Heartbreak Ranch: Amy's StoryJosie's StoryHarmony's StoryArabella's Story

by Chelley Kitzmiller

  “Yes, Papa,” Harmony said. For some reason she was having difficulty saying goodbye. Suddenly she was apprehensive about being left alone, even though she was a full twenty-one years old. Doubts assailed her. What if she made damaging decisions, brought disgrace upon Heartbreak Ranch?

  She stood beside the stirrup of her mother’s horse and felt a moment of panic. As if guessing her doubts, Josie leaned down and hugged her. When the older woman settled in her saddle, she gasped and her hand went to her throat.

  “Oh goodness,” Josie exclaimed. “William, I forgot all about the Wilkersons’ visit. We won’t be here.”

  With natural ease, William mounted. “It’s lucky they’re coming now, Josie. They’ll help keep Harmony company. She can entertain them. They’ll only be here a few weeks, and then they’ll go back East.” He smiled and his almond-shaped eyes crinkled wickedly. “I know how sorry you’ll be to miss your

  cousin’s visit.”

  Josie laughed self-consciously.

  “You don’t like the Wilkersons, Mother?” Josie asked curiously. She’d never met her mother’s distant cousins from Boston.

  “It’s not that,” Josie said hurriedly. “Edna and Randolf are just a bit...stiff. That’s all. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful visit with them. Give them my regrets, won’t you?”

  “Of course, Mother. Don’t worry about a thing. Go and take care of Grandma.” Harmony squared her shoulders and stepped back. She’d been trained for this moment. She would do her parents proud. After all, she had Old Clay as an adviser and there was none better. The grizzled cowhand had forgotten more about cattle ranching than she ever hoped to learn.

  This thought buoying her, she waved her parents off and pivoted toward the barn. Ben was still there.

  He stood with one long muscular leg propped behind him on the corral fence and his arms draped along the top rung. Everything about him shouted lazy nonchalance. Everything except his eyes; they glittered.

  His mouth twisted in a shrewdly knowing grin, and she had the abrupt and uncomfortable notion that he sensed her underlying uncertainty. She wondered if he could know of her desperate desire to do her parents proud and run the ranch well.

  Under his regard, she flushed. Damn. She found herself hoping that tomorrow when she woke this new Ben would magically return to the reserved, quiet man with whom she’d grown up. She certainly didn’t know how to cope with the sharp-eyed, plain-speaking, disturbing male who now confronted her. Without her parents as a buffer, she’d have to handle Ben on her own.

  * * *

  HARMONY’S FIRST TRIAL came less than four days later when she was confronted by a disaster guaranteed to strike fear into the heart of any self-respecting rancher.

  Magdalena shook her awake in the middle of the night. “Harmony, dear, you must get up. There’s a terrible fire.”

  As Harmony dressed and rushed downstairs, every lamp blazed unnatural illumination into the dead of night, but it couldn’t blot out the ominous shimmer of fire on the horizon. Beside the foreman, Ben stood tensely, along with four hastily dressed cowhands whose shirttails hung loose outside their jeans.

  Without preamble, Old Clay spit orders. “Ben, you, me, Roberts and Julio will head for the Beyers’. We can help them clear land before the flames get to their barn. Get two buckboards hitched and find the shovels.”

  Three wagonloads of neighboring men careened into the yard. She wasn’t surprised. As the largest ranch in the valley, her home had always become disaster headquarters.

  She gathered her skirts. “The neighbors are coming, Clay. I’ll organize a water brigade. We’ll get barrels filled at the creek and send the men after hoses and buckets. Cook can prepare sandwiches.”

  The raging inferno swept through the valley, damaging two small ranches, decimating others. The flames roared through a good half of the alfalfa William had planted for winter feed, ate up at least a third of the natural cattle forage. Thank God it hadn’t come near Harmony’s beloved meadow.

  No one knew what started it.

  Through some miracle, human lives were spared, although some livestock was lost.

  Then Clay, who was helping dig a final trench for a last backfire, slipped as he was shoveling dirt and fell into the ditch.

  Ben leaped down and hauled him out. Old Clay was still alive, but his leg and several ribs were broken.

  While Magdalena splinted Clay’s leg and tightly wrapped his ribs, Harmony arranged to send him down the mountain to a good doctor in Caliente. She had Ben lay the foreman into the back of a buckboard and tucked a blanket under Clay’s chin.

  “You’ll be all right,” she assured him, wiping his grimy face with a damp rag. “Doc Scranton will fix you up and you’ll be back in no time.”

  He smiled weakly, and Harmony had to hide her concern over his sunken features.

  “Ben will help you run the ranch, Missy,” Old Clay wheezed out. “He’s a good boy—got a solid head on his shoulders. He’ll be your foreman till I’m back on my feet.”

  She stared after the wagon until it disappeared, exhaustion weighing down her limbs. Surely Old Clay hadn’t meant Ben Panau?

  But, tiredly, she thought of the world events happening outside her valley. With the growing public demands for action overseas, President Wilson had declared war just months ago. Harmony sighed. The War to End All Wars was robbing the area of able-bodied men, young men, capable men. Even though the ranch was prosperous, it was running on a cowhand staff of stove-up old-timers and youths shaving peach fuzz.

  She recalled images of Ben as a youngster, trotting after Old Clay, and later as an adult, aiding the patient foreman. Though nobody said much about it, Clay had taken the Indian youth under his wing, taught him, encouraged him.

  And now it became apparent that Old Clay fully expected young Ben to step into his boots.

  Harmony would have to see Ben every day, instead of just occasionally. She would need to confer with him, ask his opinion, rely on his judgment. They were being thrown together by circumstance, bad luck and, she thought ruefully, some wicked demon’s idea of a good joke.

  Ben Panau had suddenly become very important to her, and integral to the success of Heartbreak Ranch. Harmony wiped a hand over her eyes. In spite of his altered status and what it might mean in the long run, all she could think of was one thing.

  Ben Panau had seen her naked.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A THIN FILM of smoke hung in the air, filtering the dawn’s sunrise through otherworldly colors of melon and coral. Falling soot and ash covered the buildings, the ground and even the backs of the cattle. Harmony tasted the stale odor on her tongue and grimaced.

  Though she’d finally gotten several hours of sleep, she still felt tired. However, it was her duty to supervise the return of the many water wagons, to thank her neighbors for their quick response to the fire and to see that they were all fed breakfast before going back to their own ranches.

  When the last wagon rumbled down the rock-lined drive, she spied Ben near the corrals. He was giving orders to two men. She approached and waited for him to finish. When he turned and settled his dark eyes on her, she felt edgy, nervous.

  “Good morning.” She tried to greet him lightly. “How does it feel? Your new position, I mean.”

  He tipped his hat, still studying her. “It’s a good fit, I think. I’ve assigned Roberts and Julio to the horses since I won’t have time for them now.”

  “It takes two to do your old job?” she asked, then, watching the men head for the horse pasture, answered her own question. “You have always done the work of two men, haven’t you?”

  Ben shrugged and allowed himself a small smile. “If you say so, ma’am,” he drawled.

  Harmony laughed briefly, then glanced out over the blackened hills. Self-consciously, she folded her arms beneath her breasts. Out of the corner of her eye she studied him. He stood solidly on run-down boots. Wear-faded jeans clung to him. Open at the neck, sleeves rolled to his elbow
s, the worn, blue chambray shirt couldn’t hide his swell of biceps, honed by hard ranch labor. A black Stetson was pulled low over his eyes.

  For just the briefest moment, Harmony’s breath caught.

  To distract herself, she turned her gaze to the charred hills and her mood turned somber. “I hope you’ve listened well to Old Clay, because we’ve got rough times ahead.” She faced him apprehensively. “I’ve got to get the ranch in order before my parents come back in three months. I can’t have them return to—to this.” She gestured to the burned grasslands and knew he understood.

  He studied the hills, gaze narrowed. “When we can, we’ll reseed. It’s not too late in the year to grow more feed. I’ve got to spend a week or so riding out with the men to take a tally, see exactly how much stock was lost—what we’ve got left. Meanwhile we’ll be moving cattle to unburned pastures. Thank God none of the buildings went up.”

  “Yes,” Harmony agreed, his composure reassuring her. “I suppose we should be thankful for that.”

  On the basis of their childhood friendship, Harmony liked and respected Ben. Back when they were kids, it seemed he was forever rescuing her from scrapes. When she was nine and an inveterate tree climber, she’d gotten herself up so high in the old oak in the meadow that she’d been too frightened to get down. She’d cried for an hour until fourteen-year-old Ben scaled the tree, then patiently and kindly talked her down.

  Later, he hadn’t allowed the other ranch children to tease her about it.

  Other such occasions flitted through her mind. She guessed she’d taken him for granted, assumed he would extricate her from whatever predicament her rash impulses propelled her into. He was simply always there—like the great immovable mountain at the foot of which Heartbreak Ranch was built.

  Despite her misgivings, she was glad to have his knowledge at her disposal now.

  Her gaze slid over his high chiseled cheekbones. He had a generous mouth and even teeth, which in his rare smiles flashed brilliantly against his tanned skin. Night-dark brows winged over his eyes, his most arresting feature. He glanced down at her now, a question in their inky depths.

  Quickly she averted her gaze, embarrassed to be caught staring. “Uh, I’ll just go get a bottle for that leppy calf. It’s been hard on the little guy with his mother lost in the fire.”

  Before she could hurry away, Ben placed a deliberate hand on her slender shoulder. “I won’t let you down, Harmony. Together, you and I will set the ranch to rights.”

  Vital, strong, his hand covered her shoulder like a burning brand. Streaks of heat lightning shot up her spine. She managed a weak nod before turning away. She didn’t like the feelings coursing through her whenever she and Ben met. It was as if a new, dynamic man had appeared in her life, but a man she already knew. How could that make sense?

  * * *

  TO SUPPOSE THAT Ben was pleased to be promoted to foreman was to predict that the sun might come up in the morning. Of course it would. And of course he was.

  While saddened about Old Clay’s injuries and concerned about lost forage and stock, Ben knew that these circumstances were temporary.

  The dearth of fit men caused by the war, combined with the valley’s terrible fire and Old Clay’s incapacity—all had created this opportunity for Ben. It was a boon he would not squander.

  With hard work, he’d try to overcome the stigma of his ne’er-do-well family, his whisky-sot father. As he always had tried.

  James Panau had long been Caliente’s town drunk. While Ben hated what James had become, he couldn’t bring himself to hate his father. How could he—his own flesh and blood? The good memories were pitifully few, but Ben treasured them. No, he couldn’t hate James.

  But he could distance himself. And so, since adolescence, when Old Clay had decided there was something worthwhile about young Ben, he’d done everything he could to be different from James Panau. Ben never drank, he kept his manner reserved, and when it was time to work he made sure none could say he was lacking. By the age of sixteen Ben had moved into the ranch bunkhouse, where he still lived.

  Now, watching Harmony hasten off to get the leppy calf’s bottle, he knew a deep satisfaction. At last she was becoming aware of him, whether she wanted to or not. Sensitive to every nuance of her mood, he knew she was beginning to look at him as a man.

  Soon, he vowed she would look at him as a lover.

  * * *

  THE DAY CAME when the Wilkersons were scheduled to arrive, and Harmony took special care with her appearance. Before her bedroom mirror she checked her high-necked white blouse, decorated with miniature buttons to the throat. The blouse tucked into a neatly fitted sienna brown skirt of light muslin. On her feet she wore sensible soft half boots. She gathered her thick hair into a modest chignon and pinned it tightly to her nape.

  Satisfied she looked like a grown woman capable of running a cattle ranch, she headed for the kitchen to instruct Cook on the week’s menus, as well as refreshments to be served upon the Wilkersons’ arrival. That accomplished, she collected a large mug of black coffee and a warm bun slathered with freshly churned butter. On the spacious veranda, she sank her teeth into the fragrant bun and scanned the road on which the Wilkersons would arrive. Yesterday she’d sent her father’s best surrey—a black carriage of four large wheels and fringed top—to the railroad station in Caliente to collect her mother’s cousins.

  William had purchased a modern Mitchell automobile but, woefully, the road to town was not yet in good enough shape for regular travel in the horseless carriage.

  Though she’d never met Randolf and Edna, Harmony was determined to be a gracious hostess. Word of her behavior would certainly get back to Josie and William, and Harmony would make sure the Wilkersons had every reason to heap praise upon her. She considered this another small test she must pass on the path to proving her worth as manager.

  Perhaps when William returned, he would be so thrilled with her work, he would consent to let her continue—at Old Clay’s side, of course. Never would she wish to push the foreman out of a job, but someday he would retire....

  The clatter of the black surrey came from the dirt road leading to the house. Rushing out, she hesitated at the top step, shading her eyes against the sun. Working at an outdoor table pushed up against the outside of the barn, Ben was repairing a broken plow. Parts and tools were spread out on the table in a jumble. At the surrey’s approach, Harmony saw him glance up. Wiping his hands, he strode forward.

  Hurrying down the steps, she met the couple as the man pulled the horse to a halt and set the brake. Ben reached the carriage at the same moment.

  “Welcome to Heartbreak Ranch,” Harmony sang out, and was chagrined to hear so much of her natural exuberance invading her carefully modulated tones. At all times her mother was serene, calm, in control. Harmony was determined to emulate her. She cleared her throat. “Um, please, come in and rest yourselves,” she said, her voice now satisfyingly amenable. “You must be very tired.”

  “Indeed,” the woman replied tartly. “All that bumping and jostling—why, it’s a wonder my poor head hasn’t rattled clear off my shoulders!”

  Solicitously Ben reached up, and without looking at him, the woman placed a gloved hand delicately in his and gathered her skirts. Edna Wilkerson was a handsome woman who’d aged rather well into her late forties. Her hair, still a rich brown with only a few silvered streaks, was evenly plaited and pinned into a crown atop her head. A tiny bird-box hat was perched on top, with an even tinier sparrow nestled among silk leaves and berries.

  Her Gibson Tuck blouse was high-necked with a hand-embroidered floral motif on the front panel. It tucked neatly into a belted navy serge skirt. Her smartly fashioned shoes were glacé kid with a Paris toe. A delicate lace parasol lay over one shoulder. Harmony eyed the entire ensemble with envy. Her own brown muslin skirt and simple blouse made her feel plainer than the sparrow decorating Edna Wilkerson’s hat.

  Somewhat daunted, Harmony fell back on her rehearsed s
peech. “Uh, I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here. I’m Harmony, William and Josie’s daughter. Unfortunately, my parents were called away to Hawaii on urgent family matters—”

  “What’s that?” the man barked, speaking for the first time. “William’s not here?” He was tall and thin, with long furrows beside his mouth that gave him a dour appearance. He wore unrelieved black, and a wide, flat-brimmed hat. For no reason at all, Harmony thought of an oversize buzzard.

  “I’m terribly sorry. They wish me to convey their regards and deepest apologies. If you would—”

  “Goodness, Randolf,” Edna burst out. She released Ben’s hand and sank back heavily onto the carriage seat. She faced her husband with alarm. “We’ve come all this way and they’re not here. This is unconscionable!”

  Randolf made no effort to disagree, merely sat in the surrey scowling at Harmony as if she were entirely responsible. One part of her wondered if they would ever make it out of the conveyance, or would simply turn it around and head back to the railroad.

  Harmony wrung her hands. Matters were not getting off to a good start, not at all. “It’s my grandmother—she’s very ill. They had to go, you understand.”

  “I understand one thing, missy,” Randolf boomed. “Your parents invited us out here for a nice long visit, and when we arrive, they’re not even here to receive us.”

  “Yes.” Edna fairly quivered with indignation. Her little bird quivered, too.

  “I’m so sorry. Please. Cook has prepared a wonderful meal in your honor—roast duck and baked apples and fresh string beans. Won’t you come in?”

  Randolf continued to eye her balefully, but Edna heaved a sigh of resignation. “Well, I could force down a bite. Do you know it’s all of sixteen miles from town?” she demanded, as if Harmony had no knowledge of the surrounding area.

  Again she placed her hand in Ben’s open palm, but this time she actually looked at him.

  Suddenly she gave a little yelp and snatched her hand back, tucking it beneath her chin. She stared at him wide-eyed. Weakly, she mewed, “Randolf?”