Lightning flashed too near the ranch home. The clap of thunder nearly unseated her. The horse sidled toward the barn. Mae could manage the horse. The rest of her life seemed to be unravelling.
She turned her attention on the woods. Like Lucy, she was terrified. “Oh Father, calm her heart. Mine, too.”
To ride out with the others to look for Charlie, she labeled a necessity. No other option. No choice.
Another jagged finger of electricity stabbed the trees on the mountain side of the woods. Thunder raised goose bumps along her arms. The children needed her.
Only three were in the confines of the sturdy house. She needed to gather all her chicks. Robert, Tim, Deacon, and Grant all searched. Was another adult really needed? Grant was still an invalid. Well, mostly. And the little girls were the best in a crisis, but still little.
Mae was confused. “Father, I don’t know whether to stay or go. I was sharp with the twins. They don’t know why they had to go inside. It’s not more of the punishment. Make them understand. I know this storm isn’t Your punishment for me. It’s just a storm. I don’t know which direction to go. Guide me.”
Storms beat at her in a place hidden deep inside. The rain battered at her confidence that she could withstand the elements. Not just weather. Life.
One torrential downpour took her security. Soft, gentle, life-giving rain bathed the hay fields. Harsh, destructive, cruel rain murdered her father, mother, and uncle. Must everything in life have a vicious side?
The smoldering heat of confusion fueled the hard black coal of fear. She could face this uncertainty daily, even hourly, or she could cast it off.
“Father,” she yelled. The horse pranced beneath her, startled by the outburst. “Heavenly Father, I’m sick of the tyranny of fear. I know where to make my allegiance. I cast all my cares upon You. I’m rebelling, Lord. Not against You, but joining You and Your heavenly forces who care for me. You care for my family. If You are for me, who can be against me?”
Mae paused, tightening the reins to hold back the horse who pranced as if to escape the duty ahead of them. The storm pricked at the animal’s nerves. Her rant provoked more excitement. One more stimulant pressed in on Mae and her ride. Smoke.
She turned the horse’s head away from the ranch and rode out toward the storm at a gallop. Gray smoke billowed from the far side of the woods. Black clouds crested the mountain peaks and rolled downward. From the break in the woods, Tuppy emerged.
Something was wrong.
Surely, she should be able to see a taller person among the three in the cart.
Chapter Nine
Where’s Grant?”
The simple question reduced Good Ole Bess to wails and prompted an eruption of nonstop explanation from Charlie and Minnie Sue.
Mae somehow understood it all. She got off her horse and handed the reins to Charlie. “You ride to town, get the sheriff and men to help stop the fire.”
The rapscallion’s face lit up. He jumped straight from the cart to the back of the horse. Before Mae could add all the precautions springing to her lips, he’d dug in his heels. He and the horse exploded into motion, leaving the others on the little goat track.
After a moment of watching her younger brother disappear at a breakneck speed, Mae sighed heavily and went to Tuppy’s head.
“You, fine gentleman, you.” She stroked his cheeks and the tuft between his horns. “You’ve served our family with pluck, but we must turn around and count on you one more time.”
Minnie Sue jumped to the ground. She helped guide the cart backward into higher grass and then out on the barely visible path. “What are we gonna do, Mae?”
“Go back and get Mr. Winchester.”
“You called him Grant before.”
Good Ole Bess sniffed long and hard. “We call him Mr. Cowboy.”
“She knows that, silly.” Minnie Sue went to the side of the cart. “Where’s your handkerchief? You’ve got slime running out of your nose.”
Bess lifted the hem of her grubby apron to her nose, gave a big blow, then wiped up.
Minnie Sue shook her head. “Who’s teaching you manners? One of the boys? Get down and walk awhile so that Tuppy can rest. He’s gonna carry Mr. Cowboy.”
Two more bolts of lightning broke through the sky before Mae and the girls reached the line of trees. The thunder rattled the earth. Good Ole Bess whimpered and clung to Minnie Sue’s hand. The smell of smoke saturated the air, but the stiff breeze kept it from gathering into cloudlike mists.
“Where’d all the smoke go?” Minnie Sue tugged on Mae’s shirtsleeve. “Where’d all the smoke go?”
“Burning clean.” Good Ole Bess’s voice sounded authoritative. She loved to watch her brothers build a fire.
“Uh-oh.” Thunder punctuated Minnie Sue’s ominous utterance. “That means the fire’s caught good, not just messing around.”
“We need water! Lots of water to douse it.” Good Ole Bess stopped in the track, halting Mae, Tuppy, and Minnie Sue as well.
A flash of lightning above the leafy trees. An immediate ear-popping clap, and all three girls jumped toward one another. Tuppy drummed his front feet and backed up.
Mae soothed the goat with a hand on his neck. “There, there, Tuppy. The fire is still three miles or more away.”
She reached out to herd the girls along, but Good Ole Bess had fallen to her knees.
With her hands clasped in front of her and her head bowed, the little girl prayed, “Dear God, we don’t need all this noisy thunder. We do need rain. Just stop hollering about the storm and get to it. You can help us save Mr. Cowboy and put out the fire and make everyone be happy.” She stood up, dropped down again, and closed her eyes tight. “Please. Amen.”
A bubble of nervous laughter choked Mae. Her little cousin was right, but a tad disrespectful. “Yes, Lord,” she added to the prayer. “Please give us aid where we need it. I thought the fire looked like it was headed to the hay fields. Our timber is wet from all the nice summer rains You’ve sent. That’s Your doing. Thank You.” She started walking, leading Tuppy. “We pray for everyone’s safety, including ours.”
Minnie Sue caught Good Ole Bess’s hand again and gave her a tug. “And dear Father in heaven, make everyone hurry up!”
Under the canopy of aspen, grass covered ruts in the track. Mae put Good Ole Bess in the bed of the cart. That small amount of weight lessened the old frame’s bouncing over the uneven ground.
At the fork that determined the destination of pond or caves, they found Grant crumpled into a heap. Not stretched out, but folded inward, his splinted leg stuck out to one side.
Minnie Sue reached him first. She patted him on the back. “You don’t look comfy.”
Mae rushed forward and landed on her knees beside his shoulders. Gently she lifted his head. Forest grime clung to his forehead. “Help me turn him onto my lap.”
“Wait for me!” Good Ole Bess scrambled down and ran to do her share of pushing.
Grant groaned as he settled against Mae’s leg.
She stroked bits of leaf and dirt away from his eyes, ears, and mouth. “Wake up, Grant. Wake up. Oh, please, wake up.”
His eyes fluttered then opened. He gazed straight up into Mae’s face. He still wore ugly signs of his encounter with the Biden brothers, but she thought he was the most handsome of any man she’d ever encountered. The corners of his mouth tipped up.
Good Ole Bess clapped her hands and bounced. “He waked.”
Grant sent a swift smile to her and Minnie Sue, but his eyes settled again on Mae. “I’m surrounded by angels, pretty, prettier, and prettiest of all.”
Warmth tingled in Mae’s cheeks. The embarrassing heat had nothing to do with the hot breeze.
Minnie Sue slapped her hands against her thighs then stood. “We gotta turn Tuppy again. But this is the last time. I wanna go home.”
She marched over to the goat. “I’m tired and hungry. I bet you’re tired and hungry, too. And Mr. Cowboy is tired and hun
gry and hurting again.” She turned to address her cousins. “Well, come on.”
Fat drops of rain hit singly, plopping on the leaves above. A scattered few reached the small group of people and the cool forest floor.
Good Ole Bess jumped to her feet and did a short, clumsy jig. “Hurray! God says yes.” She grabbed Mae’s arm and pulled. “Don’t be scared, Mae. This is God’s good rain.”
The ladies redirected the cart, while Grant struggled to sit and then stand.
“Oh!” Mae ran to him as he started to straighten his torso. “You should have waited a minute more. We’re here to help.”
His chest rose and fell in shallow gasps, and his pasty white pallor alarmed her. She put one of his arms around her shoulders and tucked herself in well to support him. They took slow steps toward the rear of the cart.
“Quarter-cup.” Grant muttered as Mae’s hands embraced his sides to maneuver him to a sitting position on the back edge.
“What?” She stopped to look him full in the face. He was very, very close. Him sitting, her standing put them nose to nose. His breath puffed against her cheek. Oh my, his eyes were a beautiful, deep brown.
“Quarter-cup.” He smiled and moved forward the inch it took to press his lips to hers. The movement was faster than lightning. That small touch hit her with the full force of a monumental clap of thunder.
“Quarter-cup,” he repeated with a silly grin. “Each raindrop holds a quarter-cup. When a rain begins with large, heavy drops, the storm will break and spill the sky on the land. But the bucket will empty quickly.”
“Huh?”
He laughed, a low rumble in his chest. She knew because the palm of her hand rested right where his heart must be.
“Miss Mae, are you always so befuddled when a gentleman kisses you?”
Oh my. She’d been kissed. The peck had not been a mistake or her imagination. The girls! She’d been kissed in front of the girls? Her head swiveled as she searched for them.
They stood a dozen steps away, side by side, holding hands, staring, and grinning.
Minnie Sue whooped. “Mr. Cowboy’s gonna marry Mae.”
Mae leaned in, her body, if not her prudence, yearning for a hug. She straightened, jerked her hands down to her side, and backed away.
The clouds chose that moment to quit fooling around with a few drips. As effective as a bucket of water over her head, the dousing awakened her from her stupor. She hauled in a deep breath, whipped around, and stomped to the goat’s head.
“Get in with your cowboy, girls. Make him lie down. I’ll lead Tuppy.”
She kept her eyes forward, looking toward the ranch.
She couldn’t look at him. Her face went all hot again each time she thought of the kiss. The warmth also settled in her chest. Her lungs couldn’t get air in and out in an efficient manner.
And the thought of fire and storms? Any whisper of impending doom had taken flight from her thoughts. All she could think of was the cowboy being jostled around in the small wooden cart behind her favorite goat.
Frequent use had worn down the grass on the last part of the track as they approached the house. The wheels of the cart slipped and slithered on a thin sheen of mud. Mae led the goat right into the barn. Good Ole Bess jumped down and ran to her side.
“Mr. Cowboy is groaning and wet. I’m wet, too.”
Joe-Joe and Buckeroo burst through the opening, out of the soaking rain and into the relative quiet of the horse stable.
Buckeroo shook water off like a dog. “Wh–what’s going on?”
Joe-Joe smacked into the cart and grabbed Grant’s arm, trying to pull him out. “From the girls’ room, we could see smoke and then fire.”
“You aren’t allowed in our room!” Minnie Sue’s voice registered two decibels louder and an octave higher than her brothers’.
“L–Lucy s–said c–come l–look!”
“So we weren’t doing anything wrong.”
Mae rushed to Joe-Joe’s side. “Quit pulling on him. Can’t you see he’s hurt?”
Joe-Joe dropped Grant’s arm and stood back in astonishment. “You mean more hurt than usual? How’d that happen?”
“We”—Minnie Sue’s voice commanded respect—“found Charlie and rescued him.”
Buckeroo looked around then scratched his head. “If you r–rescued Charlie, wh–where is he?”
Good Ole Bess managed to speak before her sister. “Off to get the sheriff.”
“The sheriff!” Joe-Joe’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell open before he gathered himself enough to say, “Wow!”
Buckeroo let out a long whistle.
Lucy, with a shawl held over her head against the rain, skidded to a stop just inside the barn door. “What happened?”
Outpourings of explanation filled the air, but one word silenced them all.
“Enough!” Mae ran an eye over all of them, skipping the cowboy in the cart just behind her. “Buckeroo and Joe-Joe, unhitch Tuppy and make him comfortable. He’s worked valiantly this afternoon. Give him some of the branches you cut from the willow tree.”
She dismissed them with a wave of her hand. “Lucy, help me get Mr. Winchester to the house. The girls need dry clothes.”
Grant, who had been strangely quiet, lifted a hand and with one finger turned Mae’s face toward his. “I’m wet, too. I should have dry clothes.”
Somehow, during the time she had detached Joe-Joe from the cowboy’s arm and shooed him away, she’d moved closer. He must have boosted himself to a half-stand, still leaning against the cart.
His arm was around her waist. Was she holding him up?
His chest was bare. His wet shirt hung around his neck, over his shoulders, like a granny’s shawl. Mae’s eyes slipped, and she focused on the expanse of hairy chest level with her nose. Not like a granny in any way, shape, or form.
“Lucy!” Her call squeaked out on a breath of air. She cleared her throat. “Help me get Mr. Winchester to the house. Girls, run ahead and change your clothes.”
Good Ole Bess’s voice registered distress. “Can we help Mr. Cowboy get his dry shirt? He’s hurt again. Bad.”
A strong arm squeezed Mae closer into Grant’s side. She couldn’t help but turn to see his reaction. His eyes twinkled. She felt the laughter he suppressed. His fingertips wiggled against her side, urging her to giggle.
“Mr. Cowboy!” That squeak. She cleared her throat again. “No, Bess, Mr. Cowboy is strong enough to deal with his own clothes.”
Lucy’s grin should have split her face. She moved to Grant’s other side. “We need to get you some hot tea for your throat, Mae. I think you’re coming down with something.”
Chapter Ten
The twins reported from their post at the window in the girls’ room.
“No more smoke. Can’t see the trees, either,” Joe-Joe complained. “It’s raining so hard, we can barely see the barn from Mae’s room.”
Lucy had given the girls a bath in the long narrow room next to the kitchen. Firewood for the house and kitchen lined the two side walls. A door to the outside and a door to the inside just fit between the stacks. A bathtub sat in the middle of the room and hung on the wall when not in use.
Grant sat in a chair beside the tub, doing his best to wash up in the tepid water. Buckeroo came in with a stack of folded clothes.
Grant recognized the material of one shirt. “Where did—?”
“The sheriff d–dropped off your saddlebag and a p–pack and your g–gun belt b–before he went chasing after T–Tim and Robert. He said at this point in time’ p–putting the fire out was m–more important than catching the B–Bidens.”
Grant nodded. “Right. Even three Bidens on the loose couldn’t be as destructive as a wildfire.”
“Exceptin’ if you c–count it w–w–was the B–Bidens who started it.”
“You’ve got a point.”
Buckeroo grinned at the faint praise. “You w–want me to help pull your socks off?”
In answe
r, Grant angled his leg toward the eager boy. “Where’s Charlie?”
“He r–rode out with the men. L–Lucy told him to s–stay, but he d–didn’t mind.” Buckeroo made a face but didn’t utter any condemnation that might have crossed his mind.
With the twin’s help, Grant changed all his clothing and washed most of his body. He was tuckered by the time they’d fastened the last button on his shirt.
Joe-Joe stomped his feet as he dragged the crutches in and thrust them into Grant’s hands. “Get moving, Buck. Mae’s cooking up a feast. She says all those men who went to put out the fire will surely come back this way. She needs to feed ’em, and we gotta do the little stuff she’s too busy to do.”
“Where’s Lucy?” The indignant tone gave away Buckeroo’s opinion of helping in the kitchen.
“Busy.”
“M–Minnie Sue and—?”
“Asleep.”
“Asleep?”
“On the sofa. Mae says there was just too much excitement for two little girls.”
“M–man, I’m n–never letting you t–talk me out of d–doing chores again.”
“This isn’t part of the penance for shirking. This is extra.”
“It’s still y–your f–fault.”
The boys stomped out of the room. Grant followed on crutches, clumsily maneuvering through the tight doorway. He beelined to the table before Mae could kick him out of her domain. He knew she’d liked their kiss by the way she refused to look at him. Women could be fun when flustered. Mae was adorable and fun.
“What can I do to help?”
“Drink this.” She placed a mug of something hot in front of him.
He knew by the tinge of the liquid and the scent that this herbal concoction eased his pain. He didn’t quibble. He needed something to take the sting out of his sore muscles.
Mae usually talked with him as she prepared the meal. Many days, she’d given over the chopping knife into his capable hands. This evening she handed him carrots, knife, and board, but she avoided his eyes and didn’t speak.
The Courageous Brides Collection Page 38
