by Ginny Aiken
“Not the dog. I can see that. I meant what you spilled there on the floor. Papa doesn’t like it when I spill things. Too much lamb’s wool comes in on his clothes, he says, and it can stick to the floor. Is your spill sticky?”
Sticky? “No, no.” And she would clean it before Mr. Lowery or his wool were to come close, so stickiness wouldn’t matter. What could she use?
Aha! Over there by the hearth. A length of plain muslin hung from a nail stuck in the wall. Emma ran across the cold floor, snagged the cloth, and hurried back to mop up the mess. Just as she finished, the cabin door opened and Colley, Wade, and Mr. Lowery walked in. They found her on her knees in the most undignified pose, swabbing away at her dog’s—
“Miss Emma!” Colley cried. “Is something wrong? Did you fall?”
Her cheeks burned, and she wished she might simply melt down through the rough planks of the floor. She scrambled up and clutched the sodden fabric at her back. “No, no! I’m fine—”
“Something dripped, Papa,” Robby offered.
She almost groaned, and had to fight the powerful urge to muzzle the boy, since he really hadn’t done anything wrong. It was Pippa who’d erred, so Emma kept her peace.
Robby went on. “Miss Emma was just cleaning it up. I told her how you don’t like sticky stuff on the floor. She says it weren’t sticky or nothing—”
“Wasn’t, anything,” Emma murmured automatically.
Robby said, “Huh?”
The men stared.
Emma blushed hotter than before. “I’m sorry. I just meant that the correct way to say it would be ‘wasn’t sticky or anything.’ Mrs. Carrington, one of my teachers, came to mind. Don’t ask me why.”
“You had teachers?” Robby asked, his eyes wide as saucers.
“You don’t?” she countered, her eyes likely as wide.
Mr. Lowery cleared his throat. “Robert lives on a sheep ranch, Miss Crowell. In the summers, he’s here at the camp. You don’t see a schoolhouse anywhere, do you?”
She stared down, noting her bare toes, which she curled to hide them under the filthy hem of her skirt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that—I didn’t think at all. I just… just—oh, never mind. I’m sorry, Robby. Truly, I am. I didn’t mean anything by my words.”
The silence lengthened, and Emma felt worse by the second. She hadn’t meant to make anyone feel less worthy, certainly not by a bit of grammatical correction. It had just burst out, a memory from her childhood. In any case, she wouldn’t be here long enough for that kind of mistake to happen again.
She donned a brilliant smile. “So, then, gentlemen. How soon do we leave for Bountiful?”
As though they’d practiced the maneuver a dozen times, every one of the three men opened his mouth and gaped.
Chapter 5
Had she not seen it with her own eyes, Emma would have thought she’d dreamt the entire scenario. They all continued to stare, Robby giggled, and then, as though by some sort of sleight of hand, Colley, Wade, and even Robby vanished.
One moment they were there, the next she blinked, and… gone!
They had abandoned her to the sole company of the imposing Mr. Peter Lowery.
What could have been so dreadfully wrong with that simple question? Surely they understood her urgency to return. When she left Denver, she certainly didn’t plan for… for all that had happened to her. Her destination hadn’t changed; she still had to get to Portland. Especially since she had a wedding to plan. That’s right. She couldn’t forget that.
No matter what, Emma couldn’t just stand there in the uncomfortable silence, clutching a soggy rag and staring at the grim man not ten feet away. It was time to act.
“Very well, Mr. Lowery. Now that everyone else is gone, pray tell me what your immediate plans are. I’m sure you know I need to rejoin my traveling party and reassure my loved ones that I am, although somewhat worn out by the experience, unharmed.”
The rancher leaned a hip against the table, thumbs in his trouser belt loops. “I reckon you do have every reason to feel the need to return to your regular parties and other activities, but I’m afraid that need of yours is going to have to take second place to the ranch.”
“But why would you do that, sir? I’m a lady in distress. Surely you understand your duty as a proper gentleman to assist me. All I need is an escort back to Bountiful. That’s not too much to ask.”
His jaw tightened and a muscle flexed in his cheek. “Don’t you go throwing words like lady, gentleman, and distress around, ma’am. I’m just a rancher, and my flock comes first. They need to pasture up here in the meadow during the summer, and nothing—you hear?—nothing is going to move me away until fall comes. I even have a couple of late ewes about to drop their lambs. I can’t leave.”
Emma couldn’t believe what she thought she’d just heard. “I’m sorry, but I believe I misunderstood. Surely you don’t mean to say that you intend for me to stay out here until the fall.”
He let out a humorless bark of a laugh. “That’s just what I said, Miss Crowell. We’re here until the fall. It takes too much to move a flock up here, and you know firsthand I’ve had animals stolen already. I’m not abandoning my sheep just to get you back to town.”
A breath burst out in relief. “Well, then, Mr. Lowery, that being the case, I understand your commendable sense of responsibility, sir. And of course, you can stay with your sheep. Colley can just take me back.”
The rancher straightened and crossed his arms. “You don’t know anything about ranching in general or sheep in particular, do you?”
Emma didn’t care for the censure in his voice. “I’ve lived my whole life in cities. I’ve never needed to know about ranching, sheep, or anything else like that. I see no sin in that.”
“No sin, but basic understanding on your part would help us all. We have work to do here. I can’t spare my ranch manager, just so she can guide you back to town. I don’t even know if the three of us can do everything that needs doing, never mind sending one of us with you. We’ll get you back to Bountiful. In the fall.”
Emma’s eyes widened in horror. “No, Mr. Lowery, that’s impossible. I can’t stay here. It… it simply wouldn’t be proper! I can’t spend all that time… um… er—with all you men.”
“Proper? I found you in a cave, captured by a pair of the most clumsy rustlers a body could ever imagine. Then, I brought you to a clean cabin with a bed instead of a dirt floor. Yet you worry about proper? Would you rather have stayed behind in that cave? Alone? Without food or real shelter from the animals out in the woods? Don’t forget, Colley’s here with us. She’s proper.”
“Well…” When he put it in those terms, she had to admit he had a point. As to Colley and her men’s shirts and dungarees, time would tell about her measure of propriety.
“I suppose there are worse things,” she conceded. “But, please consider this. You’re a father. Do think of my poor papa. He must be beside himself with worry. Please try to understand. We’re all each one has left ever since Mama died. He’ll be frantic.”
He blinked, a groove etched between his brows, and he swallowed hard. She took heart from the momentary flicker of weakness, but before she could press her advantage, he hardened the line of his jaw and tightened his lips.
When he spoke again, he did so in a clipped voice. “When I meet him, I’ll have to apologize and offer him my regret for the stubborn demands and constraints the ranch puts on me. I can’t leave until the fall.”
“Bu—but… oh, I know! You now have two more men here. I’m sure Ned and Sawyer can help with the sheep while you or Colley help me back to Bountiful.”
He laughed. “A couple of rustlers, Miss Crowell? I should trust the two men who stole my flock in the first place to take care of my animals? I don’t reckon that makes much sense, begging your pardon, ma’am.”
She had to admit, he was right. But she couldn’t just surrender to his outlandish notion. Before she could come up with another line of r
easoning, he went on.
“Since you’re so ready to volunteer them, I suggest you try heading for Bountiful with them. I reckon Sawyer’s quite handy with that sidearm we took away. I could give it back to him, and he could protect you, don’t you think?”
Emma blanched. She read on his face how well he knew his suggestion was utterly out of the question. She doubted Ned would have a chance to keep Sawyer from… from whatever he might decide to do to her if the man set his mind—and his gun—to it.
“You know I can’t do that.” Her voice betrayed a quaver. As she’d thought before, she had to appeal to his mercy. “Please take pity on me. I never asked to be here, I’m so very, very sorry to be a bother to you, but I never could have envisioned my trip to Portland would involve a holdup. I hate to be a burden, and you must agree it would be far better for all if I were gone as soon as possible.”
“Yes, it would be best if you weren’t here, but I have no choice. I must stay, with my sheep and all my men—not two half-witted thieves—until the time is right. That won’t happen until the fall. There’s no more arguing to be done.”
“But—”
“Save your breath, please, Miss Crowell. If you don’t want to be a burden, then I suggest you make yourself useful. Everyone, and I do mean everyone here, must carry his—or her—own weight. You’ll have to earn your keep while you’re at the camp.”
“But I’m not a sheep—shepherd—rancher…” She waved uselessly.
He lifted a shoulder. “Don’t have to be. You can make yourself plenty useful in here.”
She looked around the cabin. Her knees went weak. So did her voice. “Here?”
“Of course. There’s plenty to be done indoors, and a woman’s always best to handle that sort of thing. You can take over the cooking, the washing, and you can even give Robby some lessons, seeing as how you had all those teachers of yours. You did start right off on that last night.”
Washing? Cooking?
Why did all these men try to set her to making meals? Was there something about her that suggested she had a hidden gift for cookery? She didn’t think it was something folks could tell just by looking at a person.
“That, sir, would not be a good idea,” she said. “Not if you and the others fancy eating. You see, Mr. Lowery, I’m very sorry, but I don’t cook. I never have.”
“Well, ma’am, I don’t run a prison, either, but seeing as how I caught Sawyer and Ned with my sheep, I’m going to have to be their jailer until I can turn them over to Marshal Blair in the fall. Life doesn’t always follow an ideal road, Miss Crowell. Real life is what you do with what comes your way, how you handle it with the gifts and grace the Lord has given you.”
“Are you saying I should blame God for my situation?” How strange. “I don’t see how you could say He sent the outlaws to hold up the carriage. Or that He expects me to cook for the whole lot of you.”
“I don’t blame God. Way I see it, Ned and Sawyer, and the other two they’ve mentioned, are to blame for the holdup. On the other hand, God is responsible for the gifts He’s given you—me, the outlaws, Colley, Wade, and my boy, Robby, too. Each one of us is accountable to Him for how we use those gifts. It’s up to us to honor Him in our day-to-day life.”
Emma had been to church often enough, but she’d never heard a life of faith explained in those terms. Mr. Lowery had a most intriguing way of putting it.
But it didn’t matter. “What you suggest is out of the question,” she argued again. “I can’t stay here. If none of you will help me back to Bountiful, then I suppose I’ll have to go on my own.” She thought fast. “That’s it! I’ll borrow a horse—Sawyer’s or Ned’s, since they’re in jail. A buggy or wagon would also help. But I must head back. I have no other choice. My life is not here.”
His shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I can’t spare a horse and I promise those two won’t lend you theirs, but you’re welcome to walk to Bountiful—it’s a day’s ride, I don’t know how long on foot. Depends on how quickly you walk, I suppose.” He shook his head in clear bemusement. “I heard from Ned that you got lost in the woods when you took your dog for a… um… walk. Don’t you think this whole mountain full of trees might prove even more challenging than a few dozen saplings at the edge of a well-worn trail?”
She hated to admit it, but he did have a point. “I can’t stay.” Her voice came out in little more than a whisper. “It’s so inappropriate… surely you understand.”
Her distress finally seemed to penetrate Mr. Lowery’s stern façade. He approached.
She stepped back and sat on the bunk, covered her face with her hands.
He dropped onto one knee just inches away. “I’m very sorry, ma’am. I do reckon I understand. My wife would have been just as horrified if she’d been in your shoes, but there’s not much I can do besides promise you my protection while you’re in my home. I won’t let anyone hurt you, and as soon as I can leave without risking everything I’ve worked for all these years, then I’ll take you to Bountiful myself. But I can only do that once I’ve ensured my boy’s future. It’s nothing less important than that.”
Something in his dark, direct gaze touched Emma. He meant it. All of it. Every single word he spoke. Could his future—Robby’s future—really depend on his staying out on the mountain?
“Help me understand,” she said. “What do you mean by Robby’s future?”
“I earn our living raising sheep. They need to eat, and summer heat kills the grass down around the ranch. All of us who run sheep bring them up to mountain meadows to fatten them up for market in the fall. If we stay at our ranches, our flocks could starve. We’d all go belly up.”
“But won’t they just eat on their own?”
“Of course, and they also wander off all on their own. The land up here is too hilly to fence. And there are predators about. Not to mention those other two rustlers may still be around and could take the whole flock in a matter of hours. A flock this size needs a few people watching over it. And there’s the shearing…”
To her dismay, it began to make sense. “And you personally can’t leave because they’re your responsibility.”
“Exactly. All of it.”
“But Colley…?”
“Has forgotten more about sheep than I’ll ever learn.”
“You need her.”
He nodded.
She drew a shuddering breath. “And Wade, too…”
His answer was the first real smile she’d seen him wear. She decided she liked how it looked on him.
Immediately, she chided herself for such a bold and inappropriate thought. Her cheeks heated, and she regretted, not for the first time, her redhead’s complexion. It hid nothing.
Hoping to keep his attention from going right to her surely red cheeks, she asked, “Ned?”
“If not for his thieving past, I’d think he could make something of himself. He worked plenty hard and helped us get the sheep to the camp last night.”
She sighed. “I’m not ready to take off through the woods with a stranger. Not that spending months isolated on a mountain with five strangers makes much more sense. Still, you do seem a mite more trustworthy than Sawyer and Ned.”
He laughed, a hearty belly laugh that made her cheeks sizzle yet more. “Do you expect me to thank you for those grand words of praise?” When she didn’t answer—she couldn’t speak, she was so mortified—he went on.
“We’ve had some rough years around here, and it’s taken all I could scrape up just to hang on long enough. In order to buy some land right next to mine, I had to take out a mortgage against my ranch. The note comes due in October. I reckon the Bank of Bountiful wants its money paid in full by then. I think I’ll have it if my flock sells well. But I can’t risk losing a single sheep, not even one fleece, that’s how close I am. I risk losing the ranch, Robby’s future, if I can’t pay.”
Every last drop of hope Emma might have harbored evaporated. She’d heard the softening in his voice eve
ry time Mr. Lowery had spoken his boy’s name. It had to take many years of work for a man to build a profitable flock. Business was business, and Papa had always stressed how a man’s word counted for much.
This businessman, this father, wasn’t going to budge.
Apparently, Mr. Lowery decided he’d waited long enough for her response. He stood and turned. “I can keep you safe until the fall, and then on the way back. What I can’t, and won’t do, is walk away from those who’re counting on me.”
As he stepped away, Emma stood, too. “You’ve made yourself much too clear, sir. And I—I can accept that I’m forced to stay until the first opportunity appears. So I give you my word. I’ll make the very best of my stay here.”
A weight seemed to drop from his shoulders as they sagged just a hint. The vulnerability in that response surprised her. And intrigued her.
She steeled herself against it. He had just appointed himself her jailer, too. True, he hadn’t said it in so many words, but just as he meant to keep Sawyer and Ned under his control, he’d clearly stated his intention to do the same with her.
“Well, then,” she said. “Since you’ve made your position so clear, I must ask you for the one thing I must have. Since I don’t have a thing to wear, and seeing as my trunk was in that carriage, I must at least have a good, hot bath. Please tell me what your procedure is out here.”
“Bath?” His brow furrowed as though the concept was utterly foreign to him. “We don’t have a regular bath here at the camp, Miss Crowell. There’s our big tin tub outside. Colley always keeps a kettle of hot water at the hearth. You can take a pail to pump cold water for mixing at any time. And I know we bought enough soap to last almost forever. Wash up all you want.”
“A tin tub? Outside?” Dismay nearly crushed Emma. So that was that. Dreadful. “Preposterous, sir. And impossible.”
“You said you wanted a bath.” Mr. Lowery stalked out.
How had he said it? He’d suggested Emma was accountable for how she handled this new stage of her life with the gifts and grace God had given her.
