by Anna Murray
"Oh, I'm just tired is all." Her voice quavered.
Her senses hummed as she breathed deeply of the masculine smells of leather and lye soap, felt his steady deep breathing, and the gentle touch of his hard thigh against her knee. She tried to calm her shaking hands and act as if she sat next to handsome ranchers on porch swings every day.
Cal winked at his mother and turned back to Sarah. "Are you and Emily comfortable here? You need anything?" He caught Sarah's eyes and held them.
Sarah's heart turned a cartwheel. "We're fine, thank you. We haven't had so much to eat since we were back in Illinois."
Cal's gaze dropped from her eyes and slowly assessed her figure. Sarah felt her pulse pounding. Her face reddened. Cal noted her embarrassment, and loosening his eyes from where they were stuck at her bodice he spurred them up to meet hers again.
"You rode the horse on your uncle's farm back in Illinois?"
"A few times," she replied in a strained whisper. "Mostly I was busy taking care of Emily and Joey, cooking, doing chores, those things." She shrugged. Then she remembered to breathe and emitted a long exhale. "M-mama died when I was n-nine, just after Emily was born. Then my papa died a year later, and so we went to live with my uncle." She was clutching her hands together unconsciously. She would have said more, but the brief conversation was taxing, what with the trouble she was having breathing.
Cal's dark eyes focused on the horizon and scanned until they fixed themselves on a cloud of dust marking the position of a small herd in the distance.
"Sorry to hear that. My own father died about a year ago. Of course I didn't have to leave home like you did." Cal turned his hat in his hands, suddenly reminded of the private storm of grief that swept over them all in the months following his father's death.
"Oh. Lives take different paths I guess." She shifted on the swing.
"I expect so." His usual rough and tumble cowboy expression had turned warm but hesitant, like it was trying to shine through a curtain of rain.
She worked his kindness over; she decided it was nice that a rancher took an interest in the people who came to work for him.
"Who planted the garden?" She asked in a voice so low it was barely audible.
"Oh. That was Mama's. Some vegetables are growing in there, but only what took root from year." He remembered Emily's comments about the garden back at their home in Illinois. "We don't have the time. You're welcome to make something of it." He smiled and drifted closer to her on the swing.
"Thank you. I had a garden back on the farm. It was all mine." Pride spilled from her voice.
He'd learned little of her past, but it didn't take much to read between the lines. At first the sisters had been wary and unsure around the men. They'd seemed to be walking on eggshells, as if they expected to be rebuked at every turn. Now Cal thought they were making a good adjustment; they showed more affection toward Roy and himself, though they'd known each other for less than three days.
"You have someone waiting for you, back where you come from?" His long fingers passed over the new brass belt buckle at his middle; it was cool and smooth.
"Someone?" Sarah looked into his eyes, mouthed the words blankly, and wrinkled her brow.
"You know, uh, somebody you'll go back to after you earn enough money here." His eyes narrowed.
"Like other kin?"
"Yes . . . or a man who offered for you, perhaps." He clipped the words and stiffened, as if waiting for a punch to the stomach.
Didn't he know there was no going back for her? She peered into the liquid brown of his dark eyes. "No," she whispered. "My uncle didn't let me attend the socials, and I . . I don't interest men much anyway," she shrugged. No decent man wanted the orphan girl and her sister, no, not the girls living with a drunken uncle.
Cal's eyebrows shot up. "Well. I expect they were all fools or idiots," he said in a low voice. It was deep and warm, and rough.
Emboldened, he moved closer and slowly slid his sound arm across the back of the swing behind her shoulders. Sarah shivered. Her heart hammered in her ears as his touch, voice, and manly scent filled her senses to overflowing. She cleared her throat, pretending not to be affected by the firm strength of his arm, which had somehow lazily flung itself across her upper back.
"Sarah." He breathed her name close to her ear like a gentle caress. "I got a notion to show you around the ranch," he whispered hoarsely. "Roy's going up to the mining camp to sell his pack mules tomorrow. Ned can keep Mama company." He reached out, as if to touch a loose lock of her hair, but then pulled back.
Sarah was unglued. Her mind was numb, and her body was being assaulted with new and exciting sensations. Cal continued to gaze at her speculatively. Anxiety and frustration reflected in her wide green eyes.
For Sarah, it was all she could do to look at her hands, locked in a death drip her lap, nod her reply. She followed her assent with an offhanded "sure, why not", as if strong dark cowboys asked her to take rides with them all the time.
They heard the drum of riders approaching and looked up. Sarah was never so grateful as she was to see Roy and Emily loping their horses toward them in that moment. They spied her and Cal and waved. Emily let out a war whoop, and they all laughed. Sarah, her heart still galloping wildly, shot up from the swing in what she hoped was a graceful motion, and ran out into the yard to greet them.
Cal watched her backside sway gracefully as she rose from that swing, and he felt blood rushing to a place just below that new belt buckle.
Chapter 11
Sarah was exhausted. The new job didn't end when she fell into bed each night. From across the room Sarah could hear Mrs. Easton snoring and sporadically choking. It was frightening, even though Cal had warned her about such activities. He'd said this was 'normal for someone in Mama's condition', but for Sarah it was a constant worry.
Fortunately Emily slept soundly, unaffected by Mrs. Easton's commotions. But Sarah woke repeatedly; she'd crawl out of bed, cross the room, and check the woman's position. If Mrs. Easton were awake she'd give her water to drink, and prop her up again to use the bedpan. She experimented with rolling Mrs. Easton from back to side, to be sure she wouldn't lie in the same position all night long. If only Mrs. Easton could tell her what she needed. She reckoned that, in time, she'd learn the woman's desires and natural routine, but until then it was difficult and frustrating work.
After she rose, dressed, and tended Mrs. Easton, Sarah reflected on their good fortune. This was a new beginning, and she was thankful her sister was welcomed the same as she was and thankful to have good, honest work.
Sarah entered the kitchen to find Cal and Roy making breakfast. Still unsure of the men's morning routine and her proper role, Sarah timidly approached Roy and asked him to lift Mrs. Easton into her wheeled chair. Roy headed off to his mother's room and Cal rose and poured her a cup of coffee; Sarah saw the new buckle fixed to the belt that circled his narrow hips. He'd worn it each day since his birthday.
Cal's eyes slid across her face as he handed her the cup. "I meet with Bailey – he's the the ranch foreman -- every morning. Can you get Ned settled with Mama?"
"Of course." She nervously moistened her dry lips. Her eyes flashed eagerness mixed with anxiety.
He turned halfway and suddenly paused. "Can you ride astride? Women here don't use fancy side saddles, and we don't have one." He ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't thought much about it when he'd impulsively asked her to ride with him the previous evening.
Sarah scanned his powerful form, clad in tight buckskin pants and a blue checked shirt. "I can. I don't have fancy riding clothes -- just old pants that my cousin gave me." She cast her green eyes downward.
"It makes no matter." Cal's eyes darkened. Then he swiftly swung his hat onto his head and took his leave.
The smells of coffee and bacon floated through the kitchen. Sarah sipped her coffee and basked in the rhythm of the wakening ranch. Cal's boots sounded as he strode across the floor. The back door slammed a
s he headed off to do his ranching business.
Roy brought Mrs. Easton into the kitchen. He greeted Sarah, gently kissed his mama, and scooted out to string his mules together for his trip up to the mining camp. Sarah seated herself next to Mrs. Easton and fed her the thin porridge she'd left warming on the stove.
Emily wandered in, yawning and stretching her arms high above her golden curls. She reached for the leftover biscuits, and began spreading jam on one of them.
"I think Mr. Cal Easton likes his birthday gift." Pretty dimples curved around her smile.
"Yes, he sure seemed surprised, didn't he?" Sarah lifted another spoonful of the porridge. "A brass buckle is something a man can always use."
"I didn't mean the buckle. I meant you," replied Emily matter-of-factly.
Sarah's head shot up and thin gruel flew off the spoon clutched in her hand, narrowly missing Mrs. Easton's chin.
Emily babbled on. "Roy said it looked like Cal wanted to kiss you when we came riding up yesterday. You remember, Sarah, when you were cozy on the porch swing?" Emily ran on like a rabbit let out of its hutch. "You think he'll kiss you? Would you let him –-"
"Emily!" Sarah shouted.
"Problems?" A man's voice came from the doorway.
Cal! How long had he been standing there? And Ned was with him! Sarah's face was mortified crimson.
"No problem," twittered Emily. "Good morning Ned! Are you staying with me while Sarah steps out with Cal?"
Sarah wanted to flee to the pantry. Taking care to avoid Cal's eyes, she quickly excused herself and ran to change her clothes.
Cheeks burning, Sarah hastily readied herself in the room she shared with Mrs. Easton and Emily. She dragged the pants and shirt from the satchel, briskly tugged her hair back and styled it into a long thick braid. Then Sarah donned the oversized pants, threading pieces of ribbon that had been tied together through the loops to serve as a belt.
Sarah paused and looked at her image in the mirror. She studied her reflection and was dismayed by her thinness. The large pants and shirt rendered her figure shapeless as a boy. Her leather shoes were in poor repair and needed of a coating of tallow grease. She threw her hands up into the air and growled.
Then she thought about how she'd never been paid for work before, and how she could save as she looked for opportunities for herself and Emily. If all went well, she'd see to Emily's education and start her own bakery business. Emily would have more choices for her future. With that pleasing thought tucked in her mind she finished dressing, ran fingers over pants to smooth out the wrinkles, and walked purposefully back to the kitchen.
Cal was leaning lazily against the solid oak kitchen table. His eyes met Sarah's in an easy smile, and when he took her hand she felt years of hard ranching in the calluses of his firm grasp. She tried not to dwell on what he must be thinking of her own hand, rough from so many chores, not at all the hand of a lady. But he said nothing as he guided her out the back door, and to Sarah it seemed they floated to the corral, where the horses were saddled and waiting.
Cal's massive hand and strong forearm circled her waist in an easy motion as he helped her to mount a sturdy grey mare. He silently mounted a black gelding, and he grinned before moving his good arm forward to twist the leather reins in his hand.
Cal slapped his horse into a walk, and Sarah's horse followed. The mounts carried them north, toward a wide-open, sun-filled space of prairie grasses rippling gently in the wind.
After a mile Sarah relaxed and began to enjoy herself. Riding side-by-side Cal chatted easily about many aspects of running the ranch, such as the best grasses for grazing, where stock would take on weight, how he kept the best stock for breeding, and driving the cattle to market. Cal said winters were milder in this valley than the surrounding area, but it was important to breed hardy animals and to cut and market the herd with an eye to controlling losses during a hard winter.
When Sarah commented that the ranch seemed to stretch forever, Cal laughed, and said that the cattle would roam over thousands of acres. Cal spoke excitedly about his recent purchase of two pure bred eastern bulls that he planned to put on their Texas cows, to improve the meat quality of the herd. His voice was proud and satisfied when he talked about the land, and he beamed when he spoke of his family's achievements. So much to celebrate.And no shrubs in the Easton family tree.
They rode for an hour, and Cal turned the horses toward the creek that ran through the property. They stopped to rest at a secluded bend near a small lone cabin, a place where a thick stand of pine broke the harsh winds. A row of cottonwoods lined the creek bank.
Cal swung down from his saddle and helped Sarah dismount, once again planting his hand firmly around her small waist, where it lingered a few moments.
He grabbed his gelding's bridle and led his horse down to water. Sarah followed with her mare. At their approach a pair of ducks thrashed and took wing. When they stopped to let the horses drink Cal dug into his saddlebag and took out a canteen. They sat down on the grassy creek bank and watched a turtle slip into the water to bask in the morning sun hanging low in the eastern sky. Sarah cupped her hand and raised it above her brow to block the oblique light. In a rare playful gesture Cal removed his large hat, and lowered it over her head. The brim sank to the top of her nose, blinding her, and she laughed. Cal laughed too, and he gently pushed the hat back on Sarah's head, and then he turned to face her, using his large body to effectively block the direct sunrays.
He handed Sarah the canteen. She nervously accepted the offering and tipped her head back to drink. When she finished she passed the water back to Cal, who raised it to his mouth. As he drank he felt the lingering trace of her warm lips, now on his, and it tasted sweet and light, like new snowflakes landing softly on his tongue.
After that the pair sat quietly watching and listening to the clear water flowing around the bend and over the rocks. This was Cal's favorite spot on the ranch.
"The cabin back there was our first place on the spread." He sat so close their hips touched. "My father and uncle built the first room, but Roy and I helped improve it from a shanty," he added.
"Uncle?" Sarah's jade eyes fixed on the line of his mouth.
Cal flung his hat back onto his own head, and tilted it back. "My father's brother." An odd note of sadness rang in his voice. "He was a trapper, traded with the tribes along the river. He lived among them many years." Cal swept his hand broadly through the breeze. "My uncle Arthur's the reason we're here. He was one of the first white men to settle this country. The land we're on right now – it was Arthur's first, and he encouraged my father to come up this way to settle. After my father made some money from mining, he bought cattle from ranchers down near Helena. We drove them up here to this rich grassy valley and built the herds." He hesitated. "My uncle drowned in the Missouri when I was still a kid." His coffee eyes flickered as he recalled stories his uncle told about exploring the mysteries of the scenic, expansive, and dangerous territory.
"Oh. The cabin looks nice." She cleared her throat.
He seemed to welcome the change in topic. "Last year a fellow that worked for us, and his family, lived in it for a spell. I came upon them in a near blizzard. It was just luck I found them, and they were totally unprepared for winter weather. Anyway, we hired him 'til spring. We've lived in the big house just two years. At first mama was anxious to build the new place, but then things changed and it wasn't as important." His words and voice drifted.
She nodded. "Oh. Was that when your father took ill?" She knew she was delving into personal matters but he appeared to be relaxed, and open to discussing his family.
He turned, picked up a stone, and lazily skipped it across the water. "No, Papa was healthy until the day he died in a mining accident. Mama was anxious to move because I was fixing to live in the cabin with my wife." He scratched at an imaginary itch on his knee.
Sarah's jaw dropped six inches. "You were married?" The words had reeled out before she could stop them. Her wide
eyes scanned his rigid face.
Cal folded his good arm across his broad chest. "Naw, I've never been trail broken." He laughed but then his face grew somber. "Grace and I had wedding plans. Then she fell from a horse. Broke her neck." His tone landed flat, his face unreadable.
Sarah gasped. "Oh my." Her lips barely moved. "I'm sorry."
But the more she thought about it the more she realized she couldn't be sorry, at least not about a woman she never knew. She only regretted that Cal had suffered. Yet she felt a twinge of something else. Envy?
The woman named Grace had known things she'd likely never know. The luxuries of courtship and marriage were for other women, the kind who had good families, property, and status in social circles. Women like Grace had plenty more to recommend themselves to a man than two old faded dresses and a belt buckle.
Cal's expression had turned to a frown, the one he wore when he was thinking hard on something. He turned to face her fully, spoke again, carefully selecting his words.
"When I was a boy I dreamed of driving a stage with a six-horse hitch or clerking at a general store. But working alongside my father, well, I grew to love ranching. When a man spends long hours in the saddle he has no trouble sleeping." He glanced at her. "What did you dream of doing?"
Sarah smiled sadly. "I used to dream that I owned a bakery. But then when I walked in and put on my apron I found I had no flour and no sugar and no butter. So in the dream I went into the street and looked up into the sky. I'd see eagles. Suddenly I wished I had wings so I could fly away like them." She laughed dryly. "It was a silly dream."
Cal frowned. "No, it wasn't." He paused. "Know something? This is my favorite place on the spread. When I was a boy I used to swim and fish here. Did you have a special place back where you came from?" His voice was husky, and he placed his sound arm firmly around her waist.
Thrill and terror shot through Sarah. "Not really," she replied breathlessly.
"Then I'd be honored to share this piece of heaven with you." It came out sounding more like a promise than an offer. He lazily stroked her back and trailed his fingertips up along the side of her neck.
