The Rancher Inherits a Family

by Cheryl St. John

  She initiated the touch of their lips, gently leaning into him and closing her eyes. Thinking objectively wasn’t really an option when he kissed her like this. She could move away any time she wanted. She could decide this was the last kiss they’d ever share. She was choosing to kiss him in this moment, choosing to discover a fervent tenderness in this shared moment.

  She backed up a bare half inch. “I don’t know if this is fair.”

  “To who?”

  “To you...to me. I don’t know if it’s wise.”

  “It’s just a kiss,” he said, but they both knew he was lying to himself.

  “I had no idea,” she whispered.

  “Neither did I.” He bracketed her upper arms with strong hands and drew her closer. “I want to kiss you every day.” But before he could meet her lips again, the screen door creaked, and they moved apart. Her heart thumped erratically.

  A small figure came out and closed the door behind, then padded across the porch floor. “I had a scawy dweam.”

  Marigold got up and swooped Little John into her arms. She sat on the padded rattan settee, and Seth joined them, scooting in close. Little John moved back, so his head and shoulders were against Seth’s chest, his legs and feet on Marigold’s lap. Seth smoothed his hair and kissed his forehead, and Marigold rubbed his bare feet.

  “You didn’t cry this time,” Seth said.

  “No. I woked up in our room.”

  He didn’t have the words to explain, but Marigold knew what he meant. Little John felt safe waking up in their room. “That’s right,” Marigold said. “You’re safe.”

  She and Seth sat so close, their arms and hips were aligned. They shared Little John’s weight between them and they shared affection for him—for each of the children in this house. The moment seemed so idyllic that its very perfection pointed out how Marigold was merely a visitor here. The child Seth held against his chest was his now.

  But she had Violet. They would make their own family, wherever they ended up. A deep sadness filled her heart when she thought about the inevitable time that would come and she would leave here. She had the comfort of knowing the boys were loved and would be well-cared for. She would see them in her classroom and watch them develop and grow.

  She would make the most of every moment until then.

  * * *

  Seth made good on his plan to have horses saddled when they were ready to leave the following morning. They tied their lunch pails to their gear with leather thongs. Seth explained to Violet how to mount the horse. He’d chosen a deep mahogany mare with a black mane and black stocking markings. “Her name’s Liberty. She’s gentle and will stand nice and still for you until you let her know it’s time to go.”

  Violet looked to her aunt, who had already pulled herself up onto the saddle. “It’s all right,” she assured her. “Seth won’t let anything happen to you. If he says Liberty’s gentle and safe, she is.”

  Seth looked at her with an expression she hadn’t seen before. He nodded and locked his fingers so Violet had a step. Once she’d pulled herself up, he smiled at her and looked at Marigold. “I’m not teaching you or Violet or Tate to mount using a step or stump, because there won’t always be one. You need to have the strength in your arms and shoulders to pull yourselves up.”

  “You’re a good teacher,” she replied.

  The boys giggled over her remark, and she wrinkled her nose at them.

  “Liberty’s going to follow the other horses,” Seth told Violet. “But should you want her to move, you nudge her with your ankles and knees. Nudge again to go faster. Tighten the rein gently to stop her. Never yank hard. She responds to your commands. I’ll ride right beside you.”

  They started out, and Violet looked around, her eyes wide, but not frightened.

  “You’re doing well,” Seth told her. “Marigold, you lead the way to town. You’re going to be leading them home by yourself.”

  By the time they reached the corral on Third Street, Marigold was proud of each of them. “We did it!”

  Seth joined in the praise. “You did. And Violet rode all that way her first time on horseback.”

  Violet straightened her skirts. Tate untethered their dinner pails, and Seth led the horses, except his own, into the corral. “Everyone have a good day.”

  The boys gave him hugs and dashed toward school. He smiled at Marigold and touched the brim of his hat in a gentlemanly gesture. “Have a good day, Miss Brewster.”

  She ached to embrace him in the sunshine but settled for a smile. “It’s already a good day.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  When Beatrix arrived that morning, Marigold gave her the tissue-wrapped gift she’d remembered to bring. The other woman unwrapped it to discover the delicately crocheted doily.

  “It’s beautiful,” Beatrix exclaimed. “I don’t have anything like it.”

  “My mother made it.”

  Beatrix’s face showed her surprise. “Are you certain you want to give it to me? Perhaps you should keep it.”

  “No, no. She did a lot of needlework when she was sick. I have several. I want you to have it.”

  Beatrix gave her an enthusiastic hug. “That is so kind. Thank you.”

  “I can’t tell you what a blessing you are to me and the children,” Marigold replied. “It’s a small token of my appreciation.”

  “But a thoughtful one. I will treasure it.”

  Leah arrived then with Evie. “I heard some very interesting news. Mr. Higgins has been given a job in town. And a place to live. Michael will be able to attend school full days.”

  “I’m sure either your husband or Will had something to do with that.”

  “I don’t know, but I was glad to hear it.”

  Marigold asked if Leah was available to watch the boys for about an hour or so after school, so she and Violet could go to Hannah’s dress shop. Leah was happy to entertain them at her house, so after school was finished and they’d dropped off the boys, she and Violet walked to the shop between Booker & Son and Godwin’s boot shop on Eden Street.

  The interior was narrow, but long, with dresses displayed on mannequins in the front and walls of fabric and bins of trim, lace and buttons farther back. Two ladies were shopping, and Hannah excused herself from speaking with one to greet them. “How nice to see you!”

  “Hannah, this is my niece, Violet. She’s come to live with me.”

  Hannah gave the girl a huge smile. “How wonderful. I know you’re going to like it here. Have you met all your classmates?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “She’s just as bright and pretty as you,” Hannah said to Marigold. “How I envy that hair. Don’t tell my father I said that. He’ll come up with a sermon.”

  Marigold laughed. “Evelyn suggested you would have ideas for colors and fabrics. For us both.”

  Her face lit. “You dress so beautifully already, but yes, I am excited to create some fashions for the two of you.”

  “Violet’s dresses from last year are already far too short.”

  “Bring them to me if they’re good quality and still have plenty of wear. I’ll be able to add trim or fabric to lengthen them. And for her new ones, I always suggest hemming extra material that can be let down as a girl grows. Obviously, I didn’t stop growing for a long time. My poor mother despaired keeping me in skirts of adequate length, and she was quite good at inventing solutions that were beautiful as well as practical.”

  “I’ve admired your dresses and those the other women wear. I’m looking forward to this.”

  “Let’s measure you both today. Step behind this curtain and we’ll get measurements.”

  Once that was accomplished and recorded, the trio browsed fabrics. Hannah suggested a lovely coral. “We’ll do a white inset bodice with this and a coordinating floral collar and trim, that way we’ll k
eep this orange tone away from your face, yet in the sleeves and skirt it will be flattering to your hair and skin.”

  She draped the fabric around Marigold and then placed white around her shoulders and directed her to a mirror.

  “Why, you’re right,” Marigold exclaimed. “I’d never have chosen this color.”

  “I can use the scraps as trim for something for Violet. Perhaps on a pastel plaid.”

  Hannah’s ideas amazed her. “How do you know what will be so perfect and get these ideas?”

  “I don’t know. My mother taught me to sew, and my father taught me to believe in myself and what I could do with God’s help. I’ve always had an affinity for color combinations and creating fashions.” She pointed to a counter with neatly stacked woven baskets. “I have hundreds of patterns and order the latest catalogs as soon as they’re printed.”

  “Evelyn said you’ve hired people to help you sew.”

  “I had to in order to keep up with orders. Women are coming from nearby towns and even a few from as far as Wichita and Salina.”

  “I feel fortunate to have you take the time for us.”

  Hannah reached for her hand. “You’re our teacher and my new friend. Of course I have time for you.”

  Marigold smiled at Violet. “We are so blessed.” She patted Hannah’s hand. “And now we’re going to ride back to White Rock all on our own.”

  * * *

  The ride was uneventful, except when a bee buzzed around Harper and he swatted at it so forcefully, he fell off the horse. Tate laughed uproariously while Marigold got down, brushed him off and got him back onto his saddle.

  She was tired when they arrived at the stables, and there were no men around, but Evelyn came out. Tate helped, and the three of them removed the saddles and tack, brushed the horses and led them to their stalls with feed and fresh water.

  “There will be a couple more for supper,” Evelyn said. “Seth has a couple of hands this week. I baked bread and I have a roast cooking. We’ll need to peel more potatoes. Working men eat a lot.”

  After settling Violet, Tate and Harper to their homework at the table, Marigold peeled potatoes, scraped carrots and set the pans on to boil.

  Evelyn had been right about the hungry men. They devoured everything that had been prepared, and Evelyn went for jars of peaches to give them for dessert. Later, after they’d gone and the kitchen was cleaned, Seth suggested a shooting lesson. Though tired, she managed to hit a couple of cans.

  “Where’s the fields you planted?” Tate asked after they’d returned to the house.

  “Several acres away to the east,” he answered.

  “Will you show us?”

  “There’s nothing to see yet. Just dirt in rows.”

  “Ain’t never seen a new-planted hay field,” Tate told him. “How can I be a rancher someday if I don’t learn this stuff?”

  Seth studied him, pleased the boy was taking an interest. But showing him a field? “Guess it won’t take long.”

  “Let’s all go,” Tate suggested.

  Marigold was seated on the porch step, watching Little John play with the marbles. She glanced up. “I’m willing. I’ll let Evelyn know.”

  “All right.” Seth headed for the barn and the rest followed.

  Once he had the horses ready Seth gave Violet a leg up. She rode with Harper behind her, and Tate and Little John rode together. He led them along a path in the grass, beside fenced-in pastures and across a narrow creek bed to the newly planted fields. “We need rain now.”

  He and Marigold dismounted and walked through ankle-high grass, and he pointed across the landscape. “There are fields farther east, too. Come late summer, this will be waving heads of grain.”

  “That will be a sight to see.”

  He was looking at her when he said, “Yep.”

  Their kisses the night before came to mind, and she studied him shyly, but wasn’t embarrassed enough to look away. Where would she be late summer? The thought of not being here disturbed her.

  “We will see you at home!”

  The distant voice penetrated her thoughts. Seth’s head turned, and she followed his gaze. “What...?”

  Already a distance away, Tate and Violet led Seth’s gray and Bright Star behind their horses and they trotted in the opposite direction.

  “Tate!” Seth shouted.

  Marigold shielded her eyes from the setting sun. “What are they doing?”

  “Tate, come back here!”

  She took a few pointless steps. “They’re gone.”

  He sat on the lumpy ground and watched as the shapes of the horses and riders got smaller and smaller.

  “They just rode off and left us here,” Marigold said, as if trying to get the notion to sink into her head. “Did they do that on purpose?”

  He glanced up at her. “I’m thinking they did.”

  “But Violet is inexperienced. Will they be all right? Will they get lost? It will get dark soon.”

  “They’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t sound very worried. There are four children alone on horses out there.”

  “The horses know the way back, and they’re dependable.”

  Marigold plopped down near him on the hard ground. She placed her elbows on her upraised knees and dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t know why they did such a thing.”

  He moved closer and rubbed his hand in a circle on her back. “I don’t, either, but we’ll get to the bottom of it. They’re definitely in some hot water for this stunt.”

  She straightened to look at him. “You won’t hit them.”

  “No, I won’t hit them. Marigold, they’re kids. They pulled a fast one on us. It’s not dangerous, but it’s not acceptable.”

  She looked at the lowering sun. “Do you suppose they’ll know they’re in trouble and come back?”

  “Nope.” He got to his feet. “I’ve already been out here all day long. I have a nice comfortable bed to get to, so let’s start walking.” He reached a hand down and she took the help up. But before she could take a step he ordered, “Don’t move.”

  She stood paralyzed. She moved only her eyes in an attempt to see and whispered, “A snake? Not a coyote? Where’s your gun?”

  “Shhh,” he whispered back. “Just stand still. It’s a skunk.”

  She turned her head slowly until she spotted the furry creature. “I am going to throttle those kids.”

  It rooted its nose in the grass and weeds, then sniffed the air. When it spotted them, it turned and waddled away at a swift pace. “It’s gone,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  He took her hand as they walked. The sky grew darker, but there was still enough light to see where they were going. A sound caught their attention, a high-pitched wail on the prairie wind. Marigold stopped short, Seth beside her, and listened. It came again. This time the hair stood up on the back of her neck. “It’s one of them. It’s Little John.”

  She gathered her skirts and they ran. She’d already ridden a fair distance today, and now walked a couple of miles. Her legs were tired, but she kept going, with Seth pulling her forward.

  In the dusk, they spotted a horse coming toward them at a run. It was Tate.

  “It’s Violet!” he called, tears streaming down his face. “Somethin’ scared the horses when we got to the crick, and she fell.”

  “Get up!” Seth gave Marigold a step up, and she landed ungracefully behind Tate. She took the reins, turned the horse and prompted it forward. Seth sprinted at an all-out run. Ahead, two more horses came into view and then she spotted Harper and Little John huddled around a figure on the ground. Little John wailed at the top of his lungs, spotted Seth barreling toward him and looked as though he didn’t know whether to run to him or run away from him. His crying ended with a squeak.

  “Where’s the
other horse?” Seth asked, running to Violet’s side. She wasn’t moving, and was a distance from the water, near a bank of smooth stones.

  “It ran off,” Tate told him. “Somethin’ scared the horses. Harper jumped off, but she tried to hang on, and when the horse stood up, she fell back.”

  Marigold kneeled beside her niece, out of breath, her heart thumping. Violet’s eyelids were closed, her face pale. No injuries were visible. She picked up an arm and felt along the bones, did the same to her leg, while Seth checked her limbs on the other side. Marigold ran her palms over her collarbone, her hips, but felt nothing protruding.

  “Nothing seems broken,” Seth said.

  Through his tears Tate whimpered, “I’m sorry.”

  “We din’t know she would be hurt,” Harper added.

  “I sowwy.” That was from Little John.

  “Her hair is wet,” Marigold called out as she patted her head.

  “Did you move her?” Seth asked the boys.

  “We moved her here where it was dry,” Tate said.

  Seth glanced at the bank. “She might have hit her head on a stone.”

  Marigold helped turn her on her side. He felt the back of her head and his hand came away with blood. “There’s a bump. A pretty big one.”

  Marigold leaned over and separated her hair, searching for the source of bleeding. There was no blood on the ground. “I don’t think it’s a bad cut, but it must have been a hard fall.” Her stomach lurched in fear.

  “Bring my horse,” Seth ordered.

  Tate immediately brought the gray. “I’m sorry, Seth.”

  “We’ll deal with what you did later. I’m going to get you home and get a wagon.”

  He tenderly slid his arms under Violet’s limp body, held her against his chest and got to his feet. “Hold the horse still.”

  Marigold and Tate both did his bidding and he mounted with the girl in his arms. Tate got on his own horse and Marigold lifted Little John up behind him, then she helped Harper onto the remaining mount. She found quickly that Seth had been right about needing to know how to mount without a step as she climbed onto Bright Star’s back behind Harper. The sight of Violet’s red-gold hair draped from the crook of Seth’s arm terrified her, but she kept her composure and followed with the boys.