Loveland

by Andrea Downing

  David, I am so happy here I can’t tell you. Annie and Tom and the children continue to be my surrogate family and they are such wonderful people (though you will have guessed I cannot discuss the above with Annie—can’t really imagine Annie and Tom in bed at all, for goodness sake) I don’t know where I would be without them. Poor Tom is looking somewhat harried and worried these days. I’m sure he thinks Oliver a fool and if the ranch pulls through it will certainly be thanks to Tom. As for the men, I love them all (except maybe Jesse, who is being so mean), truly I do. Do you know how they risk their lives every single moment of every day? Riding broncs or outlaws after winter lay-offs, going into the herd to rope or cut, dragging calves to the branding fire. Then there’s trailing cattle to the rail head, or riding to circle in the herd, or crossing the river, or working out in a lightning storm or blizzard or, most especially, riding out a stampede. Plus there’s danger every time they have to dispute a cut or brand markings with a Rep, every time they sit down to a game of cards—I suppose if they all got rid of their guns some of this might not be so dangerous, but there you go, they need the damned things for the snakes and bears and wolves at least (and aren’t those also threats to their life and limb?) and so life is very dangerous here, Darling. It’s so exciting!

  Your loving sister,

  Alex xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

  ****

  Pulling up the wagon, Alex watched the men from a distance. Now in the midst of spring roundup and branding, there was an air of a social occasion as the Reps from other ranches came by to cut their stray cows and calves from the herd. While the punchers were busy with little spare time, Tom had asked her to bring back supplies from town and deliver them to the campsite at Washburn’s Crossing. It had been a long drive and Ranger was tied to the back of the wagon, not liking it at all.

  The smell of the burning cowhide was fierce and Alex wondered how the men stood that work all day, yet they never seemed to mind. It fascinated her how they worked together, one man roping the head, another the legs, then a third tailin’ down’ the calf for a fourth to brand. Alex found this all wonderful; to her, these men were gods with their wide brimmed hats and bandanas, their high-heeled boots with the jingling spurs she loved to hear on the wooden walkways around the headquarters, and their rawhide leggings over the striped or checked pants they favored wearing. With none of the pretenses or condescension that characterized the men she had heretofore encountered, she thought of them as one huge family, a family she had never known. And she wanted to be like them—just like them. Strong. Self-reliant. Free.

  The men had stopped for lunch when Alex got there, and watched her as she jumped down to get Ranger untied from the back of the wagon and hobbled, off on his own.

  “Four boxes of Sapolio, twenty cans of Eagle Brand,” counted off the cook, “ten sacks of Arbuckles’. I asked Boss for a dozen. What happened?”

  “Don’t look at me, Cookie,” answered Alex as she came back from hobbling the horse. “Tom gave me the list. If the punchers didn’t drink so much coffee…”

  “We have to drink coffee, Lady Lex,” said Terry passing her with a plate of food in hand. “If’n we didn’t, we’d all be fallin’ asleep in the saddle. Now you wouldn’t want that, would ya?”

  Alex looked across to Ranger where one of the Reps she didn’t know was looking him over. “I should leave him, if I were you,” she called. “He’s not in a very good mood today.”

  “One helluva cayuse, sonny,” answered the man. He came back to the wagon, grabbed a plate and went over to sit with Cal and a group of the others.

  Terry snickered.

  “Who you calling sonny, Mister?” Alex stood by Cal, hands on hips. The Faringdon outfit all burst out laughing.

  “Well, I never,” said the Rep, completely taken aback. “It’s a-a goshdurn woman!”

  Alex shrugged and smiled.

  “Hey, wanna try one of these?” Cal held out his fork and tin plate with some unrecognizable food on it.

  “What is it?” Alex peered down at the mess.

  “Prairie oysters,” he said.

  “Prairie oysters? I don’t like oysters of any kind,” she replied scrunching her nose.

  “Builds ya up. Good fer you. It’ll put hair on yer chest.”

  “Such as it is,” Reb mumbled.

  “Hey!” Cal gave him a hard kick with his boot.

  “Sorry, Lady Lex.” Reb looked up at her with a half-smile on his face. “I don’t suppose you kin help it none, bein’ half-formed an’ all.”

  “Hey!” Cal gave him another kick. “You know better’n to talk like that.”

  “Oh, hell, it’s just fun.”

  Jesse turned sharply from his place further along, almost joining Cal in reprimanding Reb. For a split second his eyes met Alex’s as she looked away and he turned back to the men near him. Anger colored his face, but was it anger at Reb, anger at her, or anger at himself for threatening her? Alex wondered if he would ever get past those feelings and find the words to apologize to her.

  “She seems to be big enough to be wearin’ that six-shooter,” one of the new men noted. “You know how to use that thing, sweetheart?”

  Cal laughed and looked up at Alex. “You all call her sweetheart one more time, you may find out. Then it’ll be your prairie oysters we all are eatin’.”

  Alex sat down next to him, quickly looking again at Jesse further along with the other men. Cal followed her eyes. “You ought to say hello, you know.”

  “Hello.”

  “You know what I mean. Who’s gonna be the bigger man here, huh? You tell me that?”

  “I was just called sonny so it isn’t me.” She started to stand up. “Are those what I think they are?”

  “What do you think they are?” Cal grinned up at her.

  She stood for a moment trying to think of something clever to say but it wouldn’t come. She felt Jesse’s anger from where she stood. “Better get back,” she said at last. “I’m working over at Miss Bea’s.”

  She did a little sashay and left them all to muse on that one for a while.

  ****

  It was Garrison who spotted the riderless horse and called the men out on a search party, but Garrett who saw what looked like a bundle of clothes out near the old Cherokee Trail.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Lord A’mighty, Lady Lex.” Garrett jumped from his horse, leaving the animal ground tied. “Why didn’t ya get a shot off?”

  Alex managed to roll on to her right side and push herself up as he approached, but she hugged her left side in pain, rocking back and forth. “You want me to start a stampede?”

  Garrett fired two shots into the air. “Ain’t gonna be no stampede round here. Beeves are way out. Anyways, you had us all scared to hell.”

  Garrison rode up leading a somewhat reluctant Ranger. Cal and a couple of others were behind him, then Jesse rode in at a gallop. He swung off before his horse was reined in.

  “Is Ranger all right? He put his foot in a hole,” Alex told Garrison.

  “Lord, is that all you think ’bout?” He looked over at Jesse as if the other was in charge, but Jesse hung back now that he saw Alex was still among the living.

  “I’ve dislocated my shoulder. It hurts like hell. Someone will have to push it back in place, please.” The men shifted uneasily. “It’s happened before. You just push it back in. Please!” She looked around. “Cal?”

  “Well, heck sweetheart, I ain’t no doctor.”

  “I am not going to sit here waiting for eight hours while someone rides into bloody Greeley.” She swayed slightly and looked up again.

  “I’ve done it once before on ol’ Laney,” Garrison said, “but that was a time ago and I don’t think…well, you know, you’re sorta on the delicate side, Lady Lex.”

  She tried to turn to look up at him. “Just do it, please!” she said with gritted teeth. “I’m sure women’s and men’s shoulders are not all that different.”

  Garrison hesitated. �
��Well, I sorta need to actu’lly feel the shoulder. What I mean is, you know…”

  “Fine! Someone take my shirt off, please.” She looked up.

  Cal said, “All right, I think we gonna just leave the two of them together.” He looked over at Jesse, but Jess started to walk off back to his horse.

  “Well, hang on just a cotton pickin’ minute,” Garrison spit out. “Y’all can’t just leave me here with her.”

  “Does anyone here realize I am sitting here in pain? Does anyone really care?” She held in the tears, thinking about her back, what it looked like, what she had on underneath her shirt. “Can you just bloody well do something, please?”

  “Jess, you know her best,” Garrison said. “You take off her shirt.”

  “I think she’d prefer Garrett to do it. Garrett is oldest here.” Jesse’s voice was quiet and steady but behind it Alex heard the edge.

  “And then I need someone to brace her—less’n she faints an’ all.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake—I’m not going to bloody well faint!”

  “All right.” Cal took charge at last. “The rest of you get back to work. It doesn’t take more’n four men to help one small gal.”

  Garrett squatted down in front of Alex and, rather tentatively, unbuttoned her shirt. He nodded up to Cal who removed his gloves, stuffed them in his belt and took careful hold of Alex’s shirt collar to try to slip the shirt back.

  “Ow!” He stopped. “Look,” she continued, “I think it’s best to help me get my right arm out of the sleeve, pull the shirt around and then you can slip the other sleeve forward off my left arm.”

  Cal knelt behind her and gave Jesse a questioningly glance. Jesse didn’t move. Garrett eased the right sleeve forward a bit so Cal could help Alex slide her arm out, and then he gently pulled the shirt across to the left side, exposing her back.

  He stopped. The only sounds were the horses cropping grass and the rustle of the leaves in the wind. Alex watched as Garrett looked from one face to the next questioning. Jesse walked off toward a stand of cottonwood, his back to the rest of them, his hands on his hips.

  “What?” Garrett started, but Cal shook his head.

  Alex realized her chemise did not cover everything.

  Garrison sank down next to her. “Lady Lex? You have to tell us who done this to ya,” he said quietly. “No one can get away with somethin’ like that.”

  She turned and looked at him for a moment. “If you’re looking for frontier justice, my friend, I’m afraid you’re a bit too late.”

  “If’n it’s your uncle…”

  “Oh, don’t be a bloody fool, Gar. You think I’d be staying on at the ranch if my uncle was beating me like that? I’d think you knew me better than that. Anyway, you can see they’re old scars.”

  “Alex?” Cal started.

  She turned her head sharply and looked at him. It was strange to see Cal so serious, to the point where he actually called her by her first name. She smiled briefly. “Can we get on with this please? Really. I’m afraid you’d have to cross that other continental divide called the Atlantic Ocean to avenge my honor on this one, boys. And quite honestly, I’m not even sure my ex-husband is worth the lead.”

  Cal took a deep breath. He looked over to where Jesse still stood with his back to them before he proceeded to slip the shirt off. Garrison changed places with Garrett and moved to the front to take Alex’s left arm across her stomach bent at an angle while Cal pushed gently forward on her back and then Garrison rotated the arm until the shoulder clicked into place.

  “Well, thank you.” Alex shuffled back into her shirt.

  “Heck, Lady Lex, you’re supposed to bind that up and take it easy or somethin’.”

  She didn’t answer. Jesse looked back at her now as she got up and came toward him, tears streaking down her face.

  “Don’t you do that to me, Jesse.” She punched him with her small weak fists, grimacing with her own pain. “Don’t you do that! Don’t you dare feel sorry for me. Don’t you dare!”

  Jesse stood there taking it. He stared at her as she beat his chest, and he said nothing, his face tight against his own tears for her. He waited for her to stop and continued standing there, the others looking on as Alex came marching back, bent to pick up her hat, gathered Ranger’s reins and rode off.

  ****

  As the round-up wound down, the Reps took their stock back to their outfits, and soon the men were back at headquarters or at the camps. Alex knew word had more or less got out and found the punchers were gentler now around her, had a sort of quiet respect for her, and she hated it. She tried to bully them a bit to show them she was still the same girl, jolly them into joshing with her as they had before. It was slow work. At the same time, she yearned to see Jesse, to speak with him, to try to get life back to the way it was before the argument at the corral, and before he saw the scars. The opportunity didn’t present itself. She would see him from a distance some days, riding with the herd, sitting his horse with that peculiar grace he had, throwing his lariat out with an ease that reminded her of people on a dock waving their hankies in farewell. Hoping to just be near him, she slid into one of the corrals one evening to practice her roping.

  The light was failing and the birds were settling with their evening calls. Somewhere in the pasture a horse nickered. She sensed Jesse was there, watching, but she never turned as he stood at the fence. She heard him climb over and ease up behind her. He took the coiled rope from her in his left hand and slid his right hand over hers on the swing end, almost forcing her backward into his arms.

  She thought of paintings and statues she had seen, imagining his naked arms now, how the muscles would form them into long oblique curves, how he probably had soft downy fair hair on his forearms, how his muscle would slightly bulge as he bent his arm. His voice was soft in her ear, and she could feel his breath on her neck like a whispered secret.

  “Gentle-like, right to left, right to left to widen the noose, keep your eye on the post—are you watchin’ where we’re goin’?”

  He made the throw and pulled in the rope to tighten the noose. Alex stood there, his hand still entwined with hers and, for a moment, she wished they could stand like that forever. Then she took her hand away and faced him. For a second he rested his chin on the top of her head, then straightened again and went to get the noose off the post while coiling in the rope. She looked up at him in the fading light and saw nothing but kindness in his face, simplicity and gentleness that was most inviting. A smile spread across her face as he handed her the coiled rope and sauntered away, turning once to look back at her before he opened the gate. Emptiness filled her like a poisoned vapor seeking every corner of her being, and she stood with the rope in her hand listening to the ring of his spurs as his footsteps retreated.

  ****

  With this uneasy and unspoken truce, mending was still slow work. After a few days of polite “Hellos” and “How’s it goin’s” Tom mentioned to Alex that Jesse had been sent up to Boyd line camp with Garrett to nighthawk for a while.

  Nighthawking meant his days were free, if he could stay awake long enough to enjoy them. When Jesse heard Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show was over in Greeley, he thought of sending word to Alex to see if she and Cal would want to meet up, but Cal sent word back that Alex had already been asked to join the Yosts.

  The men strolled around town before the show, mixing with the performers, talking to friends. They met an old acquaintance, a former puncher who went by the name of Stone Rodney who had once worked at the ranch; he was now in the show. Talking with him about life on the road, the man’s eyes seemed to go beyond them. Cal and Jesse turned at the same moment to see where he was looking.

  “Heck.” Stone’s eyes widened. “If that ain’t the prettiest durned li’l gal.”

  Jesse didn’t need to be told he meant Alex. She stood in the crowded street with Sue Ann, laughing at J.J. who had managed to get himself covered in some sticky candy.

 
“I think the same thing happened to me at the circus once.” Alex met Jesse’s glance. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the nighthawk himself,” she said, coming over.

  “I sent word to invite you but Cal told me you’d be comin’ in with the Yosts.” His eyes sought hers. He was lost in her suddenly, ached for her. He could see the hazel flecks in the green of her eyes, and had that same feeling he’d had at the station the day he collected her—that his heart was quickening and part of him was lost.

  Alex was filled with the sudden desire to kiss him there and then; she laughed. “I’m sorry.” She giggled and covered her mouth with her hand as if he could somehow tell what she was thinking. “I might sit on your lap anyway,” she flirted. “Just like ‘of yore.’”

  Cal stood there, his arms across his chest, slowly working the chicle in his mouth as his eyes darted from Jesse to Alex and back. To Alex he appeared to be waiting for something to happen.

  Then Stone broke in with, “Ain’t ya gonna introduce me, Jess?”

  “Oh, sure. Lady Alexandra Calthorpe. Stone Rodney. Stone used to work at the Double F.”

  “Really?” Alex’s smile was brief and disinterested. She faced Jesse as Tom and Annie came over to collect her. A bright idea hit her and she turned back to Stone. “I don’t suppose I could sketch you, could I? I’ll be coming into town while the show is on to do some pastels and drawings in the hope of getting something suitable for a painting.”

  “Lady Alex is a famous artist,” Jesse put in. There was a big smile on his face as he said it but Alex’s quizzical expression wiped it off. “Well, she’s gonna be a famous artist. Soon.”

  Stone looked from one to the other. “Sure. How’s about a trade? You be in my show and I’ll be in yours.”