The Cowboy Comes Home

by Linda Ford

  His mood shifted and he grinned as he thought of Sally. He didn’t remember her from before, so the Morgans must have moved in after they left when he was sixteen. Otherwise he would have certainly remembered her. Even then he liked a good-looking woman. And Sally was certainly that, with wavy brown hair falling to her shoulders, capturing the sun’s rays like miser’s gold in each wave. Eyes the color of olive-green water, like he’d seen in the mountains to the west. Eyes that widened in surprise at seeing him, narrowed with caution before taking his hand. He rubbed his hand against the warm denim on his leg. He had only meant to be helpful, but her cool flesh against his had felt like a hot iron, searing her brand on his palm. He pressed his fist to his chest, feeling marked inside as well and ignored the urge to thump himself on the forehead at such silly ideas. He dropped his hand back to his leg.

  Obviously a proper young woman.

  Even if she didn’t know the McCoy reputation, she would soon enough hear it. Not that it mattered what people said. He’d tried to tell his pa and older brother so six years ago. Stay and prove the rumors false, he’d said. But he was only sixteen and they weren’t about to listen to him.

  Now he was back and determined to do what he’d wanted back then—prove the McCoys were not sticky-fingered scoundrels.

  And of course, care for his injured father.

  Time to get back to the task.

  Despite the duties calling him, he took his time unsaddling Red, then spent a leisurely thirty minutes grooming him and tidying up the barn before he headed for the house. He paused inside the door and breathed in the homey scents of yeasty bread and cinnamon. No matter where he’d gone in the past six years, he’d missed this place.

  Grandmama sat in her favorite spot—a rocking chair by the window—doing needlework. “I ’spect you’re missing your freedom.”

  He understood what she didn’t say. That she feared he would leave again as soon as Pa—

  Memories of a pretty face flashed through his brain. Even if he had planned to leave, getting to know Miss Sally better was enough to make him reconsider. “I never wanted to go in the first place.”

  Grandmama glanced up then. “You should have stayed. You could stay now and run this place.”

  He wondered if anyone else would hope he’d remain. “I had to go with Pa and Harris.” Though he couldn’t exactly say why. Guess the same loyalty that brought him back with Pa. “How is he?”

  “Haven’t heard from him.”

  Which meant he was sleeping. The painkiller the doctor provided was doing its job. Once it wore off, Pa would start hollering and cussing. Poor Grandmama—having to listen to Pa in one of his rages. Yet when Linc showed up on the doorstep dragging his injured father, she had calmly opened the door and welcomed them. And she’d cried when Linc said Harris had died in the mining accident that injured Pa.

  “He was my oldest grandson. Despite his rebellious ways I have never stopped loving him and praying for him.” She’d hugged Linc long and hard. “Are you still walking in your faith?” she asked when her tears were spent.

  He’d had his struggles, his ups and downs and times of doubt, but he was happy to be able to give her the answer she longed for. “I hold fast to my faith and God’s love.”

  “I don’t suppose Harris or your Pa ever made that choice?”

  “Not Pa. I don’t know about Harris. You know how he always tried so hard to please Pa.” Even if Harris believed in God, he might well hide it from Pa so as to not incur his displeasure.

  “Then this is why God sent you home. To allow Jonah another chance to change his ways. My Mary would want her husband to become a Christian.”

  Linc permitted himself a moment of aching emptiness at the mention of his mother’s name, then pulled his thoughts back to the present. “I’ll check on him.” He strode to the bedroom off the front room where Grandmama had made up a bed for Pa. Pa murmured in his sleep. Doc said the drugs made him restless, but for the moment he seemed comfortable. The bruises on his face had faded to yellow and the swelling had subsided. His leg was bound and splinted. Doc changed the dressings on it every day. But it was the injuries to his chest that had done the most damage. Doc said he couldn’t tell how badly Pa’s internal organs had been damaged. His chances were slim, Doc had been honest enough to say. “About all we can do is keep him comfortable.”

  Which meant giving him pain medication.

  Linc shook the bottle of medicine. It was almost empty. As were his pockets. It had taken a whack out of his savings to bury Harris and the rest to get himself, Red and his father home. He’d have to find himself some sort of work in order to keep the bottle full.

  Satisfied his Pa didn’t need anything for the moment, he returned to the kitchen and sat at the table, turning his chair to face Grandmama.

  “I met a young lady today. Sally Morgan. Do you know her?”

  Grandmama carefully put away the yarn and folded the piece of fabric she worked on before setting it on the little table beside her chair. “I know the Morgans. Mr. Morgan died a few years back. The two older girls have married recently. Louisa, the eldest, married a widower with a little girl. They adopted one of the orphan girls before they headed west where he has a ranch. Madge and her husband now own the Cotton farm. They’re a hard-working young couple.”

  “Uh-huh.” He wasn’t so interested in the family as in Sally.

  “Miss Sally is working for our neighbor, Abe Finley.”

  He knew that, too.

  “He’s a widower with two young children.”

  “I met Robbie. He came to visit me and my horse.”

  “Young Robbie has been a bit of a…” She hesitated. “A concern since his mother died.”

  Linc smiled. “You couldn’t come right out and say he’s a defiant child?” He’d seen the way he’d glowered at Sally when she said he had to go home.

  Grandmama sniffed. “I don’t believe in speaking ill of others.”

  “Too bad others don’t share your view.” If they did, Linc and his father and brother wouldn’t have felt they had to leave town six years ago. And maybe Harris would still be alive. He missed his brother. A blast of sorrow hit Linc and he looked out the window, waiting for it to pass.

  He saw the corrals out the window and remembered he was asking about Sally. “So what do you know about Miss Sally?”

  Grandmama gave him her best warning expression. “Everyone expects she and Abe will decide to marry. So you stay away from her, you hear?”

  “This understanding that everyone has, is it official?”

  Grandmama’s eyes narrowed. “There’s been no announcement, if that’s what you mean. But you listen to me, Lincoln McCoy—”

  Uh-oh. When she used his full name, he knew she was deadly serious.

  “Abe Finley is a fine match for Sally. Don’t you go interfering with it.”

  And he wasn’t suitable? Is that what she meant?

  “You hear me?”

  Linc sighed. He wouldn’t argue with her. After all, she had given shelter to Pa and she didn’t even like him much. Just as she’d welcomed the four of them when they returned eight years ago, when Ma was filled with cancer and dying. And perhaps she was right. He was a McCoy, after all, and even if he convinced everyone they hadn’t stolen the things they’d been accused of, he would still be a McCoy—and who were they but wanderers? Pa never stayed long in one place. In fact, come to think of it, the two years they’d spent on this farm made the longest he could remember being in one place.

  Grandmama nudged his leg. “You hear me?”

  “I hear ya.” What he heard was there was no formal agreement between Sally and Abe.

  Chapter Two

  Sally pulled a tray of cookies from the familiar oven of home and scooped them to a rack to cool. Ginger cookies perfectly rounded, nicely browned with a sprinkling of sugar. She was a good cook. Yet she experienced so many failures at the Finley place. She must be trying too hard. She sucked in spicy air and pushed h
er frustration to the bottom of her stomach. She needed to remember she was a child of God, and as such had His approval. “I’ll take these over to the Johanssons as soon as they cool,” she said to her mother. “I’m sorry to hear the mother is still not feeling well.” Mrs. Johansson hadn’t regained her strength after the birth of daughter number five. “The children will appreciate fresh cookies.”

  “How did your day go at the Finleys’?” Mother glanced up from sewing a button on a sweater.

  Sally didn’t want to trouble her mother with tales of her struggles with Robbie and news of a ruined meal. “There was a man at Mrs. Shaw’s.”

  “Really? How do you know that?”

  “I saw him out in the corrals. He showed Robbie his horse. Big Red, he’s called.”

  Mother studied her with watchful eyes.

  Fearing her expression would reveal more than she wanted, Sally shaped more cookies.

  “So you met this man?”

  Sally nodded. “When I went to bring Robbie back. His name is Linc McCoy. I thought I’d heard the name before but can’t place it.”

  “The McCoys are back?” Mother sounded as if a murderer had escaped into their presence.

  “I only saw the one. Are there more?”

  Mother pushed to her feet and strode to the window. “I don’t suppose you know the story. It was fresh when we first moved but died down shortly after.”

  Sally stared at her mother’s back. “What did they do?”

  Mother faced her and sighed. “Mrs. Ogilvy kept some expensive jewelry in her home.”

  Sally waited for more. Everyone knew Mrs. Ogilvy to be the richest lady in town. She lived in a big house at the opposite end of the street from where Mr. Finley lived. She lived alone except for a woman who came in to help care for the house. Mrs. Ogilvy had once ruled Golden Prairie society but had been ill for the past couple years. She was on the mend now and again dominating social activities. Why, at Christmas she’d instigated a town party for everyone, including hobos from their shelter down by the tracks. Sally had even heard Mrs. Ogilvy allowed some of them to live in the old coach house she no longer used. Sally liked the woman who used her worldly goods to help others.

  Mother sighed and continued with her story. “Mrs. Ogilvy’s jewels went missing. It was never proven, but all the evidence pointed toward the McCoys. They were known as the kind of people who—” Mother stopped. “I don’t like to speak ill of others, but from what I understand they had sticky fingers.”

  “The McCoys?” This news didn’t fit with the relaxed, smiling man she’d met. “How many were there?”

  “A father and two sons—the younger several years younger than the older.”

  “What do they have to do with Mrs. Shaw?”

  “Mrs. McCoy was Mrs. Shaw’s daughter. Her only child. She came home to die of cancer.” Mother shook her head sadly. “I can’t imagine how she must feel to lose her daughter, then have her grandsons and son-in-law branded criminals.”

  “But you said they were never convicted.”

  “No, they weren’t, but people believed it was only because of poor police work. They left town to avoid the censure of the community.”

  Sally pulled out another tray of baked cookies and put them to cool, then slipped a tray of unbaked ones into the oven, welcoming the chance to contemplate all her mother said.

  “You say you met Linc McCoy? I’m not certain but I think he was the youngest son. From what I recall, about fifteen or sixteen when they left town.”

  “They might be innocent. You know what gossip is like.”

  Mother crossed to Sally’s side. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. I don’t want you feeling sorry for this man. It would not serve your purpose to get involved with him. Whether or not they’ve stolen the jewels, their name carries trouble.”

  Sally met her mother’s eyes without flinching. She understood what Mother meant. People would likely feel the same way about the McCoys now as they had back then. She shifted her gaze. The lowering sun shone through the west window, highlighting the ever present dust in the air. Through the window, she studied the struggling garden. “I need to take water to the garden.” She’d saved the dishwashing water. “I’ll feed the chickens as soon as I finish the cookies.”

  Mother returned to her sewing, knowing they were in agreement. Sally would do nothing to besmirch her reputation or put her security at risk. She’d avoid Linc McCoy, which shouldn’t be hard.

  Mother paused. “I wonder what brought them back.”

  Sally wondered if all of them had returned. She’d seen only Linc—the man who seemed to think life was for enjoyment.

  Well, so did she, only she liked to enjoy it on her terms. She recalled one of her memory verses. A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favour rather than silver and gold.

  She could well say, rather than Mrs. Ogilvy’s jewels.

  She wanted nothing more to do with Linc McCoy and the shady doings associated with his family.

  Sally slipped into the Finley kitchen and began breakfast preparations. Overhead, she heard the family rising. They would soon descend—Carol ready for school, Abe dressed and groomed for his job and Robbie with his eyes silently challenging her.

  She sighed. She and Robbie would become friends sooner or later. She just wished it would be sooner.

  A short while later, the children descended, Abe’s hand firmly on Robbie’s stubborn shoulder. Carol was dressed for school, not a seam out of place. From the beginning she insisted she could manage her hair on her own and did a fine job. Robbie wore wrinkled overalls with threadbare knees. If she didn’t miss her guess, his shirt was buttoned crookedly, but she would ignore it unless Abe insisted it be corrected. Abe was even neater than Carol, as if he’d pressed his suit while on his body so not a crease was out of place. Freshly shaven, smelling of bay rum with his dark brown hair brushed back. One thing about Abe: he knew how to make the most of his looks, and there was no denying he was a good-looking man and well respected—a good Christian, a devout churchgoer, a man of honor.

  Sally recited his attributes as she dished up porridge and poured Abe a cup of coffee. She hated the stuff, preferring a pot of well-steeped tea, but had learned to make a brew to satisfy his requirements. She’d eaten with Mother before leaving home but sat with the family and drank tea as they ate.

  Abe left as soon as he finished. He spared them all a hurried goodbye.

  Sally found it easier to smile once he’d gone, even though she still found his rushed exits strange. Her father had hugged each of the girls and kissed Mother when he left the house. He always had a kind word for them. She’d told herself several times it wasn’t fair to any man to compare him to Father, and yet she wished Abe would at least read a chapter from the Bible and pray with the children before he left for the day.

  At first, she’d debated with herself as to whether she should take on the responsibility. The deciding factor had been that she should begin as she expected to go on, and if she were to become a permanent part of this home, Bible reading and prayer were what she wanted.

  But rather than read from the family Bible, she brought a series of Bible stories on cards with pictures on one side and text on the other that she’d collected in her Sunday school days. She chose the next in the stack to read.

  Carol listened intently. Robbie fidgeted, wanting to leave but knowing Sally would insist he stay. They’d fought that battle the first day and Sally had won, knowing she must.

  She made her prayer short, asking for the children and their father to be safe. In her heart, she prayed she could live up to expectations and not let foolish thoughts distract her. And why the thought shaped into a grinning man in a cowboy hat, she wouldn’t let herself consider.

  Carol departed a short time later then Sally turned to Robbie. “Play out back where I can see you.”

  She washed dishes and put together soup for dinner when both Abe and Carol would come home. Every fe
w minutes she glanced out the window to check on Robbie. He’d dug a hole in the end of the garden and used the dirt to construct a barrier, no doubt hoping to build a place where he could hide from his troublesome world.

  Sally grinned. After Father died she’d done the same, only she’d had the loft of the barn where she used loose hay to encircle a little patch where she took her books and an old school notebook, in which she wrote copious amounts of purple prose full of emotionally charged words like hopelessness, emptiness and loneliness. She had felt safe and secure in that little place.

  Forbidden, her gaze sought the area across the alley. Quickly, telling herself she was only allowing her eyes a chance to look into the distance, she glanced to the corrals, past them to the bit of yard within her view. Maybe he had left again. No reason such a thought should make her sad. She snorted as several of the words she’d used in her loft hiding place resurrected.

  The soup simmered on the stove. She mixed up baking powder biscuits to go with it.

  Another glance out the window showed the Shaw yard still empty and Robbie struggling to build his dirt walls higher. The soil was so dry it sifted into a slack pile.

  Remembering her own efforts to create a safe place, she ached for the little boy. Hoping he wouldn’t be angry at her interruption, she hurried outside. “I can show you how to build higher walls if you like.”

  He didn’t move for a full three seconds.

  She knew he warred with a desire to dismiss her and frustration over dealing with the piles of dirt.

  “How?” He made certain to sound as if he was doing her a favor.

  “I saw some scraps of lumber in the shed. I think you could use them to provide support. Come. I’ll show you.”