Belle of the Ball: A Historic Western Time Travel Romance (An Oregon Trail Time Travel Romance Book 2)

by Susan Leigh Carlton

  “You’re more than well off.”

  “Then marry me.”

  “I can’t do that. Not yet. I won’t marry you for your money.”

  “If I were just a ranch hand would you marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what’s the problem? We would be the same two people, just not as comfortable.”

  She was trembling. She looked at her hands. Her eyes filled with tears. “Please, don’t make this any harder than it is. I started to fall in love with you when you were sick. The thought of you dying was unbearable. Now this.”

  “Wait. I’m having trouble understanding this. You love me, but you won’t marry me because Friday you found out I have a gold mine. You’re not making sense. Don’t you know I started loving you the night we went to the play?

  “Anna, there are four people that know about this. You, me, Brett and Emma. To everyone else, I’m half owner of a large ranch. A prosperous ranch, yes, but still a ranch. If you walk away from this, you’re going to make the four of us unhappy. I can’t and I won’t try to stop you. I don’t want to go through all of this again. It’s your decision to make, and I’ll abide by whatever you decide, but don’t cut off your nose to spite your face.”

  He turned to leave. “Bart, wait. You’re absolutely right. This is not what I want. Once I got started thinking about this, I couldn’t stop. I only care what you think. As long as you know what I really feel, that’s all that matters.”

  “You are right about that.”

  “Are we still courting?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Kiss me.”

  Chapter twenty-four

  Advice

  “Your journal is now current for the ranch,” she said. “All of the entries have been made for your expenses, including wages. I would suggest you pay yourselves a salary each month, the same as you do the hands. That’s all I can do with what I have.”

  “We are very appreciative of what you’ve done. Do you have any thoughts or suggestions?” Brett asked.

  “I do. The modern thing to do would be to form a company, with a president, vice-president, and secretary-treasurer. I would incorporate the mining operations into it or better yet, form a separate company for them.”

  “This is 1870. I don’t know of anyone around here going that way,” he said.

  “All the more reason for you to do it. It puts you in a more solid financial position. This is what I studied in college. Also, at some point, you will want to contract with one of the major mining companies for the mineral rights. Let them do the work, provide the equipment and pay you a royalty for what they take out of the ground. It requires very little investment on your part.

  “I have a question for you both. How do you know someone isn’t out there right now working your claim?” She looked from one to the other.

  “I guess we don’t.”

  “Neither of you has been there since Bart took sick. I suggest you take steps to protect your assets. Do you realize how much more you earned from those two trips Bart made, than you have from the ranch all year? Ignoring the cost of his labor, everything you take from the ground is pure profit.”

  “Bart, you had better marry this girl. She’s smarter than either one of us,” Brett said.

  “I’m trying to do just that. I’ve asked, but she hasn’t said yes. She keeps putting me off.”

  “Lady, I would like to know if your intentions are honorable for my baby brother.”

  “I intend to marry him when I can bring something to the marriage. Not before.”

  “Anna, you don’t need a dowry,” Bart told her.

  “What is this something you’re waiting for?” Brett asked.

  “I don’t know, but I will know it when I see it.

  “What if he can’t wait that long?”

  Then I will have lost someone special.”

  “Hello, I’m sitting right here,” Bart said.

  “You never know when someone might come along.” He handed Bart some mail. “You had four letters when I stopped by the store this morning.”

  “You’re still writing letters? I thought you stopped,” Anna said, sounding disturbed.

  “I did stop. I’ve answered two, and those were after we went to the play, and you didn’t want to see me again. I haven’t answered any more of them. These are probably this late because my dear matchmaking sister-in-law and the preacher’s wife conspired against me.”

  “Excuse me please,” Anna said. “This is giving me a headache.”

  After she left, Brett said, “I was her biggest fan, but I’m beginning to rethink it. I’m beginning to believe she isn’t strong enough to be a rancher’s wife. She seems wishy-washy and unable to make up her mind. Even then she frequently changes it. She doesn’t know what she wants, or if she does know, she doesn’t want it bad enough to fight for it.”

  “She’s been through a lot, and is afraid to make a mistake,” Bart answered.

  “Remember when you first started breaking horses and you got thrown? Pa would make you get right back in the saddle. It’s what made you as good at it as you are. Failures or mistakes should make you stronger, but that doesn’t seem to be the case with her.”

  “What would you do, oh wise and experienced brother?”

  “You carry a rifle and a handgun when you’re out. That’s in case one isn’t suitable for the job; you have a backup. Maybe you should consider a backup plan here.”

  “As you pointed out some time ago, If I write someone, I would be stringing them along. I like Anna. In fact, I like her a lot, and she likes me. I’m content to go along with what she wants for now.”

  “It won’t hurt to at least read the letters. We need to get out of here, and get some work done,” Brett said. “We start the roundup next week, and there are some things we need.

  “You check with Pablo and find out what he needs for the chuck wagon, and I’ll do the same with Curly. Might as well see what Mrs. Crump needs so we can make a run to town and get it all taken care of in one pass.”

  Later…

  “Anna, our roundup starts next week, and we need to get stocked up on supplies,” Bart asked. “Would you like to ride in with me?”

  “Yes, thanks for asking. I can look around, and maybe visit Letty. Is roundup dangerous?” she asked.

  “No more so than an ordinary day of riding herd. What’s really dangerous is a storm. The cattle are nervous and can start to run. If one or two start, the others will probably follow. They’re in a panic and will run over any and everything. Cowboys can get killed trying to turn them.”

  “I don’t want to even think about it,” she said.

  “When you’re riding herd, you have to think about it all the time.”

  The general store…

  “Howdy,” Silas Farmer greeted them when they entered.

  “Howdy yourself,” Bart drawled. “Here’s a list of things we need for the roundup and for the kitchen. I’m going to check on your jeans, I’m beginning to wear through some of mine.” He handed Silas the list.

  “Anna, if you need anything for yourself, add it to the pile.

  “Oh yes, please put these in the mail for me. If there’s anything for us, give it to Anna.”

  A troubled look crossed her face when she saw him hand three letters to the storekeeper and postmaster.

  “Put these with the rest of things,” he said and handed Silas four pairs of jeans and four work shirts.

  “I’m going to get a haircut,” he said. “You want me to pick you up at Letty’s?”

  “Yes, please.”

  After she left, Silas said, “I didn’t want to say anything while she was here, but several ranches have had a bit of rustling lately.”

  “In our area?”

  “Not too far away,” Silas said. “Nothing big, but enough to be bothersome.”

  “I’ll pass the word, thanks for letting me know.”

  The church…

  “Well, good morning,” L
etty said. “And how are you?”

  “I’m fine, I guess. Bart’s at the barbershop. They’re starting the roundup next week and we came in to get supplies. I’ll help you while he gets everything ready. Where’s Carrie?”

  “She’s around here somewhere. Probably crawling around on the floor getting dirty.”

  “Bart’s answering letters from mail-order-brides,” she blurted.

  “Do you blame him?”

  “I shouldn’t, but it bothers me.”

  “Then do something about it,” Letty replied.

  “You think I’m wrong, don’t you?”

  “I do, but it’s your business,” so I won’t say anything more.”

  Anna was arranging the hymnals in their racks when Bart came in. “Put her to work, huh?” he said to Letty. “How are you?”

  “Struggling with my three year-old,” she said. “Same old thing. How about you?”

  “Finer than frog hair. All stoked up and ready for next week. I don’t think I’ll make church Sunday. I’m expecting a couple of men to stop by that will be helping us with the roundup, and I want to be there when they show.”

  “We’ll send up a prayer for you and Brett.”

  “Do that. We need all of the help we can get. Are you about ready?” he asked Anna.

  “Yes,” Anna answered.

  Chapter twenty-five

  Roundup

  “Would you like to see something you’ve never seen?” Bart asked Anna.

  “It depends on what it is,” she said.

  “It involves a ride on horseback; it’s kind of rough for the carriage.”

  “After the lessons you gave me, I think I can stay on. Let me get a bonnet and I’ll be out.”

  Bart saddled Molly, a docile gray mare that Emma favored. “I don’t recommend you ride side-saddle. I’ll turn my head while you mount up.”

  She laughed. “It’s all right. In my time, girls go around dressed in clothes a lot shorter than what I’m wearing.”

  “We’re not in your time,” he said gruffly, and turned his back.

  “You can turn around now. I won’t embarrass you. Everything is covered.”

  He flushed, and mounted his big horse. “It will take us about fifteen minutes to get there,” he said, leading the way at a pace that was little more than a walk.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” she said. “Not a cloud in sight.”

  “This is the kind of day you hope for on a drive,” he said. “A breeze to blow the dust away, not too hot, I’d settle for this all next week.”

  “Are you going to be gone all week?”

  “Yep. We’ll get them rounded up, separate out the strays from the other ranches, and cut the ones we want to take to the market into one herd.”

  “How many do you plan to sell?”

  “A couple of thousand. We’ll save back some for the spring market and breeding.

  “Let’s go up on the rise over yonder,” he said, and pointed to a small hill.

  When they topped the hill, Anna said, “Oh my God, I’ve never seen so many cows. How many are there?” She was looking out at a sea of longhorns.

  “They’re cattle, not cows. I’d say twenty-five hundred, three thousand. That’s only part of them. We’ve got that many out in another grazing area.”

  “I don’t see anyone watching them,” she said. “What keeps them in one spot?”

  “Food,” he said. “They’re eating, and kind of meandering as they do so. We likely have two cowboys out there watching them. One on each side.”

  He dismounted and helped her down. He pointed out the two mounted men, sitting tall in the saddle, with a relaxed grip on their mount, allowing them to graze. “I see them,” she said. “They sort of get lost when you see them alongside the cattle.”

  They had been standing in place about ten minutes when two bangs were heard. “What was that?” she asked.

  “Rifle shots. Some idiot is shooting.” Two more shots and the cattle began to stir. Then a series of shots that sounded different from the first ones. She saw the cattle begin to move.

  “They’re running,” Bart said. “Get back to the ranch, Anna. Go. Go.” With his hand on the saddle horn, he mounted his already moving horse.

  Anna was mesmerized. She ignored his instructions to leave and stood watching. The herd was in full flight as he urged the big horse into a full gallop along the left flank of the fast moving herd. She saw small bushes and scrub brush trampled under the thousands of hooves.

  Near the front running steers, he nudged into the leaders. Any living thing in the way of the jumble of cattle was going to die. That was where Bart headed, continuing to move in on the leaders forcing them to turn right. Always to the right, because running cattle resist turning to the left.

  The thundering sound of the hooves reached Anna on the hill. She couldn’t see Bart or the two cowboys because they were enveloped in a solid cloud of dust. There was no way the cowboys could see anything either, but they continued their efforts. Bart had been joined by the other man on his side. The leaders veered to the right, to avoid the two men moving closer. Bart spurred his way to the leaders, driving them even more to the right. This continued until the cattle turned in on themselves and began milling around instead of running. The stampede was over.

  Bart rode alongside the other cowboy and said something. They turned and raced to where the shots had been fired. There were three mounted men ahead of them driving cattle. Their speed was slowed by the cattle, so Curly and Bart closed the gap. Both drew their handguns and began firing. One of the rustlers slumped, but kept his mount. The other two abandoned him to his fate and fled.

  He had been hit in the shoulder. His arm dangled limply at his side. “Tie him to the saddle, Curly. I’ll take him to the sheriff.”

  “Ain’t you going to see to me? I been shot,” the man whined.

  “You’ll live,” Bart growled. “More's the pity.”

  He and his prisoner headed toward the ranch. Anna rode up to them. “I told you to get back to the ranch,” Bart said.

  “I froze and couldn’t move. What are you going to do now?”

  “Get you back to the ranch and take this yahoo to the sheriff.”

  “What will happen to him?”

  “He’ll probably hang.”

  “Hang? You can’t be serious!” she said, aghast.

  “Rustling is a hanging offense, just like horse stealing.”

  “You can’t just let him go? He’s hurt.”

  “That’s not the way things are done out here. Stampedes are dangerous. They were deliberately doing it to distract the men rather than taking them at gunpoint. If I let him go he might try it again, and one of my friends or neighbors might be killed in the process.”

  “Well, I don’t like it, and I don’t like you being this way.” She kicked her horse in the flank, and nearly lost her seat when he bolted.

  Back at the ranch, Bart told Brett what had happened.

  “I’ll let the other men know to be on the lookout. I’ll take him into town,” Brett said. “You had better see to Anna. She looked upset.”

  “Yeah, she didn’t like it much when I said he’d probably be hanged.”

  “That was a pretty harsh thing to say. You had better talk to her.”

  “I guess so, but I’d rather be horsewhipped.

  Chapter twenty-six

  The Angel

  Anna was sitting on the front steps hugging her knees, looking off into the distance, when Bart approached her. “Want some company?” he asked.

  She looked up, smiled, and said, “Sure.”

  “I should never have taken you out there today. It was a mistake on my part.”

  “You didn’t know anything like that would happen.”

  “Nevertheless, the range is no place for a woman.”

  “If I’m going to live here, I need to see things like that. Did your mother ever go out?”

  “When they were first starting out, she was the ch
uck wagon cook and went on the trail drives. I don’t think she did after Brett and I came along.”

  “She was probably too tired,” she said.

  “There’s some truth to that.”

  “Bart, I was way out of line with what I said. I watched what you were doing until the dust became too thick. If your horse had stumbled, or slowed…”

  “Then Thunder and I would both would have been trampled to death.”

  “Have you ever seen that happen?”

  “Papa did a few years back. It was before I was old enough to go on drives. It also happened to one of our neighbors not too long ago. We could just let them run until they wore themselves out, but it would take days to round them up again. You don’t think about the danger anyway, you react to it.”

  “I’m really sorry for what I said.”

  “Forget about it. It never happened.”

  “I guess you and Brett don’t think I would be a very good rancher’s wife.”

  “To what good rancher are you planning to be a wife?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Since you asked, I believe you could be as good or as bad as you let yourself.”

  “This is such a pretty place,” she said, changing the subject.

  “You won’t think so when the snow’s waist deep.”

  “I was born here, remember. I’ve been through a few winters. Of course we had snowplows, and street sanders. As long as we didn’t lose power, it wasn’t too bad.”

  Bart was laughing. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “What you said. I can just imagine a farmer plowing snow. I guess it would be easier than plowing the ground, but I don’t think you could grow anything.”

  “Okay. It won’t seem so silly when I explain. Imagine a big vehicle powered by an engine. On the front of the vehicle they’ve fastened a large curved blade that can be raised or lowered and is angled to the side. Now start it moving with the blade lowered to the ground. As it moves, what happens to the snow? It gets pushed to the side, clearing a lane. They also have large ones shaped like a V on its side with the pointy end forward. When it moves, it pushes the snow to either side. That’s a snow plow.”