Lorraine Heath

by Sweet Lullaby

  Samuel chortled. “Ma’am, if you can get a letter of credit from tightwad Harry, I’ll give you the store.”

  “May I have that in writing before I leave?”

  Samuel’s mouth dropped open. The woman was serious. “No, ma’am.”

  “Mr. Abrams.” Rebecca extended her hand which he hesitantly shook. She and Jake turned to leave. Then she turned back. “Is there somewhere in town where we can get something to eat?”

  “The hotel across the street serves up a good meal.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Abrams. We’ll be back shortly.”

  Rebecca walked quickly out of the store. Jake followed more slowly. His wife waited on the boardwalk, tapping her foot, her arms crossed under her chest, her jaw set as he had never seen it set.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Her eyes snapped up to his. “What are you apologizing for?” She shook her head and released her pent-up breath. “It’s my fault. I’m used to dealing in a state where everyone knew me and my father’s name was as good as a bank draft.” She slipped her arm through his. “Before we leave today, though, you’ll be able to get credit anywhere in town that you want it.” She smiled up at him. “Let’s go get some lunch and I’ll explain it all to you.”

  In a few minutes they were sitting at a small table covered with a red and white checkered cloth. They ordered steaks, and after the waiter left, Rebecca rested her elbows on the table, setting her chin on her intertwined fingers.

  “Did Truscott only teach you the backbreaking work?”

  “Not everything I do is backbreaking.”

  “Did he ever show his books?”

  “Hell, no.”

  Rebecca shook her head. “He leaves you land but doesn’t give you the knowledge to run it. It’s almost as though he wanted you to fail, even from the grave, causing you undue hardship.”

  Jake’s eyes bore into hers. “I’m not going to fail.”

  She laid her hand over his. “I know that, Jake. But you would have succeeded with a lot more sacrifice than was necessary. You would have done without, you would have worked another’s spread. You would have done the best you knew how and it would have gotten you through. Now I’m going to teach you what Truscott didn’t.”

  Reaching into her reticule, she pulled out a piece of paper and a pencil. She put the tip of the pencil on the tip of her tongue before whisking the pencil down the paper, drawing a vertical line.

  “Now, then. Do you know what an asset is?” she asked.

  “A fancy name for what I’m sitting on?”

  She laughed. “No. An asset is what you have that is of value.”

  His eyes grew warm. “So you’re an asset.”

  She blushed. “That’s a matter of opinion, but I thank you for thinking so. The first thing we need to do is tally up your assets. You said you have eight hundred dollars cash, right?”

  “Right.”

  She wrote the amount down on the right side of the line. “Now then, you have land valued at six dollars an acre.” She wrote land to the left of the line, its value to the right.

  “So these are our assets,” Jake said.

  She looked up at him. “All right. Our assets. Now then, we have five hundred head of cattle. Zach said you could get seventy-five dollars a head further to the west so we’ll value them at seventy. How many longhoms have you acquired?”

  Jake had given the men he found grazing their cattle on his range the option of selling him the cattle or moving on. Mavericks, cattle bearing no brands but roaming the range, were fair game and he had acquired a few, burning the Rocking R brand into their hides to establish ownership that would not be questioned. “Forty-three.”

  Rebecca wrote down their value. “We brought ten horses with us and you have rounded up fourteen strays so we have twenty-four horses not being used to work the ranch. We won’t count the horses the men ride since you let them take the horse with them if they leave. We have a house.”

  “It’s only one room.”

  “But it protects us from the elements of nature,” she said without looking up. “A barn, a bunkhouse that’s close enough to being finished to count. When you get that cookhouse built, we’ll add it. Now let’s see …” She stuck the pencil in her mouth, her eyes gazing at the ceiling. “Assorted livestock,” she said, returning the pencil to the paper. Then her eyes snapped to his. “Anything else?”

  “I think that’s about it.”

  “All right.”

  He smiled, watching her brows draw together in concentration, the tip of her tongue touching the top of her lip as she ran the pencil down the figures, adding up the amounts. He had a strong desire to plant a kiss on that mouth.

  Her face relaxed when the figuring was done. She drew three circles around an amount and shoved the paper under Jake’s nose.

  “That, Mr. Burnett, is what you are worth.”

  Astounded, Jake stared at the number she had circled.

  “But I don’t have it in cash. I can’t spend it.”

  “No, but if you sold everything you would and could. So we can use it as collateral.”

  “How does that work?”

  “When we go to the bank, we’re going to ask for a loan and put part of your land up as collateral. That means if you don’t pay the money back, the bank gets the land.”

  “I’ll pay the money back,” Jake declared emphatically.

  “Of course you will. Which is the whole point. The bank gives us the money. You use it to purchase more cattle, improve your ranch so you can make more money. Then we pay back the loan plus interest. But we come out ahead. We still have the land, you have more cattle and you work your spread instead of someone else’s.”

  Jake looked doubtful.

  “My father ran his ranch exactly like this. I doubt he even had eight hundred dollars in the bank. All his assets were tied up in the land and the cattle. He borrowed the money, invested it, paid it back, and borrowed it again.”

  Resting his hands on the table, Jake clenched them into tightened balls. “God, I feel stupid.”

  She placed her hand over his. “You’re not stupid. How could you know if no one ever bothered to show you?”

  “You knew.”

  “Because my father pulled me by the hand, kicking and screaming, to every meeting he ever attended. I met bankers, investors, businessmen. I learned how my father ran the ranch and how he depended on others to help him get where he wanted to be.”

  The tension lines Jake had worn since they’d gone into the general store eased away. “Your father raises shorthorns. What made you take an interest in Herefords?”

  She smiled in remembrance of a happier time. “My father took me to the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia. The cattle were on exhibition there. I thought they were cute.”

  His eyes widened. “Cute?”

  She shrugged. “I was fourteen at the time. That’s how I judged things.”

  “And how do you judge things now?” he asked. “Differently.”

  Jake’s mood lightened considerably before the meal was over. They left the hotel, crossing back to the boardwalk that ran in front of the general store. A sturdy man with windswept white hair was leaning back in a wooden chair, his newspaper held just low enough so he could watch all the passing activity. As the couple approached, he dropped his chair down, stood up, and put away his paper. He removed his spectacles and put them in his pocket, then extended a hand to Jake.

  “Doyle Thomas, Attorney-at-Law. You must be the new folks.”

  “Yes, sir, we are,” Jake said as he took the man’s hand.

  “I’m Jake Burnett and this is my wife, Rebecca.”

  Doyle reached for his hat and shrugged. “Must have left it inside. Going to the bank?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jake said.

  “Most people do. If you ever need a lawyer”—he pointed to the shingle above his door—“come see me. I’m not only the best, I’m the only one in town.” He chuckled at his own joke as Jake and
Rebecca walked past him.

  “Either of you see my eyeglasses?” he called after them.

  “Your pocket,” they both said at once, grinning at each other.

  “Oh, yeah,” Doyle said as he took them out and slipped them on. He turned around twice before remembering where he’d left his newspaper.

  When they found the bank and were waiting for an audience with the president, Rebecca slipped her hand into Jake’s.

  “You see that little desk back in the corner, behind the little gate?” Jake nodded.

  “Just think of it as a corral and the man sitting at the desk is the stallion you’re getting ready to bend.”

  In less than half an hour, they returned to the general store. Jake handed Samuel Abrams the letter of credit along with his list of supplies while Rebecca picked out the cloth she wanted for curtains.

  “I like the blue,” he said, coming up behind her. “Do you sew?”

  She smiled. “I sew as well as you hang a quilt.” Frowning, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That good, huh?”

  She patted his arm. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to make them. I’ve asked Ruth to do it.”

  Rebecca made a point of giving Mr. Abrams an especially sweet good-bye as they left the store. He managed a small smile in return.

  They found Frank and Lee waiting for them in the wagon.

  On their way out of town, they drove past a large house that seemed to slumber in the light of day.

  “I wonder who lives there,” Rebecca commented. “I’d love to see the inside.”

  Frank sat up. “It’s real pretty inside. It’s got—” He stopped when Lee hit him in the shoulder. “What?”

  Lee scowled at the youth and Frank pulled himself back down into the corner of the wagon. Rebecca watched the crimson color creeping up her husband’s face.

  “Jake, have you been inside that house?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “But you know about that house.” “Yes, ma’am. It’s the reason this town is called Pleasure.”

  Rebecca nodded. “I see. Well, at least now I know why Mr. Abrams carries such fancy cloths.” She looked askance at her husband. “I guess we both learned something today.”

  Jake glanced her way, smiling. She might not be in love with him, but she had shown today that she would be loyal and stand by him. That was more than many wives did for their husbands. “Yes, ma’am, I reckon we did.”

  Chapter Seven

  FRANK SAUNTERED OUT of the barn, his long limbs moving haphazardly, then stopped dead in his tracks. Ruth Reading was reining in her horse in front of the house. Abruptly, he changed directions, ambling towards the house and pretty Ruth, completely forgetting whatever errand had sent him out of the barn to begin with.

  Stepping out onto the porch, wiping her hands with a coarse towel, Rebecca greeted Ruth and her brother Luke.

  “I’m ready to make your curtains today, Mrs. Burnett.”

  “Come on in then. I’ve got the material ready and waiting. If Luke needs to head home, I can have one of the men escort you back later.”

  “I’ll be happy to escort her home,” Frank said, leaning around Ruth and taking the reins of her horse. “I’ll see to your horse, too.”

  Without noticing that his smile was not returned, he led the horse away while Luke, with a polite tip of his hat towards Rebecca, headed for home.

  In no time Ruth was sitting by the window, her nimble fingers making meticulous stitches in the cloth. The sun reflected off her blond hair and her blue eyes danced as she talked about her brothers and other ranchers in the area. Then her fingers and tongue stilled as she peered out the window with increasing interest as a rider came into view.

  “Zach Truscott is heading in. What do you suppose he wants?” Ruth asked.

  Rebecca shrugged slightly. “He’s working for us now.”

  “He is?” She set her sewing down. “Will you excuse me a minute?” She lifted her hand, curling and uncurling her fingers. “I need to rest my hands.” She hurried out the door and almost ran to the barn.

  When she got there Zach was lifting the saddle off his horse. He began brushing the animal down while she nibbled at the oats he’d placed before her in the last stall.

  “Hello, Zach.”

  Tilting his hat up off his brow with a thumb, he peered over his horse’s rump. “Well, hello, Ruth. What are you doing here?”

  “Making curtains for Mrs. Burnett. Would you escort me home when I’m finished?” “Sure.”

  She peered at him through her lowered lashes. “I need to get back to those curtains. See you later.”

  He flashed her a smile and Ruth felt her insides warm as she scurried back to the house.

  Rebecca noticed less than perfect stitches began showing up when Ruth returned from her outside excursion. Her nimble fingers were working as quickly, but not as carefully. Rebecca was certain the girl’s mind was no longer on the task at hand but was centered around something or someone else.

  A short time later, Ruth laid the final curtain down. “There, all done.”

  Rebecca handed her two dollars, the agreed-upon price. She would have gladly paid anything to get out of making the curtains herself. Her most meticulous stitch did not come close to the perfection of Ruth’s worst one. “I appreciate you doing this for me.”

  “If you need anything else done, just let me know. I enjoy sewing.”

  Ruth brought herself up on her toes, holding her hands behind her back. Then she lowered her heels back down to the floor. “Well, I’d better go find Zach.”

  “Zach?”

  “He’s going to take me home.” “I thought Frank offered.”

  “He did but … well … I’d just feel safer with Zach.”

  Raising herself back up onto her toes, she spun around and went searching for Zach leaving Rebecca with the distinct impression that trouble was brewing.

  Ruth was standing under the eaves of the porch, swishing her hips back and forth, waiting for Zach to saddle up their horses when Frank sauntered over.

  “You ready to go?”

  Keeping her eyes on the barn, Ruth said, “Zach is taking me home.”

  “Goddamn! I asked first!”

  Bringing the horses out of the barn, Zach caught Frank’s words, imagining most of the ranch had heard them, he’d yelled them so loudly.

  Frank turned on Zach. “I’m taking her home.” Frank clenched his fists almost as tightly as he’d clenched his jaws.

  With trepidation, Rebecca stuck her head out the door. “Frank, I need some help hanging these curtains.”

  “Dammit! I said I’d take her home.”

  Frank glared at Zach as though everything was Zach’s fault. Ruth hopped down off the porch, gazing up at Zach with adoration in her eyes, adoration that Zach knew could eventually mean trouble. She was too young for a man of his experience. Smiling apologetically at Ruth, he handed the reins of his horse to Frank. “I’ll help Rebecca with the curtains.”

  Zach walked over to the crestfallen girl. “I’m sorry, Ruth, but men have a code of honor. If Frank asked first, I have to step aside.”

  “But I like you.”

  “You barely know me. You can’t judge a man by a couple of dances.”

  “You’re Mr. Burnett’s brother and I like Mr. Burnett.”

  “I’m not Jake’s brother. I want to be, but I’m a fair distance away from being that right now.” He hoisted her up into the saddle. “Frank’ll see that you get home safe.”

  Ruth glowered at the beaming Frank and sent her horse into a gallop. Frank mounted Zach’s horse and took off after her.

  Rebecca wrapped her arms around one of the rough beams supporting the roof. “Poor Frank.”

  “Yep, the boy’s in for heartache that’s for sure. I’d say she was his first love. Funny how the first time around, a person can fall in love with someone they hardly know.” Zach moved up onto the porch. “Do you remember your first love, Rebecca?”

  An
image of hair the color of midnight, eyes a deep blue flashed through her mind. Her first love. Every man before Brett had been in awe of her beauty or her father’s position. But Brett had taken her down off her pedestal, had made her feel touchable.

  She had been in the stall tending her horse. She turned around and found him towering above her. Without a word, he’d pressed her against him, his mouth opening to devour hers. She’d whimpered and his arms had tightened around her. Before Brett, she’d been kissed by young men whose tongues had dashed around her mouth without the courage to touch anything. But Brett had touched everything, every nook and cranny, exploring her mouth, slowly, deliberately. It had been pure heaven.

  “I remember him.” She sighed wistfully.

  “First loves are hard to forget,” Zach admitted. “I think no matter how many times a person falls in love, the first love and the last love are the only two that really matter. Now you had some curtains that needed hanging?”

  Nodding, she walked into the house. For her, the first love and the last love were one and the same.

  Frank sat straight in his saddle, his chest swelling with pride. Ruth had slowed her horse down to a trot and then to a walk, for which he was extremely grateful. Traveling at a slower rate allowed him to gaze upon her beauty. And Lord, she was beautiful.

  Only one thing was spoiling the moment. There was no one to see him with this woman by his side. There was nothing but open space between the Rocking R and the Triple Bar. He wished they could detour through town.

  Twilight was setting in as they arrived at Ruth’s house. Ruth dismounted before Frank had a chance to help her. Then she was hurrying up the steps to the house. Frank rushed after her, grabbing her arm. She jerked free and glared at him. Frank smiled.

  “I was wondering if you’d like to go riding with me sometime.”

  “I just went riding with you.”

  His smile grew. “Yeah, I know. And I thought it was kinda pleasant. Thought maybe you’d like to do it again.” “No.”

  The smile left Frank’s face. “Why the hell not?”

  “Because you’re a boy.”

  “I sure as hell am not. Hell, I shave every day!”