An Unescorted Lady

by Rita Hestand

  He mailed his letter and left the fort.

  He knew he should be catching up to the herd soon and he also knew that after the Red, they crossed over to the Chisholm trail, so he found the trail and saw the dust kicking up. He knew he was almost there.

  The next day he caught up to them and they were glad to see him. He found George pushing some steers out of the brush.

  "Hey, good to see ya. How'd it go?" George asked as he spotted him and rode up to him.

  "It went well. I've got a lot to tell you, later. How's the trip been so far?"

  "Not too much trouble, had a squabble with a rancher near the Red, he didn't want us on his land. But we had to cross to the Chisholm anyway, so it turned out okay."

  "Any other trouble?"

  "No, ran into a Sheriff hunting some outlaws, he questioned us all, and let us go on our way."

  "Good, I think I met him. Not a friendly sort."

  "No, we wasn't." George agreed.

  "Who's on point?"

  "Joe, got the greenhorns on drag."

  "How's the weather holding?"

  "Ran into a bad storm just after crossing the Red and we nearly had a stampede on our hands, but the lightning finally settled down."

  "Well, if you don't mind, I’m gonna see if Cookie's got anything good in that chuck wagon, and I'll be right back."

  "Good, you can relieve me when your done, then." George told him.

  "Will do." Lance waved him bye and went to find the chuck wagon.

  Cookie was an older man, who'd cook for the outfits for some years. He was onry as a wild boar, but he was a good cook.

  "Well, you finally decided to join us," Cookie cast him a big frown.

  "Yeah, and I'm hungry, got anything I can chow down on?"

  "Hop on the back, get you plate of beans and cornbread, in the back in the pot." Cookie told him.

  "Thanks, Cookie."

  After eating his fill of beans and cornbread, followed with some water, he relieved George.

  Lance sighed, it was good to be on the trail, and it looked like things were going pretty smoothly. He ran into Gil and he told him that Rusty was handling the remuda pretty well and he looked as though he'd work out.

  Lance smiled, "Good. Any problems?"

  "Not so far." Gil chuckled.

  "That's good to know." Lance smiled.

  "Glad you caught up." Gil chuckled.

  "Me too. Say the Red was sure low when I came through."

  "Yeah, they've already had a drought. That storm helped some, not enough rain in it though. Mostly lightning. Sure, spooked the herd."

  "Who's scouting ahead?"

  "Bill was, then Sam took over. Sam's been through here during droughts we thought maybe he could find us some waterin' holes."

  "That's a good idea. Sam is good at that."

  "How was Boston?" he asked.

  "Too modern for me," Lance laughed.

  "Modern?"

  "Trolley cars, gas street lights, bicycles and all kinds of contraptions. I felt down right naked without my horse."

  Gil laughed. "Must have been some trip."

  "I'll tell you all about it, later." Lance promised.

  "Lookin' forward to it, boss."

  Chapter Nineteen

  With Lance gone, Trudy wanted to get out and visit with some neighbors, so after making a roast, she set it aside and asked Chico if he'd go with her over to see Helen.

  "Si," Chico smiled.

  He got the wagon ready and drove her over.

  When they got there, he helped her down and while she went inside, he went to talk to one of the boys that was left to manage the ranch while his Pa and brothers were with the herd.

  Michael was seventeen, and he'd been raised taking care of his father's place. He knew every inch of the place and was quite capable, but then all the Mitchell boys were like that, well raised.

  Chico enjoyed his company.

  Helen was working on a quilt when Trudy walked in.

  "Come on in, girl. Good to see you. Sit down and pick up a needle, I could use some help. This is a quilt I been working on, and I'm giving it to you as a wedding present."

  Trudy's mouth flew open, "Me? Oh, it's lovely. But you don't have to."

  "'Course I do, your new to the community too, and I want to give you a wedding ring quilt."

  "Is that what this is?" Trudy smiled.

  "Yes, do you like it?"

  "Oh, my yes, it's beautiful." Trudy touched the intricate seems in the quilt.

  "I'm almost done with it. If you can stay a while, I'll send it home with you."

  "I'd be glad to. I've never seen anything so fancy in all my life."

  "I thought you came from one of those well-to-do families up north." Helen chuckled.

  "Helen, there are some thing you don't know… " Trudy began relating her story of how she came to be Mrs. Rogers.

  "St. Louis huh? And you was supposed to be their cook?"

  "Yeah, you see, I was wearing that lace dress, well, I bought it thinking I could impress my new boss." She told her.

  "Well, it looks like you did a little more than impress him, honey. Land sakes, if that don't beat all. And I can tell you are crazy about him." Helen chuckled. "So, what did he do about the other lady, the one he was supposed to marry?"

  "He's gone now to talk to her."

  "To Boston?"

  "Yeah, I kind of insisted that he meet up with her and straighten things out. I wouldn't want her being upset and all. He needs to talk to her."

  "Ain't you takin' a real chance by letting him go?"

  "I don't think so, Helen, because if he does find out he cares for her and wants to change things, I've promised to not stand in his way of it."

  "Oh, now don't be hasty honey. I like you, you seem so down to earth." Helen chuckled.

  "I am down to earth Helen, I come form a poor Irish family that was practically thrown out of New York, just for being Irish. My mother and I scrubbed floors; my father was a seaman."

  Helen stopped her sewing and stared at her, a smile breaking over her face, she touched her hand. "There's no shame in bein' poor honey. My father was a dirt farmer."

  "Really, but this place is so well taken care of, and really beautiful."

  "Shore it is honey, we worked our fingers to the bone for this place. My daddy hated Marty; said he'd never amount to a hill of beans. But he didn't know that it was him that spurred us on, to be better than that. Listen, everyone out here has a story to tell. I was treated like a boy all my life until Marty came along. I challenged him at every turn, trying to out do him. When I couldn't and felt so lost, he picked me up out of the dirt and kissed me like a real lady. From that day on, we ain't been apart."

  Trudy chuckled.

  "Lance is in love with you girl. You got a good one. I'm glad he made the mistake and married you. Why, I told Marty that gal he was writing too sounded like a rich little witch? Why, she would never fit in out here. Out here we work for what we get. Ain't not maids and servants around here. You'll do just fine. Now tell me, what do you think of Lance?"

  Trudy blushed. "I'm in love with him, crazy in love with him."

  Helen grinned, "I thought so. He's a good man, I can vouch for that. My Marty was working on an old well we had on the property, he was going to board it up and fix it so no one would hurt themselves. Well, some of the wood was rotten, he leaned into it to try to fix it, and it gave way and he fell in. It was the next day I found him, but I couldn't get him out, myself. So, I hightailed it over to Lance's and told him. Him and his boys came running. It took all that next day, but they got him out and all that was wrong with him was a broken leg. If Lance and his men hadn't come, I don't reckon my Marty would be here today."

  "I guess living out here, you have to depend on your neighbors a lot."

  "Things like that happen all the time. People are good about helping out as much as they can. Well, all except ole Weamer."

  "Weamer?"

  "Yeah,
he's an old hermit, lives about ten miles down the road. He ain't good for nothing. Keeps to himself, don't socialize and I doubt he'd ever lend a hand."

  "Back home, where I come from, everyone kind of goes their own way, not as neighborly as out here." Trudy told her.

  "I guess big cities ain't the same. Too many strangers there."

  "If you weren't born there, your sort of an outsider. Being Irish wasn't popular where I was born, in New York."

  "Irish, well you don't look any different than anyone else, how come?"

  "Many of the Irish were indentured slaves in New York, owing their livelihoods to the British and then to the Americans, that brought a lot of them over here."

  "Do tell. Sounds like you had a rough life."

  "Not me, but my folks did. I guess maybe I would have if they hadn't been so good to me. I had a happy childhood, just poor."

  "Ain't nothing wrong with bein' poor." Helen patted her hand.

  "No, but coming out here, and then after marrying Lance, I figured he'd think I was scheming to get his money."

  Helen raised a hand and waved it off, "If he'd have thought that, he would have sent you packing. So, what do you think is gonna happen when he gets to Boston?"

  Trudy fidgeted a bit, "I don't know. I only hope it goes well, and he comes back to me."

  "Have you consummated the marriage?" Helen asked, giving her a look over her spectacles.

  "Yes ma'am," she looked away with a blush. "I couldn't help it. I missed him before he even left."

  "Ain't no shame in lovin' your man. And he's yours, I'd bet my last dollar on that one."

  "But what if she's beautiful and he decides we were a mistake?"

  "If Lance took you, it was because he wanted you. And he ain't flighty like some men I know. No girl, he's roped, and hog tied you."

  Trudy chuckled. "I hope so."

  "I'm glad you got feelings for him. He needs a good woman. A woman that will work beside him. Out here, that's important." Helen assured her. "I know I keep saying that, but it's the truth. Ranchin' and farmin' are the too hardest jobs out in the west. Women have to do a lot too, plus havin' babies and cookin' and cleanin'."

  Helen finished the last stitch, surveyed her work and laid it down once more. "It's done now. And you'll be taking it home with you."

  "Will you have a quilting this Friday?"

  "Oh sure, and you be sure and bring along your scissors, threads and any pieces of scrap material you got." Helen told her. "I'm gonna keep you so busy while Lance is gone, you won't have time to miss him."

  "That will take some doing." Trudy laughed.

  As they went into the kitchen Helen turned to look at her, "Now, how about this cooking, can you teach me to make a chicken fried steak?"

  "Sure," Trudy looked around her kitchen saw the big iron skillet and smiled. "We'll need flour, egg and milk, and you can peel the potatoes for mashed potatoes and gravy." Trudy chuckled.

  "Wish Marty would be here to enjoy it, but I suppose Chico, and Michael can tell him all about it."

  Trudy showed her how to prepare the meat and got the stove heated up. When the potatoes were almost done, Trudy showed her how to put the steak in the hot bacon grease. She took some homemade canned beans out of her pantry and then got a bowl for biscuits. In an hour they had a meal fit for a king and Chico and Marty were anxious to dive right into it.

  "I never tasted better speckled gravy than this," Michael bragged.

  "Your Ma made it," Trudy blurted.

  Helen beamed, as Trudy had taught her how to make it so smooth and what to season with.

  When her and Chico got ready to leave Helen grabbed her and hugged her. "Honey, your gonna make Lance a fine wife, I can see that now. Thanks for all you taught me today, I'll remember it."

  "Don't worry, we'll practice a couple times a weak if you like. We'll have you rolling out the best of meals when he comes home."

  Helen chuckled. "See you Friday then."

  They waved them goodbye.

  "You like her don't you Ma?" Michael asked.

  "Sure do, son. Why, did you see the calluses on that gal's hands. That woman knows how to work. She'll be good for Lance, in more ways than one."

  "You think I'll ever get married Ma?"

  Helen turned to look at her son, a sad smile spreading across her face. "Well now, I know you been sparkin' that Sally Hodge girl for some time. I figure it won't be long you'll be asking her to the dances and then askin' her to marry."

  "I just kissed her on the cheek, Ma."

  "I know that son. That's the first step. It'll come, she's a fine young girl."

  "You know Uncle Avery is about to ask Mary Jones to marry. And Bob, he's got his eye on that Wilma Caruthers. And Jesse, all the girls like Jesse, since he plays the fiddle at all the dances."

  "I know, he's got musical talent." His mother affirmed.

  "Does it upset you Ma?"

  "Nah, I want some girls around here. It'll make Christmas that much nicer. And I'll be glad to rock my grandbabies too."

  Michael leaned to kiss his Ma's cheek. "I love you Ma."

  She chuckled and they walked arm in arm back inside.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lance hoped Trudy got his first letter. He missed her so badly, he took the picture of them out of his pocket every night, kissed it, and went to sleep dreaming about their future together.

  The boys had gotten a real kick out of his story of Boston and the girls. He knew he'd take a ribbing from them for a while, but if it kept them happy and the herd moving along, he didn't mind.

  George was shaking his head a few days later when he rode up to Lance. "I can't believe you got snookered by two young girls like that."

  Lance chuckled, "Well hell, George, they were good writers. What can I say?"

  "You didn't tell their folks what they'd done?"

  "Naw, no use stirring up trouble. Actually, I was kind of relieved myself."

  "Relieved, for being made a fool of?"

  "George, I was expecting a woman, Priscilla to go into a tirade for marrying someone else. I was glad there was no grown up Pricilla to face. Last thing I wanted was to listen to some wailing female."

  "Oh yeah, I see your point."

  "What would you have done if she was beautiful and crying, and hurt?"

  "I'd have been very uncomfortable. I got the right lady, George. That much I'm sure of. But I gotta admit going to Boston took more nerve than a stampeded herd."

  "You didn't have a clue about those girls?"

  Lance studied on it a moment, "Only that in her earlier letters she said her Mom died. Then she turned around and said her Mom was sick. That worried me some, yeah. But I figured it was just a lie, to cover up the real reason she hadn't come out here when she said she would."

  "Then there was no other man, huh?" George laughed at him.

  "No. Their parents wouldn't let them be courted. I guess they were pretty strict on them. They were good girls, just bored and wanting some kind of entertainment. It turned out; I was just that."

  "Well, I'm glad I’m past the age of female problems." George chuckled.

  Lance slanted him a glance, "Oh yeah, what about Judith?"

  "Judith? The lady that runs the General store in Smithville. What about her?" George frowned.

  "She's been sweet on you for years and you won't give her the time of day. You go over there just to see her; I know that much for fact. Too bad you haven't told her how you really feel."

  "Aw, we're just friends." George blushed.

  "You want me to tell her that?" Lance raised a brow, as he steered his horse away from the dust.

  "Hell no, our bickering is like some men's courting."

  "Un-huh, you better watch out, you just might get caught one of these days, yourself." Lance chuckled and rode off to keep from hearing George's tirade of excuses.

  But along about noon, one of the boys got thrown off his horse by a rattlesnake that he stumbled onto. He'd been chasing
some steers out of a dry wash. One of the other men saw his horse throw him and headed that direction to check on him. He was bit and the boys carried him quickly to the chuck wagon. It was all the boys could do to protect Willis and keep the cattle calm at the same time.

  Cookie saw the problem right away, as they carried him to the wagon. Cookie had some old Indian treatment for it, and he didn't hesitate to cut the affected area out, then clean it.

  The boy was unconscious, and he left him in the wagon after putting some kind of poultice on his leg.

  "Tell the bosses he'll be out for a few days." Cookie told them.

  "He gonna be alright?" one of the boys asked.

  "He will be, gotta keep him still, the poultice will draw the poison out, but it will take a couple of days." Cookie told them. "He ain't gonna be worth nothin' to the herd for a while, so find someone to take his place."

  One of them rode out to tell Lance, Marty and Joe.

  That night Rusty played his harmonica around the campfire after supper, he was playing some sad songs and Lance nudged his boot, "Play something happy son. This ain't a funeral."

  Rusty nodded.

  The next day they had a visit from a Shoshone tribe wanting to trade for a couple of beefs. These were renegades who refused to stay on the reservation, and they looked hungry. Still, they approached with hopes of getting some whiskey. Lance shook his head, "No whiskey!"

  The Indians weren't happy to hear that, but they persisted in their demands for beef.

  Marty shook his head, "We can't start feeding every one of those Indians."

  "Two steers, that's all they want, and they'll leave us alone. It's worth it to me, cut them out of our herd boys." Lance told his crew.

  "It's not a good thing. They're liable to be back."

  "There's two herds behind us, they'll catch them next. Besides, I like to keep my scalp and I want to get home to that pretty wife of mine." Lance chuckled. "With my scalp intact, thank you."

  Marty shook his head with disgust. "Oh, alright, but it's agin my nature to give in to Indians."