The Rancher Inherits a Family

by Cheryl St. John

He reached up and adjusted his hat.

  “I went for a mineral bath, too.”

  “How was it?”

  “Rejuvenating. I might save my next one for the next time I throw hay.”

  He chuckled.

  “You should try it.”

  “Maybe I should.”

  When they arrived at Daniel and Leah’s house, Seth tied the horses to the post out front. Daniel answered the door with a friendly smile and ushered them into the parlor. Will and Tomasina had apparently walked the couple of blocks from their place and were already there. Tomasina sat on a divan, holding an infant. Her curly bright red hair was held back with silver combs, and she gave Marigold a smile. “I don’t believe you’ve met Andrew yet. He arrived just before you did.”

  Marigold perched on the divan beside her. “He’s a beautiful baby.”

  Tomasina’s green eyes sparkled with happiness. “Would you like to hold him?”

  “May I?”

  “Yes, of course.” She handed her the wrapped bundle.

  “He barely weighs anything.” Marigold admired his fine pale lashes, translucent skin and sweet pouting mouth. It had been quite a few years since Violet had been this tiny, but she remembered it well. She and Daisy had stared at her for hours, mesmerized by the blessing that was theirs to love and enjoy. She inhaled his scent and the memories unleashed a flood of emotions. Marigold’s eyes stung and she blinked back unshed tears. In short order she handed the baby back to Tomasina.

  Leah came from the kitchen, with Evie on her hip. Marigold was familiar with the seven-month-old baby, since she saw her often in the mornings. Evie pointed to the baby.

  “That’s Andrew, isn’t it?” Leah said. “Can you say ‘baby’?”

  “Ba!” Evie said.

  “She said it.” Tomasina clapped for her.

  “She calls me ‘Ma’ and her father ‘Da,’ so we haven’t moved beyond one-syllable conversations yet.” Leah kissed the baby’s cheek.

  “Da!” she said and waved her arm in the air toward Daniel.

  He came to his wife’s side and wrapped his arm around them both. The baby reached for him and, when he leaned forward, grabbed his nose. He grimaced and disengaged her chubby fingers.

  Leah handed Evie to him. “I’ll make us tea, and then we can get started.”

  “I’ll let you,” Tomasina said, sitting back with a sigh. She gave Marigold a sideways look. “I’ve herded cattle from San Antonio to Schuyler. I’ve roped a calf from the back of a galloping horse and run two miles to catch a horse that threw me. But I’ve never been as tired as I am since having this hungry, spitting, wetting little package of sweetness.” She touched her baby’s hand affectionately. “But as my daddy always said, ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead.’”

  “You’ve truly done all that?” Marigold asked, amazed.

  “The first time I saw Tom, she was herding longhorns down the middle of town,” Will told her. He launched into a story about his wife winning a sharpshooting contest.

  “I should be getting lessons from her,” Marigold said to Seth.

  Leah brought tea, and Will took the baby so the ladies could enjoy theirs first. Leah brought out paper and pencils, and they set to work planning the layout of the park. Before long, Andrew cried.

  “Take him up to the nursery,” Leah told her, and Tomasina excused herself to feed him.

  “Your home is beautiful,” Marigold told Leah. “Last time I was here, there were a lot of people, and I didn’t really have an opportunity to see it.”

  “Thank you. Daniel built it before I arrived. It’s almost like he knew the perfect home for us.”

  Before long they had a plan they all agreed upon, leaving room in the center of the block for a bandstand. Leah served pie her housekeeper had baked that day, and it grew late. But instead of being tired, Marigold left the house with a feeling of expectation.

  “I’m excited about tomorrow,” she said as they stepped out into the night.

  Seth untethered the horses. “Would you like a hand up?”

  “I’m not going to get soft now. If Tomasina can rope cows, I can surely mount a horse.” She grabbed the pommel and pulled herself up, adjusting her skirts rather ungracefully.

  Seth had been right about the moonlight. It was surprisingly bright as they rode home. She was thankful she’d brought a jacket, because the night air was chilly.

  When they reached White Rock, she threw a leg over the saddle and slid to the ground. Her legs were a little shaky, but she led Bright Star into the stable and close to the rack that held the saddles. After unbuckling the straps, she lifted the saddle onto the wood rail, removed the saddle blanket and wiped down the horse, all while Seth tended to his gray. She led the animal to its stall and made sure Bright Star had feed and water.

  “You did real fine,” he said, and followed her out and across the yard to the porch. She had her foot on the top step when he asked, “Why did you turn down Buck Hanley?”

  She turned, standing three steps above him.

  He stepped up one.

  “He’s a fine man,” she said. “His attention was flattering. He made me laugh. But I knew he wasn’t right for me.”

  He took another step up. Now their faces were almost level and he stood close. “How?”

  “Well, I’ve seen others, like the friends we were with tonight. Like Sam and Marlys. Like James and Hannah. Marlys is a doctor and Hannah has her dressmaking shop. They also have husbands and children. They have it all. I’m sure it’s not easy, but they make it work. I want that.”

  “And you couldn’t have had it all with Buck?”

  “No.” She turned, but he stopped her by taking her wrist and turning her back to face him.

  They were so close, she could smell the starch in his collar. Starch and sunshine and man, that’s what he smelled like. Her senses reeled.

  He loosened his grip on her wrist and moved her hand until he could thread his long fingers through hers. He had calluses on his palms. Her heart started a crazy thumping beat. She remembered what his mustache felt like as it touched her upper lip. She remembered how gently he’d kissed her, and how easy it was to lose herself in his kiss. He placed his other hand behind her waist and barely encouraged her toward him.

  His breath touched her lips. His eyes shone dark in the starlight, and she let hers drift shut. In the eternity that passed before his lips touched hers, she wasn’t sure if she said his name or only thought it. His kiss tasted like the cinnamon from the pie he’d eaten.

  How was it she’d lived to be twenty-three years old and never known something as pure and gentle as his kisses existed? What did they mean?

  He drew away and raised his hand to slide a knuckle over her lips. “We have a busy day ahead tomorrow.”

  She withdrew and backed away. This time he let her turn and go inside.

  * * *

  Plenty of helpers showed up the next day, and men, women and children all pitched in. As promised, Seth had worn the brace on his forearm and wrapped it. Marlys even checked it when she spotted him.

  Seth led wagons to the spot along the creek and those with shovels set to work. Digging deep enough to keep sufficient root systems intact was arduous work, but with the cold water from the creek right there, workers drank and splashed their heads and faces. Others helped carry and lift the saplings into the wagon beds. When the wagons rolled along Lincoln Boulevard with their haul, the men were welcomed with smiling faces and good-natured teasing.

  Will, Marigold and Leah displayed the layout they’d created of the planned park. With August’s help, Marlys and Sam, Daniel and Reverend Taggart set out stakes where the trees should be planted, and Hannah poked a piece of paper labeled with the type of tree on each one.

  “What’s this big empty space?” Hannah called out.

  “That’s the fut
ure bandstand,” Will answered.

  “We have a band?” Jennie Simms, one of Marigold’s students, asked, evoking laughter.

  “Not yet,” Freddie answered. “But we’re getting prepared.”

  Seeing them made Marigold wonder about them. Freddie Simms was quite obviously single and looking to court someone, and three students in her class were named Simms. “Freddie, is Jennie your sister?”

  “Nah, she and Dwight and Frank are my brother Billy’s kids.”

  “You’re their uncle,” she said, understanding now.

  Buck gave Marigold a grin. “You’ve had a lot of families to keep straight.”

  A dozen men and women had been digging holes where the stakes had been inserted, and as Seth and his crew arrived, they joined in to dig more. As the trees went into the holes, the children filled buckets from the well and saturated the roots and freshly turned earth. By late afternoon, with everyone dirty and aching, the townspeople surveyed their day’s work.

  Daniel Gardner whistled and got everyone’s attention. “Aunt Mae and several others have been busy cooking all afternoon. They’re asking everyone who wants to come back after chores and cleaning up to join us for a late picnic on the school grounds.”

  That met with cries of excitement.

  “Pa, you can bring your banjo!” Ivy Ernst shouted. “Miss Brewster taught us to sing ‘Old Dog Tray.’”

  “Judd, I didn’t know you was a picker,” Freddie called. “I’ll bring mine, too.”

  With good-natured jesting, the men bantered over who would do a worse job with the song. Once the shovels, wheelbarrows and pails were packed, the crowd dispersed. Marigold rode with Evelyn and the boys. Seth and Dewey had brought a second wagon.

  A couple of hours later, dressed in her ecru brilliantine dress with a scalloped overskirt bound with slate-colored satin, Marigold tied a matching sash around her waist and secured her hair atop her head. While going through one of her trunks searching for the sash, she’d discovered a large round lace doily that had been her mother’s. She wrapped it in tissue and set it aside. She’d been considering a gift for Beatrix, and the doily seemed appropriate.

  “Am I overdressed?” she asked Evelyn as they met downstairs. “The other ladies always look so nice.”

  “You look lovely and the dress is beautiful. You shine no matter what you’re wearing.”

  “I agree.” She hadn’t seen Seth standing in the doorway, and her face warmed under his gaze. “The boys are waiting in the wagon,” he told her.

  The festivities had started by the time they arrived on the school grounds. Someone had cleared a spot and surrounded it with stones where a fire would be lit once darkness fell. Already food was being carried to makeshift tables.

  There must have been ten cakes, some plain, some fancy, and two of them were layer cakes topped with chunky applesauce, whipped cream and nuts. Some of the women had brought slaws, cornbread and jars of pickles and beets to add to the bounty from Aunt Mae’s kitchen.

  “Miss Frazier made all these desserts today,” Aunt Mae announced.

  Deborah stood to the side, her hands clasped in front of her, smiling as others commented on her creations.

  Though she was a formidable baker, Marigold couldn’t help but think that for a prospective bride, Deborah hadn’t seemed to show any interest in the young men. She turned to Leah, who stood beside her, and asked, “Has Deborah been courted by anyone?”

  Leah tilted her head as if in thought. “I haven’t heard anything about her courting, and news about the brides travels fast. For example, I know you had dinner with Buck Hanley.”

  “He’s a nice man. He asked to court me.”

  “And?”

  “And after lengthy consideration I told him no.” She was grateful it hadn’t been awkward between her and Buck today at the planting.

  Leah nodded. “You’ll know the right person for you when you’re ready.”

  “Is that how it was for you?”

  “I didn’t trust my feelings for a long time, because I’d made mistakes, but yes. I knew I was supposed to be with Daniel.”

  “Reverend, will you say a blessing over the trees and our meal, please?” Aunt Mae waved to get his attention.

  “A prayer for fruitfulness and growth.” Reverend Taggart grinned. “Seems God has already been working on that in Cowboy Creek, doesn’t it?” He thanked God for the gathering of friends and family, prayed for their safety and provision, petitioned the Lord for good weather and rain for crops and trees and thanked Him for the bounty of food.

  “Amen!” everyone shouted.

  Marigold met more of her students’ parents, which was nice in this informal setting. The parents of seven-year-old twins Abigail and Jane introduced themselves. She’d heard that Noah Burgess, one of the town founders, had been reclusive in the past and still only came to town on rare occasions. He wore a beard to mask burn scars on his jaw and neck, though the uneven pink skin was evident. Grace was friendly and sweet.

  She met Freddie’s brother, Billy, father of Dwight, Frank and Jennie. He was a widower, and every bit as friendly as his younger brother. “My youngins talk about you all the time. Miss Brewster said this, and Miss Brewster did that. I been lookin’ forward to meeting this special schoolteacher.”

  “They’re bright children, Mr. Simms. Polite and respectful as well.”

  “That’s their ma’s doin’,” he told her. “She was soft-spoken and kind, but she didn’t take no sass.”

  “She sounds like a wonderful woman.”

  He nodded and dropped his gaze.

  After everyone had eaten, Marigold helped wash and rinse dishes in Aunt Mae’s enormous kitchen. With a dozen women and girls helping, the task didn’t take long.

  “I didn’t think I’d see this all cleaned up tonight.” Aunt Mae took off her apron.

  “You cooked all day,” Sadie Shriver told her. “No reason you should clean it all up, too.”

  The fire had been lit, and its brightness glowed across the lot as they returned to the gathering. Accordions, fiddles and even tom-toms with leather stretched and tacked over the top joined the banjos. Billy Simms started off with “Old Dog Tray,” and the school-age children were delighted. All of them knew the lyrics and sang along. When the last notes died away, Jennie Simms announced, “Stephen Foster wrote that song.”

  Marigold beamed at her student.

  “He died five years ago,” Jakob Willis added.

  “He wrote over two hundred songs.” Michael Higgins’s voice surprised Marigold. She spotted him seated on the ground in front of his father in the circle around the fire. His father had trimmed his beard for the occasion and sat perched on a crate. Michael glanced at Marigold and grinned. “Two hundred songs. Isn’t that somethin’?”

  Emotion rose in her throat and prevented her from replying, but she smiled through a blur of tears.

  “Reverend, you start us off with a song now!”

  Reverend Taggart, standing beside his daughter and holding Ava, started a hymn.

  A stunning soprano voice stood out, and Marigold spotted the petite singer with ginger-gold hair standing beside a fair-haired man with a mustache and goatee. She knew all the verses and sang each one in a clear lilting tone.

  People chose more songs, repeated their favorites, and the singing went on for an hour or more. The hour grew late; both children and adults were exhausted from their day.

  “I hope to see all of you at the service tomorrow morning,” the reverend said.

  “If you sing ‘Old Dog Tray,’ I’ll be there,” a man shouted.

  “Cookie Kuckelman, if you show up tomorrow, we’ll sing ‘Old Dog Tray’!” someone else shouted.

  Everyone laughed and said their goodbyes.

  Will approached Marigold. “Thanks for helping to arrange all this.”


  “It was Seth’s idea. I only passed the word along.”

  “Everyone working together is what makes Cowboy Creek a great place to live and work. And raise families.”

  When she said good-night to Will, she heard a voice behind her. “Miss Brewster?”

  She turned and recognized the petite woman who had sung so well.

  “I’m Pippa Kendricks.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Kendricks.”

  “Call me Pippa. Everyone does. I couldn’t help but hear how you led the first song so assuredly.”

  Marigold thanked her. “I have a knack for remembering songs and poems.”

  “And a lovely voice. Did I understand correctly that you’ve taught music to the children?”

  Leah’s prediction came to light. “You’re the person who arranges music and plays for the opera house, aren’t you?”

  “Indeed I am. It’s one of the most exciting things that’s happened to this little town since I’ve been here. My husband works for the railroad, and I travel with him often, but I always make time for plays. The stage is my passion.”

  “I heard you sing. You’re quite good.”

  “Thank you. I was wondering though, if you would consider joining our little troupe for our next performance.”

  “I’m not a performer. No one would pay to hear me sing.”

  “We could certainly use your help playing for rehearsals. Sometimes Hannah is just so busy with her dressmaking, and I feel guilty for putting the pressure on her, but she’s all we’ve had. Until now.”

  “How often do you rehearse?”

  “Sometimes we go months without rehearsing, and then two or three times a week before a play.”

  “I suppose it will depend on what time of year it is and how busy my schedule is. Why don’t you let me know when you have something scheduled, and I’ll see if it will work for me?”

  “Thank you so much. I’ll do that.”

  After saying goodbye to Pippa, Marigold scanned the dwindling crowd for Seth. She found him shaking out blankets, and went to help him fold.

  “You look pretty tonight,” he said when she joined him.

  That was the second time he’d complimented her tonight and she was once again caught off guard. “Thank you.”