“When her husband’s will was read, it revealed Gabe was his stepson. Gabe didn’t know that the man who raised him wasn’t his real father until that moment. His step-father left a letter for Gabriel, supposedly to reveal my name, but Mattie took it and hid it somewhere. When I arrived, Gabe and Mattie were arguing about the letter because she wouldn’t give it to him. Then Mattie blew up and told Gabe to get out of the house.
“I don’t know how this will work out between us, or if he’ll want to go back home, and if she’ll let him. We’re strangers, but this is our chance to be together for a while.”
“It will work out, Reuben. He’s got space and freedom to think about his family. And we can put him to work to keep his mind occupied, at least part of the time,” Dagmar assured Reuben.
“But that’s going to be a problem, because I’m sure he’s never had to work for a thing in his life.” Reuben hung his weary head. “I hate that he’s not going to earn his keep here.”
“Again, give it time. Now you take the rest of the day off to get rested up yourself. I see you used a horse and buggy from the livery stable. Eli, have Peter take it back to town.”
Reuben nodded, drained his cup of coffee, and rose out of his seat. “I appreciate that. Except for cat naps on the train, I haven’t slept for days.”
Reuben’s yawn and dark circles under his eyes showed the stress he was under. Darcie couldn’t imagine not seeing Tate again until a dozen years later. They’d be strangers, too.
“Where Reubie going?” Tate said while tugging on her apron.
“You’re going to have to be patient, Tate. He’s tired and needs a nap, like it’s time for you to do.” Darcie picked up her son and carried him over to the crib in the corner of the room. Seven-month-old Amelia was already asleep, curled up in an innocent pose, oblivious to the conversation at the table not far from her. “Lay by your Sissie and be quiet for a while,” Darcie whispered in his ear when he started to protest. She laid him in the crib and rubbed his back for a few minutes until his breathing evened out.
She couldn’t help hearing the raised voices in Reuben’s room. Darcie hated to admit it, but she felt sorry for the gruff man. His marriage had shattered when his wife declared him dead and wed another. Those acts by the heartless woman would affect Reuben and his son forever.
It was satisfying seeing her son, Tate, running with glee after the ranch dogs. Tate’s nap was over too soon and he was outside with her as she hung wet sheets on the clothes line. The two-year old would never catch Yipper and Kipper unless the dogs wanted him to catch them. And, occasionally, one of the dogs would plop down waiting for the toddler to tumble on top of it. Darcie never knew if the dogs got tired running around or got tired of watching Tate run around. Either way, the animals were always gentle with Tate.
Darcie turned her attention to the wet sheets blowing in the late summer breeze. She could probably take them down again in a few minutes because they’d be dry soon. She couldn’t get over the difference in smell and cleanliness between sheets and clothing washed and dried here compared to Chicago or St. Louis where she’d lived in the past. Items dried in the prairie wind brought the smell of sunshine, if it could be labeled. Clothes dried in the cities always smelled like polluted air, or the trash the clothes lines hung over in the alleys between the crowded buildings in the Chicago area where she grew up.
Everything in Kansas made her breathe easier, after living through the abuse her husband Curtis had delivered to her and Tate. At first it was just verbal abuse, diminishing her self-esteem. Visits from her father, Ennis Donovan, and a fellow Chicago policeman to Curtis, and her sister Millie had kept Curtis from doing physical violence to her. But the abuse turned violent after Curtis left his job with the Chicago police force. He moved them to St. Louis without allowing her to let her family know where they were going to stop them from intervening.
Thanks to her new dear neighbor, Flora Davis, Darcie was able to send letters to her sister. Millie arrived in time to help Darcie deliver her baby Amelia, then left Darcie in Flora’s care. Millie had answered a mail-order bride advertisement and needed to travel to Kansas to meet her groom. Millie took Tate with her, then Darcie eventually followed with her baby, and her father, who had followed Millie to St. Louis.
Darcie could have gone back to Chicago after her husband was in jail for the murder of a fellow officer, but Darcie liked being with Millie and her husband’s extended family. Kansas may be considered the uncivilized western frontier by Chicagoans, but Darcie felt safer here, and liked the cowboys, who were strong male role models for Tate.
Would she ever marry again, at least to give her children a father? She should, so they’d have a permanent home and provider. Darcie had stayed with her sister for a month, then worked at the Cross C Ranch a while before coming here. Her children were happy, but Darcie felt like her life continued to take one step forward, away from Curtis, and then stalled again.
“Mrs. Darcie, Sweet Pea’s awake and done pooped a smelly pile in her diaper,” Peter Young, one of the cowboys walked toward Darcie, holding Amelia at arms’ length. The baby had been sleeping in the bunkhouse in a crib in the kitchen. Hard to tell if she woke up by herself or was nudged into waking up by Peter or one of the other hands. They loved to make a fuss about her, until it was time to change her diaper.
“Peter, you probably scraped more manure off your boot to walk into the bunkhouse than she has in her tiny diaper. I’ve showed you all how to change her. Why don’t you do it instead of bringing her out here?” Darcie shook her head, but knew it was because Amelia was a baby girl, more than the smell of the diaper.
The hands didn’t mind cleaning up Tate if he pooped in his drawers by accident. Of course, that usually meant taking Tate outside, stripping him down and washing off his backside at the outside pump with a rag.
“When you get married and have babies, Peter, you’ll need to be able to handle dirty diapers, whether it’s on a boy or girl,” Darcie reminded him before taking Amelia into her arms.
“Oh, I suppose,” Peter answered as his cheeks turned red. Why hadn’t Curtis been like the men around here?
“I’m going to miss Tater and Sweet Pea when you aren’t working in the bunkhouse, Mrs. Darcie. They sure liven up the place,” Peter scraped his foot back and forth in the dirt. “What will you do when Cora’s back to snuff again and can take care of her own house?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Darcie answered, not wanting to uproot her children again so soon, but maybe it would push her to find what they all needed, a permanent home. Unfortunately, she may have to marry again to do so, but it would only be with a kind and reliable man this time.
Chapter 3
Reuben went to church when he wasn’t required to be on the ranch, usually sitting with the Hamners and Wilersons in their two, well now three pews, after meeting all of Sarah’s new brood. Today he sat with a fidgeting Gabe on one side and Dagmar on the other. Cora sat next to Dagmar, with Darcie and her kids on the other side of her. Darcie usually sat with Millie and Adam, but their pew was already full by the time the Bar E group arrived at church.
Reuben had worried Gabe hadn’t packed any church clothes, but soon realized that’s all the boy had along, by Clear Creek standards. They had made a trip to the general store to outfit him for living on the ranch. But so far, the new clothes were clean, unfortunately.
Deep in thought, he was startled when Tate crawled into his lap. He leaned forward to look at Darcie who shook her head and motioned he needed to send Tate back her way. As long as the toddler was quiet, Reuben would let Tate sit with him, so he ignored Darcie’s command. Tate sat sideways, leaned onto Reuben’s chest, and started sucking hard on his thumb while staring at Gabe. Reuben put his arm around Tate so he wouldn’t tumble off his lap by accident. He looked down in time to see Tate give Gabe a defiant grin, pulling out his thumb long enough to stick his tongue out at him.
Reuben couldn’t help smiling to himself, realizing T
ate was jealous of Gabe. And the way Gabe made a face back at Tate, made Reuben think of the rivalries and fights he and his brothers used to have. Gabe had to be missing his sister, but he hadn’t said a word about her yet. Reuben didn’t look forward to when that dam of emotion broke loose for Gabe. Reuben couldn’t feel anything but animosity toward Mattie right now, so how was he going to show sympathy for what Gabe must be feeling for the loss of his family?
Everyone was standing for the last hymn. Tate put his arms around Reuben’s neck, not about to let go when Reuben stood. The toddler’s action felt good and sad at the same time. His son used to do the same thing as Tate, but now they were strangers to one another. Would they ever get back to the closeness they had a dozen years ago?
“This is my son, Gabriel. He’s visiting from New York,” Reuben was trying to keep introductions simple when people asked as they stood around outside after church. The tension in his stiff neck was about to pop a blood vessel. The questions were embarrassing to both him and Gabe and he wished he could spare his son the inquisition. Most people at church were really caring but there were a few nosy old bags with their self-righteous attitudes to contend with.
“Why didn’t we know you were married and had a child?” Reuben wanted to tell the inquisitive women it wasn’t their business to know.
“Why isn’t your wife here with you?” Because she’s still in our home, mourning the death of her second husband.
Now Gabe stuck to his side like glue, ignoring everyone’s stares. Reuben glanced the direction Gabe was looking and realized he was watching Pastor Reagan’s boys as they stood to the side of the congregation, probably cracking jokes about Gabe’s fancy clothes and shoes.
“I’ll look forward to having Gabriel in school next month,” Miss Bonner stated, eyeing Gabe like he was a fresh cut of meat. The spinster teacher, on the downside of forty, had always considered Reuben fair game in the matrimony game in town. She was probably calculating how to use Gabe to snare Reuben as her future husband, which would never happen, Reuben was confident to believe. He’d learned his lesson about women’s schemes to marry with Mattie.
Neither he nor Mattie had thought about Gabe’s schooling during the heat of their argument. A lot of boys in frontier towns were finished with their education by Gabe’s age and working. If Gabe was in Rochester, he’d continue learning until completing his education in a college. It wasn’t a wonder Gabe looked around town in distaste and confusion. He was used to going to church in a stone cathedral, and a multi-story school house, not simple wooden structures made by local town folk working together to build what was needed in their community.
“What grade will you be in this fall, Gabriel?” Miss Bonner changed her attention to Gabe since Reuben was ignoring her. He half listened to Gabe answer the many questions she was firing at the teen, all the while searching to find where Darcie was standing. Tate was still clinging to his chest, not worrying about his momma at all, so why was he looking for her then?
What if Gabe was with him permanently? Should they move to town so Gabe could continue his education? What would Reuben do for a job? He didn’t have enough money to buy a house, but he could rent rooms at the boarding house, he supposed. Darcie’s and Millie’s father, Ennis Donovan and his new wife, Flora, had moved from Chicago to Kansas to be near his daughters, and had bought the town’s boarding house to live in and run as their business.
Being a retired policeman, Ennis would be a good influence on Gabe. Flora would be a grandmotherly type to dote on Gabe, besides taking care of their meals and washing.
Reuben would see Darcie, Tate, and Amelia now and then when they were in town to visit, unless the Bar E wouldn’t need a new ranch cook and Darcie moved back to Clear Creek, maybe even to her father’s boarding house. Hmm, then he’d get to see the woman every day.
Or, maybe he should find a wife to take care of Gabe. Not that there were a lot of available candidates in the area when men outnumbered women, probably five to one in the county. He could place an advertisement in a matrimony newspaper, hoping to get a nice woman like Millie, Darcie’s sister. Reuben had been alone so long he didn’t relish the idea of living with a woman again though.
Kaitlyn Reagan and her six sons headed toward them. Reuben stepped back, letting Mrs. Reagan introduce her sons to Gabe, because he wouldn’t get a word in edgewise anyway when this exuberant woman took over. But that was all right because it would be good for Reuben to make some friends.
“How are you surviving the inquisition?” Marshal Adam Wilerson asked out of the side of his mouth while standing behind Reuben.
“Ready to shoot off my mouth to these busybodies, but I guess that’s better than drawing my gun. You come over to save me from the next wave of questions?”
“No, you’re on your own with this gaggle of females lining up to ask you such important questions. Do you realize you look like husband material standing here holding Tate, with another child next to you?”
Whoa, he didn’t want to look like an easy target to these women. “Tate, I think your Uncle Adam wants to hold you now,” Reuben said as he started to pry Tate’s arms off his neck, which caused the boy to scream in his ear. Did Gabe act like this when he was two-years old?
“Sweet Poo-tater, want to go see our cat and doggie? They missed you when you moved out of our house,” Adam sweetly bribed Tate to move into his arms.
“You realize Tate has you wrapped around his finger, not giving in to you until he gets what he wants?” accused Reuben.
“Bet you did the same thing with Gabe at this age, if you think about it,” Adam countered.
“Probably. It just seems like it didn’t happen, when I think about it. Now he’s almost grown and I don’t know him.”
“You’ve only been together a short while, so give it time. I came over here to invite you and Gabe to have Sunday dinner with us,” Adam continued.
“I don’t know. I thought about eating at Clancy’s.” Why was he hesitating, when he knew Millie’s cooking was much better fare than the café’s?
“Why? Gabe needs to get to know people, and you two sitting across the table at the café staring at each other ain’t the way to do it.”
“True. Darcie and the kids eating with you?”
“Of course and Cora and Dagmar, too. Since you all came into town in the same wagon, guess you don’t have much choice, huh?” Adam pointed out, while holding a giggling Tate by his chubby little arms and swinging the boy sideways, close to the ground, back and forth between the two men.
“Reuben,” Mrs. Reagan called to get his attention, “Gabe will be eating dinner with us today and then the boys in town are getting together to play baseball. Can you come back into town around three o’clock to fetch him or should Angus or Fergus drive him back to the ranch?”
Startled by her question, Reuben looked to Gabe to gauge his reaction. Did he really want to spend the afternoon with the rowdy Reagan bunch?
“Which would you prefer, Gabe?” Reuben asked to let him make up his own mind.
Gabe looked up at Reuben, then down before answering, “Uh, will you still be in town?”
“Yes, I’ll be over at the marshal’s house for dinner, so you can meet me there when you’re done with the game,” Reuben offered, because he guessed Gabe wasn’t so sure about being left in town by himself.
“Sounds like a good plan,” Mrs. Reagan happily responded while winking at Reuben. “Come along, Gabe.” She wrapped an arm around Gabe’s shoulder and pulled him toward the parsonage.
“Guess you’re off parent duty this afternoon,” Adam said, before lifting Tate up to his hip. “Unless you want this little rascal back,” he amended as they started walking toward Adam’s and Millie’s home.
Reuben looked back at Gabe walking away, then over to Tate squirming on his uncle’s hip. Children needed parents, no matter their age. Maybe he should seriously think about getting a wife.
“You know,” Adam said nonchalantly as they walk
ed the three blocks between the church and Adam’s house,” Gabe needs a mother, and Tate and Amelia need a father.”
“Gee, what are you trying to hint at, Adam?” Reuben sarcastically asked.
“I know, I know. You may think it’s not a good idea to marry Darcie because you’re at odds with each other half the time, but those sparks flying between the two of you… could make a good and interesting marriage.”
Reuben watched Millie and Darcie, who were walking about five yards ahead of them. Amelia was on Darcie’s shoulder, looking back at them, while chewing on the lace collar of her mother’s dress. She was such a sweet baby with her little downy swirl of bright reddish-orange hair on top of her head. Darcie’s hair was a tad bit darker red than her children’s. Tate’s bright carrot-colored hair was going to cause some fist fights in the future for the boy. It was a perfect match to his Grandfather Donovan’s hair, though, so the older man could give Tate tips on how to handle future problems. Maybe that’s why the Irish immigrant had been a prize fighter when he first arrived in America.
Reuben remembered Gabe at both Amelia’s and Tate’s ages and the awe of watching a little human developing in body and personality. Did he want to raise children who weren’t his flesh and blood, like Darcie’s children? Did he want more children in his future? That could go along with marrying again.
Sparks did tend to fly between him and Darcie, and maybe it would make life interesting…if he wanted to get married again. But right now, he had enough on his plate to figure out how to be a parent to Gabe.
“How are things going between you and your son?” Millie asked as she passed the mashed potatoes over to Reuben.
“Oh, I think, not good covers it,” he replied curtly. “He won’t talk, so it’s hard to get to know him.”
“He’s far away from home, possibly for the first time in his life, mourning the loss of his step-father, and stuck with a stranger. I’d say he has a right to be sullen and sad for a while,” Adam added.
Darcie Desires a Drover: A Historical Western Romance (Brides with Grit Book 7) Page 3
