“I wish I had photographs to look back on in my family,” Charlotte answered wistfully, “but most all of my family’s history was lost in a fire when I was a little girl.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Charlotte followed John up the remaining steps and down a darkened hallway to the last room on the right. After opening the door, he stood to the side, encouraging her to enter.
“It probably ain’t what you’re used to,” he said, “but I hope that it’ll do.”
Sunlight streamed through the southern window, illuminating a room without much furniture. Beside the single bed, there was only the nightstand near the door and the dresser against the opposite wall. Light fell upon the washbasin atop the dresser, sending shimmering reflections dancing across the ceiling.
“It’s perfect,” she said.
“I’m happy you think so,” he answered, “but if there’s anything you need that you don’t have, let us know.”
“I will.”
“You get yourself a bit of rest ’fore dinner and don’t worry ’bout missin’ it, ’cause there’ll be more noise than if the circus come to town. A mess of hungry cowboys make more than a fair share of racket!”
As John shut the door behind him, Charlotte twirled about the room, so excited about her new life she had to release some energy. Still, John’s advice was no doubt sound, and she lay back on the bed. It was hard to believe she was so far from Minnesota.
Closing her eyes, Charlotte found sleep as easily as if she had reached out and grabbed it.
Chapter Three
BY THE TIME CHARLOTTE awakened, the sound of boisterous voices was rising up from the bottom of the stairs. Peeking out into the hall, she saw that Del had brought her belongings. After refreshing herself at the washbasin, she selected a fresh blouse, tied back her blond hair, and took a long look at herself in the mirror above the dresser.
Charlotte pulled at the thin chain around her neck and freed the locket that had been given to her by her father soon after his return to her life. Popping open the clasp that held it shut, she looked down upon the tiny photograph of her mother that had accompanied Mason Tucker across the battlefields of France. Though less faded and far better traveled than the images John Grant had hung along the stairway, the image of her mother, a woman she had never known, was her greatest treasure.
With a smile, she closed the locket, slid it safely back inside her blouse, and made her way down the stairs.
The dining room at the Grant Ranch was bustling with rowdy men who were finally finished with a long day’s work. Their raucous, noisy laughter occasionally was punctuated by a shout and good-natured ribbing. To Charlotte, everything was a bit disorienting. She smiled and nodded here and there as she wove her way through the throng and over to where John waved at her, every step allowing her to hear snippets of the many conversations going on around her.
“—that dang bull is a heller, fer sure.”
“—if’n we don’t get rain soon, we’re gonna get blowed clear down to Texas.”
“—the way that son of a bitch was buckin’ I thought I might get throwed all the way to the pearly gates.”
“That’s about the only way you’ll get there!”
When Charlotte approached the long table in the center of the room, she was surprised to see several women racing back and forth from the kitchen carrying wide platters and deep bowls heaped high with food: huge portions of green beans, red potatoes, high-rising biscuits, and steaks. But when she inquired if she could help with the preparation of the meal or in setting the table, John shooed her away.
“You’re a guest here and that means your only job is to sit down at the table and eat your fill.”
“But surely I could help in some way?”
“It seems to me that you’re the sort of gal who gets an idea in her head and can’t let it go, no matter what argument is used ’gainst it.” John chuckled. “After all the time you spent travelin’, why don’t you just let things be as they are, at least for tonight.”
Reluctantly, Charlotte agreed.
Happy that he had persuaded her to see things his way, John began to introduce Charlotte to each of the men who worked for him. From Ken Caldwell on to Matthew Hoskins and then to Dave Powell and beyond, the list seemed endless, one weather-beaten, whiskered face replacing the one that came before, if only for an instant, over ten in all.
“Is it always this hectic at dinnertime?” she asked a cowboy she thought was named Will.
“Nope, it sure ain’t,” the man answered. “Some of our nights is spent sweatin’ over our wood-burnin’ stoves, cookin’ up whatever grub we scrounge up from the general store Mr. Grant maintains. But tonight we was invited to the house for proper eatin’ on account of you bein’ here.”
“All of this for me?” she said in surprise.
“With the look of this here food,” he smiled, glancing over at the laden table, “there ain’t a one of us who’s gonna complain!”
Then John gently grabbed her by the elbow to introduce her to someone else. “This here is the part about John Grant that most people like best,” he beamed proudly, “and I can’t say I blame them. Charlotte, I’d like you to meet my wife, Amelia.”
With her thin, mousy auburn hair piled high atop her head in a haphazardly formed bun, soft and round greenish gold eyes that seemed mismatched above her high, rosy cheeks, and a thinly pursed mouth over a weak, dimpled chin, Amelia Grant struck Charlotte as an awkward match for her lively husband as she was shorter than John by nearly a foot. Amelia wiped her hands on her apron before offering them to her new guest; they felt warm and clammy to the touch.
“Welcome to our home,” Amelia said softly.
“Thank you so much for having me here,” Charlotte replied.
While her first assumption was that Amelia was as meek and timid as a church mouse, Charlotte couldn’t help but notice the sweat that slicked the woman’s brow and the steely strength readily apparent in her arms and hands. To think her unimportant would be to underestimate the burden she carried as a ranch owner’s wife. Besides, the fact that John doted on her, singing her praises unabashedly, crowing about her as if she were blessed from on high, was another indication that there was more to Amelia Grant than what initially revealed itself.
Del came up beside her with his hat in his hand and a warm smile; though she had just met him earlier that day, Charlotte found herself happy to see a face she recognized. “Are you gettin’ settled in all right?” he asked.
“I am, thank you.”
“Arrivin’ somewhere new can be a bit overwhelmin’.” Del chuckled, nodding to all of the commotion around them.
“I’m finding that out.”
“Give it time and I’m sure it’ll start feelin’ like home.”
Suddenly, the rear door crashed open thunderously and a deep voice bellowed into the dining room, silencing all other talk.
“Thank goodness you didn’t start without me! I’m so hungry my stomach is gnawing on my backbone!”
Squeezing through the door to the dining room, enthusiastically greeting his fellow ranch hands, was undoubtedly the largest man she had ever seen. Hugely proportioned, he was as impressive to behold as a prize ox at the fair; his broad shoulders looked wider than a pair of axe handles, and his taut, muscular arms strained against the fabric of his work shirt.
When the huge man made eye contact with John, he hurried over to where they stood with the enthusiasm of someone about to receive a gift.
“I reckon this must be our new schoolmarm!” he practically shouted, towering over Charlotte with such a presence that she found herself speechless.
Thankfully, John stepped into the silence by saying, “Charlotte, let me introduce you to one of the best hands a rancher could ever hope to have. This big fella is Hale McCoy.”
“It’s really nice to meet you,” Hale said.
“I… I… why… yes, it is…” Charlotte stumbled.
“Let
’s hope she ain’t gonna be this tongue-tied standin’ up in front of the classroom.” Hale laughed. “Or else I got the feelin’ those little buggers are gonna have the run of the roost!”
“She ain’t the first woman to trip over her words the first time she met you!” a voice shouted from the back of the room.
“I believe my mother was the first, startin’ on the day I was born!” Hale boasted.
“That poor woman!” came another shout.
Though Charlotte was quite certain she was blushing a bit at the teasing, she could see that Hale McCoy, for all his size, clearly possessed a gentle soul. From the downy blond hair that stood up in a prominent cowlick to his mischievous, dancing light blue eyes, he was childlike and charming. She found him easy to like and began warming up to him even if she was the source of his amusement. She decided that she would deal with him the same way she had always dealt with those who were so overwhelming.
I’ll give it back every bit as good as I get!
“I wasn’t stumbling over my words because I was tongue-tied,” Charlotte corrected, straightening her shoulders and raising her chin to meet Hale’s questioning gaze. “I was only drawing in my breath in the hope that you would be able to hear me all the way up there.”
Hale was momentarily taken aback, but his eyes lit up and he finally exclaimed, “Oh, I like her! She’s got spunk in spades!”
“And don’t you forget it,” she declared.
“I’m thinkin’ you ain’t,” he said with a chuckle.
“Seems to me that you’re gonna fit in just fine under this roof,” John joined in.
Before any more teasing could ensue, the ranch owner called everyone to dinner, holding out a seat for Charlotte near the head of the table. Hale settled his massive bulk into the seat directly opposite her, clearly relishing the thought of more verbal jousting during the course of the meal. Amelia took the seat to Charlotte’s immediate right. Every ranch hand looked up to where John stood, not a hat to be seen on a single head.
“Since we have the providence and good fortune to have a new face here among us,” the older man began, looking over to where Charlotte sat,” it only seems proper that she be allowed to say Grace.”
Taken aback, Charlotte managed to sputter, “I… I… couldn’t possibly know what to say…”
“Ain’t nothin’ to it with a mouth like yours,” Hale teased.
Charlotte shot him a withering look but only managed to make him laugh harder.
“Just do the best you can,” Amelia encouraged.
Nodding, Charlotte bowed her head and clasped her hands together in her lap. Saying a silent, private prayer before beginning, she said,
“Thank you, our Father in Heaven above, not just for the large meal prepared for us and the wonderful company in which it will be shared, but also for bringing me safely from my family in Minnesota to be among such kind and,” Charlotte paused for a moment, opening one eye to look at Hale before adding, “interesting people. May our time together continue to make us every bit as happy as I have been this day. Bless us and this house. Amen.”
When she finished, Charlotte looked up cautiously, as if she expected someone to raise an objection to her words, but instead found that everyone at the table had already turned their attention to loading their plates with food. With a silent laugh at her unnecessary nervousness, she joined them.
Just as dinner was drawing to a close, silverware being set down on plates still containing the last bites of a deliciously rich apple pie, the back door beside the mudroom opened again. Before Charlotte could turn around to see whoever had just entered, she was struck by the clear, surprising strangeness of Hale’s reaction.
All throughout the meal, the enormous ranch hand’s mood and voice remained every bit as great as his size; every time she had ventured an opinion, Hale had been there with a contrary comment, his deep baritone drowning out every other voice at the table.
But now when he spoke, Charlotte was taken aback.
“Eve… evenin’,” Hale sputtered, his voice only a fraction of what it had been only moments before.
Her curiosity completely getting the better of her, Charlotte turned and looked back over her chair; there, walking into the dining room, was a very pretty young woman. About the same age as Charlotte, with raven black hair that swept loosely across her narrow shoulders, green eyes that moved easily about the room, and features as delicate and dainty as a starlet on a Hollywood movie poster, she beamed at the group at the table. Still, beneath her smile a sad weariness flickered a moment, as if it were a candle’s flame, before vanishing.
“I’m terribly sorry that we’re so late in getting back, but I just couldn’t manage to get away from my work at the office,” she explained, her voice every bit as remarkable as her looks. “With all of the new cases Mr. Barnaby’s law practice takes on, my day never seems to end!”
“That’s quite all right, dear,” Amelia answered. “It couldn’t be helped.”
“Have a seat,” John invited.
“You mean Hale didn’t eat every last morsel in sight?” she teased.
“I’d… I’d make sure there was some left for you, Hannah,” he replied.
“I just bet!”
“As much as I like a good-natured ribbin’, ’specially when it’s at Hale’s expense,” John interrupted from his spot at the head of the table, “now seems ’bout as good a time as any to make us a few introductions. Hannah, this is Charlotte Tucker, the young lady who’s to be our new teacher.”
“It’s so nice to meet you!” Hannah exclaimed as her gaze settled upon Charlotte for the first time, her eyes lighting up as she took the other woman’s hand in her own. “It’s so nice to meet you! Everyone here has been eagerly anticipating your arrival. I’m Hannah Williams,” she said, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear. “I’ve only recently come to Sawyer myself, so I know what it’s like to be the new face in town. If there’s anything you need, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I will,” Charlotte answered, instantly warming to Hannah. “So far, everyone has been very helpful.”
“Everyone?” Hannah asked with a sly curiosity.
“Of course,” Charlotte answered, a bit confused.
“Are you sure Hale hasn’t been giving you any trouble?” Hannah persisted, training her eyes upon the large man as if he were a small boy who had just been found by his mother to be up to mischief. “He’s a bit of a scalawag who’s been known to irritate if given the chance.”
“I… I haven’t, Hannah!” Hale protested. “Honest I haven’t!”
“If you even suspect him of getting out of line,” Hannah said, nodding to Charlotte with a wily smile, “you just tell me and I’ll take care of it!”
“I will,” Charlotte said with a laugh.
“Maybe we ought to get Hannah to come on out to the corrals once in a while.” A cowboy snickered at the far end of the table. “What with the way she gets that big ox to snap to attention, I reckon there ain’t no wild horse that could ever stand a chance!”
“Shut up down there!” Hale thundered in answer, but his angry tone did nothing to quell the laughter that filled the room.
It was at that moment that Charlotte understood Hale’s bizarre reaction to Hannah entering the room.
He was in love with her.
Even now that he was the butt of the joke, the object of ridicule from everyone in the room, Hale’s eyes still occasionally darted toward Hannah, checking to see if she was watching him. Gone was the overpowering force of personality Charlotte had felt only an hour before, replaced by shyness and uncertainty.
Once the sound of laughter had finally died down, John turned to Hannah and said, “I imagine that Owen wasn’t too pleased to wait for you.”
“You know how Owen is,” she answered, shrugging. “Nowadays, there isn’t much that seems to make him happy.”
As if in answer to the speculations, a man stalked into the dining r
oom, the sound of his heavy footfalls echoing loudly.
“Speak of the devil.” Hannah chuckled.
Owen only grunted in answer.
Charlotte was immediately struck by just how much Owen resembled Hannah; he had the same dark, thick hair that curled slightly where it hung beneath the brim of his hat, his eyes were the same alluring green, and though stubbly whiskers covered his face, it was clear that his features were every bit as conversation stopping. While Owen wasn’t anywhere near as large a man as Hale, he was nonetheless broad of shoulder. His bare forearms were marbled with the muscles of a man who was no stranger to hard work. Wispy dark hair peeked from the top of his unbuttoned work shirt.
“It was a long wait for you, Owen,” John commented.
“Couldn’t rightly make Hannah walk all the way from town,” he grumbled. “If I had, I’d never have heard the end of it.”
“And she wouldn’t have been the only one saying so,” Hale added.
Suddenly, what should have been clear to Charlotte from her physical observations was laid bare before her: Owen and Hannah were possibly twins. But though she had met Owen Williams only seconds before, she was struck by how utterly different his personality appeared to be; where his sister was openly friendly, Owen was rude and caustic.
“Grab yourself some food,” John offered Owen.
“Maybe a bit later,” he replied with a tip of his hat. “I still have some things to take care of ’fore the sun gets too far gone.”
“Don’t you want to at least meet Charlotte Tucker?” Hannah offered, pulling the ranch’s newest guest forward. “She’s Sawyer’s new teacher.”
With an expression of both exasperation and boredom, Owen turned to Charlotte; but when their eyes met, something in his face changed. Only for an instant, his gaze widened and his mouth softened. If she hadn’t been looking right at him she would undoubtedly have missed the change, but she couldn’t help but wonder if it was comparable to her own surprise.
Dorothy Garlock - [Tucker Family] Page 3
