Hilda Hogties a Horseman
A Historical Western Romance
Brides with Grit Series: Book 3
Copyright © 2015 by Linda K. Hubalek
Published by Butterfield Books Inc. on Smashwords
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting this hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Except for the history of Ellsworth, Kansas that has been mentioned in the book, the names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
A clean, sweet historical romance set in 1873.
DESCRIPTION.
Ranch woman Hilda Hamner spent her youth traveling with her Swedish immigrant family as they drove cattle from Texas up to Kansas cow towns in the 1870s. Hilda decided to get off the cattle trail and bought an abandoned homestead in Kansas with her horse race winnings. She plans on raising horses—and finding a husband that doesn’t mind her tall, lanky body that’s usually dressed in men’s clothing.
Noah Wilerson planned to bring his intended bride from Illinois back to the Kansas homestead he started for them, but found out his fiancée had already married someone else when arriving at her father’s doorstep. After traveling back home, Noah finds a woman has taken over his claim, leaving him homeless and jobless.
Hilda realizes she needs help to make her horse ranch successful, and decides that Noah is the right man—to promote from horseman to husband on her ranch—if he’ll treat her as a special woman, and not just a ranching partner.
Noah wants his homestead back, and the woman who has transformed the simple soddie into a family home. Between family dramas, outlaw danger, and butting heads, which one will hogtie the other to get to the church altar first?
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Dedication
To the women who homesteaded the Kansas prairie—
I tip my hat to your adventurous spunk.
Chapter 1
June 1873, near Clear Creek, Kansas
This was the second time Noah Wilerson had seen that thick blonde braid. He was positive it was the same one. Surely there couldn’t be two identical women with matching braids.
The first time he saw that hair was a year ago in early May when he was at the Clear Creek depot, waiting for the train to take him to Illinois. Noah assumed a bunch of cowboys had finished the long trail drive from Texas to Ellsworth and were celebrating with a horse race in the nearby small town of Clear Creek. After getting the worked–up men and horses lined up halfway straight across Main Street, someone fired a gun into the air and the group stormed down the street, racing out of Clear Creek at a break-neck speed. The sky was a clear blue but changing to hazy gray as the dirt cloud ascended from the racers’ horses’ hooves.
The pack of horses galloped together out to a certain point marked in the prairie, then turned to race back to the finish line, which happened to be in front of the depot, right where Noah stood on the boardwalk. A striking palomino paint mount moved out of the oncoming dust to claim the lead and finish first.
The slender rider wore his wide–brimmed hat low and tight on his head and had a red bandana over his mouth to keep from eating dust on the run. Once the horse slowed down and the rider turned his mount around, they pranced back to the finish line and collected the $100 cash from the man in charge of holding the prize money.
Once the money was in hand, the rider pulled down the bandana, ripped the hat off to wave in the air and gave a very feminine whooping holler. That’s when Noah—and everyone else—saw the thick, blonde, two–foot braid, with a bright pink bow tied on the end of it, flipping out of her hat and down her back.
That caused an uproar when the other riders realized a woman had bested them out of the race money. A couple of riders jumped off their horses and tried to tear the female down off the horse but the gelding thrashed around, not letting anyone touch him or his rider. The officials decided the woman had won the race fair and square, so she loped west out of town with the money. No one bothered to follow her as she headed back to Ellsworth, because they knew the horse could outrun them if they tried. Noah had admired the woman’s spunk and horsemanship, and silently tipped his hat to her successful ride and earnings.
Now, a year later, he was back from his unsuccessful Illinois trip, and that same female with the decorated braid had a rifle trained on his head. She looked like she could shoot about as well as she rode that palomino paint horse, too. The only trouble was that she was standing in the doorway of his house.
Noah stared at her, hoping she’d relax her stance and lower the rifle. She was in her early twenties, a little on the skinny and tall side for a woman, probably only four to five inches shorter than his six–foot height.
Neither the woman—dressed in men’s trousers—nor the gun wavered a quarter of an inch when she yelled, “State your business, Mister, or turn around and leave!”
Noah stood there, dumbfounded, for a minute. He didn’t think he needed to yell, “Hello the house,” since it was his own place.
Noah looked around, just now realizing there were changes around his homestead. He was so tired riding in he hadn’t noticed the difference. It had been a long trip from Colorado, and his brain hadn’t registered things that might not be exactly the same as they were when he left a year ago. Actually, the place should have looked like a neglected, weedy mess, but there was a large, well–maintained garden planted beside the water well; a small flock of chickens scratched around in a screened, chicken–wire pen attached to the small barn that he’d built. His sod house looked different with the blooming, wild, pink rose bushes growing on either side of the door, but it did improve the looks of the sod–block home. Why hadn’t he noticed the difference when he rode up? He hadn’t bothered planting flowers on the place before he left—although it would have been a nice gesture to welcome home his new bride.
Now what? He was bone tired from the trip home. His plan was to put his horse into his barn and go into his house and crawl into his own bed. That wasn’t going to happen with her rifle trained on him, though.
The woman seemed to be alone, except for the dirty little dog by her side, which was yapping non-stop—without stopping to breathe—it seemed to Noah. No man had stepped out of the barn, nor had any children peeped out of the two windows he built into the house. Huh. The window frames had been painted white. Bet those frames almost glowed in the dark against the dark sod walls.
She also hadn’t offered her name. Noah racked his brain, but he was sure she wasn’t a neighbor’s daughter he should know. Her ties to the area were evident from last year’s race. Her speech was a little different; like a European immigrant but with a Texas drawl—if that was even possible.
Noah urged his chestnut quarter horse, Ace, to take step forward, but pulled back on the rein when he heard the metallic click of the gun being cocked. “Sir, this is my homestead, so don’t bother getting any closer.”
“Where’s your husband, ma’am?” Noah shouted, wanting to be sure all possible claim jumpers were in sight. “I homesteaded this place last year.”
Her gun was beaded right in the
middle of his forehead now. “That might be then, but now it is my place. I bought it fair and square—with cash—at the county land office in Ellsworth.”
“Not possible. I built this place, so I own it.”
She didn’t even blink an eye at his statement. “It’s been sitting empty for months, so it was considered abandoned.”
Noah hung his head in exasperation now. “I hadn’t planned to be away from home so long, but…my trip didn’t go as planned.”
“Doesn’t matter. This place is mine now. You only filed a temporary claim on the place, and then left for months. You’ve got to live on the land to own up the claim or pay the higher fee to begin with.”
Noah’s temper was about to blow. “The soddie is one thing, but my money and sweat built that wooden barn. This is my place!”
“No, it’s mine. Plus I don’t know you from Adam. You could just be another stupid claim jumper thinking I don’t know my rights.”
Gall dang this was getting annoying. “My belongings are in there, even the Bible which has my name in it! Look for Noah Wilerson written on the inside front page.”
“Hmm,” the woman smirked. “I didn’t bother looking for any name in that book when I used its pages to start a fire in the stove.”
The woman had good eyesight, because she smirked when she saw the horror on his face. Noah didn’t know if she was kidding just to get him riled, or if she did really burn his precious book in the stove. Even if she didn’t read, most people recognized the Bible and the importance of it.
Now the barking mutt left the woman’s side and slowly advanced toward him. Noah guessed the dog might have been white once—when it was born—but now it looked like it had been used as a dust mop on the hard dirt floor of his home. The poor dog’s dirty long hair, which nearly covered its eyes and ears, probably weighed more than its body. The thing growled and showed its mouth of bared teeth, trying to look twice as big as its little foot–tall body.
Ace took a step back as did his own dog, Poker. So much for the fancy German shepherd guard puppy he won in a card game. It had no instinct at all for protecting the three of them from the mop now charging toward them.
“Holy Terror! Stop!”
Holy Terror? The mutt stopped but kept its mouth silently moving, looking like it wanted to taste horse flesh—or a hunk of him.
“Just as well turn around and leave, because you’re not stepping a foot on this place.”
“All right, I’ll ride into town and bring the Clear Creek marshal out to settle this. Get your stuff packed, because you’ll be leaving when we get back!” But Noah’s shouted threat didn’t seem to ruffle the woman.
“I have the deed to this land, so a visit from Marshal Adam Wilerson won’t make a difference, especially since he’s just a town marshal. Anyway, he’s the one who told me this place was available,” she yelled back.
What? Why would his brother Adam say this place was abandoned? His family knew he’d come home—eventually. Of course, he’d planned to come back as a married man, but his sweetheart hadn’t waited for him.
Noah sighed and turned his horse around. Poker was already running like a coward, away from the glare of the little dog. Noah knew he had better stop before his temper got the best of him and he got shot. The woman looked as though she had no qualms to shoot him in front between the eyes, or from behind, between his shoulder blades.
“Wait,” the woman called.
Noah looked over his shoulder, hopeful she’d say it was a joke his brothers Adam and Jacob had planned for his return. He had sent Adam a wire from Denver saying he was on his way home.
“Your mother said you can bunk at her house.” Then the woman lowered her rifle and stepped back, into the front door of his sod house.
***
Hilda Hamner stayed in the open doorway, watching the horse trot away from the house. So that was Cate Wilerson’s third son, Noah. He matched his brothers, Adam and Jacob, in looks from what she would tell at a distance. She should have waited to step out so she could have gotten a better look at him. Sat fairly tall and straight in the saddle, broad shoulders, shaggy brown hair and a scruff–looking beard. Bet he’ll clean up real nice when he got around to it. Yep, that was a fine looking gelding—and the man wasn’t bad either.
She wondered if Noah would be a good life partner. If he was a good horseman and husband material, like her friend and neighbor Cate said her son would be, Hilda would consider letting him on her place, permanently.
But Noah had to prove himself to her first. Hilda wanted an equal partnership with her future husband. She would not be told what to do, belittled, abused, nor tolerate a drunk or anything else she’d seen in bad marriages. She remembered her parents’ rough time in Sweden, and starting over in Texas, too, but they got on the right track and worked well together now. Her parents brought up their four children to work as a team as the family rounded up wild Texas longhorns in the Hill Country and drove them to various states. They had been as far west as Denver, and east to St. Joseph, Missouri. The last several trips ended at the Kansas cowtown shipping yards of Abilene and Ellsworth.
The cattle were starting to thin out in Texas and her parents had a family meeting. What did the family want to do; continue traveling on cattle drives, or settle permanently somewhere? All four children; Leif, Dagmar, Hilda and Rania were adults now and ready to start their own families. On their last cattle drive to Kansas, they picked up the Emigrant’s Guide to the Kansas Pacific Railroad Lands–1871, anxious to compare what was available in Kansas versus their Texas lifestyle.
It was unanimous to settle near each other in Kansas, and they had been working on this plan for a year. Instead of buying railroad land and building, Hilda’s folks bought an existing homestead, and Hilda bought this abandoned claim.
Hilda watched as the horse and rider trotted across the prairie to his family’s ranch. She’d love to be a fly on the horse’s neck when he got a good look at the changes in the Wilerson ranch yard. Oh, and when he got in the house, too. But Hilda wasn’t worried about listening in on the conversations; the females in the Wilerson family would give her the details later.
Chapter 2
Being an early June evening, the sky was still bright, but the evening temperature was starting to drop to a comfortable level. After being in the dry climate of Colorado for a while, it would take him a few days to acclimate to Kansas’s warmer temperatures and humidity.
Instead of spending two weeks walking across the plains, Noah bought passage for himself and the animals to travel in a boxcar. It took almost two days for the train to travel from Denver to Wallace, Kansas, where the train stopped and Noah got a hot meal at the railroad hotel. The next stop was at the little village of Ellis, where Noah spent the night in another railroad hotel before pulling into Ellsworth this afternoon. He decided to get off the train in Ellsworth instead of Clear Creek to give Ace a chance to stretch his legs on the last leg home. Noah wasn’t sure who wanted off the train the worst, him, the dog, or the horse.
It didn’t take long to ride to his family’s ranch because the two homes were only a mile apart. Noah built his home and outbuildings on the east edge of his acreage so it would be close to his family’s home.
All was quiet when Noah unsaddled Ace in his family’s barn and rubbed down the horse before walking across the yard to the house. His family must already be in the house because the barn was empty, the horses and milk cow out in the pasture for the night.
It was good to be home, but also a little hard to look around the place and think how things had changed over the years. His family of six left Illinois and built this homestead soon after the War Between the States began. Moses and Cate Wilerson didn’t want their three sons involved in the war, so they traveled west trying to avoid it. They started with a simple claim of one–hundred and sixty acres, adding more land over the next decade.
The ranch buildings sat nestled on a south slope of a hill that ran down to the Smoky Hill Riv
er below, which was the main water source for their herd. Their family had lived in a dugout first, but after a year, a wooden house was completed over the dugout hole, which then became the food cellar. The barn and adjacent pens they built sheltered the horses and ranch equipment. More pens had been expanded over time to accommodate the cattle brought into the ranch headquarters during roundups. Except for the four young willow saplings that he and his brothers dug up along the river’s edge and planted near the house, there was nothing else to block the sweep of moving prairie wind as far as the eye could see. Other than small fields for corn, oats and sugar sorghum for their livestock’s winter feed, and the garden plot for the family’s food, the land had not been plowed like eastern parts of Kansas had.
Wait. Things had changed while he was gone. The washhouse had recently been painted…a bright red with white trim. Blooming wildflowers had been planted around its foundation too. Walking around the corner of the house, he also spied a newly planted tree. The fifteen–foot–tall cottonwood, about thirty feet behind the house, had a wooden picnic table sitting next to it. The tree didn’t offer any shade yet, but the scene gave the illusion of a shady spot to enjoy. Huh. Noah wondered what else had changed around here.
His brother, Jacob, had taken over the daily managing of the ranch when their father, Moses, died four years ago. Their mother, Cate, still a trim, spry woman in her early forties, was part of the ranching operation and rode and roped just as well as her sons.
Three years ago his oldest brother, Adam, became Clear Creek’s marshal, and moved into the house in town provided with the job. Adam’s goal as a kid had always been to be a soldier or lawman; therefore he’d never had much interest in ranching or farming.
Their younger sister Sarah still lived at home, but she was engaged—last Noah knew—to Ethan Paulson. The Paulson family was building a new hotel in Clear Creek which Sarah and Ethan would manage and live in when completed. Their wedding was the reason he headed home now. He didn’t want to miss a sibling’s wedding.
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