The Heart's Frontier

by Lori Copeland;Virginia Smith

  A retching sound from nearby drew his attention to Charlie, who stood at the back of the chuck wagon, his waist bent as he vomited on the ground in front of his boots. Luke exchanged a sympathetic glance with Jesse, and then he went to put a steadying hand on the boy’s back.

  “It’s all right, son.” He set his voice in a soothing tone. “You made it. You’re going to be fine.”

  Charlie straightened and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “It ain’t that, boss.” His gaze strayed toward the rustlers’ bodies, and his skin took on a green tint. “I ain’t never shot nobody before.”

  The agony in the young man’s voice twisted something inside Luke’s chest. How could he answer the soul-sick grief of someone who had taken a life, however justified? His hand still on Charlie’s back, he pulled the young man into an awkward embrace. “Don’t let guilt eat you up. You did what you had to do.”

  “Does that make it okay?” Charlie’s voice sounded tortured. “I’ll never get used to this feeling. Never.”

  Luke thumped his back before releasing him. “I pray you don’t.”

  At the sound of hoofbeats, Luke turned to find Griff and Morris riding toward them. They stopped as McCann exited the chuck wagon with a pail of clean water and some strips of cloth to bind Jesse’s wound.

  “Looks like we’ve lost about five hundred head,” Griff reported as they reined their mounts to a stop. “The remuda scattered too, but Vic took off after them. He’ll bring ’em back.”

  From his place on the grass, Jesse looked up at Luke. “Not as bad as it could be.”

  “Bad enough,” Luke replied, his voice grim. How could he show up in Hays having lost a quarter of the herd and two men? “Anybody get a count of the rustlers?”

  “Eight.” Morris’s gaze strayed to the line of bodies. “That means four escaped. I saw two riding off together to the west, one northeast, and one due east. They’ll meet up with each other again soon enough.”

  “The cattle went in every direction.” Griff raised a hand above his head and made a circling motion. “Those rustlers were hightailing it away without thought for the herd they tried so hard to get. The way they were going, the cattle are miles from here by now.”

  Charlie found his voice. “We can hunt down the strays, boss. We’ll get ’em back.”

  Nods all the way around. Luke forced a smile of appreciation for the men’s attitudes, but his heart plummeted toward his boots. They had started out with a minimum crew to begin with—nine men to drive a herd of two thousand head plus a forty-horse remuda—and now they were down by three. Despite Jesse’s brave words, he couldn’t ride with that leg. In fact, he’d be lucky if infection didn’t set in before they got to Hays. McCann, who knelt over the injury, cleaning it and then binding it with clean cloth, looked pretty grim. Jesse might end up losing his leg, and whoever heard of a peg-legged cowboy?

  Morris’s voice cut through Luke’s worries. “What in tarnation is that?”

  They all looked toward the south. An unusual sight on the horizon sent Luke’s jaw dangling.

  “Well, I’ll be a cross-eyed mule.” Jesse shook his head in disbelief. “It’s those Aim-ish folks.”

  Sure enough, the sight of that ridiculously huge hutch in the back of an ox-drawn wagon was unmistakable. Even more amazing was the small herd of cattle being driven in front of the cart. Leading this bizarre parade was Jonas on foot, his round-brimmed straw hat and black suspenders unmistakable at any distance. And on either side of the cattle, Emma and Rebecca trotted along in flank positions, long sticks in their hands and black skirts trailing in the high grass.

  A sudden lightness lifted his spirits and a slow grin spread across his face. It looked as though the Lord had sent him help this time. His gaze focused on Emma.

  And He chose a mighty pretty delivery method.

  FIFTEEN

  Emma and her family stood in the shade of the chuck wagon and spoke with the somber men. Though Luke had greeted their arrival with true gratitude, sadness hung over the cowboys like a low-riding cloud. They had lost two of their own, and Emma’s heart grieved at the pain she saw in each face. Especially Luke’s.

  Their little group of eleven stray cows had swelled to almost forty by the time they caught up with the main herd. The Switzers had encountered clusters of wandering steer along the way, and the poor things needed almost no prodding to join them, as though they had been lost and looking for someone to lead the way home. Since their arrival, they had melted seamlessly into the herd, which hung closely together as they grazed, as though drawing strength from each other. It was almost as if they sensed their handlers’ grief at the loss of their friends.

  Emma had not met Kirk, but the thought of the smiling young Willie going to his premature grave was enough to make her weep.

  “The first order of business is to bury our friends,” Luke told Papa, though his glance kept stealing toward her, which kept a perpetual flow of heat rising into her cheeks.

  “What about them?” Rebecca, who had dropped to her knees beside Jesse to watch a grim-faced McCann clean the nastiest wound Emma had ever seen, pointed toward the bodies of the four cattle rustlers. “Will you leave them in the open?”

  Luke shook his head. “That might be what they would do with our dead, but we won’t stoop to their depths. We’ll give them a proper burial and take their belongings with us to Hays. Maybe the sheriff there can identify them and notify their next of kin.”

  The gesture warmed Emma’s heart toward him even more. He was too kindhearted, too upright, to leave the bodies of even dishonest men without proper handling.

  “Eight, you say?” Maummi stood behind Rebecca, watching the ministrations to Jesse’s wound from over her shoulder. “Eight there were who robbed us.”

  Papa looked at her for a moment, and then without a word he strode away toward the corpses. When he approached, he removed his straw hat and held it in two hands in front of him while he inspected the bodies. After a moment, he replaced his hat and returned.

  “Their faces are familiar.” His expression was troubled as he glanced at Maummi and then at Luke. “Those men took our belongings. The man who showed us mercy, the leader of the others, is there.” He bowed his head and closed his eyes in a moment of silent prayer.

  “And what of the man with the black teeth?” Emma asked. Lester, his boss had called him. That man had frightened her more than any of the others. Something about the way he looked at her, the disrespectful way he sneered at Maummi, disturbed her far more than the mere act of taking their possessions.

  Papa shook his head. “That one is not here.”

  So. Emma lifted her gaze to a swell in the land that bordered this plain to the west. The man with the black teeth was still out there.

  “Wrong!” Maummi’s sharp reprimand startled all of them. She glared down at the cook. “Not clean enough is that wound. And set it before it is wrapped, else you’ll lame him for life.”

  McCann bristled. He drew himself upright and glared at her. “I’ve been dressing cowboys’ wounds for more’n twenty years.”

  Maummi didn’t back down one inch but returned his glare full measure. “A slow learner you must be, then.”

  The man’s bushy eyebrows dropped lower over his eyes. “If you think you can do better, ma’am, then have at it.”

  Maummi had been waiting for the invitation. She dropped to the ground and quickly unwrapped the strips of cloth. “Fresh water,” she barked toward the cook. “And alcohol for cleaning.”

  “The only alcohol we have is the drinkin’ kind,” he said. “Whiskey—”

  He shrank before the glare she turned on him. “Bring it.”

  Emma almost felt sorry for him as he struggled to his feet and slunk away toward his wagon. When he passed Luke, he muttered sideways, “I can’t abide no woman taking over. No good will come of this, mark my words.” His glance slid to Emma, and he ducked his head. “Sorry, ma’am.”

  Beside her Luke nodded
absently, his gaze fixed on a faraway point. Emma drank in the sight of his rugged profile, the fresh lines of stress around his tight lips. The burden he must feel! If only she could help him.

  “We have to round up strays. The fact that you found so many, Jonas, is encouraging. Maybe they’re too tired from the last stampede to run far.” He shook his head. “I can’t spend much time looking, though, nor can I spare men for the hunt. We’re running way too lean now.”

  The older man, Griff, had been standing quietly off to one side. “We have four able-bodied men here, Luke. You, me, Morris, and Charlie. That’s got the compass points covered. We’ll cross our fingers that Vic will be back soon with the rest of the horses.”

  Luke shook his head. “I can’t send you out alone, Griff. You know that. There are four rustlers still out there, and for all we know they’re lying in wait for us.”

  “I’ll go,” Jesse put in from his position on the ground. “I’m feeling better already. Put a tight binding on this leg and heft me into my saddle.”

  Maummi’s jaw dropped open and she gave him a stern stare. “Unless you want to lose your leg, you will stay here.”

  A stubborn look came over his face, but Luke stopped any argument. “Forget it, buddy. The only place you’re going is into a wagon.” His voice softened as he looked around the circle. Emma’s heart ached at the tone of his voice when he next spoke. “Maybe we ought to cut our losses. Hit the trail and push hard. We might still make the train if we run them on the hoof. After all, it’s better to arrive in Hays with three-quarters of a herd than to not arrive in time.”

  Concern deepened the creases on Griff’s weathered face. “That’ll do you in, Luke. Your first cattle drive, and you show up that light of beef?” He shook his head. “You won’t work as a trail boss ever again.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Probably not.”

  Something inside Emma’s rib cage twisted at the resigned look on his face. Words flew out of her mouth before she could check them. “We can help. Papa and Rebecca and I brought those cows here. We can help you find the others.”

  Rebecca leaped to her feet, a delighted smile on her face, while Maummi drew in an audible shocked breath. Papa’s normally impassive face held a myriad of emotions, disapproval primary among them.

  Luke turned an indulgent smile her way. “You did me a great service. But you’re not equipped to scout strays and ride herd over a long trail. You can’t do that on foot, Emma.”

  A rod of steel seemed to slide through her spine. “Give me a horse, then. I know about horses. We have Big Ed to pull our buggy at home. I care for him every day.”

  Beside her, Charlie hid a snicker behind his hand, while Griff snorted out loud.

  “Emma.” Luke’s soft voice reached inside her with a warm touch. “Driving a horse is different than riding. I appreciate your offer to help, though.”

  Rebecca stepped forward. “It’s not so different.” She cast a glance toward Papa and then continued in defiance of his stare. “Emma and I can both ride. We’ve ridden Big Ed before. Many times.”

  Emma swallowed a groan. Leave it to Rebecca to confess their sins in front of Englischers. The Amish respected their horses for the important role they played in the household, but they rarely rode, and the one time she and Rebecca had asked, Papa had forbidden them to ride Big Ed. Maummi looked scandalized, while Papa’s expression settled into resignation.

  She locked eyes with her father and loaded an unspoken plea into her gaze. Later she would suffer any penance he deemed appropriate, but for now these men needed their help. At first his lips tightened, but she didn’t blink, didn’t look away. Finally, his chest expanded in a sigh.

  “We will help, my girls and I.”

  At his words, Luke’s head lifted higher. Hope lightened the darkness in his eyes. He took a step forward, his hand outstretched toward Papa.

  “Thank you, Jonas. You are an answer to prayer.”

  As he clasped Luke’s hand, Papa’s reluctant smile broke free. “As you have been for us, my Englisch friend.”

  Emma exchanged a triumphant glance with Rebecca. Finally, they would be able to assist Luke as he had assisted them. And yet…

  She glanced toward the west, where two of the bad men who robbed her family and killed Luke’s friends had escaped. The man with the black teeth was out there somewhere.

  This horse was taller than Big Ed back home. Emma stood beside the black mare and tried to still her trembling limbs as she looked at what seemed an immense height from the ground to the saddle.

  Luke stood next to her, ready to give her, Rebecca, and Papa their first cowboy lesson.

  “All right. Put your left foot in my hands and grab hold of Sugarfoot’s mane. When I lift you up, swing your right leg over the saddle.” He cupped his hands and extended them, ready to receive her foot.

  What? He wanted her to straddle the horse? Emma’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t do that!”

  Confusion crossed Luke’s features. “Why not?”

  How could he even ask? She spread her feet apart and planted her hands on her hips. “Because I’m a girl.”

  “I know that.” A faint pink tint colored his cheeks. “But you said you’d ridden before.”

  “Yes, but we didn’t…” She stumbled to a stop. How could she say this in a delicate way? Her glance slid to Papa and then to Rebecca. She avoided Maummi’s gaze completely, though her grandmother’s disapproving glare from a few feet away weighed her down like a full sack of wheat across her shoulders. “We climbed up onto Big Ed from the fence rail and sat sideways.”

  Luke stared at her a moment, and then he raked fingers through his hair. “We don’t have a sidesaddle, Emma.”

  “Neither did we,” Rebecca volunteered. “We held on to Ed’s mane.”

  Behind her, Maummi looked ready to explode. Papa’s lips drew into a tight line, as though he was guarding his tongue with a monumental effort.

  “You can’t do that on a trail horse,” Luke explained in a patient voice. “They’re not used to bareback riders, and especially not women riding sidesaddle. You’re going to have to straddle the horse like a man.”

  “Impossible!” Maummi’s outraged shout echoed back to them from a distant hillside. A few cattle grazing nearby lifted their heads and glanced in her direction. She stepped up and grabbed Papa’s arm. “Jonas, it is unseemly for girls to ride like men.” She lowered her voice and spoke in a shocked whisper heard by everyone. “Their legs will show up to their knees, and even beyond!”

  “Not if we wear trousers,” Emma put in quickly.

  Maummi’s mouth fell open, and her chest heaved with her effort to reply. Even Papa had lost his impassive expression, and he stared at his older daughter with disbelieving wide eyes.

  “Beneath our dresses,” Emma hurried to add. “Black trousers that will preserve our modesty. Trousers like yours, Papa. Maummi has mended the damaged ones. Rebecca and I can wear those.”

  While Maummi sputtered with outrage, Papa closed his eyes and bowed his head. Emma exchanged a glance with Luke, who had taken a subtle step backward, thereby removing himself from the family discussion. He lifted an eyebrow in her direction before turning to scan the horizon with feigned nonchalance.

  After a long, silent moment, Papa lifted his head and opened his eyes. “In service to our Lord, the apostle Paul contended with strange customs in pagan lands. Yet the Lord sanctified him and kept him pure. I believe that will happen here, that my girls will be sanctified in this offering of assistance and kept pure.” He turned toward Rebecca. “Bring two pairs of mended trousers.”

  Rebecca cast a triumphant grin toward Emma before turning and running for their wagon.

  Maummi battled an obvious struggle, and then she stomped over to thrust her face a few inches from Emma’s. “Some things the bishop does not need to know.” Her sparse eyebrows lowered. “Mind that well, girl.”

  Emma kept her expression carefully clear as she nodded. When Rebecca
returned, Maummi stomped off in the direction of the chuck wagon to check on her patient, as though she couldn’t bear to witness the disgrace of her granddaughters donning men’s trousers.

  The men politely turned their backs while Emma and Rebecca slipped Papa’s trousers over their legs. Papa’s girth was much wider than Emma’s. She grabbed a double handful of excess fabric at her waist. Giggling, Rebecca whispered, “We shall need suspenders to keep them on.”

  Should they ask to borrow Papa’s spare suspenders as well? Emma glanced over her shoulder at her father’s stiff back. No, they shouldn’t push him any further.

  “Tuck the excess into your bloomers, and be sure to hold them up when you mount the horse,” she whispered back.

  Rebecca’s peals of laughter were contagious, and both girls were giggling uncontrollably when they finally turned to the men, their hands holding bunched fabric at their waists.

  With an effort she regained control and announced, “We are ready.”

  Luke and Papa turned toward them. Papa kept his eyes averted, but Luke’s gaze dropped immediately to her feet. Grinning, he caught her gaze and winked a private message for her alone. Her stomach fluttered in response.

  “All right,” he said, much louder than necessary, “back to the lesson.” He stepped close to Sugarfoot’s side, cupped his hands, and stooped low to the ground. “Miss Switzer, if you’re ready.”

  With a grin for Rebecca, Emma approached. Placing a hand on Luke’s shoulder to steady herself proved to be distracting. She was aware of the firm muscles beneath the rough fabric of his shirt, and the warmth of his skin. Her face was inches from his when he paused for a moment, her foot in his hands, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that she felt all the way to her core. His breath warmed her cheek and snatched her own breath from paralyzed lungs with an intense feeling she’d never experienced before.

  And then he broke the moment with a deepened grin. “Up you go.”