JP approached his aunt in the main parlor, remarkably like her, well presented, but rather stern, a little too formal, yet for all of that still sturdy. On occasion, he wanted to shake her loose from her strict nature, never relenting, and holding fast to a considered opinion until hell froze over. He detested the mulish expression she wore, all tightlipped, and with a frown on her brow. Stubborn, that’s what she was, plain mule-headed. “Aunt Maude, I plan to take Elizabeth up to the line-camp tomorrow. Show her around the ranch. That will take her off your hands for a while.”
“It ain’t decent to be riding off with her alone,” Maude declared with a sniff.
He tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “We won’t be alone. Amy will be with us. And like I told you, I set a couple of the hands rounding up the doggies left behind by the rustlers. I’m riding around to check on the progress.”
She pushed out of her favorite overstuffed chair. “Then, I’ll tell cook to fix a packed lunch ready to take with you. Amy needs nourishment.”
He chortled and gave her a hug. “That’s my favorite aunt. Thank you for all of your hard work.”
“I’m your only aunt. You don’t have any others.” She waved her hands. “Away with you then, you scoundrel. There’s no talking to you when your mind’s made up.”
The next morning started out crisp for a fall day in Texas. Elizabeth mounted a sweet little piebald mare and followed JP. She’d looked forward to this day with great anticipation. Even the weather decided to cooperate, cool and clear. Riding along with JP should have been a day to cherish, to remember with fondness, but a moment of doubt seized her. If she could consider herself a welcomed guest and less of an encumbrance, a duty, an assumed burden to him, the ride would be delightful. Still, there was nothing she could do about it, a truly oh well moment. She pushed all of her negative anxieties aside.
The divided skirt and boots along with a light jacket grudgingly arranged by Maude Honeycutt certainly served the purpose. Being appropriately dressed for the occasion, made a great deal of difference to her comfort, and Elizabeth was grateful. Amy rode by her side clutching the pommel until her knuckles were white while sitting gingerly atop a sturdy pony.
Elizabeth studied Amy for a moment. “Are you all right?”
“Yep.” Amy ducked her head. “I mean, yes, ma’am.”
Elizabeth heard the tremble in the young girl’s voice and rode a little closer.
JP dropped back and smiled at Amy. “How are you making it, lambkin?”
Amy cocked her eyes up at him. “I’m good.” She studied his face for a few seconds. “You’re seeing about me.” She hesitated, her expression tense, yet hopeful. “Does that mean I belong to you now?”
With a tender smile, he winked at her. His saddle leather squeaked when he leaned toward her. “Naturally, you’re mine. Don’t you want to belong to me?”
She nodded with a shy smile of her own.
He chuckled. “Great. We belong together.”
The exchange melted a small spot in Elizabeth’s heart. How could it not? Being a man of honor, integrity, and wealth, he still had time and a place in his heart for an orphan girl. Not merely lip service, but genuine caring.
Amy peeked up at him. “Does Miss Campbell belong to you, too?”
He roared with laughter. “It’s not quite the same. She’s a grown-up lady with a mind of her own.”
“But she lives in your house. All the others staying there belong to you, don’t they?”
“You could say that.” Amusement lingered in his eyes. “Let’s say she’s under my protection.”
Amy giggled. “Then she’s yours.”
With a wry smile, he said, “There’s no arguing with that. I suppose I do claim her.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed all the way to the roots of her hair. Why did he say things like that? Did he want to disconcert her, to make her aware of him more than ever, to grab her interest, and to have full attention on him? She didn’t want to admit she did want to belong to him in every sense of the word. If only she could.
Drawn to him despite her efforts to stand aloft, she observed him riding as if one with the horse. He rode with complete confidence in his ability which stirred her admiration. To take her mind off of his grace in the saddle, she quickly asked, “Where did you say we are headed?”
“We’re rounding up the doggies left by the rustlers.”
“Doggies?” Amy chimed. “What’s that?”
“Motherless calves. The youngest will be unable to manage as orphans and will need to be brought to the ranch. We bottle-feed them. We’ll round up the older ones, doctor and brand ’em and leave ’em with the herd.”
With a shocked expression, Amy gasped. “Alone? Without a papa?”
He quirked one corner of his mouth upward and leaned forward to send a glance at her. “No, not alone. Some of the calves will find their mothers but others will drift with the main herd. They’ll be fine. The cattle are critters, not children.”
Amy scoffed. “Course they ain’t children. Your house would run over with so many.”
Elizabeth adjusted her hat to hide her slight smile. It was good to know someone else held a like opinion of JP, kind, caring for the young and innocent.
Up ahead, thin clouds of dust filled the area. Bawling cattle crowded out other sounds. The thunder of running animals, pounding the ground enough to make it tremble, added to the turmoil of the scene.
“We’re nearly at the holding pens. You two stay put on your horses. You’ll be able to see the action from up there.”
Smoke from a small fire at the side of the holding pen curled into the pine tree limbs shading the place. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of heating irons, burning wood smoke and dust.
Driven by cowhands, she listened to the cattle bawling and watched as dust plumbed beneath the shuffling hooves of cattle and horses alike. As the critters drew closer, the sounds became deafening, finally settling to a more acceptable level after the cattle were herded into the main pen for separation.
Elizabeth darted a glance here, there, and in every direction trying to view everything at once. Young calves were shoved into a small pen while the older ones were roped, dropped to the ground and tied. Those without brands received the Rocking H symbol on their flanks and had a thick swab of yellow salve applied to the brand. She held her nose at the stink.
Perspiration trickled between her shoulders and dewed her forehead. She blew out a breath and wiped her face with her neck scarf. The riders were in worst shape with shirts plastered to their backs as they wrestled steers to the ground and roped others to drag from one pen to another. Shouts rang out above the bawling din of the animals. Intrigued at the amount of effort necessary to work the cattle, Elizabeth watched in awe. JP stood on the fence above the fray for a while, but before long, he climbed down into the thick of the activities.
Finally, he headed in her direction wiping his brow with one shirted forearm. He adjusted his Stetson and grinned at her. “Hot work. Are you two comfortable?”
Elizabeth nodded. “It’s overly warm, but we’re fine. Aren’t we, Amy?”
Instead of answering, Amy scooted off of her pony and raced to the holding pen. Reaching through the rails to pet a golden Labrador’s nose, she peeked up at JP. “Look. He likes me. He’s licking my fingers.”
“Duke is a cow dog, trained to work cattle,” JP admonished. “He’s not a pet.”
Amy glanced over her shoulder. “But he likes me. He looks like a pet and his fur is fluffy like one too.”
“Just don’t set your heart on him being around to play with you,” JP warned. “He has a job to do.”
“Aw, shucks.” Amy stroked the dog’s head.
He turned back to Elizabeth. “I stopped for a shot of water. Would either of you like
a drink?”
Elizabeth nodded, noting how his shirt clung to his body like a well-worn glove.
“I’d like to stand on the fence for a closer look. Do you think we could?”
He glanced back at the riders and grinned. “I reckon you’ll be a distraction from the work. It isn’t often we have a female at the holding pens, let alone two. But come on for a closer look.” He helped Elizabeth to dismount, holding her arm as they approached the enclosures. “I’ll bring you some water.”
Taking a position on the bottom rung, Elizabeth placed her arms across the top rail. “I can certainly see more from here, but the dust is much worse.”
Amy climbed all the way up to the top. “This is great.” From her perch on the fence, she spotted a buggy approaching the activities from the right of the pens. “The Landows are coming.”
Elizabeth’s high spirits sunk. She hoped she banished the disappointment from her voice. “Visitors. Rupert and Valeria, I believe.”
Amy piped up and said, “Miss Maude says you’re sweet on Valeria.” She twisted around to look at JP. “Are you?”
Elizabeth’s ears perked up. She wanted an answer to that question as well.
JP raised his brows and drawled, “I do declare you have some strange notions about me. I disputed that assumption a few days ago.”
“I thought you fancied her.”
Elizabeth would have sighed with relief, but she couldn’t take his answer for the whole truth.
“Of course I like her. Why ever not?”
“As in courting?” Amy couldn’t keep the note of query from her tone, or her envy.
He laughed. “When the wedding bells start to chime, the whole of Bittersweep will hear.” He slapped the top rail and started toward the visitors.
“I suspect she hears them in her dreams,” Amy said wistfully.
“She wants to be shed of Bittersweep,” he said over his shoulder. “You heard her say so.”
Amy giggled.
Did Elizabeth hear a thread of regret, or wistfulness in his reply? He strolled toward the visitors at a leisurely pace, not depicting a man in a hurry or a man hesitant in his welcome. His posture told her nothing. Drat it. Still, he had proposed marriage to her, not Valeria.
Rupert shook JP’s hand. “Well, well. Business as usual I see.”
JP helped Valeria down and shrugged. “Work must go on.”
“How about placing some of the money from the cattle sale into the bank?” Rupert suggested. “The community could certainly use the funds.”
In consideration for Rupert’s limp, JP paced forward a little slower. “I’d love to oblige you, but not at this moment. The hole in the wall hasn’t even been repaired yet.”
With his eyes wide and scornful, Rupert sneered, “Pray tell, are you going to hide it under your mattress? A fool thing to do,” he grumbled. “I’ll have the repairs done as soon as I return. I’m going to Houston in order to procure a loan to tie us over.”
JP raised his brows. “Do you hold out much hope for that to happen?”
“Tolerable, I should say.”
JP doubted everything was as rosy as Rupert painted it. Indeed, he sounded hopeful, but he averted his gaze. Still, the town would benefit from a bank once more on sound footing.
“Then, good luck to you.”
Rupert halted, turning to question JP. “Since we’re talking about the robbery, have you heard anything more about the bandits? Has the deputy heard from the sheriff? Where is he? What’s he up to besides trying to follow an imaginary trail?
“As far as I’m aware, Chester hasn’t heard anything else.”
“Does the deputy know anything more about the murder?”
JP frowned and continued on toward the pens. “Chester is a blockhead. He doesn’t have a clue about anything except his own importance. The sooner the robbers are caught and the sheriff is back in town, the better for everyone.”
Valeria waved her hands in dismissal. “Let’s not talk about doom and gloom. We came by to accept your aunt’s invitation to dinner. That was very kind of her. I, for one, am looking forward to it.”
With a small wave at Elizabeth and Amy, Valeria climbed up the rails halting on the rung a few feet below the top. “I can see everything from here.” She turned to gesture to JP. Off balanced, she tumbled over the fence landing in a heap inside the corral. Dust puffed up around her and stirred the smell of the cattle pen.
Before she could rise, a huge, gray Brahma bull lowered his head and pawed the ground. Slinging slobber from side to side, he snorted and advanced across the pen at a fast clip, not charging, but bobbing his horns with each step. Before the bull reached Valeria, a big yellow Labrador rushed between the agitated animal and Valeria. The dog barked, each yip shrill, nipping, snarling with a frantic racket, long enough for JP to climb into the pen and scoop a hysterical Valeria into his arms. He scaled the fence.
When he tried to set her on her feet, she clung to him, her arms around his neck. After a moment’s hesitation, he embraced her and let her cry on his shoulder. “Valeria, I’ve got you. You’re safe now. Don’t fret.”
Gradually, her sobs diminished and she raised her head to stare into his eyes. “Thank God, you saved me.”
JP pulled back and allowed her feet to touch the ground. “Actually, my dog did the hard work. He stopped the bull until I could climb into the pen.” He kept his arm around her shoulders. “Here, let me help you to your buggy.”
With little pleasure, Elizabeth viewed his gentle manner while he half supported Valeria to the conveyance. Leave it to Valeria to make a drama out of the entire situation. The incident had been frightening, but strong hysterics, no.
Rupert climbed aboard. “Thank you for your swift actions, JP. I appreciate it. Valeria is a little flighty on occasions.” He waved and pulled away, creating a further stir of dust.
Valeria leaned out. “We’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
Elizabeth, along with JP and Amy, watched the buggy disappear beyond the trees. Tomorrow night, Maude Honeycutt would have reinforcements when pushing Elizabeth to the side.
Chapter 23
After being introduced to the sewing circle members, Elizabeth headed for the kitchen. The married cowhands’ wives took turns helping at the big house. She located Mrs. Turner in front of the counter, a halo of light surrounding her dark honey-colored hair streaked with gray. She was arranging small sandwiches on a tray.
“Mrs. Turner, it is Mrs. Turner, isn’t it?”
Mrs. Turner grinned at her. “Bless you, my dear. It’s plain old Gail, short for Abigail. Most everyone does the Abby thing, but my mom wanted Gail. I’ll answer to ‘hey you’ if you’ve come to lend a hand.”
Elizabeth returned her grin with a smile. “I did.” She glanced at the plate of food. “My, the sewing circle seems to require a great deal of sustenance.”
“If you mean food, that’s a fact. But personally, I’d call it the gossip circle instead. Course, it’s nothing to do with me.” Gail shook her head. “If you would load the tea tray, I’d be grateful.”
Elizabeth nodded, squared her shoulders, and loaded the tray. She lifted the silver salver and stared down the hall. If silence greeted her, she’d know the group was discussing her and the murder. After all the rumors started with her arrest, there could be little doubt she would be one of the topics of conversation.
A split second before she entered the parlor, the babbling voices dribbled off like a spilled bucket of water, not a drop left, but the damp remained. A few deep gulps of air marked the silence.
She placed the tray on a low, mahogany table in front of Mrs. Honeycutt. “I’ll pass the cups around for you if you would like.”
Mrs. Honeycutt nodded and added in a formal tone, “That would be most appreciated.
”
Elizabeth noticed a few of the women exchanged looks. Everyone knew how Maude Honeycutt felt about Elizabeth. Maude wasn’t exactly one of her favorites either.
One of the younger wives jumped up. “Let me help, too.”
When the refreshments were consumed and put aside, the ladies gathered around a quilting frame. The young wife who had helped earlier explained to Elizabeth. “We’re making a quilt for the church bazaar. The committee distributes items to the needy.”
“By the way, Elizabeth, the church holds the bazaar once a year on the main street in town. We’ll be ready in a month’s time, I shouldn’t wonder. It’s always a festive affair. We’re all looking forward to it.”
Mrs. Jones, one of the older women, glanced up and asked, “Is JP still set on Valeria? I hear there might be someone else in the running.”
Maude replied, “No telling with JP. He has a mind of his own, but he’s been sweet on her for ages.”
Mrs. Cooper took a sip from her china cup. “Could be because she’s a good-looking young woman and always decked out in the latest fashion.”
Mrs. Brewster chimed in, “Speaking of the Honeycutt men, I heard Hudson claimed the old Bonney place. That old man died nearly two years ago. Nobody was left to claim the land or pay the taxes.”
Mrs. Cooper nodded. “Sure enough. Most of the family was wiped out in the yellow fever epidemic, all but the old man’s sister. She move away and left him to it. Couldn’t abide the place when her aunt and siblings all passed.”
“Can’t say as I blame her,” Mrs. Brewster said. “It was a dreadful time.”
“Let’s talk about something more pleasant,” Mrs. Honeycutt instructed. “However, is there anything more pleasant that a bit of juicy gossip?”
~ ~ ~
JP stood behind his desk happy to have the ladies well occupied and out of his hair. He had enough to worry about without having to protect Elizabeth from his aunt. In a group of ladies, busy sewing, gossiping, but mostly eating, Aunt Maude would toe the line.
Bittersweep Page 17
