by Lynn Donovan
Roland shook his head. Why was he thinking like this? He had bigger problems than to protect some sweet little widow. And his problems would be coming after him, causing her more worries than solving them, if he stayed here very long. A town event-- he considered what she had said. Just a year and a half after the War ended. Cowboys were coming into town, rather than locals competing. What did it mean? Were the men missing? Dead? Lost to the war?
He followed her until she turned toward the house. She had instructed him to go to Nick. Nick was settling the cowboys in, assigning them to the bunkhouse, and bringing their horses into the ranch’s barn. He could feign his duty to check each animal brought in, then find a place up in the hayloft to make a bed. The less these men knew about him, the better. The last thing he needed was to have some cowboy recognize him from his home state of South Carolina. Or for some overzealous bounty hunter to find his trail and follow him to this ranch in Texas. If he could get across the country, hide out somewhere in California until he was forgotten.
His life on the run from wrongful charges of murder and possibly horse theft, too, placed him in situations he’d never encountered in his life. He hadn’t heard anything about a competition. He had stumbled across an influx of cowboys and figured there would be a rodeo or something similar. His veterinary skills would be needed and he could make some money, get some food in his belly, have a roof over his head for a few nights.
Now he learned it was required of all newcomers to check in with the local law and the reverend. How odd… and inconvenient to his plans.
He could see checking in with the law, but why the reverend, and how long could he avoid doing either? He approached the sun-darkened man the woman had called Nick. “I’m, uh, Johnny Meadows.” The name was so awkward on his tongue. “The Missus told me to check in with you.”
“Sí, I noticed she had to bring you back from around the barn, you want to tell me why you were slinking around instead of coming straight to me?”
“I, well, I was getting a lay of the place, seeing if this was the right ranch… I didn’t mean to appear to be ‘slinking.’ Uh, look, I’m a doctor of veterinary medicine. I can be a big help during… your” --he looked at the three cowboys just riding in to the barnyard-- “event. All I ask for is to sleep in the barn, so I can keep a close eye on the animals, and me and my buddy would appreciate some food, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No, Señor, it won’t be trouble to feed you and your perro, uh, dog. All Mrs. Ledbetter asks is that you stay to the barn or bunkhouse and don’t be going to the lady’s house or interacting with her children.” Nick looked him over and gave a glance toward Prince, too. He looked concerned, as if he knew something, but didn’t confess to any specific doubts.
“Mrs. Ledbetter?” So that was her name. Roland turned his eyes to the house.
FIVE
Hope stood at the dishpan, she still had some things to wash. Although the water was now cold and the bubbles had flattened, she absently ran her rag over the plate and dipped it in the slimy water. That Dr. Meadows had her attention. There was something-- she couldn’t pinpoint the right word to describe what she felt. He was evasive, even though he answered each question without hesitation, it seemed he wasn’t completely honest and yet she didn’t feel as though he was lying, either. She set the dish on the strainer and reached into the pan for the next item to wash.
“Ouch!” Her butcher knife cut her finger. She never put that knife in the water. Why was it there? She held the dirty dish towel over her cut and waited for it to stop bleeding, while staring out the window.
Dr. Meadows stood near Nick, they seemed to be having a pleasant enough conversation. His dog dutifully sat behind his leg. Her own Bella strolled into the kitchen and whined. Hope lifted the plate of scraps gingerly, with her cut finger held out away from the meat, and pushed the food into Bella’s bowl. The cut bled pretty badly, so she wrapped the dishtowel around it even tighter.
Bella nibbled delicately at the scraps then licked until the bowl was clean as a whistle. Hope leaned down and put Bella’s bowl in the dish pan, but her finger throbbed. She glanced out the window at the doctor who remained in the barnyard speaking to Nick.
Should she?
She stepped out on the porch. “Um, Dr. Meadows?”
He and Nick looked her way. A rock formed in her gut, but her heart fluttered a bit. This was silly, she didn’t really need medical attention. She stepped off the porch.
“I hate to bother you, but I seem to have cut my finger.” She spoke as she walked closer to him. “Would you mind looking at it? I can’t seem to get it to stop bleeding.” Lord, that sounded so stupid. She hoped he didn’t misunderstand and think she was making some lame excuse to come talk to him. Her finger was evidence that she really was in need of sound medical treatment, although Nick could have done the same thing. Even put a stitch or two in the wound if it was needed. But since this man was a doctor and all--
She felt the heat fill her cheeks. She also felt Nick’s scrutinus glare.
“Of course.” Dr. Meadows took her hand into his up-turned palm.
A kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight in her tummy.
He removed the dishtowel. “Yes, it is a deep cut, and this towel isn’t the most… sterile. Do you have a… clean one?”
“Uh.” Her heart began to pound so hard, she just knew he could hear it, too. What was this? She was being ridiculous. Even Nick gave her an odd, curious look.
“I do, but they’re in the house.” She turned partially and gestured with her thumb toward her home.
“Well,” he glanced at Nick. “Would it be alright for me… to go… in with you? Perhaps Señor Garcia should go in with us?”
Just then four more cowboys rode onto the ranch. Nick looked between them and Dr. Meadows and Hope. “Señora Hope, I need to--”
“Yes, yes, of course. It’ll be fine.” She cleared her throat. “Dr. Meadows and I will be fine, he is a doctor after all.” She pressed out her defiant chin and turned away from them both. Closing her eyes when they couldn’t see her face, she shook her head as she led the way to her house. Not looking back or making sure he still followed her, she went straight to the linen cabinet and took out a clean hand towel. When she turned to hand it to the doctor, her heart froze. Where had he gone?
“Hello.” Jewell’s voice came from the parlor.
Oh Lord! Hope hurried to take the doctor the clean cloth. The towel she had used to wrap around her wound was saturated with blood. She really was bleeding too much. “Jewell, honey, why don’t you go play in your room, while Dr. Meadows helps Momma take care of her finger.”
Jewell’s brows knitted in concern. “Oh. You bweed?”
“Momma’s alright, sweetheart. Run along now.”
Hope’s cheeks flushed with so much heat, she wished she could cover them with her hands, but her hands were full, between the clean linen and the towel-wrapped wound.
The doctor’s scroungy dog lowered his hind haunches and sat beside his foot. He lifted his smiling eyes from Jewell to meet Hope’s eyes. “I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of letting Prince come in with me. I don’t like leaving him alone. Other animals tend to take advantage of him with his… differences.”
She glanced at the patient dog at his side. “No. As long as he behaves himself.”
Just then Bella trotted into the room and halted at the sight of Prince. Her hackles rose on the ridge of her back and she growled low and deep in her throat. Hope stepped over to her dog, holding her blood-saturated toweled hand up above her heart. “Bella, behave!”
Bella sniffed several times toward the other dog and then slunk over to Hope’s rocking chair by the hearth. She flopped down unceremoniously as if disgusted with Prince’s presence in her domain. She laid her head over her front paws but kept a watchful eye toward Prince.
“I think I’d better take a look at that finger, Mrs. Ledbetter.”
Hope gasped. “How’d you k
now my name?”
Roland paused. “Yo-You’re ranch hand referred to you by name.”
“Oh. Forgive me. I’m just not at ease with all these strange cowboys coming to the ranch. Perhaps I’m overly cautious.”
“I believe caution is a good thing”--he lowered his gaze to the floor - “especially for a widow.”
Hope’s eyes darted to his. Tears flooded them before she could get control of herself.
The doctor’s jaw dropped. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He gingerly pulled her by the wrist to the divan. “Here, let me look at your cut and be out of your way.”
She sniffed and let him unwrap the towel.
“May I get some water and you stay here?”
She nodded.
He hurried to the kitchen and drew some water in a bowl and returned to sit beside her. Gently he dipped the clean linen in the water and cleaned the blood from her fingers and palm. He dipped the linen again, letting the blood wash out of the material and held it over the cut, squeezing firmly. It was then that his eyes lift to meet hers.
The blood had frightened the child. “Momma finga bweed?”
Suddenly the doctor’s gentle, calm demeanor changed. He seemed agitated, anxious to leave her parlor. He cleared his throat and explained to Jewell what he was doing and how Hope’s finger would stop bleeding soon. He was very kind to the three-year-old, but Hope could tell he was no longer comfortable in her home.
Jewell crawled into her lap. “You not bweed.”
“I’m fine, honey.”
He lifted the cloth and looked at her finger. “There, it’s stopped bleeding.” He stood. “Try not to get it wet and it should heal.”
He and his dog walked quickly out the door. Bella lifted her head and whimpered. Hope remained on her divan, rather dazed, staring at the door the doctor had walked through. What happened to cause his change?
Roland wanted to kick himself. How could he let his guard down, entering a widow woman’s home. So much for avoiding any and everybody on the ranch. Mrs. Ledbetter’s wound would have stopped bleeding eventually. He wasn’t doing anything she couldn’t have done. But when she asked him to look at her cut, his sense of decorum melted at the sound of her voice and the concern in her eyes. He had never been able to walk away from an animal in need of medical attention. Something about this woman affected him the same way, without even knowing her story, and drew him to do the very thing he knew he shouldn’t do, interact with people.
Animals don’t give away your secrets. People do.
But like the proverbial moth to a flame, he was drawn to attend to her simple injury. Then when he sat on her divan and looked into her tempestuous eyes, he was hopelessly lost. He wondered if he should kiss her finger, would it settle that storm behind her eyes. Like emeralds, her eyes bore a deep sea-green color, but with flecks of gold.
They were mesmerizing.
His blood roared against his ear drums like an ocean wave crashing against a dangerously rocky shore. He lost all thought.
Jewell touched his arm. “Momma finga bweed?”
Roland’s presence of mind came back to him. He shouldn’t be in here. This family stirred feeling in his chest he couldn’t allow himself to feel. What had he been thinking coming in here with her?
They both turned to the child. Like a lot of people, the blood frightened the dear little girl. A need rose in his heart to calm her. He cleared his throat. “Yes, but she’ll be better soon. See how I’m holding the clean rag over the cut?”
Jewell looked intently at her mother’s hand and nodded.
“This will help the blood to coagulate.”
Jewell’s eyes, as green as her mother’s, widened.
Roland quickly explained in simpler terms, “It’ll stop bleeding soon.”
The child nodded and crawled into her mother’s lap. “You not bweed.”
“I’m fine honey.” Hope drew the child against her bosom.
Roland stared at them. A longing roiled in his gut. He needed to get out of there, away from these two that tugged at his heart. He was being foolhardy. This was not something he could ever have in his live. He was a man on the run from wrongful charges of murder. Sure, he was innocent, but he was sought after all the same.
Roland lifted the cloth and muttered something about the blood stopping and gave some stupid word of caution about getting it wet. He leapt to his feet and patted his leg. Prince responded, as he’d hoped he would, and the two of them hurried out the door. He needed to get settled in the barn. He didn’t need to be fraternizing with the widow, or anyone else for that matter. How could he let himself forget?
SIX
Morning crept into Hope’s sleepless night. She sighed as the indigo glow filled her lonely bedroom, then the roosters crowed. She couldn’t ignore her duties any longer. Sonya padded past her door and Hope knew she would be getting the children up. Hope began her morning ritual.
She put breakfast on the stove and turned to call for the children. Jewell came immediately, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists. Sonya rushed in behind her. “Jaxon’s bed is empty.”
Hope called him again. She gestured for Sonya to make Jewell’s plate and hurried to see for herself. His bed unmade, as if he had just gotten out of it. Her eyes darted around the room. His clothes were gone. So were his boots. Hope rushed out on the porch and called his name. “Jaxon!”
After several heartbeats he answered, “Yeah, momma?” His head poked out from behind the partially closed barn door. The doctor’s dog, Prince, rounded her son’s leg, panting happily.
She sighed with relief at the sight of him, but concern tightened her chest. Making her way to the barn, she looked around. A bustling of cowboys was busily moving around the barnyard. A wagon had been filled full of fence posts and rolls of barbed wire, and men she didn’t know hitched it all to the mules, Maude and Bill. Nick whistled, drawing the men’s attention, and waved his hand in a circle over his head. Some of them leapt on the bench, others on the sides of the wagon, and the whole crew left the barnyard. More cowboys hurried to the backside of the barn for some other assignment Nick had instructed them to do.
Good. Fences would be mended before the event corral was built. Hope liked the thought of that.
She hurried into the barn but slammed to a halt. Jaxon followed Prince to a horse stall and bent at his waist with his hands on his knees. Dr. Meadows was examining Chancy, the new colt. Hope’s heart lodged in her throat. She tried to swallow it back before speaking. “What are you doing?”
Dr. Meadows looked up at her and smiled. Those ridiculous butterflies took flight in her tummy. She closed the gap between herself and her son, and searched the colt for whatever was wrong. Prince circled next to the doctor three times and lay down.
Dr. Meadows stood. “He’s a good looking colt, Mrs. Ledbetter.”
“Uh, thank you. Why are you… is there something wrong with him?” She turned to her son. “And why are you out here without my permission?”
Jaxon’s chin dropped to his chest. “I’m sorry, momma. I came out to watch all the cowboys and I saw Dr. Meadows… I just wanted to help.” His eyes seemed to sparkle as he turned to the doctor. “My momma saved this colt’s life. He would a broke his neck or hurt the mare if he’d a come out the way he was.”
Dr. Meadows blinked and lifted his eyes to meet hers. His Adam’s apple bobbled on his unshaven neck. “Is that so? Presented wrong did he?”
Hope’s cheeks flushed with heat. “An old trick my papa taught me.”
“Well, he’s a fine looking colt. In fact, all your stock consists of fine looking horses. You obviously know what you’re doing. They look like they are bred well… for speed and strength.”
“They’re the bread and butter of our operation. They are great for short distance and intricate, speedy maneuvers needed for ranch work. We looked at some Arabian horses down south, but my papa said he preferred to stick with these quarter horses and so we have.”
&nb
sp; “Ah. So we’ll see them in the competition for roping, cutting, and bareback bronc riding?”
Hope cocked her head to one side. “Probably. Forgive me, but why is my son out here with you?”
“Oh, he just wandered out while I was examining the colt. Seemed to take an interest, so I was showing him what I do. I’m sorry if I done something wrong, Mrs. Ledbetter. He seems like a smart kid.”
She put her hands on her son’s shoulders. “Yes, he is. But I had no idea he was out here. It gave me a fright.” She leaned down to make eye contact with Jaxon and slightly shook his shoulder. “You weren’t in your bed this morning. You frightened Sonya, too.”
“I’m sorry, Momma.” He wrenched out of her grasp. “I wanna stay out here and help Dr. Meadows.”
“No.” She hated the way she said it so abruptly. “You’re breakfast is ready. You need to get inside.”
“Aw, Momma!” He whined.
Dr. Meadows smiled. “Now, listen to your momma. Go on inside. Maybe you can come out later and help me look over the tack and gear.” He winked at the widow, hoping it would smooth things over.
Hope glared at the doctor. Anger filled her chest and caused her throat to feel tight. “We’ll see.”
She forced her son to move. “Go on in the house. I’ll be there in just a minute.”
Jaxon drug the toe of his boots as he left the barn.
“And don’t drag the toes of your boots like that! You’re gonna wear out the tops before you ever wear through the soles!” Hope turned on the doctor. “I swear--that boy.” Then her face sobered into a stern expression that seemed just a frog’s whisker short of anger.
“I will not have you telling my son he can or cannot do whatever you please. You have no right. And who asked you to look at the colt?”
