On the Mountain

by Peggy Ann Craig

  Sleep had not been an option the night before. Not only did the day’s trauma keep her awake, but also was the fact she had never slept in the same quarters with a strange man. Least of all nine of them. The result was she had lied and listened to every creek, every snore and every small sound that entered the night.

  * * *

  Once again, time restrictions prevented him from taking that well desired bath. Wade thanked the inventor of this new shower contraption. It was freezing but did the job and the only one of its kind in the vicinity. Prescott had told him of a man in Europe who had built a new invention that would provide a hot water tank to go along with the waterfall-like device. It would eliminate these cold showers and, he figured, his days of using the tub. Though he enjoyed the leisurely baths, more and more his schedule prevented him from taking one.

  Feeling fresher, he stepped outside of the clawed tub that housed the shower and thought back to the boy’s reaction when given the news of the loss of his family. It was startling to say the least. True, he looked hurt but not necessarily surprised and for a boy his age, had not shed a single tear. He wondered if he should be concerned. After all, he had no idea how a person should react to an event as horrific as the one he just witnessed.

  He toweled his unruly hair dry and thought perhaps he should have gotten Carl to trim his hair as well. This train of thoughts had him thinking of the boy when he first turned around in the barber shop and Wade got a good look at him for the first time without grime or mud caked on his face. Admittedly, he was shocked. The boy was a great deal better looking than he would have guessed. If nothing else, the mountain people had good genes.

  Something warm had stirred in his gut and had done the same tonight when he sat staring into the boy’s eyes. He had known they were a deep chocolate from the moment he laid eyes on him. After all, they were the only part of his facial features not covered in dirt. However, there was something else there tonight. More than likely gratitude, Wade conceded. From the sight on that mountain, whatever the boy had witnessed was horrendous. He couldn’t help but be grateful he couldn’t remember.

  Whatever the reason, Wade knew something had crossed between them tonight while they sat staring at each other. A bond had formed. He had almost felt the connection when he first discovered the boy. Something about him Wade could identify with. He couldn’t rightly put his finger on just what, but there definitely was something that united them.

  Changed into a clean set of clothing, his hair still damp from the shower, he went out into the main room where he had left the boy. The house was quiet and he wondered if perhaps he had wandered back to the bunkhouse. There was no sign of Prescott either, which meant he was exerting a great deal of effort to soothe over any ill feelings with the constable. Heaven forbid Prescott go against the law.

  Next to the hearth cuddled against the bulky chair the boy had fallen asleep. Wade walked over and removed the whiskey glass from the table next to him and discovered he had barely touched the drink. He would have liked one himself, but desperately needed that shower first.

  Looking down on the sleeping form, that same warm feeling washed over him. Admittedly, it surprised him considering the boy was virtually an unknown. But he didn’t feel like a stranger. His pale face looked clean and soft and Wade grinned with affection at the memory of the shave he received. He had an urge to reach out and stroke the soft skin. Out in the foyer, the front door opened and he took a step away from the boy.

  “The constable is convinced the boy knows something about the fire.” Prescott hung his wool coat on the hook next to the door and entered the great room. “He even threatened to call in the North-West Mounted Police.”

  Wade sighed wearily and rubbed his beard. “There will have to be a formal investigation.”

  “I don’t understand,” Prescott said, coming to stand beside his brother overlooking the sleeping boy. “How can he believe Peter had anything to do with this? He was with you when the fire erupted.”

  “Yes, but what about the night before?”

  Prescott looked concerned. “You don’t seriously think he had anything to do with the massacre?”

  Wade shook his head. “No, but that won’t stop others from thinking as much. If he’s from that village, why is he the lone survivor?”

  “Do you think he is hiding something?”

  With assurance, he shook his head. “He doesn’t remember anything. I’d like to keep it that way. At least until this mess is cleared up.”

  “You do think he knows what happened.”

  Wade looked down at the subject of their conversation and wondered for the umpteenth time since coming down from that mountain, what the boy had witnessed. “What I think is this kid has been through something no one in their lifetime should ever have to.”

  “Amen,” Prescott said. He followed his brother’s gaze and asked, “Should we wake him?”

  “No,” Wade said. “Let him sleep.”

  Prescott cocked his head and examined the boy’s position. “He doesn’t look very comfortable. Why don’t we put him on the spare bed in the cook’s room?”

  When their father had built the homestead nearly fifty years before, he had included in his floor plans a room off the kitchen for the cook. However, Kim Wong had never slept in it, preferring instead to sleep out in the bunkhouse with the wranglers.

  Wade nodded, then bent down and scooped the boy up into his arms. Not surprising, he was small and light. He made a mental note to remind himself to stuff the boy’s mouth and put some meat on his bones.

  He stirred slightly and Wade thought he had woken him. Instead the boy turned in Wade’s arms and cuddled into his chest. The act caught him off guard and caused an uncomfortable feeling to rise in the pit of his gut. Where he admittedly liked the boy and felt a kindred spirit, he was not the type to express physical affection.

  Gentle as not to wake him, he laid him carefully on the bed and stepped back to look down at him. Not knowing why, a tiny frown danced between his brows.

  As usual, Prescott came over to add his upbeat point of view. “I think someone has just adopted you, Dad.”

  His brother left the two of them alone in the room, obviously having witnessed the boy’s act in Wade’s arms. He wasn’t happy about that, but his brother’s words did bring a sense of relief. Maybe the boy lacked love and affection in his life or had grown up without a father for whatever reason.

  Wade had become the man of the household early on, Prescott and Kathleen had gone to live in England for a great number of years. When they returned, Prescott had become even more separate from Wade. They couldn’t have been more different. Where Prescott had taken on his mother’s personality, Wade was very much his father’s son. He was the person he was today because of that man.

  If anything, he missed that most in life. The relationship he had with his father. If he thought about it, he probably would have liked that same relationship with a son of his own. However, he had just celebrated his forty-fourth birthday and his days of marriage and fatherhood had passed him by. Maybe that was his connection with the boy. He was the son he never had.

  * * *

  Anna woke up feeling more content than she could ever recall. The bed beneath her was soft and more luxurious than anything she had ever slept on before. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and stared at the unfamiliar surroundings. With a start she sat bolt upright.

  The room was no bigger than an oversized horse stall and contained only a small table with a water basin as well as the bed she slept on. There was a small window high on the far wall and for a brief moment she panicked believing she was in prison. The night before had temporarily slipped from memory. Forefront in her mind was the forest fire. Then she recalled the constable’s accusing voice and Wade’s soothing words. Wade.

  She sprang to her feet and swung open the door. On the opposite side two men stood in a kitchen pouring themselves coffee from a tin kettle. At her unexpected appearance, they both looked up.
With a steady breath, she released the air caught in her throat. She knew them.

  “Good morning, Peter.” Prescott was the first to speak.

  She offered a feeble nod, still confused about her whereabouts.

  “Would you like to join us for coffee?” His face broke out into its usual brilliant smile.

  Again, she nodded. She blinked hard trying to clear the sleep from her eyes and focus on her surroundings. For the life of her, she did not recognize the place. She feared she had lost more of her memory overnight.

  “How was your sleep?” He placed a steaming mug of coffee into her hand.

  She could only offer a nod of approval. Without the use of speech she was beginning to feel repetitive.

  “You fell asleep in the armchair in front of the hearth,” he explained. “Wade carried you into the cook’s quarters.”

  That at least, thankfully, explained her not realizing her whereabouts. However, she was now troubled by the image of being cradled in Wade Haddock’s arms.

  From across the room the man of her thoughts walked toward her. She felt his eyes boring into her while he examined her face. Feeling uncomfortable with his scrutiny, she took a step away from him.

  “Feeling better this morning, boy?”

  She nodded, wondering why all of a sudden she hated the fact he referred to her as a boy.

  “Good,” he said. “I thought today would be as good a day as any to get you started.”

  She looked up into his face, puzzled. Those amazingly intense blue eyes pierced her right through. Immediately, she averted her gaze.

  “If you’re going to live here on the ranch, you’re going to have to learn how to wrangle,” he explained, noticing the look of puzzlement on her face.

  Then giving her a once over, added, “But first you’ll need to get something to eat. A scrawny little ranch hand ain’t any good to me.”

  Chapter 7

  “You ain’t serious, are ya boss?” Joe looked baffled. “The boy’s too skinny. Hell, a heifer straight out of his mama’s womb could easily snap the kid’s neck.”

  Wade ignored his lead hand and proceeded to drag equipment out of a large storage box in the back of the horse stall. “Since the southwestern roundup has been delayed, I thought it a good opportunity to start training the boy. It will be good experience.”

  “You mean for the boy to come along for the roundup?” Joe wasn’t pleased. The big cowboy had little patience when it came to dealing with the ranch hands. In particular, the baby-sitting type.

  “That’s right.” He placed the equipment he found in the box and laid it on a stall rail next to the boy. Withdrawing a pair of chaps he tossed them to the boy and ordered him to put them on.

  “Hell, that’s only in two days’ time. That ain’t enough time to get this boy trained.”

  “Then I suggest we get started.” Wade looked his foreman hard in the eye and succeeded in having him back down.

  The big cowboy started grumbling under his breath, but turned heavily on his foot and went off to the barn that housed the cows and their newborns. Wade turned his attention back to the boy who was not having any luck with the chaps. Sighing, he took them from his hands and proceeded to wrap them around his waist and secure them tightly above his belly. Bending down, he fastened the straps behind his buttocks and felt the boy recoil. Wade mentally reminded himself to work on the boy’s squeamish behavior.

  “You’re all set kid.” He stood up and gave the boy’s bottom a good slap before reaching over and slapping a cowboy hat on his head. The sun, whether it was in the dead heat of summer or the below zero temperatures of winter, was brutal on the eyes and skin. Given years at the Circle H, the boy’s delicate skin would become a part of history.

  Tossing him a thick coiled rope made of rawhide he led the boy outside. “Ever roped anything before?”

  He shook his head.

  “Here, let’s give it a shot.” He took the stiff rope from the boy’s hands and looped it on one hand until it formed a large noose. In his other hand, he coiled the remaining rope. “The key to roping is all in the wrist. First thing you want to do is make sure there are no kinks or knots in the line.”

  He handed the rope back to the boy. “Go ahead and take hold of it making sure not to hold your wrist to stiff. Go on, right, now go ahead and give it a swing over your head.”

  The boy took hold of the rope as indicated and proceeded to swing the noose above his head, but only resulted in tangling himself in the noose.

  Wade sighed and came to stand behind the boy, taking his small wrist in his much bigger hand. “More like this, but keep your wrist loose. Hell, boy, loosen up. You’re far too tense. You need to relax and allow your body to move with ease when swinging your noose.”

  Standing with the boy’s back tucked into his chest, he stood inches below Wade’s shoulder, but he still was able to detect the shampoo in the boy’s hair from the cut the day before. Mingled with this scent was an earthy but refreshing fragrance that Wade wasn’t accustomed to smelling on his wranglers.

  Against his chest, he could feel the boy grow rigid. He chose to ignore it along with his unexpected awareness of the boy’s scent and concentrated instead on instructing him on the finer details of centering his wrist and forearm to create a revolving wheel with the noose. Taking the boy’s swinging arm, he drew it from back to front and cast the rope into the air.

  Satisfied, Wade stepped back and had the boy cast his own noose. His first few attempts failed, but Wade was pleased the boy didn’t give up so easily. He kept at it for several more tries until at last the noose rose high above his head and sailed through the air.

  “That was terrific, kid,” Wade gave him a pat on the back and went to coil the rope. “Now all you have to do is rope something and you’ve got it in the bag. Here let’s give this post a try.”

  The boy nodded, taking the rope from Wade’s hands, then proceeded to try and lasso it over the post next to Wade. Again, his attempts met with failure, but once again he did not give up. He kept at it, rope after rope until at last his noose landed squarely over the post.

  Pleased, Wade gave the boy a friendly smile. He was startled when the boy smiled back. It was brief and he almost missed it, but Wade felt a rush of delight knowing he was able to bring an ounce of joy into his life. Even if for a brief second.

  “I think you’re just about ready to try something living,” he said and turned toward the paddocks, gesturing for the boy to follow.

  There were three paddocks all together on that side of the barns. Joe was in the one furthest away from them, the middle one was occupied by a young filly they were breaking, and the last paddock Sty and some of the other horses were pasturing. When they approached the gate to the last paddock, his lead hand looked over and Wade could still see his displeasure.

  “The boy’s a natural,” he said in an attempt to build the boy’s confidence rather than soothe his wrangler’s ill feelings. “He roped that post good and strong.”

  “Dandy,” the man grumbled. “He’ll be great help when our fences decide to up and flee.”

  Wade smirked to himself, but turned away as to not let the cowboy see. “Now remember kid, it’s all in the wrist.”

  Giving his shoulder a reassuring pat, he stepped back and watched as Joe positioned the young calf. From up the hill near the homestead he heard someone call his name. Cranking his neck, he looked back to see Prescott waving toward him. He turned his attention back to the boy who was off to a good start concentrating hard on the calf. Gesturing to Joe he indicated he would be back shortly, then headed for his brother. As he got closer he noticed a single sheet of paper in his hand.

  “It’s Kathleen.”

  * * *

  Anna drew her brows together as she focused hard on the calf. Thinking of the pride in Wade’s voice had her wanting to do a good job. She raised the rope and twirled it until it rose high over her head. A sense of confidence filled her as she made eye contact with the anim
al. The youngin’ stood on wobbly legs and stared back at her with big brown frightened eyes.

  Anna hesitated.

  The poor creature let out a mournful bleat, calling for his mother and Anna’s heart cracked.

  “What the hell you waitin’ for boy, throw the damn thing.” Joe shifted angrily on his feet, growing impatient.

  She really wanted to. The look of disappointment on Wade’s face nearly had her throwing the noose, but in the end she couldn’t do it. She dropped the rope.

  Naturally, she didn’t receive a pleasant reaction from the lead hand. He growled loudly and shot his eyes heavenward. She thought she heard the word ‘pansy’ muttered under his breath before he marched crossly toward her. Instinctively, she backed away, but something caught his attention and stopped him in his tracks. Her eyes followed his gaze and spotted the horse in the stall next to them.

  “Listen, kid, we can come back to this later. Ain’t no rush,” he said, far more forgiving than she trusted. “Why don’t we concentrate on your riding abilities?”

  She looked at the horse standing so peacefully in the next stall and thought that sounded a lot more doable.

  ”Ever ridden?”

  She nodded.

  “You ever schooled a horse before?”

  She frowned, looking puzzled.

  He grinned. “That’s a fancy new word Mr. Prescott uses for training horses. Well, come on boy, let’s see how you do.”

  Joe leaped the paddock fence rather than open the gate, and Anna felt she should follow suit. Far shorter and slimmer, leaping in one bound, however, was out of the question. Hurrying as not to let Joe see her climb the wooden fence, she quickly made her way over.

  The lead hand grabbed the bridle around the horse’s neck and led her over to where Anna stood. “This here is Lucy. She’s our newest filly. A little on the shy side, but makes up for it on the spirited side.”