Petticoat Ranch

by Mary Connealy

  “To some people one hundred and fifty head of cattle are worth killing for.” Clay strained the coffee grounds out with his teeth.

  The sheriff nodded. “I talked to the Meads time and again since they bought the place two years ago. Neither of ’em mentioned any family. Just keep track of how many you find.”

  “I’ll fatten ’em up a bit and cut out the older stuff. When I market the herd, I’ll be mindful of what should be the Meads’.”

  Clay watched the sheriff signal to Esther for more coffee.

  “I’m impressed, Josiah. I didn’t know if you were man enough for another cup.”

  The sheriff narrowed his eyes at Clay. “Watch it, McClellen, or I’ll order you a piece of pie.”

  Clay started laughing, and he and the sheriff were still chuckling when Esther poured their coffee. Then Sheriff Everett introduced Clay to Esther and proceeded to sweet-talk her out of her mad.

  The three of them talked awhile longer, as other citizens of Mosqueros came in and met Clay. With everything settled, Clay invited the sheriff to drop in after church for Sunday dinner. Then he headed home.

  “Where is that man?” Sophie muttered as she combed the few snarls out of Laura’s white curls.

  Sally stood at the window, staring out. Suddenly she whirled around. “He’s coming. He’s got the wagon hitched up.”

  “Oh, good. We can all go to church together then.” Sophie smiled at her tidy little family.

  “Is Parson Roscoe gonna yell at us again?” Beth’s eyes got as wide as saucers.

  “That’s his job, honey.” Sophie brushed the wisps of hair off Beth’s forehead. “He’s trying to point out the error of our ways.”

  Beth stared at the floor for a long second. “I reckon he can’t do a fearful thing like that if he’s speaking softly.”

  Mandy buttoned up the back of Sally’s dress. “Still, we get in trouble when we yell too much. Why is it okay for him?”

  Sophie didn’t have an answer for that, so she was glad Clay chose that moment to come inside. He glanced at them all standing, ready and waiting. Sophie saw him heave a sigh of relief. She couldn’t imagine what he was relieved about, unless he thought they wouldn’t be ready on time.

  “Let’s hit the trail.”

  The girls ran past him for the wagon, in a swirl of calico and braids.

  Sally called out, “I get the front seat between Ma and Pa!”

  “You don’t get to sit up there! We need to take turns, and since I’m the oldest. . .” Mandy’s voice faded as the girls raced away.

  Sophie heard Clay sigh again, so deeply she thought it stirred a breeze in the room.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “They’re fighting again.”

  Sophie cocked her head a bit to listen to the squabbling that distance had nearly erased. “You call that little spat fighting?”

  “What do you call it?” he asked impatiently.

  Sophie shrugged. “There isn’t room for any of the girls on that seat, and they all know it, so they’re just making noise. I didn’t pay it any mind.” She walked up to him and patted him on the arm. “That’s just how little girls are. You’ll get used to it soon enough.”

  Clay nodded silently for a while, then turned to go to the wagon. As he walked out Sophie heard him mutter, “I’ll get used to it or go deaf. In the end, I reckon that’s the same thing.”

  Sophie smiled all the way to town.

  This Sunday wasn’t such a shock for Sophie. She was prepared to be greeted politely, and she wasn’t disappointed. She leaned over to Clay as he guided the wagon toward the church. “How did you get all these people to like us so quickly? They’ve never been anything but awful to me.”

  “The war is fading from people’s minds.” Clay pushed his hat back on his head with one gloved thumb and looked at her. “The country is healing. It’s time for them to forgive and forget. They’d’ve been kind, even if I hadn’t come, if you’d’ve given ’em a chance.”

  “Except for them all trying to marry me, of course.”

  “Well, that was another lil’ thing that got in the way of you living peaceably around here.” Clay smiled down at her.

  She couldn’t quite help smiling back. “I guess marrying you solved that.”

  Clay pulled back on the reins to halt the horses. “Indeed it did, Sophie darlin’. Indeed it did.”

  They mingled with the other worshiping citizens of Mosqueros.

  Miss Calhoun came up and said a prim, “Good morning.”

  Sophie smiled and returned the greeting, careful not to forget to call her “Miss Calhoun.” She studied the young woman. Miss Calhoun was a first-year teacher, most likely still in her teens, but she carried herself as if she had a steel rod in place of a spine—a steel rod so long it tilted her neck up. Either that or Miss Calhoun kept her nose in the air on purpose.

  Sophie put aside her misgivings about the young woman’s acutely “proper” behavior. There was kindness in Miss Calhoun’s eyes, and Sophie had heard good things about how the school was run.

  “I have my appointment book with me today, Mrs. McClellen. I’d like to schedule a time when I can come out and see you.”

  Sophie, mindful of all her manners, said, “We would love to have you join us for Sunday dinner.”

  Miss Calhoun industriously consulted the small, black book in her hand. “Today isn’t convenient, but next Sunday would work nicely.”

  Sophie noticed a fine trembling in Miss Calhoun’s hand as she poised her pencil over the blank spot in her carefully kept book. It struck Sophie that a lot of Miss Calhoun’s fussiness could really be a cover for shyness. It warmed her toward the teacher.

  Sophie rested her hand on Miss Calhoun’s arm. “Are you from around here, Miss Calhoun?”

  Miss Calhoun seemed startled by the question. Sophie noticed a faint tint of pink darken Miss Calhoun’s cheeks. She immediately regretted asking such a personal question.

  Sophie didn’t wait for Miss Calhoun to answer. “Next Sunday will be fine. You can ride out to the ranch with us after church, and we’ll see you have an escort back to town. It’s no time for a young lady to ride the trails alone.”

  Miss Calhoun seemed to gather her composure during Sophie’s little speech. “That sounds excellent. It’s very thoughtful of you to provide me with an escort. Not everyone around here thinks of things like that.”

  Sophie had a moment to wonder if Miss Calhoun had ever put herself in danger to visit her young charges. She seemed like the type of woman who would do what she saw as her duty, regardless of how difficult that might be.

  Sophie wanted to warn Miss Calhoun to be careful, but the parson chose that moment to shoo them inside. They settled in the same pew as last week, alongside Mrs. Roscoe. Only this week Mandy was on Clay’s left, Beth was on Sophie’s right, Laura was on Sophie’s lap, and Sally insisted on squishing in between them. They were all scared to death.

  When the parson stepped up to the pulpit, Beth grasped Sophie’s hand until Sophie thought she heard her knuckles creak. Sophie had to be very careful not to smile.

  The parson opened his mouth. Sophie saw her big girls lean forward as if bracing themselves against the force of the words. Parson Roscoe spoke so softly, the whole congregation, as one, leaned forward to catch what he said. “An expert in the law said to Jesus. . .”

  Beth fell forward off the pew and banged her head on the wooden panel in front of them.

  Sophie reached and pulled her back up.

  Beth rubbed her head. “He snuck that soft voice in when I was ready for him to go to yellin’.”

  Without a pause, the parson went on preaching in a near whisper. “Which is the greatest commandment? Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, and with all thy strength: this is the first commandment. And the second is like, namely this, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. There is none other commandment greater than these.’ ”
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  The parson solemnly closed the big, black Bible in front of him and lifted it up into the air. “This whole book of God’s Word is full of the call to love. And the darkest parts of the Bible deal with the failure of people to love. You don’t need anything else, brothers and sisters. You don’t need a parson preaching fire and brimstone at you. You don’t need a parson at all, or this church, or. . .” The parson’s voice dropped to a rasping whisper, “Or forgiveness.”

  After another extended silence, broken only by the sound of the breathing of his mesmerized followers, he said, “If only we would love God and love each other completely.”

  The parson spoke a bit louder, but Sophie noticed Beth’s hand was no longer gripping hers, and all the children were listening closely to the words.

  Sophie thought of how violently she had hated the men who had come for Cliff and chased after Clay. She was guilty. She needed God’s forgiveness. Even as she listened and prayed, she could feel the rebellion in her heart. The anger wouldn’t go away easily. She knew it was Satan battling for control of her life. She turned from the anger with all the meager strength a human can muster and begged for forgiveness. Begged for an end to her need for vengeance. Begged, Help me, help me, help me.

  She left the church feeling more at peace than she had in years. They milled around for a bit outside, saying good-bye to the other church members. Sophie barely registered that all her girls but the baby had run off to play with a group of very noisy little boys Sophie had never seen before.

  Clay stood at her side, holding Laura, and introduced her to Daniel Reeves. “Daniel just bought the mountain valley to the north of us, Sophie. He’s got himself a houseful of boys to match our girls.”

  “Hello, Mr. Reeves,” Sophie said.

  Daniel reached out with more enthusiasm than Sophie was prepared for. Hesitantly she offered her own hand, and Daniel’s huge mitt swallowed her hand whole. He pumped her arm up and down.

  “It’s Daniel, ma’am.” He almost shouted his greeting. “Don’t ’spect I’ll be thinkin’ to answer to any other name. I’m one up on y’all, ma’am. Got me five strappin’ boys, I do. Every one of ’em a chip off the old block!”

  Sophie had to control a desire to recoil from the man’s loud voice as she tried to remember her manners. “Is your wife here, Mr. Reeves?”

  “Daniel. Daniel it is, ma’am. Nope, no wife. Died birthin’ the last of my boys, she did. Five sons in five years.”

  Sophie didn’t want to imagine what the poor woman had gone through bearing that many children so fast. Everyone in the West knew childbirth was dangerous, and most men were thoughtful enough to spare their wives.

  Daniel mentioned his wife’s death with such negligence that Sophie felt a surge of anger. Then, annoyed, she looked closer at the callous brute and saw a shadow settle in his eyes.

  “Sad when it happened. Almighty sad. The kind of thing that makes a man believe in God or wash his hands of Him altogether. Well, I’m here, so I guess that tells the story.”

  Sophie watched Daniel Reeves slap Clay on the back and turn to shout a greeting at someone else.

  She said faintly to Clay, “Do we have to have a baby every year until we have a boy?”

  Clay’s laughter pulled Sophie out of her strange mixture of sympathy and annoyance with Daniel Reeves.

  “Daniel’s story isn’t as bad as it sounds.”

  Sophie said emphatically, “I suppose that’s true since nothing could be as bad as that sounds.”

  “He had one set of twins, and then five years later the poor woman gave birth to a set of triplets.”

  Sophie gasped. “You’re right. It’s not as bad as it sounds; it’s worse!”

  Clay grinned. “You can’t blame the twins and triplets on Daniel though.”

  “Triplets! I’ve heard of such a thing, but I’ve never known any.”

  “Well, take notice when they come by. They’re as alike as two peas—or I guess I should say three peas—in a pod. They’re five now, and the older boys are ten. They look like older versions of the triplets. They’re all full of mischief, from what I’ve seen.”

  Sophie stared across the expanse of stubbly weeds that grew around the church. She watched a crowd of children, her own included, run and scream and laugh. There was no problem picking out the Reeves boys. They all had shocks of snow white hair that hung shaggy, well past their shirt collars. Then, after the startling resemblance, was the fact that they were the loudest, the most reckless, and by far the dirtiest and most ragged children in the group.

  Clay laughed again. “I bet they’ll keep Miss Calhoun’s hands full if he sends them to school.”

  Sophie only shook her head. “Thankfully, I’m not their teacher.”

  As Sophie had that unkind thought, she remembered the sermon and immediately felt guilty. She wasn’t going to think unloving thoughts. She was a new woman. From now on she was going to let all the happiness of her heart flow over everyone.

  “Clay McClellen, I can’t believe you invited that man over to our home for Sunday dinner!”

  Sophie was looking at him like she was a wolf ready to fight the pack for fresh meat.

  Clay froze, just in the house from waving Josiah off. He purely hated being scolded. It wasn’t like when a man started taking after him. He’d just slug the guy till he shut up, and that would solve everything.

  Clay didn’t know much about women, but his gut told him that wouldn’t work worth spit with Sophie. Sophie was a soft little thing, and he liked holding her close at night, so he didn’t want her mad.

  But mad she was, and he took it to heart, especially when the three older girls, Beth carrying Laura, gave their ma a fearful look and dashed into their bedroom.

  “What’s the matter with the sheriff? He’s a good man.”

  “Good man?” She turned back to her dishes. Clay hoped the plates survived her temper. He hoped he did.

  “He’s a low-down scoundrel! He accused Cliff of being a horse thief, refused to chase after the posse that hung him, and asked me to marry him, all in the same breath!”

  A woman could sure get upset over the least little thing.

  “Now, darlin’, don’t get all fussed about that.”

  “Fussed! About a man calling Cliff a horse thief,” Sophie stormed. “I will never stand by and listen to talk like that!”

  Clay carefully reached for his hat, hoping Sophie wouldn’t notice he was planning to run for it. She was fuming at him with her back mostly turned, only peering over her shoulder once in a while to scorch him with a furious look.

  Clay tried to placate her. “After all, the man had a job to do, Sophie darlin’, and what man wouldn’t want you to marry him?” There, a little flattery. Wasn’t that what women wanted?

  In case it wasn’t, because more often than not he guessed wrong, he slid the hat off the peg and hid it a mite behind his back. He got a firm grip on the doorknob. “And he’s been right nice about the herd. He told me I could round the cattle up and sell them. And if the Meads show up, I have to turn the money over, but I can take out cash to pay for feed and time and the like.”

  He inched the door open, lifting, mindful of the squeaky hinges if he didn’t. “And since the Meads seemed to have quit the country, it figures the animals are mine until someone tells me different.”

  Sophie whirled around, but Clay was too fast for her. He swung the door shut and was all the way across the yard at a fast walk—only a coward would actually run from a woman—before he heard the cabin door open. He ducked around the corner of the barn.

  He caught up a horse and rode out to check a few more cattle, careful to keep the barn between him and the cabin until he’d covered a lot of ground.

  Sophie went back to wiping the dishes with a fine fury riding her, when suddenly she remembered the parson’s words. She almost dropped the plate. “Oh, Lord, help me.”

  “What’s the matter, Ma?” Beth came in from outside and settled in the rocking chair t
o soothe Laura into a nap.

  “I made a promise to myself this morning. And I’ve already broken it.” Sophie frowned down at the churned-up dishwater.

  “Ma, you’ve told us never to break a promise. And you promised you’d never break one,” Sally said fearfully from the doorway.

  Sophie was almost sorry she’d spoken out loud. But she was also determined to be honest. “My promise was to try and be loving to everyone, just like the parson said. I don’t think I was very nice to the sheriff, and I’m sure I wasn’t nice to Pa.”

  “I couldn’t tell you were mean to Sheriff Everett.” Mandy brought up the rear. The most practical of the bunch, the girl usually let time pass when tempers flared. “I didn’t even think of such a thing until you started hollering at Pa.”

  “In my heart, I wasn’t a bit nice to the sheriff. And I’m pretty sure God counts what’s in your heart just as much as how you act.”

  “That don’t seem fair.” Sally took the washcloth from Sophie’s idle hand and wiped the cleared but still messy table off. “You oughta get some credit for controlling yourself.”

  Sophie fervently hoped she did.

  Beth, half asleep herself from the rocking with Laura, murmured, “Well, I reckon that’s what Jesus died for. So you could be forgiven for things like this.”

  Sophie looked at her very wise daughter and thought of what Jesus had said about having a childlike faith. She immediately felt better. “You’re right, Beth. I need to ask God to forgive me, and then I’m going to tell Clay I’m sorry and I’m going to start over. Even if I have to start over ten times a day, for the rest of my life, I’m going to keep at it. If Jesus died for us, we’d better be smart enough to accept the sacrifice He made.”

  Sally went to the window. Absently she said, “Might as well.”

  Sophie imagined she was looking for Clay to tag along after him. Sally loved him so much. All the girls did. And he’d done so much for them in the brief time since he’d come hunting Cliff. Sophie definitely didn’t want Clay to be upset with her.