Tracie Peterson - [Land of the Lone Star 03]

by Taming the Wind

  She blushed and nodded. “Yes. As best I can figure the baby will come in October, possibly as early as September.”

  “Well, congratulations. That’s mighty fine news.” Tyler reached over and gave William a slap on the back. “Mighty fine.”

  “We’re pleased,” Hannah admitted. “And now we know there will be new young ones. I like having more and more children in the area. That’s how you settle a community. Families are the best way to civilize the land.”

  The clock chimed six, and Tyler finished the last of his grits. “Guess I’d best get out there and make sure the boys are gettin’ those last few details ready for the drive.”

  “I’ll be out shortly,” William replied. He rubbed his thigh again. “Need to get my leg limbered up.”

  Tyler took up a piece of warm corn bread and cut it open. Without being prompted, Hannah forked a piece of side meat and held it out to Tyler. He grinned and grabbed the greasy piece with his fingers.

  “You know me pretty well, don’t you?” He stuffed the meat between the pieces of corn bread. “Sometimes I’m mighty sorry Will got your attention first.”

  Hannah laughed. “William would probably tell you that life with me is not all that you might imagine.” She cast a quick glance at her husband. William’s expression was one that suggested he knew better than to speak on the matter.

  Tyler decided it would probably be best to head on out before further comments could be made. “I’ll see you at the pens.”

  He headed out the back door and crossed the yard to the horse barn. Cutting through the structure, Tyler continued through the maze of outbuildings to the first of three large pens. The boys were standing around talking to one of the greenhorns.

  “So you fellas don’t have enough work to do, is that it?” Tyler asked.

  “No, boss. We were just telling Newt here about steer sliding,” one of the men replied. His expression was quite serious.

  Tyler eyed the man who’d formerly been under his command in the Confederate army. “Now, John, you know it’s not fair to expect a new man to know everything. Especially not one that hailed from the city.”

  Newt Clapton was seventeen at the most. His small, wiry frame made him look even younger, and there was something about his naïve nature that the men couldn’t resist playing pranks on.

  “So it’s true?” Newt asked, his eyes widening. “You really have to learn to slide under a steer? I ain’t never heard of it.”

  For a moment Tyler thought of exposing the hoax and then thought better of it. The boys were just having fun. “To work this ranch you have to learn a great deal you’ve probably never heard of.”

  “Boss is right,” Grubbs continued. “You never know when you’ll find yourself in the middle of a bad situation. I’ve seen many a man trampled by steers for lack of knowin’ how to escape ’em.”

  “And that’s why you learn steer slidin’?” Newt asked, looking uncertain.

  “That’s right,” one of the other hands said with a serious nod.

  Andy Dandridge, Hannah’s brother, came to stand beside Tyler. “I had to learn it,” he told the greenhorn. A shock of white-blond hair blew over his left eye, prompting Andy to push it off his face in annoyance.

  “Andy’s learned just about everything a fella can learn on a ranch. You should probably pay close attention to him. He’s gonna be on the drive north with us.”

  The seventeen-year-old didn’t seem too pleased to yield to a mere boy. Tyler, however, knew that Andy Dandridge had skills that nearly equaled any man on the place. William had taken Andy under his wing after marrying Hannah, and the two were inseparable. William was even allowing Andy to put his studies aside and join them on the drive. Andy was to be one of the paid drovers, and Tyler thought this was just fine. Hannah, however, was harder to convince.

  Newt looked back at the men. “Well, I guess if I need to learn this steer sliding, I’d best get busy. What do I gotta do?”

  Grubbs crossed his arms. “First ya gotta get used to slidin’. Sometimes it’s hard to master. We have a fella practice slidin’ in the dirt first. No sense having any obstacles in the way until you get that down. Andy, why don’t you demonstrate how a fella should slide.”

  Tyler smiled as Andy quickly jumped the fence and jogged across the now empty pen. “You want to lead with whatever leg you favor,” Andy called. Then without further ado, the boy took off running. About twelve feet from the fence, Andy stuck out his right leg and hit the dirt. Just as he reached the fence, Andy grabbed the bottom rail and used it to pull himself under. He skidded across the remaining distance and came to rest at the feet of the greenhorn.

  “It’s just that easy,” Grubbs said, nodding in approval. “But like I said, I would just try slidin’ for now. You can practice that anywhere. When you get the hang of it—you can try it with the fence.”

  Andy got to his feet and dusted off his backside. “It ain’t hard once you get a feel for it.”

  Tyler and the other men nodded. Newt frowned. “It doesn’t look all that easy. I thought for sure you were gonna hit your head on that fence.”

  “I have before,” Andy admitted, “but that’s why you gotta practice. When you ain’t workin’, you need to be practicin’.”

  “The boy’s got that right,” Grubbs said as the other men nodded. Tyler turned away lest his smile cause the greenhorn to question the validity of their statements. He’d seen this trick played on more than one new man. It was just the boys’ way of having some good-natured fun, and God knew that by the time they reached Abilene, they’d all be in need of diversion.

  3

  Carissa sat down for the first time that day and decided a bit of rest was in order. She’d risen at five that morning and now seven hours later was more than ready for a bite of lunch. She looked at Gloria, who was happily playing with a collection of wooden thread spools that Laura had been saving.

  “Are you hungry?” Carissa asked, kneeling down beside her daughter.

  “I want cookies,” Gloria said, immediately putting the spools aside.

  “How about some soup and bread first, and then cookies?”

  Gloria frowned and looked at Carissa in a most serious manner. “I like cookies.”

  Carissa smiled and pushed back the child’s blond ringlets. “I do, too, but the soup is hot and ready for us to eat. Let’s just have a little and then we can have cookies. Come on.” She got to her feet and lifted Gloria in her arms.

  Brandon and Laura had taken Daniel to town for his first real pair of shoes, so Carissa and Gloria enjoyed a bowl of vegetable soup from the big pot of it Carissa had put together that morning. Laura had promised to return as soon as possible, so Carissa had busied herself with baking and cooking most of the morning.

  “Cookies now, Mama?”

  She looked at her daughter and nodded. “Yes. We can have cookies now. Why don’t we take them outside? It’s so nice, and you can play before nap time.”

  “Don’t want a nap, Mama. I’m not tired.” The blue-eyed angel looked up at Carissa as if expecting a reprieve.

  “Well, you may not be tired, but I am. I want you to take a nap for me. But first, we play. Go find your ball.”

  Gloria scampered off, and Carissa went to the cookie jar. Choosing four sugar cookies, Carissa wrapped them in a towel and tucked them in her pocket just as Gloria returned clutching a gray-black ball as if it might get away from her.

  Carissa led Gloria outside and down the porch steps. “Let’s play over here,” she suggested, leading Gloria farther away from the house in case the ball managed to get out of control. The last thing Carissa wanted to do was clean up a broken window.

  They rolled the ball back and forth at first; then Gloria decided it was time to start throwing. She was awkward at best, and Carissa couldn’t help but laugh. She chased down the ball and gave a weak toss to her daughter. Gloria tried to catch it, but got scared and backed away. The heavy rubber ball fell with a bit of a thud and landed n
ear the child’s feet.

  “Please, I want cookies now,” she said, looking first at the ball and then back to her mother.

  “I do, too.” Carissa pulled a cookie for each of them from the towel in her pocket. “Here you go.”

  Gloria clapped her hands and then took the cookie. “What do you say?” Gloria asked.

  Carissa had to laugh. She’d been trying her best to teach Gloria the necessities of saying please and thank you, but the child always managed to turn it around when it came time to offer thanks.

  “Thank you,” she said, nevertheless. “When someone gives you something . . . you say thank you.”

  Gloria nodded and started to run back to where she’d left the ball. Carissa called out, “Gloria, what do you say?”

  It sounded as though a sigh passed from the child’s lips. “Thank you.” Her statement suggested that she was well aware of protocol, but had lost interest in the game.

  Carissa walked around the yard, keeping Gloria in sight. It truly was a lovely farm. Someone had mentioned that it belonged to a Confederate-supporting family prior to the war. She felt sad at the thought that her family had somehow displaced another; after all, that’s exactly what had happened to Tyler. She supposed it might be different if this family had left of their own free will. But if not, how grievous it would be to put a lifetime of hard work and dreams into a place, only to have it taken from you.

  The sound of Gloria’s laughter caught her attention. The little girl was crouched on the ground, looking at something. Carissa couldn’t see that there was anything for her daughter to be amused with, and after a moment, Gloria was off and running again.

  Carissa turned at the sound of an approaching horse. She put a hand to her forehead to block out the sun in an attempt to see who was coming. To her surprise it was Tyler. He gave a wave and Carissa found herself waving back without thinking.

  “I was hoping you might want to go riding with me today,” he said, bringing his mount to stop about ten feet away. He walked the horse the rest of the way to the hitching post and tied him off.

  “I can’t. Laura and Brandon are in town, and I wouldn’t have anyone to watch Gloria.” The little girl came running to join them.

  “I could hold her. She could ride in front of me.”

  “Tyer,” Gloria called. She was unable to manage the L in his name. “Tyer, I got cookies.”

  “Yum,” he said with a grin. “Wish I had cookies.”

  “Mama give Tyer cookies,” Gloria demanded.

  “Gloria, his name is Mr. Atherton.” Carissa saw the hopeful look on Tyler’s face and forgot her rebuke. She reached into her pocket. “I just so happen to have two right here. If you need more, we will have to return to the house.” She handed the cookies to Tyler and replaced the towel in her pocket.

  “Sugar cookies are one of my favorites. Did you make these?”

  Nodding, Carissa felt rather self-conscious. “Esther taught me a long time back. You remember her, don’t you?”

  “I do. She was one of your family’s slaves.”

  “Not a slave. Esther was paid to help. After I married, she taught me to cook.”

  “And iron,” he added.

  Carissa remembered him watching her iron and nodded. “Yes.”

  “Apparently you take instruction well. Hopefully you’ll be just as good at ridin’.” He gave her a wink and glanced to where Gloria was playing. “Well, since you don’t seem to be of a mind to go ridin’ just yet, what say we just sit and talk?”

  Carissa glanced at the porch. “We can sit up there. I have some crocheting to work on.”

  Tyler followed her, as did Gloria. “I want to play, Mama.”

  “Then go and play. We aren’t going in just yet.”

  Gloria clapped her hands and hurried away as if fearful that her mother might change her mind. Carissa settled into a chair on the porch and picked up the bag she’d left there earlier.

  “So what are you making?” Tyler asked. He leaned back on the porch rail.

  “A tablecloth,” she answered, holding up a square. “Of course it will have a great many of these pieces worked together eventually.”

  “Pretty,” he said before biting into the cookie.

  “I hope it will be. It’s a gift for Laura. Her birthday’s in August, and I wanted to give her something special, with her expecting the baby about the same time.”

  “When’s your birthday?” he asked with a grin.

  Carissa didn’t think much of it. “November thirtieth.”

  “Good, then I’ll have some time to figure out a present for you.”

  She looked up in surprise. “You can’t get me a gift, Mr. Atherton.”

  “You promised to call me Tyler.” He looked at her and shrugged. “And I can get a present for anyone I choose.”

  “But . . . well, it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to accept a gift from you.” She lowered her face so that he couldn’t see her embarrassment.

  “I think it’s perfectly appropriate to share gifts with anyone you like,” Tyler countered. “Especially a friend. And we are friends, aren’t we?”

  Carissa tried to focus on her stitch. “You saved my life, so of course we are friends.”

  “A fella has to save your life to be your friend?” he asked in a teasing tone.

  Realizing she hadn’t seen Gloria for several minutes, Carissa glanced up. The child was playing happily not far from the house. She tried to concentrate on her work, but all she could think of was the day Malcolm had tried to kill her. Her hands froze as the images flooded her mind.

  She could very nearly feel the rocking of the small boat where Malcolm had her bound. He’d already committed murder earlier in the year and apparently had no conscience where such a thing was concerned.

  “Carissa?”

  She closed her eyes at the sound of Tyler’s voice. It reminded her of when he’d revived her. She had nearly drowned when Malcolm had thrown her overboard. He had figured it would delay or distract the navy officials long enough for him to make his getaway. Instead, gunfire had erupted, and Malcolm had been killed.

  “Carissa, are you all right?”

  She lifted her head, but her eyes were still closed. “Sometimes,” she whispered, “I can’t help remembering.”

  “I know. Me too.” Tyler’s voice was gentle.

  Her eyes opened at this. “You? Why would you think about that day . . . about Malcolm throwing me in the water?”

  “Because I was afraid you would die. I was afraid Laura would die.”

  “You were sweet on my sister, as I recall.” She hoped the change of subject would push the memories from her mind.

  Tyler chuckled. “I was sweet on most young women back then, except for you. You were already taken.”

  Carissa remembered her silly girlish notions and behavior with regret. “I was quite self-centered then. You must have thought me completely annoying. It’s a wonder you bothered to rescue me.”

  Tyler sobered. “Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t you think?”

  For a moment she considered his words. She did like to believe that second chances were available for those who needed one. She had tried to give Malcolm a second chance . . . and a third . . . and a fourth.

  “It is God’s way,” she replied. “Although back then I wasn’t overly concerned with God’s way or anyone else’s but my own.”

  “Back then, I suppose I wasn’t all that concerned with His ways myself.” He shrugged. “William and Hannah have helped me to draw closer to God. To learn what it means to forgive and forget—at least where some things are concerned. I’m still workin’ on others.”

  “I wish I could forget.”

  Tyler started to say something, then stopped abruptly and turned. Carissa couldn’t figure out what was going on. She looked at him oddly and started to speak, but he held up his hand.

  Gloria had ambled over to the fence line and Carissa could see that she was once again trying to climb th
e posts. Without warning, however, Tyler bounded off the porch and pulled his pistol at the same time. “Rattler!” he cried, the single word sending a chill through Carissa.

  The following gunshot was deafening, and poor Gloria immediately broke into tears. Carissa ran after Tyler and scooped up her child. The snake, indeed a large rattlesnake, lay coiled and dead not a yard away. Hugging Gloria close, Carissa calmed the child.

  “It’s all right. Tyler killed the snake. It can’t hurt us now.”

  “Tyer, that gun is loud.”

  “It has to be,” Tyler replied. “That way it scares little children away from ever touching it without permission. Promise me you’ll never touch this gun.”

  Gloria stopped her tears and nodded. “I pwomise.”

  Carissa checked Gloria for any sign of a bite. “The snake didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  The child shook her head. “I not hurt, Mama. Let me go.”

  Reluctantly, Carissa lowered Gloria to the ground. She straightened as the little girl ran back to where she’d left her ball. A wave of dizziness altered the horizon, and Carissa felt herself falling. Tyler easily caught her and just before she fainted dead away, Carissa was certain she heard him call her name.

  The sound of a carriage could be heard approaching as Tyler climbed the porch steps. “Tyer carry Mama!” Gloria announced as the Reid family pulled to a stop in front of the house.

  Laura and Brandon both looked shocked as Tyler turned to reveal Carissa in his arms.

  Brandon quickly jumped from the carriage. “We heard the gunshot. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m afraid it was just a fright,” Tyler announced. “I had to kill a rattler before it could strike Gloria. Carissa made it through that and then fainted dead away.”

  Brandon helped Laura from the carriage and took their son from her. Laura immediately rushed to Tyler’s side. “Bring her in the house. I’ll get the smelling salts. Brandon, please see to Gloria.”

  “Unca Bwandon, Mama’s bein’ silly,” Gloria said, clapping her hands.

  He smiled as he lifted her. “Sometimes ladies are very silly.”