by Anna Schmidt
He stood and held out his hand to her. “Come inside out of this heat,” he said. “We can talk about what’s best for you and Joshua.”
She only hesitated a moment before she got to her feet, and they walked around the side of the house to the back stoop, but when she stumbled, Trey picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. She did not resist, resting her head against his shoulder. She didn’t say anything more even once they were inside, as he helped her to a chair. At the sink, he pumped water to fill a canning jar that was as close to a glass as he could find. When he handed it to her, she cupped both hands around it as if warming them before drinking the contents down without hesitation.
He noticed sweat trickling down her neck and temples. Gently, he removed the glass from her fingers and refilled it, then soaked a towel made from a flour sack in the trickle of tepid water running from the pump. “Here,” he said, giving her the water. “Take it slow this time.” He stood by while she sipped at the water, her eyes fixed on the open window, her hands shaking.
“They came from that direction,” she mumbled. “We were asleep. I first woke when I heard the horses and saw the flash of the torches they carried.”
“Your nephew?”
“Both boys were so upset about that business at the church that they refused to stay.”
“How many men?” Trey asked as he lifted her hair and lay the wet cloth across the back of her neck. Her skin felt like it was on fire.
“Six…maybe eight?” She shook her head. “It seemed like dozens. They rode in circles around the house, hooting and hollering. Some of them waving those torches and others firing their guns in the air.”
“Did you recognize any of them? Maybe from the church social?” He was thinking of Pete—and Javier.
“They had their faces covered with bandanas and wore hats.” She pulled the cloth away from her neck and began wiping her face. “They could have killed Joshua firing their guns that way,” she said, and this time, her voice was filled with rage.
He had to keep her calm so that she would remember as many details as possible. He lifted a thick strand of her hair and began to comb through the tangles with his fingers. He remembered his mother doing something like that whenever one of his sisters was overwrought. “How were you able to get Joshua away?”
“Just before dawn, they set fire to some brush near the barn, and they all rode over that way to watch. They were laughing and cheering for the barn to catch fire, but thank God, it didn’t. Anyway, that’s when I told Joshua to go. Henry and Ernest had left one of the mules behind for me. The mule was in that corral there behind the coop. Joshua—bless him—was able to make it to the corral, climb on the mule’s back. Once he loosened the gate, that mule bolted for the hills, taking Joshua with him.”
She surprised him by reaching back and grasping his hand. “Will you go see that he made it? That he’s safe with Lottie and the boys?” And when he hesitated, she stood and clutched at his shoulders. “Please. I have to know that he’s safe. If anything were to happen to Joshua…”
It seemed the most natural thing in the world to fold his arms around her, pull her close, and rest his chin on top of her head. “I’ll go,” he promised. “But I won’t leave you here alone, Nell. Either come with me and stay with your sister-in-law, or agree to get your son and go into town. If we start out now, we can have you settled one way or the other before dusk, and I can be back here to watch over the place until your brother returns.”
She hesitated, then stepped away, just out of reach, and began hastily twisting her hair into a knot. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“It’s me asking you, Nell. Let me do this for you.”
“Why? Why do you care what happens to somebody like me?”
It was a fair question and one he thought he was prepared to answer—he could do it so it wasn’t personal, in terms of trying to find some way for the sheep and cattle ranchers to live together in peace. But as he looked at her tear-stained face, her skin tanned to a golden sheen, as he recalled how perfectly she had fit against him, he realized his offer had nothing to do with range wars or politics. This was about her and this unfamiliar urge to protect and watch over her. And realizing that, words failed him.
“It’s not important why. Are you coming or not?”
She nodded.
“Get dressed then. I’ll be outside.” He knew he sounded gruff and short-tempered, but the woman confused him—what he felt for her baffled him and made him uneasy. Trey wasn’t one who liked change, and there was something about Nell Stokes that promised to change his life in ways he hadn’t considered.
Three
Nell had no idea why she trusted Trey Porterfield, but she did—so much so that when he mounted his horse and then offered her his hand to pull her up to sit in front of him, she did not hesitate. His kindness in sending them the chickens and in the way he had included Joshua and her at the church social certainly were factors. But the truth was that his was the only offer of help she was likely to get before darkness came and with it, perhaps, the return of the marauders.
The fact that he was the kind of man to offer help when others simply turned away spoke volumes.
Although her land and Henry’s combined covered nowhere near the territory the Porterfield ranch did, the ride would still take over an hour. Conversation between them was limited to Trey making some observation or comment about their surroundings or the effect of the weather on crops and animals. Long periods of silence filled the rest. Nell felt her head bob and her eyelids flutter as the exhaustion of the last two nights of little sleep claimed her.
“Almost there,” she heard Trey murmur.
She glanced around. “Surely not,” she protested. “We haven’t—”
She could feel the rumble of Trey’s chuckle under her hand, which was resting on his chest. Quickly, she withdrew it.
“You’ve been sleeping for a while,” he said. “Your brother’s place is just over that rise.”
“Half brother,” she replied.
“You don’t care for him?”
“I don’t know him. He was grown and gone before I was ten,” she replied as she straightened so she was not leaning on him and glanced around. She was glad there was no one to see them. What a sight they must make. If Lottie—and especially the boys—saw her come riding up practically in the arms of a cattle rancher, they were going to have more questions than she was prepared to answer. “Let me walk,” she said as she made a futile effort to dismount the still-walking horse.
“Whoa!” She wasn’t sure if Trey was speaking to the horse or to her, since at the same time as he pulled at the reins, his strong forearm encircled her waist and held her firm against his body. “I’ll walk,” he said. “You stay put.”
He climbed down, made sure she was secure, and then clicked his tongue against his cheek as he led the horse up and over the rise. He paused for just a moment, surveying the scene below. Lottie was in the yard, gesturing to her son, Ira. Joshua was nowhere to be seen.
“Hurry,” Nell urged. “I don’t see my son. What if he didn’t make it here? What if we passed him on our way and he’s hurt or—”
“There’s somebody looking out that upstairs window there.” Trey pointed, and relief took the place of panic when Nell saw Joshua lean out the open window and point in their direction.
“He’s there,” she whispered around the lump in her throat. “He’s safe.”
“Good.” Trey led the horse down the hillside, and when Lottie looked their way, he waved.
Neither Lottie nor Ira made any move toward meeting them. They just stood where they were and watched. But Joshua came running from the house and across the yard. When he reached them, he was so out of breath and coughing so hard, he had no voice for speaking. Trey immediately lifted him onto the horse to straddle the animal behind Nell. He unstrapped a canteen, remo
ved the cap, and handed it to Joshua. He was, she decided in that moment, a genuinely kind man.
“Thank you, Trey.” She liked saying his name. She liked the way he ducked his head to hide a shy smile at her gratitude. She liked the way he patted Joshua’s knee before picking up the reins again. The truth was, she liked a good deal about Trey Porterfield, and in these times and this part of the country, that was not a wise choice.
“You all right, Nell?” Lottie called as Trey tied the horse to a hitching post outside the wrought-iron gate of the yard that was surrounded by a high adobe wall.
“Yes. Thanks to Mr. Porterfield.”
Ira scowled at her and refused to even look at Trey. “What happened, Auntie Nell?”
“I told you,” Joshua interrupted, having found his voice. “We got home from the church social, and some men came real late after we was asleep and scared Ma real bad, and then they came back last night.”
Ira waited for Trey to help Joshua and Nell down and then stepped between him and them. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, cowboy?”
“Ira, mind your manners,” Nell said. She didn’t miss the fact that Lottie had said nothing to reprimand her son’s rudeness. “Mr. Porterfield has been very kind to go out of his way to bring me here.”
“Sort of a coincidence then that he just happened to show up?”
She noticed that Trey was saying nothing in his own defense. “Well, thank heavens he did. Lottie, can Joshua and I stay with you just until the men get back from the shearing?”
“Of course.” Lottie seemed relieved to be able to agree to something. “But what about your place? If those men come back and find it deserted?”
Trey cleared his throat. “I told Mrs. Stokes that I would keep watch.”
Ira laughed. “Talk about a fox and a henhouse. Come to think of it, you’ve got some similarities to the fox—beady eyes and a shifty way about you.”
This time, he’d gone too far, for it was Lottie who spoke up. “That’s enough, Son.” She turned her attention to Trey. “As soon as Joshua showed up this morning, I sent my other son to carry the news of these attacks to my husband and the other men. I expect he and the others will be back by morning at the latest. Ira here can watch over Nell’s place until then. We do appreciate you looking in on her, but she’s fine.”
Trey turned his attention to Nell. “What do you want me to do, Mrs. Stokes? I can leave you here and go back to watch over your place. I can take you and Joshua into town to stay with Doc Addie and send soldiers from the fort to make sure things stay safe at your ranch. Or I can just go.”
The news that Henry and Ernest would be returning soon, coupled with the way Lottie kept nervously wringing her hands and Ira stood with boots firmly planted and his muscled arms folded over his chest, made Nell’s decision for her. “Just go,” she said softly, deliberately repeating his words so there could be no mistake.
She watched as a shadow passed over his normally genial face and his lips twitched as if he wanted to say something more. He nodded, replaced his hat, and unhitched the reins as he climbed back in the saddle in one fluid motion. “Ladies,” he said, tipping his hat before riding away.
As soon as he was gone, Ira confronted her. “Don’t know what you’ve got in mind, Aunt Nell, but you’d best think again if you’re planning on getting friendly with that cowboy—any cowboy.”
He towered over her, but he was still a child to her adult, and their relationship alone should have required respect. She ignored him and turned her attention to Lottie. “Thank you for taking us in. If it’s all right with you, Lottie, Joshua and I will stay here until the men return.”
“Of course,” Lottie replied after glancing at her son to get his approval. He shrugged and grunted. “I’ll just go see about making up the spare room for you.” She hurried back to the house.
Nell turned to her nephew. “Do not ever speak to me in that tone again, Ira. What I do and who I involve in my business is just that—my business.”
“We’ll see about that once Pa gets back.” He stalked off toward the barn.
“Why’s everybody so mad?” Joshua asked.
Nell had been so caught up in the standoff with Ira that she had momentarily forgotten her son was witnessing it all. She forced a smile and ruffled his hair. “No need for you to worry. Families sometimes fight, but it’s more out of love than anger.”
Joshua looked doubtful. “Ira was pretty mad. You shoulda heard him right before you got here.”
She saw her nephew emerge from the barn leading the one horse Henry owned and carrying a rifle. “Go on up to the house, Joshua, and see if you can help your Aunt Lottie. I’ll be right there.”
As usual, Joshua didn’t question her but trudged away as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. Nell turned in the opposite direction, reaching Ira just after he had mounted up.
“Where are you going, Ira?” Her heart hammered with fear that he planned to go after Trey.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m headed to your place to stand watch till Pa and Ernest and Spud get there.”
He started to turn the horse’s head, but Nell reached up and held the bridle firm. “I meant what I said, Ira. That ranch belongs to me, and I expect you and everyone else to respect that, understood?”
Ira leaned down so that his face was close to hers. “You don’t deserve no respect, woman. I saw the way you looked at that rancher. I saw the way he looked at you. Your husband ain’t been dead a year before you go cozying up to some cowboy? You that desperate for a man in your bed?”
She knew he had to be repeating talk he had heard from the older men, but she was so shocked at his venom that she loosened her grip on the bridle. Ira saw his chance and kicked the sides of the horse so suddenly and viciously that the animal took off, leaving her standing in a cloud of dust. And as she walked slowly back to the house, she was shaking. Her fury was tempered only by the realization that there was a kernel of truth in what Ira said. After all, the two nights of terror she had endured had come at the hands of cowboys. Trey may not have ridden with them, but he was one of them. Those men were his friends. Some of them might even work for him. Ira had no right to chastise her, but could she blame him? Could she blame Henry or Ernest when Calvin, their cousin and friend, had most likely died at the hands of these men or others like them?
“Lottie, would it be all right if I lie down for a bit? It’s been—I’ve not slept.”
Lottie set aside the towels she’d been placing on the washstand. “Of course. It must have been so awful, and I expect it’s just now catching up with you.” She wrapped her arm around Nell’s waist and walked with her to the narrow bed. “You sleep as long as you like.”
“No, wake me when Henry and the others…”
Lottie knelt and unlaced Nell’s shoes. “Anything Henry might have to say can wait until you’ve had a chance to regain your strength.”
It occurred to Nell that this was the first time she had ever heard Lottie say a word that might be seen as in conflict with what her husband might think or want. “Thank you, Lottie,” she murmured.
“That cowboy, Nell, well. Anybody can see he’s a good man, but he’ll have to choose who he’s gonna stand with at some point—and it won’t be you.”
Nell heard the soft click of the door closing and turned onto her side, facing the window. A few minutes later, she saw Joshua and Lottie walk to a bench under the shade of a cottonwood tree. Lottie handed Joshua a dishpan filled with early peas to shuck. Nell’s eyes fluttered shut, and the last thing she heard before sleep claimed her was her son’s laughter.
* * *
When Trey reached home, it was after dark, and he rode straight to the bunkhouse. Javier sat on the banco outside the door, his arms folded across his chest, his legs outstretched, and his hat covering his face.
“Javier!”
Trey reined in his horse and dismounted. By the time he had covered the distance between the horse and his friend, Javier was standing, watching closely as he clearly tried to judge Trey’s mood.
“¿Qué más, Jefe?”
Trey grabbed his friend by his shirtfront and backed him up to the wall of the bunkhouse. Never before had he laid his hands on Javier in anger, but this time, the man had crossed a line that friendship couldn’t forgive. “You tell me.” He stared at Javier, who met his gaze briefly, then glanced away.
“Not sure what you’re—”
Trey shook him. “The Stokes place last night, and the night before. You have anything to do with that?”
He had his answer before he finished the question.
Javier scowled up at him, meeting his eyes directly. “You gotta choose a side, Trey.”
Trey felt an anger unlike any he had ever experienced in his life. It was born of frustration and exasperation—and fear. The fear that after the decades that his parents, his sister Maria, and her husband had managed the ranch successfully, despite all kinds of human and natural disasters, he might be the one who failed. He gave Javier one more shove and then released him.
“Why do there have to be sides? Why can’t we all just live here and work the land and—”
While Trey might be quick to anger and quicker to let things go, Javier had no trouble showing his rage. He stepped closer to Trey and, with no pretense of modulating his voice, shouted, “You know why, Trey, and stop pretending you don’t. Them damned woolies chew the grass down to the nub, all while their sharp hooves finish the job by digging up whatever’s left by the roots. This used to be open range—cattle range—and now we’re supposed to share it? You got any idea how far we’ve had to drive the herd to find decent pasture for the summer? That’s because of them.”
“And that makes it all right to terrorize a widow and her sick son for two nights running?” Trey roared in return.
