Bess, who sometimes had a soft voice so like Mama’s.
Bertie closed her eyes. She intended to disobey her big sister, and the urge to follow the rules suddenly stalled her. “No, I’ll find her.”
As the door closed behind her, Bertie whistled for Ramon and pretended not to hear Bess’s plea to stay out of trouble and not venture far. It wasn’t that Bertie went looking for trouble; it was just that trouble always managed to find her.
The town of Lickwind didn’t harbor a stray cat in its midst, neither near the smithy where Rhubarb liked to bat small discarded pieces of whatever Amos threw away nor behind the general store where Mr. Jones sometimes tossed the cat tidbits.
Mr. Jones saved the day. He might have been too busy loading up his wagon to entertain Rhubarb, but he wasn’t too busy to close up shop and make some deliveries. The mention of Matty’s and Corrie’s names as a destination sent Bertie scampering back to Bess for permission to keep the grizzled storekeeper company.
Ramon jumped in back of the wagon and fell asleep. The sun beat down steadily as they traveled the hour it took to get to the Collingswood’s ranch. Bertie suspected Mr. Jones wanted some advice from Jim about what supplies needed to be stocked now that the train was bringing more business.
At Matty’s and Corrie’s ranch, neither sister claimed a visit from the cat, but both enjoyed their enthusiastic greeting from Ramon. Bertie tickled the twins for a few minutes just to get them laughing. Baby Matthew slept; he was really too little to do much with. Ramon visited all his old haunts and pestered Scotty.
The sun dipped a bit closer to the west than Bertie wanted it to while Jones and Jim jawed about rising prices and populations. After good-byes were said, Mr. Jones headed the wagon in the direction of the Two Horse, the Kincaid spread. Bertie held on to the seat and tried not to bounce. Jones wouldn’t like it. The only reason he allowed Bertie to tag along was, as he said, she “didn’t act like most fool females.” It was unlikely that Rhubarb had strayed so far as the Kincaid spread, but maybe the cat was as curious as the whole town of Lickwind.
Thomas Hardin had dominated the conversation at church last Sunday. Bertie listened to Parson Harris’s sermon and tried to remember what the preacher looked like back in Rhode Island. He’d been shorter and talked louder. Bertie liked Harris better. He told more stories. Bertie wished he’d tell about Thomas Hardin.
Later, at the Riker home, Bess and Gideon tried to separate fact from fiction, but by all accounts no one considered it good news that the Hardin boy had returned to town. Even the news of a Chinaman took second place to a returning cattle rustler. Gideon had only raised a speculative eyebrow to Bertie’s insistent “son of a cattle rustler” interjection.
In an ironic twist, Thomas—who once fled town with nothing more than the clothes on his back—rode into town followed by rumors of a healthy bank account and more cattle than even Josiah Temple owned. That Hardin had purchased Clyde Kincaid’s ranch kept Bess and Gideon whispering well into the night. Bertie almost crawled out of her bed to lean against their door, so strong was the urge to eavesdrop.
The Kincaid ranch needed loving, tender care, Bertie thought, as she sat beside Mr. Jones and watched the world’s ugliest ranch loom into sight. It looked exactly like what Clyde Kincaid deserved. The main house was a drab structure. Even from a distance, Bertie could see gaps between the chinks in the wood. There were two other buildings. One might be an outhouse. Who knew what the other was—maybe a henhouse?
Walking beside one of the smaller buildings was the Chinaman. Rhubarb meowed at his feet.
Rhubarb had the run of the town and its perimeters. She loved everyone and everyone loved her, but she only “talked” to Bertie. Until today.
Bertie jumped from the wagon in time to watch Tommy Hardin exit the house. He joined the Chinaman and her cat. The man crouched in front of Rhubarb and looked to be offering the cat something.
Bertie sidled closer.
An egg? Yup, for true, Tommy was a cowboy. All the cowboys fed Rhubarb eggs. Someday Bertie half-expected Rhubarb to cluck.
He’d purchased the Kincaid place almost sight unseen. Donald Potter, the attorney, tried to warn him, but Thomas had been waiting more than five years for prime property in Lickwind to become available. Maybe it was providence that Kincaid sold out.
Looking around, Thomas tried to associate Kincaid’s spread today to the spread of yesteryear. When the Hardins worked here, Clyde’s brother had run the show. Cyrus had been a tightfisted yet fair man, who worked his cowboys hard but provided for them. Thomas had no idea what had happened to the bunkhouse. If it had burned, surely there’d be charred remains. Instead, dying grass in varying shades of brown and yellow grew over his final remnants of a childhood memory. Clyde probably sold the lumber, anything for a buck. The barn was missing, too.
Donald Potter didn’t recall the Kincaid place having many cattle, but when Thomas Hardin the elder put in his time, the spread had enough to make a young boy’s eyes burn when the wind blew. Cyrus turned a profit, kept the money, left the ranch to Clyde, and headed for California and fool’s gold.
Cyrus had been a fool to leave a working ranch to his younger brother.
Thomas often profited from the foolishness of others. What did it say in the Bible about fools? Something about being hotheaded and reckless.
“Look.” Tien-Lu, the Chinaman, pointed.
Thomas glanced over his shoulder and almost moaned. Bertie Craig slid off the front seat of a wagon before the wheels ceased to turn. Any other girl might have inspired him to hurry over and assist, but not this one. She looked like she belonged to the land.
Donald said the Craig girls had a reputation for setting their sight on a man and turning his life upside-down until he married her. Seemed the town, up until a few months ago, had a thriving saloon and a well-visited bordello. Then the saloon manager faced off with one Bess Craig, and now there was a restaurant and church services instead of rowdy Saturday nights and hung-over Sunday mornings. The bordello remained, but business no longer boomed.
The other two sisters took the Collingswood brothers, perfectly good ranchers and horsemen, and turned them into homebodies. Thomas had neither known the touch of a mother nor the caress of a woman who loved only him, but he did know shrewd businessmen who sometimes put a gentle woman before a good business deal.
Thomas made more money than they did.
According to Donald, there remained one single filly in the Craig stable.
Thomas wanted her off his land before bad luck got a fingerhold.
“Hello, Jones. Glad to see you.”
Jones jerked a thumb at Bertie. “I picked up a stray in town.”
“You need something, Roberta Suzanne Craig?” Thomas ambled over.
She took off her hat and pointed toward Tien-Lu. “That’s my cat.”
Glancing behind him, this time Thomas did moan. The cat from the train depot, the one who’d lain on Bertie’s lap so he’d thought she wore pants. It was partly the cat’s fault he’d met up with Josiah in such a comical manner.
“Your cat’s trespassing.” Thomas frowned. The cat was as unpredictable as her owner. How had the feline gotten this far from town? To think he’d welcomed the critter to his spread and practically laid out the red carpet for a visit from this female.
He’d been amiss yesterday when he’d assessed the other sister as being the comely one. Bertie Craig had the prettiest hair he’d ever seen and more of it, too. It had been all bunched up under that hat yesterday. Today it reminded him of a horse’s mane—shiny and blowing in the wind, long enough to stream behind her if the wind picked up. Or maybe if a man’s fingers went exploring.
He shook his head, clearing it, then opened his mouth to suggest she take her cat and wait in the wagon for Jones’s departure, but Bertie had somehow managed to cross the yard to the shed and was interfering with Tien-Lu as the man struggled to pull down a piece of lumber that far exceeded his reach. The silliest-loo
king dog jumped from the back of Jones’s wagon and joined Rhubarb at Tien-Lu’s feet, almost tripping the man. Thomas really should have pitched in and helped Jones unload the supplies; instead, he followed Bertie. He wanted to see what this slip of a female was up to.
“What are you doing?” Bertie asked.
“Making it into a house.”
Thomas figured it was safe to assume that Tien-Lu answered in English because Bertie surprised him. Most white people, women especially, went out of their way to ignore Tien-Lu’s existence. They certainly didn’t talk to him. Tien-Lu had perfected the art of pretending he didn’t speak or understand English.
Bertie made a face. “A house? It’s too small.”
“We don’t need room.”
“We?”
As if knowing they were being talked about, from inside the shed came Tien-Lu’s wife and daughter, Trieu and Anna. Anna hid behind her mother, as always. The cat went straight for the little girl, arching her back to an impossible curve until her fur touched the tip of Anna’s fingers, and the child had no choice but to reach down and pet the mewling feline.
Bertie’s face transformed again. Thomas blinked. Yesterday she’d been a boy. Ten minutes ago, he’d recognized the hint of a woman. Now he saw the future and almost lost his breath at the possibility.
Bertie went to Anna and dropped to her knees.
“Her name is Rhubarb. She loves to be scratched right here.” Bertie rubbed the cat’s back until it collapsed, limp with contentment. Anna hunched down and stroked Rhubarb’s back.
“Rhubarb? Pretty cat.” Anna spoke softly, in better English than her father. Her mother spoke no English, and no matter how Thomas prodded, Trieu refused to make an effort to learn.
“Rhubarb, what kind of name is that?” Thomas asked.
“My sister hates rhubarb,” Bertie announced.
“Your sister hates this cat?”
“No, Matty loves the cat; she just hates the taste of rhubarb.”
“What’s that got to do with the cat’s name?” Thomas wanted to get back to work, and he wanted this woman off his land.
“I named the cat Rhubarb to annoy my sister Matty.”
It was the first time he’d laughed—at least a deep belly type of laugh—in months, maybe years. It felt good, and that scared him. He needed to get her off his ranch. He needed to stop conversing with her as if he enjoyed it. He needed to get back to work. Instead, he asked, “Don’t you like your sister?”
“Oh, I love her, but I also like to annoy her.” Bertie stood and brushed the grass off her knees. She looked at Trieu and said, “I’m Bertie Craig.”
Trieu nodded but didn’t speak. Bertie turned to Anna. “You really gonna live in this shed?”
Anna pointed at the dog. “What’s its name?”
“Ramon.”
“A nice, normal name,” Thomas mused. “I didn’t name him,” Bertie admitted. “I want a dog,” Anna announced.
The adults laughed. Then Bertie asked Anna again, “Are you going to live there?”
“For a little while,” Anna said.
Bertie shot Thomas a dirty look. He raised his hands in helplessness. He’d offered the main house to Tien-Lu, but the man refused.
Tien-Lu wasn’t great at taking orders, and neither was Bertie. Which is why instead of taking her cat and waiting in the wagon, like Thomas suggested, Bertie started offering advice not only about Anna attending school in town, but about rebuilding the shed. Soon she had Anna and Trieu slopping in the mud, making chinking.
Thomas frowned as he went to help Jones. Bertie Craig, quite frankly, was as much a nuisance as that cat.
Chapter 3
Thomas opened his eyes in protest. Squinting, he tried to figure out what had awakened him. The walls were flickering, an orange and yellow inconsistent dance.
Grabbing his trousers, he jerked them on and stumbled from the house to face a small fire. For a moment, he stared in disbelief at the proof of a town that did not welcome him. Obviously the desire had been to frighten and not to harm. There’d be no saving the shed; and so it wouldn’t spread to the dry grasses and weeds, Thomas headed for the well and shouted for Tien-Lu.
It took a moment as the small tent almost took on personality as Tien-Lu struggled from his bed. A lump to the left, a poke to the right, and one peg came loose before a pale face poked from the opening.
Thomas barked, “Get out here and help!”
Tien-Lu joined his boss and nodded. Anna and her mother soon crawled from the tent.
“I hear no noise,” Tien-Lu muttered, stomping on burning embers. Together they put out the fire as Trieu put a fist in her mouth, biting back tears.
That didn’t surprise Thomas. For the past week, Tien-Lu, Trieu, and Anna had worked tirelessly on the shed, turning it into what looked like a miniature cottage. Just that afternoon, Scotty and Bertie had shown up. They’d dismantled the old roof and started work on an arched contraption that Bertie insisted would prevent not only rain deposits but also allow better light. They were a team, that old cowboy and the young girl. Thomas had put off important work just to enjoy listening to Scotty fill Bertie, Anna, and Tien-Lu in on Lickwind’s history. The man knew everybody and everything. He could find something good to say about just about everybody, including Josiah Temple.
The concept of five or six families founding Lickwind seemed to fascinate Bertie. Actually, there had been fewer. The Collingswoods were brothers. Amos Smit and Josiah were brothers-in-law. That left only the Webbers and Kincaids as stand-alone settlers.
Lickwind had certainly grown, and every day brought something new to be grateful for. Lost in thought, it took Thomas a moment to realize that a mass of snorting cattle stretched across the landscape.
“Impeccable timing,” Thomas said.
“Thanks for the beacon.” Mikey didn’t dismount. The cattle, spooked by the fire, swerved in a direction opposite from the intentions of the cowboys.
Thomas, grateful to be diverted from the smoking remains of Tien-Lu’s home, moved forward to offer guidance. “Rex on point?”
“Yup.”
“Who’s riding drag?”
“New guy called Jack.”
For the next hour, while Tien-Lu diligently patrolled the area for errant sparks, Thomas, Mikey, Rex, and four new hands put the cattle to bed. “Lose many?” Thomas asked.
Mikey bounced a coiled rope against his leg, exhaustion so tangible, it roiled off him like dust. “We lost some two-year-old heifers. They got spooked when the buffalo came too close.”
Thomas nodded. “Any other trouble?”
“Buffalo made the grass a bit scarce. We sure were glad when we came close to Lickwind and saw the grazing land.”
Anna started school the next week. For the first time, Bertie looked forward to lessons. Anna, who’d never been to school before, was too excited to sit still. Bertie so enjoyed helping Anna that she forgot to pretend she didn’t understand her own lessons. It took four days for Bess to catch on.
“I’m giving you the eighth-grade final examination next week,” Bess declared.
Bertie had been playing at school way too long anyway. Ellis had kept her from attending, Bess had been determined that Bertie would finish, and Bertie had been content to drift along.
Bertie finished her math problems, hurried through her duties at the restaurant, neglected her household chores, and finally escaped out the front door. She was more than ready to move, and she knew exactly how she wanted to spend her afternoon. Not in the restaurant either. She wanted to be at the Two Horse, and just maybe Jones would be making a delivery. After all, Bess always said, “We’re supposed to be neighborly.”
But Jones only chuckled when Bertie skidded to a stop in front of his store. Pointing toward something behind her, he resumed sweeping the dirt from his front door. In front of The Back Porch, Gideon finished loading one of the restaurant’s tables in the back of his wagon.
“You going somewhere?” Bertie ask
ed, already guessing their destination.
“Thought we’d go visit Thomas Hardin and see what you and Scotty find so enticing.” Gideon didn’t look at her as he said the words.
Guilt painted red splotches across Bertie’s cheeks. She’d never been able to keep things from Bess.
Gideon helped Bertie into the wagon and gave Bess one of those married looks that Bertie never could read.
“Gee up!” he shouted after settling in beside his wife.
Bess hugged Bertie, and because it felt right, Bertie didn’t shrug away.
They were working on the main house now. Tien-Lu, Trieu, Anna, Bertie, and Scotty. Poor Thomas, Bertie thought. For a man who didn’t want women on his ranch, every time he turned around, a new one appeared. Susan, the young wife of Jack, one of Thomas’s newly hired cowboys, arrived by train just yesterday. She and Jack had taken a meal at the Back Porch. She was just Bertie’s age, and she wore the contentment and awe of the newly married like a shawl around her shoulders. She never took it off, and it was a stunning example of joy, commitment, and love.
And now even more women would gather on the Two Horse soil. Bertie had no doubt but the Collingswoods were en route to this surprise picnic.
“I didn’t realize Clyde left such a small house,” Bess observed.
Bertie nodded, glad to leave her confusing thoughts for another time. “I’ll bet Thomas lets Jack and Susan live in it.”
“Bertie, you need to call him Mr. Hardin,” Bess advised.
“I’ll try to remember,” Bertie promised.
Matty and Corrie were already pulling baskets and blankets and such from their wagons while their husbands carried chairs. Tien-Lu and Anna were busy spreading blankets on the ground. Thomas scowled from the doorway of the house.
Matty, jiggling baby Matthew, called, “Come help, Bertie. We’ve brought a feast.”
Bertie had no choice but to pitch in. After a few moments, she asked softly, “Everyone knew that Scotty and I were coming out here?”
Bartered Bride Romance Collection Page 40
