back at the ranch in time for a riding lesson. While reciting another poem to the horse, Marigold saddled Bright Star herself. “‘Riches I hold in light esteem, and love I laugh to scorn. And lust of fame was but a dream that vanished with the morn. And if I pray, the only prayer that moves my lips for me is—‘leave the heart that now I bear, and give me liberty.’”

  She stroked the animal’s neck and rubbed its forehead. After checking the cinches, Seth approved her work. She rode the mare around the interior of the corral. Marigold had removed her hat and tied up her hair. The red-gold tresses shone like golden fire in the evening sun.

  With Dewey’s hel
p, the boys took turns on the black-and-gray mare.

  “I’ll show you how to hang up the saddle and brush the horse.” He waved her into the stable. She guided Bright Star to where he stood, and he helped her down. “You’ll want to ride her in close to the rack,” he told her. “The saddle’s heavy, and you’ll be more tired than before you saddled her.”

  He gestured to the empty rack and showed her how to lift the saddle off the horse. “If the horse has been run, the blanket will be damp or downright wet. Throw it over a rail to dry. Dry the animal with some clean feed sacks. The brushes are in this chest.”

  She took a brush and worked on Bright Star’s coat.

  “What about these tangles here?” she asked after a few minutes. “Her mane is so pretty, with the black streaked into the white.”

  He opened the chest and handed her a wide-toothed comb. “Some wranglers cut the mane short so they don’t have to work out the knots.”

  She worked the snarls from the long, coarse hair. “That would be a shame.”

  They passed a few minutes in quiet, until Seth’s remark split the silence. “You got a lot of attention today.”

  “As predicted.”

  “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  She continued brushing. “It was nice to meet my students’ parents and talk to them about curriculum.”

  “I meant did you enjoy meeting the cowboys. And Freddie.”

  “Everyone is friendly, so that was nice.”

  “Freddie’s a nice fellow.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “He’s nice.”

  “He and I were searching cars together when we found you on the train.”

  “I can’t remember that day very well,” she admitted. “I was confused and everything is a blur.”

  “He didn’t mention it?”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “Hmm. Modest, too, I reckon.”

  She stopped combing and looked at him. “You know I didn’t come here to find a husband.”

  “I know. But you’re young. Don’t you want to be married someday?”

  She tossed the comb and brush into the chest and closed it. “I suppose so. I haven’t really thought about it. Does Bright Star go out into the pasture or stay in the stable at night?”