9 Ways to Fall in Love

by Caroline Clemmons

  Austin shrugged. “That or more. We hear shooting, we come in.”

  Sheriff Yates still faced the men set to travel with him. “If they’re holed up in that valley, there’s one place they’d sure as hell have a lookout.” He pointed to one of the posse. “Bishop, take off those damn spurs, or we might as well fire a cannon to announce our arrival. When I signal, walk your horses nice and quiet. No noise until we find the rustlers and I give the signal.”

  Dallas figured it took almost two hours. When they approached the valley, the sheriff held up his hand to halt.

  He motioned to one of the posse. “Lester, you sneak down there and take out their night watch.”

  Lester dropped off his horse with hardly a sound. For a big man, he moved like a shadow. Soon he was back with an unconscious man slung over his shoulder. “He’s the only one. They ain’t bedded down yet, and the herd’s restless.” They tied the man’s hands and feet and sat him against a tree. Lester quickly gagged the captured criminal against the time he regained consciousness.

  The sheriff motioned them to follow him, and they rode in. “This is Sheriff Yates and my posse. You’re under arrest. Stand and throw down your guns.”

  Unable to reach their horses, the outlaws grabbed their guns and fired. Then Austin and his bunch came in from the other side.

  Suddenly, the nightmare of two years ago overwhelmed Dallas. He drew his gun and aimed, but he couldn’t pull the trigger. Like last time, Austin rode in firing.

  Dallas saw an outlaw turn. The man raised his rifle, aimed at Austin. No! But Dallas’s muscles froze. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t fire even to save his beloved uncle.

  Beside him, Finn fired. The outlaw crumpled and fell. Dallas heard Finn speak, but couldn’t respond.

  “Dallas? Are you shot? Dallas, talk to me. Move yourself, man. ‘Tis scaring me you are.”

  The sheriff and his men rounded up the gang of rustlers while others bunched and calmed the frightened cattle. Dallas sat frozen in the saddle, his gun still aimed at some unseen target in the distance.

  Austin rode up to Finn. “Thanks for saving my bacon.”

  “Something’s wrong with Himself.”

  “Is he shot?”

  “Don’t know. I know he can shoot, for he saved me sister’s life by killing two men with a single shot for each. But he hasn’t moved since the firing started.”

  Dallas heard their conversation, echoing as if he were at the end of a tunnel a long distance away. He knew when Josh took his guns.

  Austin patted at his shoulders and chest. He removed Dallas’s hat and checked his head, then replaced the hat. “I can’t see where a bullet hit him. Must be something else.”

  His uncle moved Dallas’s hands to the pommel then took hold of Red’s reins. Dallas could utter no response. He couldn’t force his brain to take all this in.

  Dear God, what happened to him? Why couldn’t he speak or move?

  Austin led Red. “Finn, you and Josh ride either side of Dallas in case he starts to fall. Come on, let’s take him home. Kathryn can see to him.”

  ****

  Cenora worked through her chores in record time. Worry had her fidgeting, so she decided to help Fred in the barn. If she kept busy enough, mayhap she wouldn’t fret so much. She slipped into Mac’s room and borrowed a pair of his britches. She changed into them and rolled up the legs a turn and then found his oldest shirt. Neither of her brothers had a spare pair of shoes, so she’d have to make do with her own.

  When she went downstairs, she checked on Ma. Da sat with her.

  He stared. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What get up are you wearing, Cenora Rose O’Neill?”

  She smiled to ease her father’s discomfort. “Da, ‘tis Cenora McClintock now. I’ve borrowed Mac’s clothes to help Fred with the horses. The poor man is all alone doing three men’s work, and I’m nervous as a hen on the chopping block.”

  Ma’s surprise stung Cenora. “They’re not ponies, lass, and you don’t know anything about caring for those big creatures. You could be hurt.”

  “Dallas has showed me how to brush down Queenie. Fred will show me what else needs doing. Likely he’ll be glad for the help and keeping busy may save me from worrying meself out o’ me mind.”

  Da patted Ma’s hand and stood. “Don’t I know me way about a stable? ‘Tis meself should have thought o’ going. Hold on, Cenora, and I’ll give a hand.”

  The rain had ended earlier and Soldado and Valiente lazed in the sun beside the barn. Val raised his head hopefully, and Cenora gave his ears a scratch. Sol wagged his tail but didn’t move his body. Not wanting to slight him, she gave him equal attention. Then, Cenora and Da went inside.

  The pungent aromas of hay, manure, and large animals stung her nose. When she spoke to Queenie and rubbed her soft nose, Cenora saw fresh hay in that stall. From a few feet away, Fred looked up, and his eyes widened, but he made no comment on her britches.

  “Da and I have come to offer our service to you.”

  The cowboy shoveled manure into a large cart while he spoke. “This is dirty work, ma’am, but can’t say I’d turn down help. It’ll plumb ruin your hands if you don’t wear gloves.”

  He looked torn by indecision but then leaned his shovel against the cart. He disappeared into a small room and came back with two pairs of gloves, two wide shovels, and two rakes. “You fill the cart with manure and then rake the floor and put down fresh straw. Careful you don’t get kicked.”

  Cenora and her father pulled the heavy leather over their hands and each picked up a scoop. She felt ridiculous in her strange garb, but she had no intention of ruining one of her three dresses. She only hoped her shoes survived and tried to stay in the cleared area as she hefted the waste.

  At first she made clumsy work of cleaning the stalls, but she soon got the hang of it. Already her shoulders ached, but she’d not give up. She and Da moved down one side of the barn and Fred down the other.

  When Fred checked on them, he watched Da with surprise. “Sir, you work like you’ve done this all your life.”

  “Aye, ‘tis what I did from the age o’ eight until I got me little plot o’ land. Some things don’t change over much.”

  Periodically Fred rolled the cart outside and down the hill to dump it.

  Once when he returned, she asked, “What do you do with all that you’ve dumped?”

  “Spread it on the pasture. Helps the grass thicken.”

  He stopped and moved a ladder. Carrying a rake, he climbed the rungs. Cenora saw his intention and called to him.

  “Don’t be knocking down the swallows’ nest.”

  Fred looked down at her. “They make a terrible mess. There’s no babies in the nest if that’s worried you.”

  “No, come down. ‘Tis bad luck to take down their nest, for they’ll bring Himself good luck if they’re here and bad luck if you tear away their home.”

  Her father nodded. “Aye, that’s true. ‘Tis bad luck you’ll be bringing Dallas if you disturb the swallows. ‘Tis the same with barn cobwebs, for they bring good luck to the animals.”

  Fred muttered to himself and climbed down the ladder.

  When they’d cleaned all the stalls and put down fresh hay, they moved to the dairy barn where the smell intensified. By this time, Cenora was tired and thought her shovel increased in weight by the minute. She feared her arms might drop off from the abuse, and she stumbled rather than walked. She wondered how many more animals waited for them. Fred dumped the cow droppings in a separate pile near the garden.

  Finally, Fred took the shovel from her hands. “You’ve helped enough, ma’am, sir. Don’t know when I’d have finished without your help. I thank you both, but Dallas would skin my hide if I let either of you overdo.”

  Cenora reached to reclaim the shovel. “No, I need to stay busy.”

  Da took her arm. “Fred’s right, lass. You’ve worked out here enough for one day. You’ll feel every muscle tomorrow.”

  Cenora and her father
staggered toward the house. Da stopped and held his head under the pump by the water trough and sluiced off his upper body, but Cenora felt too exposed to follow suit. They left their shoes at the door, and Da went off toward his bedroom.

  Much as Cenora needed a bath, she hadn’t the energy to draw the water and fill the tub. She stripped to her drawers and shift. Holding the door open only a crack, she threw the clothes onto the back porch.

  After she stood at the sink and had pumped water over her head, she filled a bucket from the range’s hot water reservoir. Then, she grabbed up the bar of soap and scrubbed herself. No matter how much she cleaned, she smelled manure. Finally, she gave up and dragged herself up the stairs to her room.

  In spite of her fatigue, she giggled aloud. Wouldn’t her husband be surprised when he learned she’d worn her brother’s clothes and turned into a stable hand? She dressed and returned to deal with the smelly clothes.

  By the time Cenora set a cold supper on the table, Mac strolled in.

  “What are me clothes doing hanging on the porch and smelling like a privy?”

  “I borrowed them. Da and I helped Fred clean the barn. We could have used your help.”

  Da pinned him with a look. “Aye, that we could. What have you to say for yourself and how you spent the day?”

  “I’ve found out the goods on me sister’s high and mighty buffer.” He slid onto his chair, looking like the cat that ate the cream.

  Cenora whirled on him, the skillet of ham slices in her hand. “Like what? And don’t you be making up tales to cause trouble, Mac O’Neill, or I’ll hit you with me skillet.” She speared a meat slice for each plate, but she watched her brother as well.

  “I heard about him in town. He’s not so good as he’d have us believing.”

  Da pointed a fork at his wayward son. “Either tell us your news or shut your gob about it.”

  Mac leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “Your fine man keeps a woman in town.” He leaned back and waited for a reaction.

  Cenora’s knees threatened to buckle and breath caught in her throat. “I—I don’t believe you.”

  “You’d believe me if you saw her. Pretty thing she is, tiny with blonde hair and eyes as blue as the sky.”

  “Y—You saw this person?” She set the skillet on the table and almost fell onto her chair. “And did she say she knew me husband?”

  Mac smirked. “Saw her meself I did. Fellow I was talking to pointed her out.”

  “Ha, but you didn’t talk to her?” Hope flared in Cenora.

  Da patted Cenora’s hand. “Now, lass, if there’s any truth atall in this, I’m sure Himself has a good explanation.”

  She glared at her brother, hating him for bringing this tale. Had Dallas deceived her? Shouldn’t she have known a fine man like Dallas McClintock wouldn’t keep a common woman like her? “I think ‘tis making trouble you are. What did this fellow say, and I want his exact words?”

  Mac puffed out his chest and gestured. “He pointed her out. ‘There goes the woman your new brother-in-law takes care of.’ And who is she, I asks? ‘Why, ‘tis Greta Vortmann,’ says he, ‘and her widowed with three kids. Dallas McClintock pays the way for them all.’” Mac cut a piece of meat and stuffed it into his mouth. “Now I ask you, sister, how much plainer could it be?”

  Cenora shook her head. “There’s more to this than you know. Dallas said he wouldn’t cheat on me.”

  And she wanted to believe that, but she knew a common woman like her could never keep the interest of a fine man like Dallas McClintock for long. Her heart cracked, and she wanted to throw herself into a ball and cry. No, she wanted to stay here with Dallas and with her family about her.

  But why would he pay the way for a woman unless he cared for her? And when they came together, was he thinking of this other woman?

  Da frowned. “Doesn’t sound like the man we know, Mac. Sure and there’s more to this than you’ve said. If not, I’ll take me gun to the man.”

  Chapter 12

  Cenora slid the last of the breakfast dishes onto a shelf, and her father came back into the kitchen. He wore yesterday’s soiled clothes and a bright smile.

  “Come on, lass. If you’re coming with me then shake a leg.”

  “Aye, I’ll be but a minute.” She hurried into the screened porch. Last night she’d hung her soiled clothes to air, and their smell had diminished enough that she could stand to wear them again—barely.

  Kathryn had assured Cenora the men couldn’t possibly be home before later today, but she couldn’t stop worrying. Rosa spent all her time nursing Reno or in her own home next to the bunkhouse. Cenora grew less and less distressed at that situation, and saw Rosa only from a distance. Instead, Cenora focused on making Dallas proud of her when he returned. She’d prove her worth as a wife in spite of Rosa or anyone else. And, if Mac’s story was atall true, that woman in town could just go to the devil. Cenora wasn’t about to let her have Dallas without a fight.

  Cenora and Da walked toward the horses. Val and Sol ran toward them, barking an alarm. They danced back to the barn then turned and rushed back to Cenora.

  “Something’s wrong.” She ran to investigate.

  Inside, Fred sat in the wide center aisle between the stalls. He cradled his shoulder and arm. Sweat beaded his forehead, and he moaned.

  Cenora knelt to help him. “What happened?”

  “Dominion caught me by surprise. Kicked me when I leaned over. Figure he needs some exercise.”

  “Can you be standing?” Da offered his hand to help Fred up.

  With Da’s help, Fred hoisted himself upright, but the effort contorted his face in pain. “Reckon I need to see Mrs. Kathryn or the doc in town.”

  Da slung Fred’s good arm around his neck and helped him stand. “Aye, but first you’d best sit over there.”

  “How bad are you hurt?” Cenora avoided the injured arm and held to Fred’s waist to steady him.

  “Arm’s broke. Don’t know about the shoulder. If you’ll help me saddle my horse, I’ll ride into town.”

  “You can’t go alone. Da, please help me saddle Queenie and Pegasus. Will you ride with Fred and make sure he’s all right?”

  “No, lass, we’ll let Mac do that. I promised Dallas I’d stay right here and look after you and Ma, and I’ll not let him down.” Da helped Fred to a stack of grain sacks. “Rest here while I saddle a couple o’ mounts. Cenora, you go to the house and send your brother out.”

  With a last glance to assure herself Fred could sit without falling, Cenora raced to the house.

  Mac had already readied himself for town and hurried to assist Fred. After they’d left, Cenora and Da set to work as they’d done the previous day.

  Da dumped a shovel of manure into the cart. “Seems odd us being on our own out here, don’t it?”

  “Yes, but I like working with the horses.”

  He laughed. “Must be in your blood, for I always liked it meself, though not as well as tilling the land. Sure and your man has the best animals I’ve seen since I was a lad. Mayhap better.”

  They finished the horse barn and leaned their shovels in the cart Da pushed toward the wide doors. The dogs barked and called their attention to a rider.

  “Who is it?” Da stepped back into the shadows.

  “I—I don’t know. He looks a gent, though. Mayhap he’s a friend o’ Dallas’s. I’ll go see.” The heat of a blush singed her cheeks. Company and her looking like a highwayman .

  The man dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching post by the front door.

  “You slip out the side and get your gun. I’ll talk to him.” Cenora squared her shoulders and took off her gloves.

  When she approached him, the man turned to her. A haughty frown marred his face.

  “Tell McClintock that Irv Bateman’s here.”

  “May I be o’ help to you?”

  “What the hell?” The frown deepened. “You’re a woman, and dressed in men’s clothes.”

/>   “I’m Mrs. Dallas McClintock and if you’ve business, then state it or go.”

  Surprise showed for an instant, but then he regained his frown, looking down his nose at her as if she were some of the stuff she’d been shoveling. “Trust a half breed to choose a woman in britches.”

  Cenora stared down at her stained clothes. “Not that it’s any o’ your business, but we’re short handed. Me husband and some o’ the men are chasing down rustlers. But ‘tis my home now, and I’ll dress as I please, and I’ll help out in the barn anytime I’m needed.”

  “See here, I don’t have time to argue with a chit like you. I’ve come for my mare.”

  Cenora disliked the rude man, but she kept a civil tone. “You’ll have to come back when me husband’s here.”

  His face reddened with rage. “I’ve ridden three hours, and I’ve the same to get home. You’ll not cause me a second trip.”

  He pulled a paper from his pocket and waved it at her. “I paid good money for the horse and for McClintock to train her. He promised her today, and I’ll have my horse now.”

  Da stepped from the house with his rifle cradled in the crook of his arm. “Weel, there’s no call to get yourself in a twist.”

  “Who the hell are you?” Bateman started to say more but took a step back when he saw the firearm.

  “Mrs. McClintock is me daughter, and I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head or be gone. Now, what’s this about a horse o’ yours me good son-in-law promised you?”

  Bateman thrust the paper at Da. “It’s there plain as can be.”

  Da kept the paper and sent a warning glare. “Wait where you stand, man, while I talk to me daughter.”

  Da took Cenora’s arm, and they walked a few yards away. They kept Bateman in sight while they conferred.

  “What does it say, Da?”

  “Weel, let me see. Aye, appears ‘tis a bill of sale your man signed, and here’s the horse’s name. Cy ...Cyclo. I can’t make it out, lass, but it brings to mind something I’ve seen written in the barn.”

  “Let’s go where the names show on the stalls. Mayhap we’ll find the one that matches.”