Hill Country Cattleman

by Laurie Kingery

  She walked toward him, her heart pounding. “Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked, shading her eyes with her hand as she stared up at him. Was something wrong? “Did something happen to Nick? Is that why you’re here?” she asked, her heart suddenly in her throat.

  He fingered the brim of his hat and gave her an easy grin that sent butterflies fluttering inside her. “Good afternoon, Miss Violet. No, nothing happened except the mayor and the bank president wanted him to stay awhile and talk to them about something they’re planning for the town. I offered to see you safely back to the ranch so you wouldn’t have to wait around. When Mayor Gilmore and Mr. Avery get to jawin’, it might take ’em a while to shut up.”

  “Y-you were at the meeting?” She’d thought the town council was made up of influential people in Simpson Creek and the surrounding area, and had been proud of her brother’s presence on the committee.

  “Yup. The mayor decided it would be a good idea to have a representative of the cowboys in these parts, so he appointed me. Raleigh Masterson, town councilman. Imagine that.” His wry grin sent the butterflies into flight again.

  “I—I see. Yes, I would appreciate your escort, Raleigh. You never know when a woman-eating jackrabbit might attack,” she added with a smile.

  He chuckled. “A woman-eating jackrabbit, huh? I believe I’m up to protecting you from one of those.”

  As she was about to mount, Violet wondered if Raleigh would mind waiting while she spoke to Kate Patterson. She’d seen the shopgirl leave a few minutes ahead of her, so with any luck she would be in the mercantile. Then Violet could accomplish her act of benevolence without a return trip to town.

  “See, ladies—exactly what I was talking about,” said a voice from behind her.

  Violet looked back in the direction she had come and saw Ella flanked by two other single ladies of the club. The other two looked away, but the waitress’s glare was direct and accusatory, first at Violet, then at Raleigh. She started to say something more, but was instantly shhh’d by the others, who steered her in the direction of the hotel.

  Violet was almost sure the words they had tried to shush had been brazen hussy.

  “Hmm. Who put a bee in Miss Ella’s bonnet?” Raleigh murmured, his expression puzzled, and a little wary. “I can’t tell which one of us she’s mad at.”

  “Oh, it’s me she hates, I’m afraid,” Violet said quickly, not wanting him to think any of this was his fault even though she could tell from the look in Ella’s eyes she felt some kind of betrayal at seeing Raleigh with her. Was the cowboy courting Ella or not?

  “What on earth could you have done to put her on the warpath?”

  Violet thought about telling him the whole story, starting with her overheard remark in the restaurant, but it all sounded so dreadfully tedious and silly. Instead, she watched as the trio progressed down the boardwalk away from the church. They were passing the mercantile now, and in another moment, Ella would be inside her workplace. If Violet went to the mercantile now, Ella wouldn’t see her and later be able to figure out who had donated the money for the dress cloth.

  But did she still want to do her good deed? Surely she was under no obligation, especially after being on the receiving end of Ella’s spiteful words and basilisk glare just now.

  She sighed and made up her mind. Yes, she would still do it. What she hadn’t learned about goodness from the vicar of Greyshaw, she had learned from growing up with Richard, her middle brother, who had gone into working for the church. He’d always spoken about “casting your bread upon the waters,” or something like that, which meant doing a kind deed, and having that goodness return to oneself in time. Violet knew she would feel proud of herself if she did it, and disappointed in herself if she did not. Perhaps the Lord would even be pleased with what she’d done.

  “Raleigh, would you mind very much if we stopped at the mercantile for a moment before starting home? I need to speak to Kate. It’ll just take a minute, I promise. You needn’t even come inside.”

  He swept her an impromptu bow from the back of his horse. “I’m entirely at your disposal, Miss Violet. And besides, Cook asked me to buy some beans and cornmeal, and I’d purely forgotten about it till now.”

  Violet hadn’t wanted him to know what she was doing, especially if he was sweet on Ella, but with any luck, she could take Kate aside and explain her plan without Raleigh being any the wiser.

  Chapter Eight

  Raleigh wondered why Miss Violet would need to speak to a girl she had just spent an hour or more with, but he’d decided long ago there was no figuring females. And he had promised to bring Cookie those supplies.

  “Afternoon, Raleigh,” Mrs. Patterson said when he stepped up to the counter. “What can I get for you?”

  He was careful not to let his gaze follow Violet, for he hadn’t missed the way the shopkeeper’s eyebrows had shot up when she’d seen him and Violet come in together. He hadn’t thought of Mrs. Patterson’s penchant for gossiping when he’d followed the Englishwoman inside, but it was too late now. Maybe if he acted casual and detached, Mrs. Patterson wouldn’t add two and two and come up with five about Miss Violet and himself.

  After he’d given his order to the proprietress and her back was turned, he glanced at Violet, and he was sure he saw money change hands between her and Kate. What was the woman up to?

  He might have thought longer about it, but Mrs. Patterson was turning back to him, the beans and cornmeal ready to go in coarse cotton drawstring bags.

  “I’ll put it on the Colliers’ Roost account,” Mrs. Patterson said.

  By this time Miss Violet had finished whatever business she had with the proprietress’s niece and they stepped outside again. Once they reached the boardwalk Raleigh noticed Violet gazing longingly back at the post office.

  No doubt she yearned for some word from her sweetheart back in England, Raleigh thought, but it was impossible for a letter to cross the ocean so fast and reach her in the middle of Texas. It would take weeks before she received any mail from the fellow—even if he had written her as soon as she’d left.

  He’d once longed for mail like that, Raleigh mused. During the war, there’d been a pretty dark-haired girl who’d written him several letters. He’d been courting her before he’d gone to war with General Hood, and thought they’d marry once they’d beaten the Yankees, but the letters gradually became more infrequent until his mother had finally written him that she’d married a cotton speculator. Then his mother died, too, and there were no more letters after that.

  She was quiet as they rode south out of town toward the ranch, probably thinking of home.

  “Miss Violet, we kinda got interrupted Sunday morning,” he said, determined to cut short her mooning over her beau. “You were talking about what your church looked like back home, and the difference in the way your preacher preached compared to Reverend Gil...?” he prompted. He hoped he could glean more of an idea how she felt about the Lord than he managed to on Sunday before Ella had pulled him away.

  “Well, for one thing, your Reverend Gil could teach our vicar a thing or two about brevity,” she said lightly. “Reverend Holcroft carries on till halfway to teatime, and by the time he’s done, one still has no idea what he was talking about.”

  So she approved of Gil Chadwick’s preaching only because he spoke a shorter time?

  “You don’t like going to church at home very much,” he said. He probably wouldn’t, either, given the way she’d described it.

  She sighed and nodded. “Ah, but it’s the ‘done thing,’ Edward says. The viscount and his family have a duty to set an example.”

  So church attendance was only a social duty to the Honorable Miss Violet Brookfield.

  Something in his expression must have hinted about his disappointment in her responses, though, for she went on. “I didn’t mean to
sound so frivolous, Raleigh. I was quite impressed with your preacher’s sermon, actually. It was very—” she seemed to search for the proper word “—edifying. It’s quite clear your minster is a true man of God. It certainly seems like everyone in town appreciates his sermons. Have you attended services there a long time?”

  He shook his head, feeling a surge of excitement that he might be able to give her his testimony of what the Lord had done for him, and that it would lead to finding out what she truly felt about God.

  “No, not long,” he said. “Oh, we cowboys would show up when they were having a fellowship dinner, or the like—any chance to get away from Cookie’s endless beans and biscuits is a good thing,” he said with a laugh. “And of course we all turned out for the wedding when Jack and Miss Caroline got hitched. But—”

  He was about to lead into the experience he’d had on the trail, when only God’s mercy had saved his worthless life, but he sensed that her attention was straying. He saw her staring wistfully at the road ahead of her.

  “What is it, Miss Violet? Is something wrong?”

  “Oh, no,” she said quickly. “I was just thinking—it’s such a lovely day. Could we have a gallop?”

  “I reckon so,” he said, smothering a sigh. Blue probably wouldn’t mind a good run. He’d have to try talking to her again about faith when the opportunity presented itself. If it ever did.

  “Marvelous! Race you to that tree with the split trunk about a mile from here, all right?” Without waiting for an answer, she drummed her heels into the mare’s sides, yelling, “Hyaaa!”

  With the element of surprise in their favor, Violet and Lady got a good head start. They were within sight of the lightning-blasted live oak, running flat out, before Raleigh’s roan drew even with the pinto. Violet was bent over the mare’s neck, her face keen with concentration. Her wide-brimmed hat had fallen back on its strings behind her, and the pins had fallen out of her careful coiffure. Her golden hair streamed out behind her like a banner. He’d never seen a woman who could ride like that. Even a Comanche would be hard put to keep up with her.

  She spotted him beside her, and laughed, her blue eyes dancing with joy. She was so lovely, and he felt his heart surrendering itself to her. He could not for the life of him call it back.

  “Come on, Lady!” she shouted, and Raleigh saw the mare’s ears flick backward to catch the sound. The pinto put on a burst of speed and pulled ahead, but the roan wasn’t about to let a mere mare beat him. He surged forward and caught up just as they drew near to the tree. By the time they passed the tree, he had just begun to draw ahead of her.

  She was laughing again as they gradually came together, and when they stopped she called, “Good show, Raleigh! That was tremendous fun!”

  Raleigh wanted nothing so much as to pull Violet into his arms and kiss her senseless. There was something in her eyes that dared him to do exactly that, and he moved the toe of his boot to nudge Blue alongside the mare.

  Violet stilled and seemed to hold her breath. Her eyes grew wide, but she didn’t move.

  Then a crow began to caw in the topmost limb of the ruined tree, snapping both of them back to reality. Violet’s face rearranged itself into its former happy expression, though there was something uncertain and strained now in her eyes.

  “Thank you, Raleigh. I love a good gallop, don’t you? If I were a man, I’d be a jockey in the Epsom Derby!”

  So there was nothing more to her willingness than that—the excitement of a good run with fast horses. He’d almost made a fool of himself with a woman he could never hope to have. She might have let him kiss her in the exhilaration of the moment, but it would mean nothing to her beyond it.

  He kneed the roan away from the mare. “Yes, ma’am, it was, but now we’d better walk them the rest of the way to cool them down,” he said, patting his stallion’s sweaty neck.

  They set off toward their ranches at a sedate walk. Raleigh, fully occupied with inwardly lecturing himself not to play with fire, would have been content with unbroken silence until he bid her goodbye at the Brookfield ranch gate, but Violet seemed to need to get over the awkward moment with conversation.

  “You know,” she said, “the only thing that would have made that race more enjoyable would have been a few jumps along the way—a low gate, a ditch, a fallen tree trunk....”

  He looked at her skeptically. “I don’t reckon either of these horses has ever jumped anything, at least not with a rider aboard,” he said. “Cutting a single cow neatly out of a herd, now, that’s something they can do in their sleep.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she mused. “I think this girl could be a natural, at least over lower obstacles,” she said, stroking Lady’s neck. The mare, clearly enjoying her touch, arched her neck proudly and snorted as if agreeing with her rider. “She’s not as tall as a thoroughbred, of course, but she has a lot of heart.”

  “I reckon you’d find the saddle horn would get in your way,” he said, pointing to it.

  She studied the high-protruding front portion of the western saddle, unconsciously placing her flattened palm over her abdomen where the horn would hit. She sighed. “I don’t suppose there’s an English-style saddle to be had anywhere nearby,” she murmured.

  He kept quiet, hoping that was the end of it. Was she longing for her fox hunts at home, a leggy thoroughbred that could clear three-bar fences and stone walls? And for the fellow who could chase foxes along with her? Well, she’d be back to them one of these days, and would no longer pose a temptation for him to forget what little common sense he could lay claim to.

  * * *

  After unsaddling Lady and currying her, Violet turned the mare out in the corral and went inside. She played with Nicky at the kitchen table while Milly kneaded biscuit dough for supper. She fielded her sister-in-law’s questions about the meeting while she helped her nephew stack blocks in front of her, but her mind wasn’t fully on either task.

  Why hadn’t Raleigh kissed her? She could tell he’d wanted to, intended to, right up to the moment when the raucous caw of the crow had cut the moment short. Was he being faithful to someone, that wretched Ella, perhaps?

  And more mysterious yet, why had she wanted Raleigh to kiss her? Was she so incapable of faithfully waiting out this time away from Gerald without being attracted to another man? Was that what Edward had wanted to show her, that she wasn’t ready yet to marry? A worse thought to ponder was this—was Gerald feeling this same attraction to some other miss?

  She would write Gerald again this very evening, she resolved, a long, newsy letter full of her pent-up love for him, to make up for this shameful afternoon when she’d thought about kissing another man.

  If only she had some letters from him that she could reread, to remind her of how wonderful the love between them was. She’d asked Gerald, when she’d first found out Edward was taking her to Texas, to write her a love letter that she could take with her, for she knew it would be weeks and weeks before mail would reach her across the Atlantic. Seemingly as distraught as she was about the long separation, Gerald had sworn he would do so, sending it via a stable boy. No such letter came during the week before they left for America. She’d thought perhaps Edward had intercepted it, but Tim, her chief ally in the stables, insisted no such missive had arrived.

  A sudden awareness of silence brought her to guilty awareness that Milly had asked her a question and was now awaiting an answer.

  “I’m sorry, Milly, I’m afraid I was woolgathering,” she said. “What were you asking?” A quick glance at her sister-in-law’s amused face told her the other woman already knew Violet’s mind was elsewhere.

  Milly chuckled. “I asked why you came in alone,” she said. “Did Nick head over to the Colliers’ to talk to Jack after y’all reached the turnoff to the ranch house? He does that sometimes after a council meeting. He likes to get another ranche
r’s opinion about things that are discussed in the meetings.”

  “No, Nick stayed later for some sort of special meeting with the mayor and the bank president, so he sent Raleigh to ride home with me.”

  “Oh? I wonder what the meeting was about,” Milly murmured. “What’s new with Raleigh?”

  Her tone was ever so casual, but Violet had seen the way Milly’s eyes had taken on a knowing glint. She shrugged, just as casually. “We talked about church...and then we raced the horses.”

  “So that’s how your hair got all windblown,” she said. “Who won?”

  Violet jerked a hand up to her hair. Had Milly thought Raleigh had done that? She’d completely forgotten about how the wind had wreaked havoc with her curls. But she couldn’t help grinning at the remembrance of flying down the dusty road on the pinto’s back, hearing the pounding as Lady’s hooves ate up the ground, and the roan strove to catch up.

  “He did,” she admitted, “but only by a neck.” She could see Milly wanted to ask more about Raleigh. But there was nothing to tell, was there?

  Milly must have sensed Violet’s reticence, for she returned to the subject of the meeting. “I’m so glad you enjoyed yourself and made some new friends today,” she said while she opened the oven to baste her roasting chicken.

  “Yes, everyone was very friendly—almost everyone, that is,” Violet added, and found herself telling Milly all about her interactions with Ella Justiss, from the one today clear back to the day they’d arrived in Simpson Creek.

  Milly’s expression was sympathetic. “She’s a strange one, Ella is, and no mistake. I’ve tried to talk to her, but it’s as if she carries a permanent chip on her shoulder. She’s very closemouthed about where she came from, too.”

  It was good to know it was not only she who had found the girl difficult, Violet thought. For a moment she considered telling Milly about her secret gift of money to buy Ella dress fabric, but then she remembered Richard telling her a good deed didn’t count if others knew about it. She felt content, though, when she remembered the admiring look on Kate Patterson’s face when she’d told her what the money she was handing her was for.