“I’m glad you did. And you can see, she’s fine.”
Belle turned back to Cassie, who was busy staring at Red as if she were trying to think of a way to trick him into kissing her.
“It defies reason, but she does seem to be fine.”
Red laughed as he poured himself coffee then settled onto the floor by the fireplace before Belle even realized there were only two chairs in the house. “I spent the morning trying to help a critter bent on killing me even though I was trying to save his life.” Red was off telling them both about a rambunctious steer that had gotten its horns hung up when it was trying to climb into a really tight clump of aspen trees. When Red tried to get him, the steer had fought as if Red were planning on turning him into a steak dinner.
Red was obviously here to watch out for his wife. But he wasn’t rude about it. In fact, he was so kind and friendly, and had so obviously been working hard all morning, that Belle was nearly unable to believe Red’s story.
A sudden flash of insight told Belle that all men weren’t worthless. And didn’t that mean that the problem was really with her because she picked such a poor lot? It was a sad thing to admit.
Belle stared into her cup of coffee while Red told his story, Cassie hanging on every word, laughing given half a chance.
Red made the story alive and funny with his arm movements and exaggerated tones. Belle realized she’d never had this long a conversation with one of her husbands. Oh, she’d talked at them and they’d talked at her, but they didn’t interact. She expected nothing of them and they gave her exactly that. Would Anthony be different if she were different? Maybe. Belle had never considered it before.
When Red finished his tale, Belle decided since she had a chance at talking to a man who might have some sense, she’d see if she could learn anything. “How’d you build this sod house? How do you make it weathertight?”
Red leaned forward. “Is your house giving you trouble? Maybe Cassie and I could come up for a day and give you a hand. I don’t suppose Anthony—”
“Anthony is nothing.” Belle wondered now if that was completely fair. “And you can’t come because the pass is getting ready to blow shut. You might find yourself trapped in there for the winter.”
“So why are you out here? Aren’t you afraid of getting snowed out?” Red looked straight into her eyes.
Belle had dealt with too many weasel men in her life. She wasn’t used to this kind of straight talk and respect. She could give Red nothing less than the truth. “I just needed to make sure about Cassie.”
“I’m all right, but thank you for worrying.”
Belle turned to Cassie. “I—I haven’t been able to stop worrying about you. You remind me of myself when I was younger. Married to a man who wasn’t much use. Then alone and forced to marry again. It was hard. I felt like I could protect you from that life.”
“I don’t need protection from Red.” Cassie’s cheeks pinked up again.
Belle realized that what Cassie needed was a husband who would kiss her. Well, Belle could give her no advice or guidance that didn’t include a skillet. She saw the way the man looked at Cassie and the way Cassie looked back and suspected Red would figure everything out on his own and soon enough. She’d be switched if she’d give advice on that. And anyway, she’d never tried to get a man to do such a thing in her life. Avoiding a husband was the trick she’d perfected. She laid her hand on her belly. Nearly perfected.
“You’re going through the winter with a house that isn’t tight?” Red sounded worried, as if he were considering following her home and helping out.
“We’ll be fine.”
“Do you know how to drive straw into the chinks to stop the wind?”
Belle shook her head.
“Come on outside and I’ll show you what I do. It makes a big difference. And I use mud to plug up holes, too.” Red stood without a single grunt or groan, no whining that Belle was making work for him or nagging him.
“Can I come, too?” Cassie asked.
Red smiled at her, a private kind of smile that made Belle’s heart ache in a way it never had before. She didn’t even know why it hurt.
“Sure. Come along, Cass honey. Get your coat, though. It’s sharp out today.” He even helped Cassie on with her coat.
Red insisted on telling her about how to chink the cracks in her house.
Belle had never had a man ... outside of someone from the Bates’ store, do anything to help her. Belle went home alone, no kidnapping necessary, riding hard in case of a sudden storm, confused by Red’s kindness and Cassie’s longing for her husband to kiss her.
The gap hadn’t closed, but a storm was brewing in the west, and Belle’s heart pounded to think she’d have been trapped away from her children all winter. She did a ragged job of tarring the house and chinked the holes with hands full of straw, showing her girls how to help her.
Anthony had gone back to sitting on the roof, but their activity so close seemed to disturb him, and he climbed down and walked up to the Husband Tree to find peace. She watched him go, trying to imagine wanting him to kiss her. She put up with what she had to because a man had his rights, but she avoided it whenever she could. As he strode away, Belle considered all she’d learned today. Mainly, if all husbands weren’t no-account, then she’d either picked in ignorance or deliberately married bums. And either way it added up to her being an idiot.
And a tiny, guilty part of herself wondered if she hadn’t been so bossy and rude, if maybe William or Gerald or Anthony might have stepped up.
Looking up, she saw Anthony planting his backside down to sit and lean against the Husband Tree. She decided she’d give the man a chance to be a man.
***
“You like me, don’t you, girl?” Cassie leaned her head into Rosie’s flank.
The ornery cow slowed her kicking if Cassie wedged her head in the exact spot Red had shown her. Rosie kept chewing on her manger full of hay, but her tail quit twitching for an instant and Cassie took that for a yes.
Rosie liked her. And miracle of miracles, Harriet seemed to be beginning to like her. It wasn’t that the sow wasn’t fully prepared to kill Cassie at the drop of the hat. That was a given considering a mama sow’s temperament. But Cassie was slopping Harriet every day and staying well away from the little pink piglets, and as her part of keeping the peace, Harriet had quit rushing the fence, woofing and snarling with her jaws gaping.
It was a start.
The chickens didn’t seem to care about her one way or the other, but Cassie had learned chickens were close to the dumbest creatures God had ever put forth upon the earth. Red said they were only close to the dumbest because he’d worked with sheep before. He said sheep were just waiting, watching for any possible opportunity to kill themselves with their stupidity, which was the reason he didn’t have any—they’d all died.
Even Buck was starting to like her. Sort of.
Red had given her riding lessons every morning that week, and she was learning that there was no great trick to riding a calm, well-broken horse. A horse was a living creature, though, with a mind of its own, and Buck had boosted Cassie out of the saddle once. When she’d fallen, Red had almost had a heart attack, and he’d declared no more riding until after the baby was born. But Cassie had wanted to continue, and in the end he let her ride, but he insisted on leading Buck every step of the way. She was now riding him twice a day down to the creek when Red took him for water.
She was also leading Rosie down, which Red let her do completely alone, and she had taken over the milking and most of the barnyard chores so Red was free to ride herd on his cattle. Red acted like Cassie was his dream come true because she was helping him so much.
Cassie had also found a barn cat that had the temperament of a rat rather than a pet. The cat slinked around the edges of the farm, only showing itself by accident. Cassie started putting out milk for it, but Red said not to bother. It lived on mice and that was how it should be. Cassie sneaked a
nd put milk out anyway. The tiny defiance made her almost giddy. The milk was now gone every morning, but the cat still wasn’t a lick friendly.
Rosie chose that moment to kick the bucket of milk right into Cassie’s face. Dodging the hooves, Cassie fell backward onto her seat.
Red was just entering the barn. He rushed over to her side and stepped between her and Rosie. “Maybe it’s time for you to give up some of your outside chores, Cass. Now that the babe’s getting closer, you oughta be more careful. I think—”
Covered with milk, Cassie wailed, “You think I’m too stupid to learn anything.”
Cassie clamped her mouth shut on the criticism of her husband. How had she dared to speak to him like that? She thought of Belle and her straight talk. Belle would certainly criticize if she thought it was deserved. But she certainly wouldn’t whine.
“Now, Cass honey.” Red slid his hands under her arms and lifted her to her feet. “Stupid’s got nothing to do with it. Think how long it’d take me to teach the chickens to milk Rosie.”
Cassie was on the verge of tears, but the image Red drew made her giggle instead.
“You’re much better at this than our hens would be.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and swiped at the milk dripping off her head. “It’s all in who you compare yourself to. From now on, if you’re feeling like you’re bad at something, pick the chickens to compare yourself to, ’cuz you’ll come out of that contest feeling brilliant.”
“So you’ll let me keep doing it?”
Red hesitated. “For a fact, my ma milked the cows up to the day I was born, or so I’ve been told.”
“Then it must be all right.”
Red shrugged. “I s’pect. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Red’s eyes got an intent look that made Cassie think back to the day he’d kissed her. His gaze went to her lips for an instant and Cassie wondered if there was still milk on her face. But if her face was dirty, she didn’t want him noticing. Besides, she had to focus on her real goal—protecting one of her beloved chores.
Turning quickly back to Rosie before Red changed his mind, she crouched down and wedged her head into Rosie’s flank. Locking her knees tight around the bucket, Cassie went back to work and got a few more cups of milk out of the little cow.
Red stayed nearby. Then, when Cassie was done, he went to let Rosie out in the pasture and Cassie went back to the house.
Yes, Rosie and Buck and Harriet liked her. But none of that mattered a bit because Red didn’t like her. Oh, he was nice as could be to her. But he’d never come close to grabbing her and kissing her again like he had last Sunday.
Cassie didn’t know what she’d done.
***
Saturday at noon, Red prayed with an unusual fervency over the dinner, asking for God’s leading about whether they should go to town or not.
Cassie decided he must have gotten an answer because he got up from the table as soon as he was done eating. “I want to check the cattle. Then I’ll do evening chores early while you clean up in here.”
“Let me see to Rosie and the other livestock, Red. I did it fine for the last two days, didn’t I?”
She could see Red waffling. He was so sweet to her, always wanting to be right on hand in case she needed help. He was letting her do nearly every chore she considered hers now, but the man did like to hover. She was surprised when he gave a quick jerk of his head in agreement.
“Milk Rosie, feed Harriet and the chickens. There might be a few eggs by now. Don’t water anything. I don’t want you lifting those heavy pails. And you can’t go to the stream yet with Rosie. Leave that for me.”
“I’ll handle it.”
“C–a–s–s?” Red drew her name out until it was nearly three full syllables. “Promise me.”
Cass almost smiled even though she was pretty frustrated. He was getting to know she had a knack for not lying while she let him believe something that wasn’t quite true. That had worked well on Griff. “All right. I promise.”
“I’ll be back before you’re done with everything anyway. And Cass...” He waited until he had her full attention.
“Yes, Red?”
“Be careful of Harriet.”
“Yes, Red.”
He headed for the door then stopped and turned around. “And don’t let Rosie kick you. Remember if you push hard...”
“With my head against her flank,” Cassie talked over the top of his familiar instructions, “she can’t get any force behind her kick.” Cassie nodded. “Yes, Red. I’ll remember.”
Red gave one approving jerk of his head, reached for his hat, and put it on his head. “And don’t leave any gates open. None. Remember the inner and outer gate for the chickens, and for heaven’s sake, don’t open Harriet’s—”
“No gates,” Cassie interrupted, then realized how rude she’d been to cut him off like that. “I won’t forget, Red.”
Red hesitated.
Cassie knew he was thinking up something new to be worried about.
He reached for the door latch then dropped his hand away. “And if anything goes wrong, or something comes up that we haven’t talked about, don’t try and figure out what you should do. Just wait...”
Cassie stood beside the table with her hands folded in front of her and tried to reassure him. “I’ll just quit. I’ll leave anything I’m not sure about to you.”
This time Red got the door open, but he turned back and his face was really grim.
Cassie had a feeling this warning was more important than the others and maybe it was the cause of all the others.
“If anyone should ride up ... well, it’s always a good idea to be careful.”
“Anyone? You mean like Belle might come over again?” Cassie had enjoyed her visit with the strange woman.
“I was thinking ... Wade...” Red’s voice died away.
Cassie could tell he’d been recollecting Wade and his threats and wasn’t sure if he should worry her about it. She’d been thinking about Wade, too, and not wanting to worry Red about it. “Wade? You think he’ll come?”
“I don’t know, Cass.” Then Red said gravely, “I think he might. Sometime.”
She hadn’t wanted to tell Red this because he already watched over her so, but almost against her will she said, “He used to show up at Griff ’s house when Griff went to town. I—he never did anything but talk, but I knew it was deliberate, him coming out when I was alone the way he did. He must have been watching. Except Griff had a routine, so maybe Wade just knew Griff went to town every Wednesday.”
Red’s brow furrowed and he dragged his hat off his head and clutched the brim.
Cassie didn’t like to be the one to start putting worry lines in Red’s face.
She liked his face very much just the way it was.
CHAPTER 16
Red knew that dead coyote hadn’t been an accident. “If he ever shows up here, I want you to go into our bedroom and go into the tunnel.”
If a man would poison an animal, he’d hurt a woman. He tossed his hat at the peg, not even bothering to check if he’d hung it up, and grabbed her by the wrist. “Let’s find a good hiding place for you.”
Red didn’t tell Cassie somebody had poisoned his water hole. But maybe he should.
He hated to scare her. But if Wade had bothered her when she was married to Griff, then she was scared already and rightly so.
He’d found two dead coyotes and a dead grouse in one of the water holes he’d built. And there were no buts about that. Those animals had been poisoned and Red could read signs. Wade’s horse’s hooves were around that pond.
He started dragging her into the tunnel, but she pulled hard enough to stop him. “Red,” Cassie interrupted his musing, “let’s think it over while we’re in town. Wade won’t come if you’re close by. At least he never did at Griff ’s. And if he does, well, I’ll find a spot to hide.” Cassie looked over her shoulder at the crevice in the back of the bedroom. “I’ve explored i
t and I could duck into a couple of little nooks. He’d never find me. We’ll pick out a good spot together when we’re back from town.”
Red looked from the door to Cassie to the dark slit in their wall that led into the bowels of the earth. Cassie’s plan was full of holes. Wade could find her if he took a lantern from the kitchen or if Cassie made a noise at the wrong time.
She walked over to Red and laid her hand on his chest. “You take good care of me, Red. The tunnel will work if need be. And anyway, you never go off and leave me, not for long. It’s not like it was at Griff ’s.”
“You always call it Griff ’s.”
“What?”
“Your old home. You call it Griff ’s. You call everything Griff ’s. Doesn’t it strike you as odd that you say Griff ’s carriage, Griff ’s horses, Griff ’s house?”
“Well, it was all Griff ’s. It doesn’t seem so unusual to say that.” Cassie kept looking at the tunnel.
Red wanted her to hear what he was saying. In frustration he took hold of her elbow and turned her to face him.
Her forehead furrowed and she tried to answer him again. “It doesn’t mean anything. They were Griff ’s, mine, both of ours. What difference does it make what word I use?”
“I think it does make a difference. This is your home, Cass. I don’t want you to say, ‘Red’s house’ or ‘Red’s cow.’ It’s all ours. I want you to think of it that way. I wonder if you really thought of the house you shared with Griff as yours.”
Red could see the protest forming on Cassie’s tongue. Before she could speak, he said, “In a way, since it was all your money, inherited from your ma and pa, that house and everything in it was more yours than his. But you never thought of it that way. Why do you suppose that is?”
“I guess it was because Griff knew just what he wanted, and I didn’t care that much. He had such a clear idea of how our home should be built, how our furniture should be, how we should dress and conduct ourselves. He was a fine man to step in and take care of me like he did. And I ... well, I was so grateful to him, taking me ... all young and stupid and clumsy, and helping me grow into a woman who was worthy of him.”
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