Of course, she hadn’t thought Gage could find a way into her canyon, either.
“I came to your house and you were cleared out, but I thought maybe you’d just ridden into town for supplies, so I rode on. I stopped by Shannon’s house and it was empty. I finally got to Aspen Ridge and heard the news of Shannon heading for the high hills, Kylie heading back east, and you getting married, which means Coulter now owns your spread. All of you betrayed me.”
“A grown-up woman finding a good man is usually her father’s fondest dream, Wilde,” Gage said coldly. Bailey looked sideways at him and saw those eyes turn to ice. She hadn’t seen so much of that look lately.
Pa didn’t yell back. Instead, he stroked his whiskered face. “You’re part of my family now, Coulter. Maybe I finally have a son who knows how to build something out here. Maybe I can finally take some pride in my family. But Bailey’s brand oughta be on your cattle. The Double W could come to mean something out here. It’s Bailey’s name, but it stands for Jimmy too, and also me. All the Wilde family. Wilde would make a fearsome name for a ranch.”
Bailey’s brand was two Ws, one on top of the other.
Just the thought of her husband giving up his C Bar brand made Bailey want to laugh. To name his cattle after his wife was real unlikely, but after his cranky father-in-law and an unknown, long-dead brother-in-law?
Bailey couldn’t control a grin when she said, “Double W means Wilde Women, Pa.”
Pa recoiled like someone had laid a whip across his back. “No, it don’t. That second W is for Jimmy. I’ve said it plenty of times.”
“And I’ve heard you say it, Pa, but your words don’t mean much to me. I registered that brand at Fort Boise as the Wilde Women Ranch. Double W. Do you really want a ranch named after your daughters?” Bailey wondered if Pa had ever said the word daughters.
“What is the meaning of this?” Ma Coulter came up beside Gage on the side Bailey wasn’t on. Her tone and eyes were as icy as Gage’s. Maybe the two of them working together could cool Pa down.
Pa was still blubbering over the Wilde Women Ranch when he turned to Ma. “Who are you?”
At least Pa didn’t come up with some phony manners that he’d never shown before.
“This is my mother, Mrs. Coulter.” Gage sounded like he didn’t want Pa knowing his mother’s first name. “Ma, this is Bailey’s pa, Cudgel Wilde.”
“And you are interrupting our meal, Mr. Wilde. Your manners will not add to our ability to digest the food, so you are not invited to join us. Please be on your way.”
Bailey had never heard such a politely delivered insult in her life.
Pa scowled at Ma Coulter. “I will not be on my way. I let the others give up, but not Bailey.”
He turned to her, and she saw something in his eyes she’d never seen before. A desperate man who’d been . . . hurt. Pa with hurt feelings? Bailey couldn’t quite imagine it. Pa was always angry. Selfish. Even his grief over Jimmy was laced with rage and a need to strike out at the world. Bailey had always thought that under her father’s unkindness was just a hint of madness.
But hurt? It kicked over something deep inside her, and love for her pa spilled out.
She’d never seen him in a state where she had any hope that he loved her. But right now she hoped.
It was useless, but even so, Bailey pressed a hand to Gage’s chest and said, “Let me talk to him, please.”
Gage grunted, but he let her take Pa’s arm. She gently turned him, and they walked the few paces to the door. “Pa, I liked the idea of building a ranch together out here. You know I did. But I can’t live my whole life building something for my brother. I have to build something for myself. And marrying Gage is a kind of building.” Bailey almost choked on the words, yet she forced herself to say them. “Can’t you be happy for me, Pa? I’d like that because . . .” She swallowed hard and forced the words out. “Because I love you, Pa.”
Pa lifted his eyes to meet hers. She couldn’t remember ever saying those words before, and it felt like the greatest risk of her life . . . and that counted her time in the war. “We’re family, and Gage is our family too now. He’s got this big well-run ranch, and you’re part of that. We did it. We’re part of something grand. Can’t you be satisfied with that? Why not make friends here? Jimmy’s been gone for nearly five years. Why not enjoy the living and put aside your grief?”
Pa’s eyes, so much like her own, seemed to lose the anger he carried like stones. He looked at her, really looked at her. He seemed to notice her longer hair, her feminine clothes.
It might well be that Pa had truly gotten to thinking of her as another son. Of course, not the son he wanted. Jimmy was dead. But for a second she thought he saw her as she was and had, buried somewhere deep, a father’s heart for her.
Then he shook his head as if to shed any weakness. His eyes flashed with such rage, Bailey backed up. “You’ve betrayed me, girl. You’re a coward who won’t do what needs to be done. You picked Coulter over your brother.” He leaned close so that only she could hear him. “I regret every day my son died in that war and the rest of my young’uns made it through.”
“Pa!” Had her own father just told her he wished her dead? She was speechless. And to call her a coward for marrying. When marrying Gage had taken every ounce of her courage! When even now she was in terrible pain, which she’d endured to protect Gage.
Pa had no idea what she’d been through in the war. Of course, he’d never asked, and when she’d tried to tell him, he’d told her to stop whining.
Bailey didn’t know how she looked, but Gage noticed how hard the words had hit, because he was at her side instantly and he had no trouble speaking. Sounding strong and far too calm for how fast he moved, he said, “If you want a dynasty in honor of your son, you’re going to have to build it yourself.”
Pa glared at Gage with pure hatred. Next, Pa’s rattlesnake eyes turned to Bailey. She braced herself for whatever hurtful thing he threw her way. “I saw the way it was going to be last fall.” Pa jabbed a finger in her face. “Just you remember, there are more ways than one to build a dynasty.” He stormed out and slammed the door behind him.
The love she’d just realized she still had for her pa turned into something dead and gone. She didn’t know how to handle the ache in her heart.
He saw the way it was going to be last fall? What did he mean by that? Could Pa . . . ?
Gage ran a hand up and down Bailey’s back, drawing her out of her painful thoughts. “You and your sisters turned out mighty good for being raised by him,” he said.
That shocked a laugh out of her. Bailey shoved away her pa’s unkindness and made a silent promise to herself never to risk letting him hurt her again.
“I reckon we did.” She looked across Gage’s broad chest at Ma, fuming with indignation, still staring after Pa. “Thank you for helping us put an end to that. I apologize for my father, but I have no control over him. Let’s just hope he’s gone for good.”
Bailey was struck by her father’s last words about more than one way to build a dynasty. What had he meant by that? She shuddered to think.
21
It’d been a week since Gage had gotten married, and in that time he’d never seen his bride outside, except for necessary things. And she’d healed up mighty fast, so she was staying inside for her own reasons. Gage had a feeling it concerned his hired men being close at hand.
So it surprised him when Bailey stepped outside in a swift, furtive way that made him think of an escaping prisoner. She opened the door and closed it quickly and silently behind her.
His wife was making a break for it.
She wore a dress in a dull blue shade. It looked good on her. Great, in fact. Gage remembered buying that cloth at the general store. His wife was wearing a dress he’d provided for her. For some reason that made his chest swell with pride.
She had a matching ribbon in her hair, which fluttered in the spring breeze. There was little snow left and the weather
was mild. She wore no coat, so he could enjoy how her dress fit. She moved well. Ma had watched over her all week and fussed like a hen with one chick. Of course, Ma fussed over him the same way, so the one chick wasn’t quite right. And Bailey had barely lifted a finger. Ma had seen to it. Whether she admitted it or not, it was exactly what Bailey needed to heal.
And now she’d jumped the fence and was on the loose. She must’ve been watching for him, because he’d just come out of the barn and she headed straight for him.
She looked around. Even from a distance he could tell she spotted the sentries he had posted. She made note of Manny and another man on horseback, riding toward the far end of the pasture. Then she studied two cowpokes, who ducked into a shed on past the corral. Gage had sent them there to work on a worn-out wagon.
He knew she was wary of the men, and he wondered if she’d waited for them to scatter before she’d come out. What he didn’t know was why.
She must’ve decided they were far enough away, for she started toward him.
Rowdy walked out of the barn and up to Gage.
Her steps faltered.
“Mrs. Coulter is healing up good.” Rowdy watched her come as if he were inspecting his doctoring. Bailey had refused to let Rowdy have another look at her wounds.
They’d just come from checking a mare who was about to birth her first foal. Several of them had been in the barn, but Ike had kicked them all out. He said they were making the laboring mama nervous.
Ike stayed behind to soothe the skittish filly.
“Can you see if the men need help on that wagon, Rowdy?” Gage didn’t look away from Bailey. The blue dress brought out the gold of her eyes. Gage hadn’t given much thought to a woman’s eyes before, but Bailey’s were unusual and so pretty they were worth considerable thought.
“Call me if Ike needs help.” Rowdy touched the brim of his hat as Bailey came close. “Howdy, ma’am. Glad to see you up and around.”
“I’ve never thanked you for bandaging me up.” She didn’t quite manage a smile, but her expression wasn’t openly hostile. “Thank you, Rowdy.”
He nodded. “Best get to work.” He headed for the shed.
Gage waited until he’d gotten out of earshot, then turned to Bailey. “You look really pretty today.”
“Don’t waste your time with sweet talk, Gage.” She crossed her arms.
Gage had to remind himself she’d worn britches and lived as a man most of her life. He’d very much like her to learn to take a compliment as her due.
“No sweet talk, just the plain truth. Did you need something?” He tried to move along the talk so she’d let his compliment stand.
“Yes, I want to talk to you about several things. First of all—”
“Gage, I’ve got trouble.” Ike’s voice sounded from inside the barn. “There’s only one leg. And the mare is so small, my hand . . .” Ike stepped into view and noticed Bailey. He clamped his mouth shut as if he couldn’t speak of such topics in front of a woman. “Sorry, ma’am.” Ike had no hat on, but he made a gesture to his head like he’d intended to doff one by way of apology. He had his shirtsleeves rolled up and a frantic look on his face.
Gage charged toward the barn. “If we can’t deliver this foal, we’ll lose the mare, too.”
“We could cut the foal out.” Ike stepped back as Gage rushed past him.
“It would kill the mare.” Gage got there and saw the hard truth. His mare was flat on her side, in obvious distress and only one leg was visible.
A foal born proper had two legs come out first, followed by the baby’s nose. This baby had one leg bent back. No mare could deliver a foal in such a position.
The foal needed to be moved inside the mare, and Gage couldn’t help. His hands were larger than Ike’s.
“Let me help, Gage. I’ve delivered—”
“Bailey, go to the house. I don’t need a woman distracting me right now.” Kneeling behind his pretty mare, there was silence as Gage assessed the situation.
“She’s just too small for either of us to work on her,” Ike said from behind him.
“I should’ve never bred her to my stallion, not for her first baby.” The mare turned to look over her shoulder at him and whickered softly as if begging him to help.
“Wouldn’t make a bit of difference, not in this case. Our choice here is to lose one or both. If we don’t cut the foal out of her, they’ll both die,” Ike said.
A shove knocked Gage all the way to the barn floor. He turned to see Bailey, her hands fisted at her waist. “I can save your horse. My hands are small enough, and I did most of the doctoring of animals on Pa’s farm back east.”
She lifted her right hand, which had a bandage on it until a couple of days ago. One small, strong, healed-up hand. “I’ve done it before.”
“You have?” Gage shifted his eyes from Bailey to his distressed horse to Ike.
“You think I’m lying? You think I’m hoping I can get this job, even though I have no idea how to do it?” Bailey quit stabbing him to death with her eyes, turned to the distressed mare, and started rolling up her sleeve.
Resisting the urge to stop her, Gage instead got back to his knees just as Bailey crouched beside him.
“This mare isn’t a mustang. I’ve never seen one of them have trouble with a birthing.”
“I bought her last fall after I drove my cattle to Fort Boise. One of the soldiers was willing to part with her. She’s the only thoroughbred mare I’ve got, and this foal will be her first and bred to my stallion.”
“Well, she’s a pretty thing.”
The mare was a dark shiny brown with white stockings and a white stripe down her face. Gage had been looking forward to seeing what she and his stallion would produce.
Dropping to her knees by the business end of a birthing mare, Bailey did something Gage had never imagined a woman to do. He really had to change his thinking about women—at least when it came to his wife.
She had to reach past that single leg and push the baby back in, using her muscle against the strength of a straining horse.
“I’ve found the foal’s head. It’s bent back,” Bailey said.
The horse picked that moment to have a labor pain, and sweat broke out on Bailey’s forehead as she bore the agonizing pressure on her arm until the horse relaxed.
“Her other leg is bent back, too.” Long minutes passed as Bailey worked hard to line the baby up right.
And all Gage could do was watch and pray.
Bailey’s wounds were healed, but this was a glaring reminder that she was still tender. The pressure from the laboring horse was crushing her arm, and the foal wanted to come forward when Bailey needed to push it back.
She did as much as she could when the mare was between contractions, and she’d silently bore it during. There was no winning if she pitted her strength against the strength of a full-grown horse.
Going only by touch, she finally caught hold of the unborn baby’s jaw and dragged its whole head around. She felt every bit of that effort in her barely healed right hand. Now she had to do it one more time, with the pinned back leg. It was harder because the leg was stretched straight back and she’d almost get hold, then the horse would move or strain and the slippery baby would get away.
Her muscles screamed in protest as she pushed herself far beyond what she should. Running on pure grit and determination, she kept working, praying with every breath for strength sufficient to the task.
Finally, she got a firm hold on the little one’s knee and pulled it forward, then slid her hand on down, without anything shifting out of place, to get the hoof. A solid, steady tug and she had the foal in position.
“There! It should come out the right way now. It was wiggling, even sucked my fingers when I got my hand in its mouth to turn the head. It feels pretty lively.”
Bailey scooted backward on her knees and then stood. She fell over backward.
Gage caught her before she sprawled on the barn floor.
Her vision narrowed, and her ears felt hot. Her wounded shoulder burned like fire, and that wasn’t the one she’d used on the mare. Her stomach twisted. Her knees wobbled.
“You haven’t been well long enough for this.” Gage’s voice sounded like it came from far away, but his arms were wrapped around her from behind. He pulled her against the length of his body and held her upright.
“What choice did I have?” she said.
Gage grunted and held her just a bit closer. Or had she pressed more firmly against him?
Ike came over with a bucket of warm water and a bar of soap. “You done good work, Mrs. Coulter.”
She studied Ike for a minute and decided he meant it. There was no way to deny how upset he’d been about the foal not birthing right. He was a man with a heart for animals, and his kindness with the warm water said that extended to women, too.
The skinny cowpoke could have let it bother him that she’d stepped in, literally shoved Gage aside, and done a man’s work. Instead, he sounded pleased. He wanted this mama and baby to live just as badly as she did.
“Go ahead and wash up.” Ike set the bucket down on the floor and stepped away.
“Let me loose, Gage.” Bailey sounded weak to her own ears.
Gage relaxed his hold slowly.
She bent for the rag thrown over the edge of the bucket, and Gage stopped her.
“Let me help.”
Because she was still dizzy enough that she might bend down and just go on headfirst into the bucket, she stopped.
He bathed her arm. She was too worn out to insist on doing it herself.
When her arm was clean and dry, he unrolled her sleeve and buttoned it.
“Your ma made me this dress. Today’s the first I’ve worn it. She’s going to be disgusted with me.” She looked down at her dress. Getting the stains out was going to be a challenge.
“Your dress is probably ruined.” Gage sounded so kind. Then he asked, “Isn’t this from the fabric I bought you on the day we got married?”
Fire and Ice Page 16
