by Karen Kirst
Gracie fisted her hand around a piece of toast and tossed it across the table.
“No, no,” Sterling admonished. “No throwing.”
Heather quickly retrieved the toast. “She doesn’t understand. She’s just having fun.”
“I know. But she can’t be tossing food across the table when she’s grown.”
“But she’s not grown.”
“She’s got to learn sometime, right?”
“Mmm-hmm.” The terse reply vibrated from between Heather’s clenched lips.
Sterling pressed his fingers against his eyes. He didn’t want to push Heather away, but at the same time, he’d accepted the role of father to Gracie. No matter how hard Heather tried to segregate them by keeping her distance in the house, there were two parents living here.
Leery of wading into the subject just yet, he searched for a more innocuous comment. “I’m glad you like Otto. He’s been with us since I was born.”
“Dillon told me. He said Otto was like a father to you both.”
Sterling’s heart stuttered. He hadn’t gotten around to writing his brother. He’d requested Dillon return home by telegram, and hadn’t heard back, which wasn’t unusual. Oftentimes Dillon’s work in the field kept him away from civilization for lengthy periods of time. Sterling had considered sending another telegram informing his brother there was no need for his return anymore, but then discarded the idea. There was no use hiding from whatever storm was coming his way.
The previous evening, Sterling had stared at the ceiling, his fingers threaded behind his head, replaying his last conversation with his brother. Dillon had never once mentioned his feelings for Heather. Even when he’d left for the cavalry. At the time Sterling had considered the silence a sign of indifference.
A part of him suspected Dillon had come calling on Heather to needle their pa, except he wasn’t confident enough in his assessment to ask his brother outright. Though Sterling suspected this hasty marriage was built on unsteady footing, he was here now. They were husband and wife, for better or worse, and there was no point in bringing up the past.
“The Blackwell Ranch wouldn’t be the same without Otto,” Sterling said. “He’s been here since the beginning.”
“Dillon said Otto was a widower. Does he have any children?”
“He had a daughter. She lived with an aunt back East.”
“Had? What happened to her?”
“She died.”
“Oh my, that’s terrible. How?”
“I don’t know. It never came up.”
Never once had it occurred to him to ask Otto what had happened to his daughter. He’d taken a month off work and upon his return, Otto had avoided the subject. And Sterling hadn’t pried. Dead was dead, no matter how it happened.
“Did you ever meet her?” Heather asked, her pale blue eyes curious.
Sterling narrowed his gaze. Was this some sort of test? Afraid of saying the wrong thing, he settled on, “She spent a couple of summers here as a kid before she died.”
He had vague recollections of a lanky, serious girl who rarely strayed from the comfort of the house. He and Dillon had taken her fishing once, but she’d been frightened of the water and disgusted by the worms squirming on the line.
“She was a city girl,” he added.
“How sad for Otto. He’s lost everything, and yet he always seems so cheerful.”
“I guess.” He’d never thought about Otto’s demeanor one way or the other. Everyone lost people. They all wound up orphans eventually. Some folks just became orphans sooner than others.
“Does he ever talk about her or his wife?” Heather asked.
“Not that I know of.”
Should he ask Otto about his losses? Bringing up the subject felt wrong and intrusive after all this time. Though with the turnover in cattle hands, there wasn’t anyone else to ask. If Dillon ever returned, he’d ask his brother if he recalled more of Otto’s past. Then again, the man had been working for the Blackwells for twenty years—what did his past beyond that matter?
Sterling sliced through the stack of flapjacks with a knife, cutting them into smaller bites. “Ranch hands don’t talk much about personal matters.”
“What do you talk about?”
He dragged a forkful of flapjacks through a pool of syrup. “We mostly talk about the weather or the animals or things that need to be done around the ranch.”
Gracie spilled her cup of milk, distracting Heather, and Sterling physically backed away from the table. He wanted to forge a relationship, not delve into such personal subjects. When he thought about losing his parents, his chest grew heavy and his breathing became difficult. Talking about those sorts of things only made the feelings worse. There had to be middle ground somewhere.
He gathered his empty plate and flatware and placed them in the sink.
“I’ll wash those,” Heather said. “And the laundry. It’s laundry day tomorrow, if you have anything you need washed.”
He had plenty of dirty clothes. If he presented her with the pile that had built up in the corner, she’d probably run screaming into the hills.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Uh. Nothing.” He wiped the smile from his face. “I’ll take my laundry into town. Just until you get settled.”
He didn’t want to break the unwritten rule in which they each stayed in their half of the house. His laundry was on the wrong side of the separation.
He had his hand on the door when she stopped him.
“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Gracie?”
“Oh. Yeah. Sure.”
He returned to the table and gave the child an awkward pat on the head.
“Me gra!” Gracie declared.
She reached out a hand and smeared jam on his coat. Sterling grimaced. He didn’t mind the stain, but he was moving the sheep to the north pasture this morning, and he didn’t want them nibbling on his coat.
He dabbed at the spot with a towel. As he turned, he caught a sorrowful expression on Heather’s face. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She flashed an overly bright smile. “Don’t forget to tell Otto about our trip to town.”
“I won’t.”
He stepped out the back door and rolled his shoulders. The meal had been more awkward than he’d expected. He scratched his chin and adjusted his hat. Getting to know someone was a lot more complicated than it should be.
Heather had gotten stuck with him. That was how she treated their relationship, as though she was making the best of a bad situation.
He wanted to be something more to her, and to Gracie. He didn’t want to be the man they’d gotten stuck with. The man they tolerated when circumstances forced them together.
With her brilliant, sunset-red hair and eyes the color of a precious stone, she was something other than beautiful. She was smart and determined and intriguing.
A stab of annoyance pierced him. She was also completely indifferent to him.
She was determined to safeguard Gracie, and her protectiveness was a sentiment he understood. But how did he convince Heather that she needn’t protect the child from him?
CHAPTER FIVE
Heather tucked the blanket tighter around Gracie and adjusted her seat on the buckboard. “Thank you for the ride.”
The air was sharp and the sky was winter gray. The calendar had flipped to November, and the weather had changed as though following a schedule. Despite the temperature drop, though, they’d yet to have a significant snow. Mostly the winters in Valentine were frigid and dry, but the occasional blizzard swept over the mountains and blanketed the foothills with snow. She hadn’t considered being snowed in this far from town. She’d best stock the pantry for such an event. Perhaps she’d purchase a few bolts of fabric
to pass the time sewing if they were trapped and couldn’t get to town.
Otto tipped his hat. “Happy to oblige. It’s a good day for the trip. Tomorrow we won’t be as fortunate. I smell snow in the air.”
Heather wrinkled her nose and inhaled. “I don’t smell anything.”
“You can, you know. You can smell it coming. You mark my words, we’ll have a foot of snow tomorrow.”
“A whole foot?” Heather laughed.
“Well, five or six inches of the white stuff at least. You don’t mind the winter weather, do you? Ranch life is not a life for someone who is afraid of a little weather now and again.”
“The first snow is always my favorite.” She shivered. “It’s always so drab this time of year. I love when the snow catches on the branches.”
“We have Gracie along to brighten the day.” The foreman grinned at the child. “She’s as fresh as a new layer of snow.”
His attention to the child tugged at Heather’s heart. At least Otto enjoyed Gracie. Sterling was harder to read. She desperately wanted him to love Gracie, which meant presenting the child at her best when he was around. Gracie was a delight, but she was also stubborn and headstrong. Sterling had felt sorry for them, and she didn’t want him to regret his decision to take them on.
Gracie poked out a mittened hand. “Hoss!”
She sat between them with her legs jutting out, her heels kicking the seat.
“Yes. That’s a horse.”
“Hoss!”
Heather wanted everything to be perfect for Gracie. If Sterling resented the child, he’d treat her differently. She knew what it was like to be unwanted, and she didn’t want Gracie to feel the same way. They’d only been living together a week, and she was trying to keep Gracie out from underfoot while he adjusted to the change.
Her aunt and uncle had been unpredictable in temperament. Sometimes they were quiet and distant, and sometimes their fiery tempers had left her shaken and scared. They were good people at heart, and she understood their resentment. Finances were strained for everyone after the war, and they were burdened with another child to raise.
They must have liked each other at one time in their lives. As a child, she tried to imagine them courting and falling in love, and always came up empty. Whatever affection they’d had in the beginning had long since died by the time Heather had arrived in the household. They’d only shown fondness toward their own children. What little affection they’d displayed had been carefully doled out to her cousins. There wasn’t anything left for an interloper.
Things were going to be different between her and Sterling. She was bound and determined to nurture a cordial friendship based on mutual respect, rather than starting out madly in love and dissolving into bitter resentment along the way.
In order for her plan to work, though, he had to develop some patience with Gracie. He had to learn to live with a little jam on his coat. She didn’t know why he’d been concerned, considering he wasn’t exactly fastidious in his living conditions. She’d taken a peek inside his room and seen the chaos. Given the mound of laundry he’d piled in the corner, she’d have been at the washtub all day if he hadn’t insisted on taking his laundry into town.
As they journeyed on, she pushed her misgivings aside. He’d grow to love the child. How could he not? Gracie had been through enough upheaval. She deserved a serene family life, and Heather was determined to provide that ideal.
“Yee hah!” Otto called to the horses, flicking the reins over their backs.
“Hee yah!” Gracie echoed.
Otto spent the rest of the ride regaling her with stories of Dillon and Sterling when they were boys. The laughter chased away her gloomy thoughts, and the ride passed quickly. When Gracie fussed, he produced a horse he’d carved and polished from a length of wood. By the time they reached town, Heather’s mood had improved considerably.
She savored the sight of the town nestled in the foothills, the mountains forming a snowcapped background in the distance. Despite the population explosion of the gold rush, the town’s grid had been carefully planned. The streets intersected each other in neat squares, and the roads were wide and well-kept. There were several cafés, an opera house, a town square and even a government building with stone columns.
The air was fresh and clear, and she inhaled deeply. In Pittsburgh, the steel mills had pumped thick gray smoke into the sky. Greasy black soot blanketed the city. Once her uncle had left a glass on the stoop overnight, and by morning the coating had turned the towel used to wash it muddy. The houses in their Pittsburgh neighborhood were sandwiched together such that she could practically stretch her arm through the kitchen window and shake hands with their neighbor.
In Montana, everything was spacious and the sky was clear. A train whistle blew in the distance, and she caught sight of the plume of steam trailing behind the locomotive. In four short years, the town of Valentine felt more like home than Pittsburgh ever had. Though she’d always be a bit of an outsider, she had plenty of former students who remembered her fondly.
“Choo choo,” Gracie pointed her mittened hand. “Choo choo.”
“Yes. That’s a train.”
Otto pulled up before the general store and set the brake. His gaze flicked toward the store and back again. He opened his mouth as though to speak, then clamped his lips shut. Heather had yet to see the foreman at a loss for words, and her brow wrinkled.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, her concern growing. Only moments before they’d been laughing and joking.
“I shouldn’t say.” He gathered the reins and looped them around the hand break. “It’s not my place.”
“You shouldn’t say what?”
“It’s ranch business, and I’m just the foreman. I shouldn’t be giving advice.”
“You’re not just a foreman.” Heather swiveled in her seat and placed her hand on Otto’s shoulder. “Sterling thinks of you as a friend. He values your advice, and so do I.”
Otto squinted into the distance. “I don’t know what you need at the store, but it would be best if you didn’t spend too much.”
“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “All right.”
Of all the things she’d expected him to say, that hadn’t been on the list.
“Sterling wouldn’t want me saying this, but I know you want what’s best for him. The ranch isn’t doing too well.”
“I didn’t realize…”
Why hadn’t Sterling said anything? But all of a sudden tidbits of conversation she’d heard came rushing back. Even she’d been privy to the rumors, and she rarely caught the latest gossip. There’d been whispers about Mr. Blackwell over the past year. His visits to town had become fewer and fewer. Folks assumed his health was failing. Nels from the depot had spotted a fancy doctor from back East visiting once or twice. Mr. Blackwell had sold off most of the cattle and taken his crew down to half, then six months before, he’d let the rest go. Everyone thought he was cutting back because of his illness. There’d been no indication his finances had been failing.
“Sterling’s pa made some bad investments.” Otto scratched his temple near the edge of his gray hairline. “He never recovered his losses. The ranch has been losing money. The cattle business isn’t what it used to be. We made most of our sales to the army, and business has dried up since the Indian Wars are mostly done. They put all those Indians on the reservation, and I guess they don’t need nearly as much beef as they did before. The cattle business has moved.”
“But what about the sheep? I thought that’s why Sterling was experimenting with wool.”
If the situation was that dire, how had he afforded the investment? She tugged her lower lip between her teeth. Perhaps the new business venture had been a last-ditch effort.
Otto slapped his knees. “Now I’d never question the boss about anything, but I�
�ve never seen sheep do well in this part of the country. I appreciate that he’s trying to fix his old man’s mistakes, but I’m afraid he’s only making more.”
Heather fiddled with the empty tip of her glove beyond her index finger. Since she’d grown up in Pittsburgh, she didn’t know much about cattle or sheep. The industries surrounding their neighborhood had been steel and textiles. Enormous factory compounds that were like small cities all on their own.
Her first exposure to the countryside had come during her travels to Montana. She’d seen plenty of cattle and sheep on her train ride across the country four years ago. Surely Sterling knew what he was doing. He was smart and capable, and she trusted his decisions.
“Isn’t there anything else he can do?” she asked. “Another way to earn a profit alongside the cattle and sheep?”
“He needs to sell the land while he can still make a profit.” Otto set his jaw. “But he’s just too stubborn. He’s too much like his pa. That’s the one thing all those Blackwell boys have in common. They’ve got too much pride. Ah, well. I ought to cut him some slack. He doesn’t want to fail where his pa succeeded. I suppose it doesn’t matter much either way if you’re starving. If Sterling doesn’t make a decision soon, he’ll lose everything. He’ll lose the house and land too.”
His earnest words penetrated Heather’s doubt. “I had no idea.”
The late Mr. Blackwell’s illness must have taken a toll on the finances, as well. All this time she’d considered the Blackwell house on the hill as the pinnacle of success. Nothing bad could happen if there was smoke piping from the chimney and cattle in the pasture.
How naive she’d been. Nothing was certain in life. Near as she could tell, success was always ebbing and flowing like the tide. There was no guarantee of anything in this life save for the grace of God, and that was neither earned nor deserved. Each person, rich or poor, was born with the same amount of grace, and each person died with that same grace. Martyr or sinner, they were all kept equal and threaded together by that one fact.
Otto patted Gracie’s wool cap, his expression earnest. “I didn’t mean to upset you, but I think you can help Sterling make the right decision. He’s got a family now, and he needs to take care of you and Gracie first, even if it hurts his pride.”
