by Anna Schmidt
“I didn’t realize how cold I’d grown,” Linette said, holding her hands toward the stove. “Is it usually this cold in October?”
“Snow comes early this close to the mountains, though I hope it holds off for a time yet. The cows are still up in the higher pastures.”
“And you would prefer to have them where? Down here?”
“Yes. Down in the lower meadows where they’ll be able to get to the grass.”
“You don’t feed them?”
She sure was full of questions. “Do you know anything about ranching?”
“A cousin raised cattle. He always kept them in barns and pens in the winter and fed them hay.”
He chuckled. “Hard to build a barn big enough for a thousand head or more.” The way she widened her eyes in surprise gave him a moment’s victory then he wished he’d kept the fact to himself. If she was a gold digger he’d provided her with more to dig for. “I have some hay. Most ranchers don’t think it’s necessary, but one of the first men I talked to when I came out here was Kootenai Brown. He’s lived in the mountains for years and says only a buffalo can survive without hay. They dig through the grass like a horse. He told me if I want to succeed in this venture I should plan to have hay available.” Why was he telling her all this? Surely she didn’t care. But her pale brown eyes flashed with intelligent interest. Not the fake batting of eyelashes he’d seen from women who seemed to think any sign of intelligence would frighten off a man.
“Kootenai Brown? Isn’t Kootenai the name of an Indian tribe?”
He couldn’t hide his surprise. Didn’t even try. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve read everything I could find about the Northwest.”
He turned his attention to stoking the fire to conceal his reluctant admiration.
Cassie groaned. “And she likes to talk about it all day long.” She moved marginally closer to the stove as if reluctant to allow herself any comfort her circumstances might provide.
Linette laughed softly. “I didn’t realize I was boring you.”
“You and that gentleman from the coach. Did he say he was going to another ranch?”
“Yes. I believe he said he was an investor with the OK Ranch and intended to check on its operation.” She turned back to Eddie. “Would that be correct?”
“Could be. Good thing if it’s true. The OK bunch has run into some trouble.”
“What sort? Wild animals? Rustlers?” She practically quivered with excitement.
He studied her more closely. Was she the sort to be bounding into trouble just because it sounded adventuresome? He did not need that sort of aggravation. He answered her question first. “They lost cows by driving them north too hard. The rest of the herd is weakened. If they don’t see them properly fed I fear they will lose the works.” He intended to make sure she wasn’t about to turn his life inside out and upside down and put his peace and security at risk—any more than she had already. “You don’t find trouble to be exciting, do you?”
“If you think I’d be happy to hear of a herd of cows suffering—” Her eyes snapped with anger.
“I was thinking you seem overly anxious to think there might be wild animals or rustlers. I warn you I won’t tolerate anyone deliberately putting themselves or others at risk simply for an exciting experience.”
“What will you tolerate?” Linette demanded.
They studied each other with wariness. And a startling sense of shared determination that shifted his opinion of this woman. Of course, they shared that. Only in different directions. He was determined to carry out his original plan to marry Margaret and establish a home he could be proud of. She meant to upset his plans. “While you are here, I expect you to conduct yourself wisely and in a ladylike fashion.”
Her nostrils flared. “You mean play the lady of the manor.”
Behind her, Cassie snorted.
She’d no doubt been raised as such. Why didn’t she offer to be so here? Not that it made any difference. He wasn’t about to toss Margaret aside over a misunderstanding. Softly, he asked, “What do you see your role as here?”
She ducked her head so he was unable to see her expression. “I suppose I thought you meant to marry me.” She lifted her head and faced him with her eyes flashing courage and challenge. “I will make a good pioneer wife.”
“I never got your letter or I could have warned you I’m not desperate for a wife. Besides, you can’t simply substitute one woman for another as if they are nothing more than horses.”
“Why not? Are you madly in love with Margaret?”
Love? There was no such thing as love in an arrangement like theirs. “We suited each other.”
“She doesn’t seem to share your view of suitability.”
He guessed she meant if she had, Margaret would be here instead of her. He pointed toward the window. “I mean to correct that. Did you see that house out there?”
She nodded.
“I built it for Margaret.”
Linette’s eyes widened. “But she said...” She looked about at the tiny quarters and shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise. I see now I should have informed her about the house. But you can write and tell her how special it is. Once she knows, she’ll reconsider and come.”
She fixed him with a direct stare. “You really believe that’s all there is to her refusal to come?” Her gaze demanded honesty.
His neck knotted and he squeezed the back of it. He thought Margaret wanted to share his life. He still believed it. Surely what he had to offer was acceptable to Margaret. She only objected to meager quarters and that would soon be a thing of the past. He looked about the small room. “I obviously don’t need help running this place. And I don’t need or want a pioneer wife. My wife will have a cook and housekeeper to help her run the big house.” He returned to confront her demanding look. “But with winter coming on—”
“You’ll tolerate our presence until spring?” Her voice carried a low note of something he couldn’t quite put his thumb on. Warning? Challenge?
He scrubbed the back of his neck again, wondering how much more tension it could take before something snapped. Most of his time was spent with animals who had little to say but moo and with cowboys known to be laconic. It didn’t much prepare him to pick up on subtle nuances of social communication, but even a dolt would understand her question was more than mere conversation. “I expect we’ll have to tolerate each other, crowded as we’ll be in these quarters.”
Cassie spun away to stare at the door. “I should have stayed in Montreal.”
Linette gave her a tight smile. “You weren’t exactly happy there, if I recall.”
“Seems happiness is too much to hope for.”
Linette hurried to her side and wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist. “Of course it’s not. We’ll be happy here. About as happy as we make up our minds to be. All of us.” The look she sent Eddie warned him to disagree or make it impossible. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Gardiner?”
“I’m sure we can be civilized. After all, we’re adults.” Except for young Grady, and all eyes turned toward him. “I expect he’s the only one we need to be concerned about.” The child had been abandoned then put into the care of strangers. Which made Eddie that much more grateful to his father for the life he’d been given.
Seeing everyone watching him, Grady started to whimper. The boy’s fears vibrated through the room.
Eddie thought of stroking the child’s head to calm him but knew it would only upset him further. He was at a loss to know how to comfort the boy.
Linette knelt to face Grady squarely. “You’re safe here. We’ll take care of you.”
“I want my mama,” he wailed loudly.
Linette dropped to the floor, pulled the boy t
o her lap and crooned as she rocked him. “Mr. Gardiner, I believe Grady is hungry. Can you direct me to the food supplies and I’ll gladly make us tea.”
Food? He had no food to speak of in the cabin. “I’ve been taking my meals over at the cookhouse.” Would they like to go to the cookhouse, too?
Grady wailed louder, as if Eddie had announced they were all about to starve. Seems Grady had answered the question. He would not be comfortable among so many strangers. Best to let them eat here. “I’ll rustle up some supplies right away.” Grateful for an excuse to escape the cabin, crowded as it was with bodies and feelings, he grabbed his coat and hat and headed across the yard.
Dare he hope the weather would moderate long enough for the stagecoach driver to decide to venture back to Edendale or Fort Benton? If so, he would have that trio on their way.
But he knew that scenario was about as likely as finding a satchel full of money on the ground before him.
Another thought sprang to life. After less than an hour his nerves were strung tight as a drum. How would he endure months of this?
ISBN: 9781460310717
Copyright © 2013 by Jo Horne Schmidt
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