Emmy's Equal

by Marcia Gruver

  Melatha folded her arms. “Greta? I don’t believe you.”

  “It’s true. Greta loves Isi. She asked me to help save his job.”

  “Then you should be speaking to my son, not me. I hold no sway over him.”

  The girl flinched at last. “He won’t listen to me because he believes me to be someone I’m not.”

  Melatha’s mouth parted and she drew a steadying breath. “Why should I help you?”

  The blue eyes narrowed but she held Melatha’s gaze. “Because I’m not who you believe me to be either.” She paused. “And because—” Her chin went up and her chest swelled.

  Defiance? Melatha didn’t think so.

  “Because your son loves me.” White Hair stood taller, her shoulders back, not in defiance but pride, reveling in the knowledge of Isi’s love.

  Melatha’s grandfather once told her to serve her enemies her best wines and savory breads. “And thereby keep their minds too muddled to outsmart you and their bellies too full to chase you.” She pushed open the screen door. “Come inside. I have breakfast.”

  CHAPTER 26

  In all the years Magda had known Bertha Maye Bloom, she’d never seen her so excited. Ready to trade her seat on the wagon for a pair of jeans, a rope, and a cattle horse, she had every intention of riding along to help herd her cattle to the Galveston, Harrisburg, & San Antonio Railroad depot.

  It took some fancy talking by John to convince her to let him hire a handful of experienced drovers instead. He finally got her settled down when he explained that the men, two of them seasoned vaqueros, the other a little green according to John, were too proud to work under the direction of a woman.

  Magda didn’t know if John had told Bertha the truth or just outsmarted her. Either way, she sat tall in the rig beside Magda, a huge smile on her face as John and the three hired men drove her cattle into the stockyard to be loaded onto the train.

  Bertha let out a whoop when the last cherry red set of stocky legs and white switch scrambled up the ramp and into the stock car. John had helped her hire a livestock handler to accompany the Herefords all the way to Humble where Willem had arranged for their delivery to Bertha’s waiting pasture. And now, just as John had predicted, Bertha’s satchel sagged a bit instead of straining at the seams.

  She rubbed her hands together. “Most of them had no horns at all, Magda. Did you notice?”

  Bertha’s mood had rubbed off on Magda to the point where her cheeks ached from smiling. “I sure did, sugar. Ain’t that something?”

  Willem sat forward on the front seat and unwound the reins from the post. “That’s what polled means—having no horns.”

  “Well, I like it,” Bertha said. “And they have the prettiest white faces I ever saw. I can’t wait to get home and start taking care of them.”

  Willem smiled back at her. “You’ll be in Humble before you know it. All we have left to do is get John and his cattle back to Carrizo Springs then we can head north, if you gals are ready.”

  Magda stretched. “I’m sure ready. The Rawsons are attentive hosts, but I’m anxious to get that long, boring ride behind me.”

  John rode up on Faron, accompanied by the three drovers. “Willem, I’ll be riding with Juan, Carl, and Benito to round up my herd. There’s no reason for you folks to make that trek out to the ranch again.”

  He jerked his head toward town. “Why not kill some time shopping and seeing the sights? We’ll meet up on the trail south of Fort Duncan in a couple of hours.”

  Willem saluted. “We’ll be there, John.”

  John started to ride away then turned to shout over his shoulder. “Oh, and Willem ... don’t forget to buy feed for the stock.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt to buy a few extra rations, too. I fear it’ll take a mite longer to return to Carrizo than it took us to get here. The livestock are sure to slow us down.”

  As they pulled out of the stockyard, Bertha tugged on Willem’s sleeve. “You reckon we have time to say good-bye to Darius?”

  He squirmed. “I don’t know about that, Bertha. The mission is clear on the opposite end of town.”

  Magda cleared her throat.

  “Then we’d have to drive from there to Fort Duncan,” he said. “That’s an extra half hour.”

  Magda cleared her throat louder.

  Willem sighed and his shoulders drooped. “Of course, Bertha. I’ll drop you and Magda at the mission while I tend to the supplies.” He turned to aim a pointed glance at Magda. “But be ready when I pull up. We’ll be cutting it close on time.”

  Bertha dropped the satchel on the seat beside him. “There are a few bundles of bills left in the bottom of this thing. Take it and use all you need.”

  He nodded and placed the bag at his feet. They pulled out of the G.H. & S.A. depot then turned off Quarry Street to Main, craning their necks as they passed the impressive Maverick County courthouse. It reminded Magda of a Spanish fortress. Or perhaps a royal palace.

  There were so many shops along Main Street, Magda began to wish she’d kept her interfering nose out of Willem and Bertha’s conversation. If Bertha didn’t have her heart set on returning to the mission, Magda saw ample stalls and shops where a girl could spend a few dollars and an interesting couple of hours.

  She repented of the selfish thought when they made the turn toward the Rian Street Mission and Bertha’s face lit up like a harvest moon. Father Darius, well turned-out in far nicer clothes than the night before, met them on the street. “Dear Bertha, I’m overjoyed to see you again. I expected you’d be headed back to Carrizo by now.”

  Bertha climbed down from the rig and he kissed her hand. Blushing, and obviously too overcome with embarrassment to speak, she looked over her shoulder, her eyes begging Magda for rescue.

  Magda followed her to the ground and waved Willem on his way. “My, but you’re right duded-up today, Father.”

  This time he blushed. “Please, Mrs. Dane, call me Darius. I suppose I’m used to it from the men, but it doesn’t sound quite right coming from a beautiful woman.”

  “I’ll call you Darius if you’ll call me Magda.”

  Still latched onto Bertha’s hands, he smiled. “Magda it shall be. I’m glad you ladies caught me. Another minute and I’d be gone for the day.”

  “Are we keeping you from something?”

  “Nothing too pressing. I’m off on a fishing expedition.”

  Bertha found her voice. “Fishing?” She looked him over. “Pardon me for saying, but that don’t look the proper getup for wetting a hook.”

  “Ah, I can see how my attire might cause you confusion.” He leaned closer to her face. “But you see, little Bertha, I’m casting for souls. A man can wear most anything in those perilous waters.” He stood tall and preened. “In this case, the flashier the better. I aim to attract attention.”

  Magda smoothed his lapel. “You’ll attract plenty dressed like that.” The story came to her mind about the dandy who plied his bait on a green young boy bound for college, snaring Thad and reeling him into a poker game before he knew the hook had set. Magda smiled at the realization that Darius still used the same bag of tricks, only now the winning pot was redemption. She patted his shoulder. “So where are you trolling today?”

  He shoved back his hat. “Actually, I was on my way to the Piedra Parada Saloon.”

  Bertha shot him a skeptical look. “A saloon?”

  He gave her a tender smile and waved his arm behind him. “You think these men come to me?” He shook his head. “No, Bertha, I have to go out and find them where they are, whether a saloon, an alley, or a ditch.”

  Admiration shone from her eyes. “Just like Jesus did.”

  His smile said he liked her comparison. “I suppose you’re right. And just like the men in Jesus’ time—the deaf mute, the blind beggar, the leper—most men don’t realize their real need until they see Jesus.” He beamed. “That’s my job. I make sure they see Him.”

  He offered his arm to Bertha. “Let me take you insid
e. My little office may be stuffy, but at least it provides shade.”

  Bertha took his arm and allowed him to usher her up the walk.

  Behind them, Magda couldn’t help but notice the change in her friend. Bertha held her shoulders back and her chin high. Her galloping gait had disappeared, replaced by delicate steps and an easy sway.

  Astonished, Magda did a quick calculation on her fingers. Darius would only be a handful of years older than Bertha, six or eight at the most. Instead of a distinguished older man, Bertha must see him as an attractive and eligible suitor. The way Darius gazed at Bertha and hung on her every word, he had begun to think of himself in the same light. Suppressing a giggle, Magda followed them inside the mission.

  The time before Willem arrived to collect them passed in a flash. Magda had little chance to contribute to the conversation, considering Bertha had no further need of rescue. She and Darius seemed lost in each other’s company. Gazing tenderly across the corner of the desk, they reminisced about Thad, shared how he had affected their lives, and discussed the loneliness they’d endured over the years.

  By the time the wagon pulled up loaded with supplies for the road, Darius held so tightly to Bertha’s hands, Magda feared he’d never turn her loose. “It’s time to go, sugar,” Magda said softly, breaking the spell between them.

  Bertha lowered her head and sighed. “I suppose it is.” She met Darius’s probing eyes. “We’ve got a long way to go before we see home again.”

  Darius scooted to the edge of his chair. “Bertha, forgive me for being forward, but our current situation demands it.” His Adam’s apple rose and fell. “Do you think ... well ... that Thad would mind if I saw you again?”

  She flushed with pleasure. “Of course you’ll see me again. We’re partners in an oil well.”

  Darius shook his head, his face so lit from within that he glowed. “I’m not suggesting a business relationship, dear. I’d like to spend time with you on a more personal level.”

  Reminding Magda of a fresh young girl, Bertha flirted with her eyes. “I wouldn’t mind that a bit, and I don’t think Thad would either.” She ducked her head. “Except we live so far apart. It’s not like we can visit often.”

  Willem appeared at the door of the mission, his eyes searching the dimness. Spotting Magda, he waved impatiently.

  “There’s Willem, Bertha. Are you ready?”

  Darius stood. “Magda, can you possibly give us a moment alone?” “Of course, Father.” She winced. “I mean Darius.” Saying a hasty good-bye, she scurried out to her scowling husband.

  “What’s taking her so long? We’re late now.”

  She took his arm and led him back to the rig. “Bertha’s waited years for this moment, dear. We can give her a few more minutes.”

  Ignoring his puzzled frown, she rummaged through the crate of supplies he’d bought. “I hope there’s something good in here. I’m hungry.”

  He reached beneath the seat and produced a short-sided box filled with wrapped sandwiches. “I figured you might be by now.”

  Clutching his face with both hands, she kissed him. “What on earth would I do without you?”

  Blushing bright red, he spit and sputtered. Wagging his finger toward the warehouse, he changed the subject. “We’re losing the time I thought to gain by eating on the road. What is she doing in there?”

  Magda had already crawled onto the front seat and peeled back the paper on a fat turkey sandwich. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled, her cheeks too stuffed to answer.

  Grumbling under his breath, Willem busied himself securing the load until the door opened and Bertha and Darius emerged.

  With eyes only for Bertha, Darius bid them safe travel and stepped away from the rig as Willem pulled onto the street.

  Each time Magda looked, Bertha still hung over the seat waving. When they turned the corner, she settled back and sighed. “The Lord is sure good at plotting and scheming, Magda. Here I thought God had me giving away something of value, and all the time He was intent on giving a priceless gift to me.”

  Willem nudged his hat aside and scratched behind his ear. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

  Magda patted his hand. “I’ll explain later, dear. For now, see how fast you can get us home.”

  John waited for them on the outskirts of the city, in a field a few miles past Fort Duncan. They were a remarkable sight from a distance, John and the men circling a sea of lowing red and white cattle.

  “Jumping Jackstraws!” Willem exclaimed. “That’s more than twenty head, or I need spectacles.”

  Bertha leaned between them. “There’s nothing wrong with your eyes, Willem. John’s done bought off the rest of that man’s herd.”

  John waved at them then blew a sharp blast around two fingers and raised his arm high, signaling the drovers to start the restless animals moving. Cutting around the outer fringes, he spurred his horse into a gallop and rode up to meet them, his smile as wide as the horizon.

  Whipping off his Stetson, he motioned behind him. “I got to picking the animals I wanted and couldn’t stop.” He dried his forehead and replaced the hat. “Got carried away, I think.”

  Bertha squirmed to John’s side of the rig. “How many you got there, John?”

  He shot her a sheepish grin. “Oh, fifty, sixty. I lost count after a while.”

  Bertha stood up to see them better. “Whoopee! That makes this a real cattle drive.”

  John laughed. “Well, close, little Bertha.” He ran his hand along Faron’s sleek neck. “I could’ve saved myself a few dollars back there. That rancher took quite a shine to this fellow. I think he might’ve made an even trade.”

  Willem jerked his chin at Faron. “I see who wound up with him, though.”

  John chuckled low in his throat. “Yep, I’ve taken a liking to the old man myself.”

  The distant shouts of the drovers turned John’s attention back to the herd. Noting how fast they widened the distance lightened Magda’s anxious heart. At that pace, they’d all be home the next day in time for supper.

  John swiveled his head to speak to Willem. “A word of warning. With the larger herd, I felt the need to hire an extra hand.”

  Willem nodded. “I thought I saw four horsemen in the soup.”

  “Trouble is, in my haste, I let Carl, the young one, talk me into taking on his older brother. Fellow by the name of Wayne.”

  Willem squinted. “And?”

  “Let’s just say he bears watching.”

  “Not the fresh-faced innocent like his brother?”

  John snorted. “Not even close. I’m glad I didn’t bring along my daughter.” He pinned Magda and Bertha with a look, his brow furrowed. “You ladies steer well clear of him, you hear? And if he does one thing to make you feel uncomfortable, just say the word. I’ll send him packing.”

  Magda nodded solemnly. “You won’t have to tell us twice, John.”

  He picked up his reins. “If you folks are ready, we’d better go. Looks like we have about four or five hours of good daylight left. We’ll need every bit of that time to make it to the spot where we set up camp for the night.”

  Willem untied the leads from the post. “Head out. We’re right behind you.”

  “Wait!” Bertha cried. Her head disappeared under the seat until she bounced up holding her prize. “Can’t get started without this,” she crowed, wadding the blanket beneath her and wiggling until she had it right. Satisfied, she waved them on.

  As they rumbled across hard-crusted ruts at the mouth of the trail, so deep the wagon tossed them like water in a hot skillet, Bertha released a dreamy sigh. “You know, Magda,” she said, holding on until her fingers turned white, “short of marrying Thad and birthing my Charity, this has turned out to be the happiest day of my life.”

  Smiling at the bliss on her face, Magda rested her arm on the back of the seat. “Is that so?” She winked. “How come I’m fairly certain you’re not talking about cows?”

 
***

  Diego rode outside the gate and stared toward the setting sun. Deep in thought, he rolled his head to ease the tightness in his neck and blamed his sudden shiver on the breeze that billowed the back of his shirt.

  Something felt wrong. A hunch still too vague to put his finger on, he knew in the pit of his stomach that disaster loomed. They’d been gone too long.

  His initial relief at putting off his confrontation with Mr. Rawson had given way to gnawing unrest. They should’ve made it to Catarina before nightfall the first day and home by the next, but it had been three days. He tried to convince himself that his boss had decided to show the countryside to his guests. Or that the Campbells, eager for fellowship, had detained them with a dinner party or a hunting trip. There could be any number of reasons for the delay, but Diego’s gut hadn’t bought any of them.

  Neither had Kate Rawson’s. Last evening, she’d stood on the balcony of her room staring down the road to Catarina, melded to the spot by her concern. The sight of her that morning, her regal profile in sharp relief against the orange-banded sky, had thickened Diego’s throat.

  Before long, she would come to him and ask him outright if he felt there was cause for alarm. He’d been rehearsing what to say to ease her mind. One thing was sure, if Mr. Rawson and his guests didn’t show up by morning, Diego would go after them. He only prayed he’d find them dancing and feasting, surprised their absence had caused alarm.

  He thought to seek counsel from Cuddy then realized he couldn’t. A sudden ache swelled under his breastbone, a loneliness more keen than he’d ever felt before.

  Even as a youth roaming his own personal wilderness, he’d always felt the presence of God. Now, alone in the darkest pit he’d ever fallen prey to, it seemed God had bid him farewell at the door.

  Diego turned his horse. One person would still welcome him warmly—after she’d had her say. Well, so be it. The time had come to face his mother’s wrath.

  CHAPTER 27

  Emmy strolled into the dining room and sat across the table from Cuddy.