The Rancher Inherits a Family

by Cheryl St. John

  It stood to reason, then, that he felt a duty to be vigilant about any men who might come courting, as well. Undoubtedly he—

  A high-pitched scream split the silence of the dark yard. Startled, Marigold turned and ran toward the house. Seth’s boots pounded behind her. He was faster, hitting the porch first and throwing open the door. She followed him up the stairs.

  A lamp was already lit in the room where the boys slept. The screaming had turned to childish pleading. “No, I want Mama! I want Mama! No, I want Mama!”

  “I know, sweetheart,” Evelyn said, perched on the edge of the bed. She tried to smooth Little John’s hair, but he pushed away her hand. The little boy’s pale hair was damp, standing in disarray. His face had turned red from crying and obvious panic.

  Evelyn moved back, making room for Marigold to sit beside him. “What’s wrong, darling? What’s wrong?”

  Sobs broke the words until they were barely distinguishable. “I—I—I wa-a-ant Ma-maaa. Pwease, pwease.”

  Beside him Harper was crying now. Seth strode to the other side of the bed and reached one arm toward the boy. Harper lunged against his chest and clung to him, Seth’s cast across his back. Seth sat so Harper was in his lap and used his good arm to grasp Tate’s hand.

  “Little John had a bad dream.” Tate’s voice trembled.

  “Dreams can be very real,” Seth said somberly.

  Evelyn went for a wet cloth and Marigold washed Little John’s face, neck and arms, cooling him. Finally his sobs subsided. Marigold wanted to cry, too. She’d been devastated when her mother had died, and she’d been an adult. How difficult it must be for children to comprehend. The person who’d always been there for them, loving them, making them feel safe, the person they loved most in the whole world was gone.

  “Little John, your mama is in heaven now. Do you know that?” Seth’s deep resonate voice was gentle.

  “I told ’im,” Tate said.

  “Well, it’s not easy for a little fella to understand,” he said.

  “I wanna go, too,” Little John said.

  Marigold’s chest ached and she felt impossibly helpless.

  “We’ll all go to heaven someday,” Seth told him. “The Bible says Jesus is in heaven making a place for us. Until then your mama and daddy want you to be happy here.”

  Seth knew the perfect things to say in beautifully simple language. Tessa Radner had indeed chosen well. Marigold felt all the more inadequate, but her heart was filled with gratitude.

  Little John climbed into Marigold’s lap and stuck his thumb into his mouth. She held him close, felt his heart beating against hers. From her seat on the bed behind them, Evelyn laid her hand on Marigold’s shoulder and stroked it affectionately.

  Having let go of Seth’s hand, Tate pulled up the covers, made himself comfortable and closed his eyes. “I bet it’s pretty in heaven.”

  Seth shifted Harper’s weight, and the five-year-old released him and stretched out alongside his brother.

  Little John had grown slack in her arms, and she laid him on Tate’s other side, then leaned down and kissed his forehead. Evelyn motioned for Marigold and Seth to move toward the door, then she turned down the wick and doused the lamp.

  The three of them stood in the hallway, the silence of the house reassuring.

  “Poor little fellows,” Evelyn said. “I think they’ll sleep well now. Did you have a nice evening?”

  “Yes,” Seth answered. “Thank you for watching after them. All the time.”

  “It’s almost like having my three boys little again,” she said with a soft smile.

  “Good night,” he said and embraced her.

  She padded down the hall to her room and the door closed.

  Seth shifted his weight and a floorboard creaked.

  Marigold faced him in the dim light that filtered through a window at the end of the hall. “Their mother couldn’t have made a better choice selecting someone to care for her children.”

  He was silent for a long moment before he spoke. “I hope I can live up to her confidence. And yours.”

  Much as she wanted to stay right there and bask in his gaze, she knew what she had to do. “Good night, Seth.” She went into her room and lit a lamp, then closed the door.

  * * *

  Marigold met Beatrix’s husband, Colton, at church on Sunday. She held Joseph and admired his pale blue outfit. “Did you sew his gown?”

  “Yes. He’s wearing short clothes now because he’s almost ready to crawl.”

  “He seems to like being in the school,” Marigold told Colton. “He naps during the afternoon. Your wife is a blessing to me and to the students. I’m so thankful for her help.”

  “She’s grateful for the chance to help,” he said. “She talks about you and the students all the time.” He took Joseph from her, and Beatrix gave Marigold an impulsive hug.

  Hannah Johnson threaded her way through a group of parishioners to talk to Marigold. She carried a rosy-cheeked baby. “This is Ava.”

  “Hello there, pretty girl.”

  The child grinned and tucked her head against her mother’s neck.

  “It’s already come to my attention that you play the piano,” Hannah said.

  “I’ve had lessons, yes, but I’m not near as accomplished as you. Libby told me you taught the children’s music class before I arrived, so I hope I’m not stepping on your toes. You’re welcome to come to school anytime.”

  “Goodness, no. I did it because she needed the help, and I believe it’s important for the students to be exposed to music and its history. But I have so much work of my own, it was something I truly didn’t have enough time for, so I’m thankful to step aside. I did want to prepare you, however, that once Pippa and the committee who put together plays and pageants at the opera house learn your skill, they will approach you to rehearse and play for them.” She spoke in a low tone. “I’m quite honestly grateful for another person to take part of the burden.”

  “Oh. Well, I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  “Even if you helped them out at their rehearsals and weren’t comfortable with performances, it would be a blessing.”

  “I’ll think about it if someone comes to me.”

  “Pippa will approach you. She’s about as big as a minute, but she’s not shy.”

  Marigold laughed. “Thank you for the warning.”

  James approached, looking very different with no hat over his forehead, a pressed white shirt and his long black hair tied back. “Miss Brewster.”

  “Hello, James. I wanted to thank you for all of your help after the accident. You were such a help to me and to Evelyn. We appreciate it very much.”

  “Glad to be useful,” he said with a grin.

  “He’s more than useful,” Hannah remarked. “He’s Daniel’s right-hand man at the stockyards. He’s a mighty fine father, too.” Hannah was tall enough to look right into James’s eyes. They smiled at each other with such a look of warmth and love that Marigold’s eyes teared. She blinked the moisture away quickly.

  Ava reached for James and he took the tiny girl from his wife and kissed her round little cheek. The picture of him with his daughter would melt the hardest heart. Hannah looked at him with adoration in her eyes.

  Their affection for each other touched her so deeply that Marigold was still thinking about them, along with Daniel and Leah together, and the glances of love between Will and his wife, as she walked toward the open church doors and was greeted by Reverend Taggart.

  She’d never experienced a similar connection with a man before. Her sister had been her best friend, and she’d adored her niece, but she’d never seriously considered having a husband to share her life. She wanted to teach, and she wanted to make her own choices, but why couldn’t she do all those things and still be married? Hannah had her own business
, a husband, a child, and seemed busy but happy.

  Looking for Evelyn or Seth, she glanced across the churchyard at the groups of people in conversations. The boys had found friends from school and stood with them, Tate holding Little John’s hand.

  “What are you thinking about that has you so serious on this beautiful April morning?” Buck Hanley held his hat to his chest and the sun shone on his head of russet waves. He looked handsome in his black trousers and white shirt this morning.

  “Good morning, Buck. I was watching the boys with their new friends.”

  “I was wondering if this would be a good day to take you to dinner at The Cattleman. We could go for a ride afterward, if you liked.”

  Evelyn had said something about preparing a chicken after church, but no special plans. She and Seth could get by without her for the afternoon. And why not? Hadn’t she just decided she’d like to have more than work in her life?

  “That’s sounds nice. I’ll let Evelyn know.”

  Chapter Eight

  The Cattleman hotel and restaurant was a short walk from church. On the corner of Eden and Second Street, atop the third story of the hotel, was a bell tower. Buck instructed Marigold to look up. “That bell rang the day the train overturned. I was east of here at the site of a new house when we heard it.”

  “So, it’s for emergencies?”

  “Yep. I’ve only heard it a few times. Once when a bunch of rowdies rode through town and shot out the Os in the sign over Abram’s mercantile. Another time when there was an accident digging a well, and once when a cyclone was spotted. The sound gets attention pretty fast.”

  She’d noted the tree in front of the hotel was the only one on the main street. They stepped onto the wide front porch, with its numerous windows and green shutters. He held the door and she entered into the lobby ahead of him. Buck navigated them toward the restaurant and they were seated.

  The tables were draped in pressed white linen, set with white china and gleaming silverware. Each table held a small vase with a blue lily. Marigold found the décor elegant. “This is a very nice place.”

  “It’s one of Will Canfield’s businesses.”

  She studied the menu. “What is a jambon?”

  “It’s kind of a glorified ham sandwich. I think it’s something French. Ham, cheese and pastry. Pretty good actually. I always order fruit with my meal, because they have fresh brought in by train every couple of days.”

  “Do you eat here often?”

  “Here, the Cowboy Café, The Lariat, and sometimes Aunt Mae asks me to breakfast. And truthfully, those are the best meals, like Mama used to make.”

  “Well, I believe I must try the jambon and have fruit.”

  Marigold wasn’t disappointed with her selection when their server brought them each a small plate of cress, crisp radishes, strawberries, melon balls and sweet plum halves.

  She had grown accustomed to Seth saying a blessing over their food. Buck placed his napkin in his lap and waited for her. “Do you want to pray?” she asked.

  “Go ahead,” he answered.

  She bowed her head and said a brief prayer.

  The flavors of the cold fresh fruit and vegetables burst on her tongue. “Thank you,” she said to Buck. “This is a treat.”

  “You’re welcome. It’s a pleasure to share a meal with you. Now if you want meat and potatoes or a good stew, Aunt Mae’s is your place. If you’re hankerin’ for a stack o’ flapjacks, Big Robbie over at the Cowboy Café makes the best. We could try them all if you like.”

  “The flapjacks sound tempting. Maple syrup?”

  “Of course.”

  The jambons were hot, with fresh buttery dough and pockets of tender ham and melted cheese. The meal was a treat, and she told Buck so as they left and walked toward the livery.

  “We’ll see what Colton has left to rent today,” he said as they strolled up Eden. The sound of iron clanging reached them. “Sounds like Gus and Old Horace have finished Aunt Mae’s dinner and started on their horseshoe game.”

  “I’ve never played.”

  “We’ll have to fix that. There’s a tournament at the church picnic next Saturday. Winning team gets a bundle of prizes, like a week of bread and rolls from the bakery, shirts from Mrs. Johnson, Dr. Mason’s mineral baths, a pair of Godwin’s boots and I don’t remember what all.”

  “Who is your partner?”

  “I don’t have one yet.”

  Colton Werner had a one-horse buggy to rent, so he hooked the horse to the traces and Buck helped Marigold up to the seat.

  “You take care of our schoolteacher,” the liveryman said. “My wife is plenty attached to her in one piece.”

  Buck laughed. “So am I. Don’t you worry about that.”

  Buck took them west, past fields and across a bridge that crossed a flowing stream. “This is Cowboy Creek, where the town got its name.”

  He followed the stream for a few miles to a place where it got wider and more shallow and large flat rocks lined the banks. The area was mostly flat and bare except along rivers and streams, where trees had managed to sprout and send roots down into the water table. Grasses also lined the banks.

  Buck stopped the buggy in shade for the horse and helped Marigold down. He led the way through knee-high grass, prompting frogs to jump from the weeds into the stream. They reached the rocky bank, and she walked over the large flat rocks, where water gurgled. Tiny fish darted in the shallow depths and shiny rocks gleamed in the sunlight. “How did you know about this spot?”

  “I come here sometimes.”

  She flattened her skirt under her and sat. The rock was warm beneath, the sunshine relaxing. Buck took a seat beside her. “You really like it here? Cowboy Creek, I mean. You’re planning to stay?”

  She glanced at him. “Yes. I like it a lot. I’m looking forward to teaching the children.” She thought a minute. “It might sound odd, but when I see the babies, like Ava and Joseph, I think that one day they’ll be in my classroom. And I imagine what the older children will do with their lives. Some will become ranchers and others might want to teach... August will do something great, I just know it.” Feeling a little sheepish, she shrugged. “I feel as though I have a contribution to make, and it’s a good feeling.”

  “What if you decide to get married?”

  Was he being bold or merely curious? “I’d still teach.”

  “Have you thought about it? Getting married?”

  She studied the sunlight reflecting on the rippling water. “A bit.”

  “I like you a lot, Marigold.”

  Her face got warm. “I like you, too.”

  “I don’t know much about how this is done. I don’t know if it needs to be official...” He hesitated and swallowed hard. “Am I courting you? Is this courting?”

  “I don’t know, either.”

  They sat in silence a few minutes.

  “I won’t decide anything quickly,” she told him.

  “Which is good. You have a lot of options. There are plenty of eligible men who’d like to make you theirs. I hadn’t considered a bride until...well, until I met you.”

  “Could we...?” she asked hesitantly. “Can we be good friends until I have a better idea of what I want to do?”

  “Of course.”

  They sat in companionable silence, listening to the water and enjoying the sun until he eventually stood and extended a hand.

  Marigold took his hand and he helped her to her feet.

  Her thoughts were whirling as he drove the buggy to White Rock Ranch and they said their goodbyes. She watched him go, leaving a trail of dust behind the horse as it trotted back toward town.

  Evelyn had spread a blanket under the narrow shade of the hackberry trees, and she and the boys were playing with wooden soldiers when Marigold approached.

  Litt
le John got up and ran to take her hand. She sat with them, and he gave her a bright smile.

  “I found these in one of the trunks I had shipped from Missouri and hadn’t bothered to open yet,” Evelyn said, holding out a handful of wooden soldiers to her. “They belonged to my boys when they were small.”

  Marigold lined up a few soldiers in the fold of the blanket.

  “How was your meal?” Evelyn asked

  “It was very good. And the company was nice as well.”

  “Buck Hanley is a nice man.”

  She glanced at the porch. “Where is Seth?”

  “He had some chores and couldn’t be persuaded to let them go.”

  “I’ll change out of my dress and help.”

  Marigold changed clothing and found Seth in the near pasture with Dewey and a slender young man. They seemed to be watching a cow as it stood a distance away.

  Seth glanced at her and back at the cow.

  “What are you doing?” she asked when he didn’t volunteer any information.

  “Waiting for her to calve.”

  “That’un over there dropped hers this mornin’,” Dewey said. A small black-and-white calf was lying on the ground, and its mother stood protectively near. “Most were born last month, but there’s still a few late calves.”

  “This is Hayden Kluver,” Seth told her with a nod to the young man. “He works here part days.”

  Hayden tipped his straw hat. “Miss.”

  “I came to help,” she said. “What can I do?”

  “You can help Hayden drop hay if you like. Should have had it done earlier.”

  She looked to the youth. “What do I need to do?”

  “You can either drive the wagon or throw the hay.”

  “I’ve never driven a wagon.”

  “I’ll show you how.”

  It took a while to get the hang of it, but she did a passable job of leading the team, slowing so as not to pitch Hayden off the back of the hay wagon. “I could never keep my balance and fork hay at the same time like that,” she called back to him.