Emmy's Equal

by Marcia Gruver

  John grimaced and glanced at Joe Campbell, who pretended not to notice. “I wouldn’t make a habit of bragging on the money part,” he whispered. “We’ll be a target for every thief from here to the Rio Grande.”

  Straightening, he rode closer to Joe. “How do I find this man you speak of?”

  “When you get into town, cross the bridge north of Fort Duncan. That’s Van Buren Street. Go straight ahead to Main and take a left turn to Washington.” Joe glanced at the women and a flush crept over his face. “You’ll find the Piedra Parada Saloon on the corner. Go in and ask for Raul.”

  John balked. “The Piedra Parada? That’s the rowdiest place in town.”

  “Yes, sir. I reckon I’d leave your womenfolk outside.”

  “You can count on that. You said to ask for Raul?”

  “That’s right. Look for a big man. He’s a bouncer. Tell him Buck Campbell sent you.” The blush deepened. “Buck’s my pa. Raul wouldn’t know my name. Tell him what you’re looking for. He’ll take it from there.”

  John stuck out his hand. “Much obliged, Joe.”

  The boy shook John’s hand. “You’re welcome, Mr.—” A curious look swept his face. “What’d you say your name was again?”

  John picked up the reins. “I didn’t.”

  “Sir?”

  Twisting in the saddle, John jabbed behind them with his thumb. “You’ll find the Twisted-R down this road a piece. You can’t miss it.” He smiled. “It’s the tightest, cleanest ranch in Dimmit County.”

  Waving Willem on, John rode out ahead, leaving young Joe scratching his head.

  Magda stared after him with a grin on her face. “After you knew you could trust him, why didn’t you tell him who you were?”

  John trotted Faron up beside her. “I figured once he’d said such nice things there was no reason he should learn the truth about me.”

  She laughed. “Imagine his surprise the next time he rides out to the ranch and Diego introduces him to John Rawson.”

  Willem interrupted their fun. “Where are we headed, John? I noticed we’ve taken a westerly turn. Why aren’t we headed back the way we came?”

  “Because of the shortcut I mentioned.” He pointed. “The trailhead is right up this way.”

  Bertha gave Magda an impish glance. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  Magda touched her chest. “Me? What for?”

  “For making fun of me in the mercantile store. Turns out the good Lord had a plan for me buying all those extra goods. He used me to watch out for us.” She nudged Magda with her shoulder. “Now then, ain’t you?”

  “Ain’t I what?”

  “Ashamed.”

  “Maybe.” Magda offered a petulant lift of one shoulder. “I’ll decide once I see how much food you packed in those bundles.”

  Bertha cackled, drawing the amused attention of the men.

  Magda waved. “Don’t mind her. She’s addlepated.”

  They rode toward an area of thick brush that seemed the end of the line.

  Jumping off Faron, John tied him up then walked along the tangle of bushes and vines until he came to the densest part. Reaching carefully into the center of a laid-over tree, he caught hold of the thicker branches and pushed. It opened the way into a less brushy area that was hidden just seconds before. “Pull by me, Willem. Then you can help me bring Faron.”

  The two-horse team was reluctant at first, but with a bit of coaxing, they rushed past the overgrowth into a clearing. Willem climbed down and ran to take John’s place, leaning his weight into the tree. John leaped on Faron and trotted him through with no trouble.

  Ten feet away, the clearing narrowed into the trail John had promised, weaving through the heavy vegetation in front of them like the road to the Promised Land—with thorns.

  Dismounting, John took a bucket from the wagon’s rear boot. He pulled a plug from the bottom of a wooden drum and water streamed into the pail. Placing it on the ground for Faron, he glanced over his shoulder. “Help me water the horses, Willem. We’ll rest them a few minutes since we’re about to drive them hard.”

  He nodded at the team. “Be sure to watch them for any signs of stress. We’ll aim to cool them down at regular intervals, but I think they’ll be all right.”

  After they’d tended the animals, they ate a quick bite themselves then struck out. The scenery varied little, so they found other ways to entertain themselves along the way, playing silly games with words and matching wits.

  As the temperature rose, the amusements lost most of their charm. The morning had dawned cloudy, making the day feel deceptively cool. Now the clouds had burned off, and beads of moisture persisted on Magda’s top lip no matter how many times she swiped it away. As for Bertha, she had loosed her garments to a point that bordered on indecent.

  The trip became a blur of blazing heat, sticky clothes, and the monotonous creak of wagon wheels. When it seemed they’d steeped in their juices long past done, the sun fell into the western sky and disappeared behind the trees. Birds swooped down with a flutter of wings to roost among the branches. Coyotes yipped and howled in the distance. Miraculously, Willem dozed, his head bobbing like his spine had worked loose.

  Ahead of them, John reined in Faron and raised his hand.

  Magda poked Willem in the ribs. “Wake up. He wants us to stop.”

  Willem fumbled for the leads and drew the horses to a halt. Coming alongside them, John took off his hat and wiped his forehead with a folded white hankie he took from his breast pocket. “I know how tired you are, folks. Believe it or not, I think we’re almost there.”

  Willem yawned. “This soon? With all the stops, I expected to be riding all night.”

  John nodded. “So did I.” He looked at the night sky. “This trail saved our hides. It ran farther than I expected, and it’s cleared better than I might’ve hoped for. I’d say it bought us a couple of hours.” He wedged his hat on his head and jutted his chin. “I can see the end of this thing, and once we come out, it’s only a mile or so to my friend’s ranch.”

  Magda sighed. “John, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

  Bertha stood up and stretched. “You reckon they’ll let us take a bath? I’d settle for a washtub and cold water.”

  Magda pulled Bertha down so she could see John. “I’d trade the bath for something hot to eat.”

  Willem groaned and held his stomach. “I’ll second that motion, dear.”

  John laughed. “They’re good people. It’s not the first time I’ve shown up unannounced, but day or night, they’ve treated me like a king.” He dashed a large insect from his boot with the handle of his whip. “Don’t worry. You can count on a table spread with food.”

  Willem picked up the reins. “What are we sitting around talking for then? Lead on.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Melatha had misplaced God.

  In a fit of worry, that gnawing state of unrest the Holy Bible warned against, she had stored Him carefully out of sight. In her pantry perhaps, or an apron pocket. Somewhere handy, so she might easily find Him when she decided to trust again.

  That time had come, only now she couldn’t locate her Creator. He didn’t show up in that black hour before dawn when she’d awakened, crying out to Him on Isi’s behalf. She couldn’t rouse Him when she slipped from the bed to her knees weeping bitter tears. She didn’t feel Him in her heart, no matter how feverishly she prayed.

  She felt abandoned, as unloved as a motherless child. Starved for reassurance, she leaped to her feet and lit the lamp. Clutching her blanket around her, she swept her father’s Bible from the shelf and huddled at the table, desperately flipping through the pages until she found the passage she sought. She read the scripture aloud, allowing the cooling waters of God’s promise to quench her thirst for Him.

  “‘For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shal
l be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.’”

  Instantly He was there, wrapping His love around her as surely as the quilt about her shoulders. Of course, He’d been there all along, if the words she’d read held any truth. She had only to let go of her fear and let Him in. “Chihowa Palami, forgive me for doubting You. Help me to understand what has taken hold of Isi. Show me Your hand at work in his life.”

  A shaft of light fell on the page in front of her, startling her until she realized it was only a sunbeam. Pulling aside the shade, she winced at the brightly lit morning. The hour was late. She’d been so engrossed in her troubles she hadn’t prepared breakfast. With a sudden jolt to her heart, she realized Isi had never shown up to eat.

  Melatha stood so fast the quilt caught the edge of the chair, sending it crashing to the floor. Her heart in her throat, she scurried outside to the porch. Shading her eyes, she gazed over the property, searching the horizon. She peered toward the pasture, eager for any sign of Isi or his horse. She ran to the side rail and gazed toward the main house, hoping she’d see him loping across the yard or leaned against a tree talking to Cuddy.

  The door to the bunkhouse creaked open, sending her flying down the steps, but only Little Pete slipped out, nodding and tipping his hat.

  Embarrassed, she looked down at her flowing white gown, wondering if Pete thought she’d lost her mind. So be it, she felt she had. More so every minute that passed. Turning on her heel, she hurried inside to get dressed. She wouldn’t find Isi while gazing barefoot from her porch.

  As she dashed toward the basket where clean clothes were stored, a breeze from the open window lifted and fluttered the pages of the Bible, still open on the table. She slowed long enough to close the precious book and return it to the shelf. Another scripture blazed across her mind as her hand left the cracked leather binding.

  “A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench...”

  She’d learned the meaning of the beautiful words while crouched at her mother’s knees. “It’s a message of trust,” Mother had whispered. “A promise that Chihowa Ushi will never crush the weak or quench our smallest hope.”

  Her head reeling, Melatha sank onto the side of her cot. Rushing out to scour the ranch for Isi would only prove she still dared to believe she had Almighty God tucked away in her pocket. The Ancient of Days didn’t need assistance from the likes of Melatha Rhona Marcelo, insignificant before Him in her finest hour, which this day was not.

  Gritting her teeth against the flood of fear and doubt, she dressed herself with trembling hands then poured out two cups of dried beans. Spreading them over the table, she pushed aside pebbles, clods of dirt, and bits of chaff then pulled the rest into her pot. She would add pork fat and spices, boil them tender and savory, and bake corncakes in time for lunch.

  She glanced at her father’s Bible and nodded. When God brought Isi to her door seeking food and comfort, she’d be ready to provide him with both.

  ***

  His stomach growling in protest, Diego led his horse to the next section of fence in need of repair—miles from the big house and still heading in the opposite direction from his mother’s kitchen. He needed time to think more than he needed food, and time alone with God more than he needed to breathe. Besides, he wasn’t eager to bear the scrutiny of his mother’s searching eyes.

  He hadn’t seen her since the day before when she’d run from the barn, fleeing her disappointment in him. If only he could so easily escape himself.

  How had he let so dreadful a thing happen? His feelings for Emmy started from the first day when she’d stolen glances at him on the trail. Embarrassment at ruining his hat had warred with obvious admiration as she gazed from beneath her lashes. In the days that followed, the seed of interest in her had pushed to the surface with very little prodding, exploding into a tangled vine around his heart. Despite his mother’s warnings, he hadn’t considered his great affection for her a bad thing. Until now.

  He had hurt nearly every person in his life, and just as his mother said, the spell Emmy Dane had spun around him was the cause.

  The mare he’d ridden to the pasture snorted and bobbed her head. Kneeling with a fistful of wire, Diego looked up to see what had her attention. Groaning, he threw down his pliers. One would think the Twisted-R Ranch would be plenty big enough for a man to escape his troubles. He’d forfeited breakfast to make good his escape, yet one of his most pressing problems rode toward him with a ridiculous smile on his face.

  “Ho, there, Diego!”

  Reluctant, Diego stood and raised his hand in greeting.

  Cuddy closed the distance between them and slid off his horse. “Try telling someone where you’ll be, amigo. I’ve been on parts of this ranch I’ve never seen before looking for you.”

  Diego snorted. “I hope you mended fences while you were there.”

  Cuddy laughed halfheartedly and gave him a jab in the arm. “No foolin’, make sure we know where you’re going next time. What if you hurt yourself or stumble onto a rattler? We wouldn’t know where to find you.”

  “If a rattler struck me it wouldn’t matter. You’d have plenty of time to find my lifeless body.”

  Cuddy grinned. “Not in this heat, brother. You’d swell up and pop. Then I’d be left to mop up the mess.” He wrapped his arm around Diego’s neck and walked him back to the post, giving him a good shake before turning him loose. “I sure am glad things are back to normal between us.” He colored slightly and bent to pick up the pliers. “I really missed being on solid ground with you.” He handed the tool to Diego and kneeled to help him hold the wire. “Truth be told, that’s the reason I came to find you.”

  Diego tensed. He knew there had to be a reason as soon as he saw Cuddy riding toward him. He, too, had enjoyed the warmth of restored friendship, no matter how brief. Sensing it was over, he braced himself and breathed a silent prayer.

  Cuddy’s gaze darted to his face. “See, I want us to stay on solid ground. I also want you to know I don’t hold it against you that things went sour with Greta, only...”

  Diego’s head came up.

  Cuddy lifted his brows and nodded. “Mother told me. She said Greta doesn’t ever want to see you again, but she didn’t tell me why.” He screwed up his face as if he tasted something bad. “Diego, I need to know what happened between you two.” He paused. “You didn’t do anything to hurt my sister, did you? If I thought you took advantage of her, I’d—”

  Diego shot to his feet. “I took advantage, but not in the way you mean.”

  Cuddy stood with his hands clenched at his sides. “So she’s still pure?”

  “What! Yes, of course.” He buried his hands in his hair and whirled away from Cuddy. “I can’t believe you had to ask.”

  Cuddy released his breath in a whoosh. “I’m sorry I had to, and I want to believe you. But my sister has cried a river since yesterday, and she hasn’t left her room. Can’t you tell me why things took such a bad turn?”

  Diego gathered his courage and faced him. “I’m not going to lie to you, Cuddy. I hurt Greta.”

  Cuddy’s eyes bored into his, bright with unshed tears. “How? I need to know.”

  “I kissed her.”

  “I saw that much.”

  “Likely the first kiss she’s ever had.”

  Cuddy nodded. “I think I can guarantee that.”

  Diego drew a shaky breath. “Only I wasn’t thinking of Greta when I kissed her.”

  Tilting his head to the side, Cuddy’s eyes narrowed to accusing slits. “And you were thinking of...” He held up his hand. “No, wait. Let me guess. You kissed my little sister while pretending she was my girl.”

  Diego held Cuddy’s gaze, refusing to take the coward’s way out. “I’d say that about covers it.”

  Cuddy frowned. “I don’t understand. How could Greta know what you were thinking?”

  Diego’s stomach flipped. Beginning to reconsider the cowar
d’s way, he gritted his teeth and spit out the truth. “I called out Emmy’s name.”

  Dangerous fury swirled in Cuddy’s eyes, softening to pain in one blink of his lashes. His jaw tightened. “You did that to Greta? For a woman you hardly know?”

  Frustration jangled Diego’s nerves. “Listen to yourself, won’t you? If I hardly know her, the same applies to you. Yet you just called her your girl.”

  Cuddy looked stunned.

  Vindicated, Diego nodded. “Right. You see my point now. She slithers out of nowhere and coils up in your head. A man doesn’t stand a chance until he gets wise to her ways.” He placed his hands on Cuddy’s shoulders. “But I’m wiser now. I don’t know how I’ll manage to fix the mess I made with Greta. I may not get the chance when your father gets wind of what I’ve done, but you can bet I’ll do whatever it takes to set things right.”

  At the mention of his father, fear blanched Cuddy’s face. He dropped to a squat, staring at the ground. “He’ll run you off. I know he will.”

  Watching him curiously, Diego sank to the ground beside him. “I hope not. I pray not, but if he does, that won’t affect our friendship, will it?”

  Cuddy lifted his gaze to stare across the pasture, countless emotions jerking the muscles in his face. “If you leave, the old man will do what he’s always wanted. He’ll put me in charge.” He swung tortured eyes to Diego. “I can’t run this ranch, brother.”

  Diego patted his back. “Sure you can.”

  He gave his head a forceful shake. “Even if I tried my best, my best would never be good enough for the old man. I’d be compared to you every minute.”

  Knowing it was futile to deny a truth they’d both heard Mr. Rawson admit, Diego decided the kindest thing would be to change the subject. “Don’t borrow trouble, amigo. Let’s hope for a better outcome, shall we? I have no wish to leave the Twisted-R.” He stood to his feet and Cuddy followed.

  Squinting, Cuddy hunched his shoulders and thrust out his jaw. “I just have one more question. Is Emily still inside your head?”