by Jenna Brandt
Margaret marveled at her husband’s ability. She could hardly believe that this horse before her was the same one that Cort had bought only four days ago—completely wild.
She had to admit he had a gift, a special touch that she had never seen anyone else possess. Rather than break the horse’s spirit, he bent the stallion’s will to match his own. She was even a little envious of how natural it came to him.
After a few more minutes of Cort giving various signals with the rope, Margaret noticed a slight tightening in his wrist as he slowed the stallion down to a trot, then a canter, and finally a dead stop.
He approached the horse and began to pat him down while speaking soft words Margaret could not make out. She interrupted, saying, “I want to be involved with the horses, Cort. I can do it when the baby is napping and we can also take turns working out here. I think it is time I start being a part of our dreams for this place.”
Cort turned his head quickly, startled to have company. Henry had started school a month earlier.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I would love you to work with me. These horses belong to you as much as they do to me.”
Margaret gave him a grateful smile and looked longingly at the horse. One of her secret hopes in coming to the Americas was being able to break a wild horse. She had never seen one and had only heard stories. Yet there stood one—most possibly the most beautiful horse she had ever seen.
He had faultless lines and markings. He was absolutely perfect… and that meant he was perfect for Charlie. He would be the perfect horse to sire a colt for her. But first, he had to be completely broken.
“Could I?” She pointed to herself and then the horse.
He paused a moment, appearing worried, then motioned her over to the gate. “Sure, come on in. I will give you your first lesson in breaking horses.”
Margaret entered the corral nervously. It had seemed like a good idea before she had actually gone in, but now the impressive beast loomed right before her and she was not quite sure she could hold her ground with the wild stallion.
Reading her doubts, he said, “Do not worry, Margaret. I am right here and I have broken plenty of horses. I will not let anything happen to you.”
He gently put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around so that her back fit into the curve of his body. Taking her hand in his own, he put it up to the horse’s nose, allowing him to take in her scent and lack of fear or threat.
After a few seconds, Cort put the rope in his wife’s hand and led her to the middle of the corral, the rope tightening as they went.
And then Margaret became part of the dance. She felt the power move between her and the stallion as the wind whipped through her hair. She felt the firm guidance of her husband behind her—supporting her, yet allowing her to take control as they turned in circles. And Margaret felt peace for the first time in a long time as she danced the dance.
The months flew by as Margaret and Cort worked with the horses, and peace and love began to flow more freely from Margaret.
Charlie was with foal, the father being the wild stallion they had broken—named Two Rifles after what Cort traded the Indians for him.
It was Charlotte’s first birthday and no set of parents could be bursting with more parental pride than Randall and Jackie. They had decided to throw a party in honor of the occasion, and Margaret was running late getting everything ready to leave for the celebration.
She yelled down the hall to Henry’s room, “Henry, darling, hurry up. We do not want to be late. Aunt Jackie will be very unsettled if we do not get there on time.”
She heard the scuttle of feet rush down the hall and then witnessed a blurring streak pass by, heading straight for the door.
“Stop. Turn.” Margaret commanded, waiting to go over her son’s appearance. He braked and, with an annoyed spin, twisted around, fidgeting while waiting for his mother’s inspection.
As she took in his appearance, she noted the dress pants she had made him only two months before were now barely passable for social occasions, scarcely reaching the top of his shoes. He was growing so fast, and though he was only approaching his sixth birthday, and had been relatively small when he was younger, he had grown nearly three inches in a matter of mere months.
Henry’s growth spurts were also affecting his shirts, his current one being no exception, only just managing to touch his wrists when his arms were fully extended. Luckily, his shoes were holding out, since Margaret had purposely bought them a size too big, using socks to compensate for the size difference until they fit.
“All right, you look presentable.” He gave her a large grin and started to turn away, but Margaret said, “Hold one moment, please.”
She covered the distance between them and licked her fingers lightly, using them to comb his hair into place. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “Hold out your hands.”
Reluctantly, he put out his hands, but with the fingers bent at the end. Margaret knew that trick from her brother when they had been little.
“Extend your fingers all the way.”
Grudgingly, he obeyed, and Margaret recognized the unmistakable dirt under his fingernails.
“Oh no, you do not. You are not going over there with your hands looking like that. Go wash them up before we leave.”
“Ahhh, Mother, I—” Recently, Henry had taken from calling her “mama” to “mother.” Though to most, the change would be small, to her it was one more sign her son was growing up.
“Do not ‘Mother’ me. Go wash up.”
Knowing how far he could push his mother before she got angry, he unenthusiastically made his way to the washbasin by the kitchen.
Realizing that Cort had not yet made it in from the corral, Margaret stepped out onto the porch and scanned the terrain for him. Where was that man? He always seemed to get preoccupied with his work and would accidentally neglect their social engagements.
She spotted him rushing toward the homestead. He gave her a small smile as he walked in. “I am sorry I am not ready to go, but I was trying to familiarize Chester with one of the new mares.”
As he strode past her through the doorway, Margaret was inundated with the masculine smell of leather and sweat—the essential elements she associated with a man—and she was quickly taken over by a deep desire to touch him, to reach out and pull him near.
But as quickly as it came, it passed, and Margaret was left feeling a sudden pang of loss. She wanted to smell him again, to feel the quick moment of intimacy—so uncomplicated by their normal reactions of hesitancies and expectation when they were alone.
She followed him to the back room, stopping only momentarily to tell Henry to go hitch up the wagon.
Margaret entered the room, catching Cort in the act of undressing. Hurrying to try to change his shirt quickly, Cort did not notice Margaret at the door watching.
She studied him while he unbuttoned his shirt and took in his truly mannish form. He was handsome, but not like the men she had known in Europe. His body was hard and tough from working outdoors.
As he worked at putting on his fresh shirt, his muscles moved fluidly underneath his steady hands.
Margaret moved toward him. She did not know what came over her, but suddenly, she found herself sliding in between her husband and the dresser.
Startled by her sudden appearance and close proximity, Cort took in a deep breath and held it. He stammered out, “W-what are you doing?”
Not knowing how to answer, she realized she did not want to answer. Instead, she leaned up and took possession of his lips with her own.
At first, Cort stood there, rooted to the spot by shock. But after a moment’s hesitation, he reached down and gently placed his hand on the side of her cheek. He slipped his other arm around her waist and drew her close.
Margaret leaned into his touch, clinging to her sheer need for him. Nothing else mattered but letting him know how much she loved him.
Cort brushed her hair back and tu
cked it behind her ear gently. “I love you, Margaret.”
“I love you too.” Then she winked, adding, “Now hurry up and kiss me again.”
Chapter 20
They arrived at the celebration a half hour late. But once Jackie saw the smile on her best friend’s face, no rebukes followed. Instead, when Jackie was able to find a few free moments, she pulled Margaret into her bedroom, away from the other guests. “So tell me, chéri, what happened between the two of you? I do so know that smile.”
Margaret knew she exuded happiness and was ecstatic to tell her friend why. “Oh, Jackie, it was so wonderful.” Her eyebrows shot up in excitement. “I think Cort and I finally turned a corner.”
Jackie smiled. “I am so glad to hear that, chéri. We are lucky to have the men we do.” Astutely, Jackie added, “You know the reason why both Randy and Cort put their wives first, do you not?”
Margaret’s eyebrows came together in a line of puzzlement. “I have no idea.”
“It is simple, chéri. God’s love made them that way. Both Randy and Cort manifest God’s love in all they do. They know only through allowing God’s love to flow through them can they truly be the best husbands and fathers. I have seen such a profound change in Randy since he has come to know the Lord. He no longer uses the pleasures of this world to fill the void in his life.”
“That is true. My father was a wonderful example of Godly love.”
Jackie nodded. “You told me about your father and how he was a wonderful father. He actively sought God in his life, did he not?”
“Yes, my father read his Bible, prayed twice a day, went to church—everything a Christian is supposed to do.”
“You see, he had the example of Christ as well, and I suspect he most likely was a marvelous husband when your mother was alive.”
“Yes, he most definitely was that. Everyone said so.”
Jackie asserted, “Perfect love only comes from a fountainhead of perfect love. God is that fountainhead, and only He can give us the capability to love perfectly.”
“Jackie, my dear sister, I love that we can have these conversations now. I feel even more close to you because we finally share the same faith.”
Margaret’s favorite moment of Charlotte’s first birthday celebration was when she took a piece of cake and smashed it in her father’s face when he bent down to kiss her after singing “Happy Birthday.” The look of sheer astonishment on Randall’s face was priceless. Charlotte appeared angelic, with her golden blonde hair and violet eyes, but she was every bit as mischievous as her parents ever were in their prime.
Margaret and Cort decided to stay on after all the other guests left to help clean up. Randall, Cort, and Henry were cleaning outside while Margaret and Jackie cleaned inside.
“This was a nice celebration, but now Henry is going to want one for his sixth birthday next month and it, of course, is going to have to outdo this since he is older.”
Jackie laughed as she wiped dry a serving platter. “Well, you can count on me for all the advice and help you need.”
Henry interrupted their conversation, bringing in a half-full container of sugar, which had been placed outside for the drinks. Margaret watched as her son darted his head side to side, scanning the room, and then asked, “Aunt Jackie, where do you want me to set this?”
Jackie smiled at him. “Place it over on the table, but out of Charlotte’s reach.”
He nodded and put the sugar dish down, then ran out of the room with Margaret yelling to his retreating figure, “Do not run in the house. You know the rules apply everywhere.”
Jackie walked over to the pantry with the serving platter and disappeared into the tiny closet. From across the kitchen, Margaret heard a soft groan, followed by a gasp coming from the pantry. Worried, Margaret put down the glass she was cleaning and rushed toward pantry. She found Jackie bent down on one knee, doubled over in pain.
“What is the matter?”
“Nothing, I am all right.”
Jackie tried to stand up but was visibly shaking and quickly fell back down to her knee. Margaret put one of Jackie’s arms around her shoulder to support her sister-in-law’s weight, helping her over to the kitchen table.
Jackie sat in one of the breakfast nook chairs while Margaret dampened a fresh towel and then handed it to her.
“Are you going to tell me why you almost fainted a moment ago?”
“I just overexerted myself. We were going to tell you and Cort in a few weeks, because it is still so early.”
Margaret asked hesitantly, “What is too early?”
“To tell you about our new baby.”
She had not expected Jackie to announce she was pregnant with her second child, yet was happy to hear she would be having another niece or nephew.
“That’s fantastic,” Margaret replied with a smile.
“I know. We were not even trying.”
“So much has changed. I cannot believe all we have gone through. You both deserve to be happy,” Margaret stated.
“Are you wanting another?” Jackie inquired.
Margaret nodded. “I love being pregnant and would still love to give Cort a little boy.”
“Yes, well, it will happen soon enough. You have only been home for little less than a year, and Susan isn’t even one yet.”
Just as Margaret was about to reply, Randall, Cort, and Henry walked into the kitchen, each with a stack of plates.
“So Rand, when were you going to share your great news with your dear sister?” Margaret asked.
Randall shot his wife a look of surprise, then, after a moment’s hesitation, replied, “Why, it seems someone beat me to it. As it happens, I had planned to tell you tonight.”
“You were, were you, Randy? I thought we had discussed we were waiting,” Jackie said with irritation.
“No, you decided and informed me it was going to be that way. I, on the other hand, had every intention of telling my sister as soon as possible.”
“Randall, you very well know that is not true.”
“Truly? I daresay, I think you had better say that to keep me from whipping you,” Margaret teased.
“You? Whip me? I do not think so, my dear little sister.”
“Little… ha. By only three minutes.”
“All right, you three, enough quarreling. We can resume this later and place wagers on who will win the fight,” Cort baited. “But for now, will one of you tell Henry and me what the big news is that you are fighting over?”
Margaret shrugged, saying, “I think Randall and Jackie should be the ones to share it.”
Jackie nodded to her husband, deferring to him.
“Well, it seems that Jackie and I… are expecting a new baby.”
“That is great news. Congratulations to the both of you.”
Randall walked over to his wife and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. They made such a perfect couple with his dark hair and blue eyes set off by her strawberry blonde hair and smoldering green eyes. But what really made the picture complete was the look of sheer happiness and joy on both of their faces.
“I think we should be on our way. We have”—Margaret nodded to everyone and then put her attention back on her husband—“have an early morning tomorrow.”
“That is right.” Randall smacked the side of his head with the palm of his hand in jest. “I almost forgot tomorrow is Sunday. We have been so busy getting everything ready for today.” Randall shot Cort a charming grin—one that was a perfect match to the one Margaret used to use to get her way. “You would not mind giving a ride to your dear brother- and sister-in-law, now would you?”
“No, of course not. We will be by at half past seven to pick you up.”
Randall winked at his nephew. “If you are good, I will let you hold your cousin on the way.”
Trying to act the part of a man, Henry shrugged. “If it will help you out, Uncle Randy.”
“Well, if you do not want to…,” he said.
Henry
rushed to assure him. “No, I want to. Susan only wants to be held by mother.”
“Thanks, you are a big help. I do not see how I would get by without you—or your father, for that matter.”
“The pleasure is all ours. We love going to church with the lot of you,” Cort said, before they headed out the door to go home.
Chapter 21
Cort patted the neck of a full-term filly, saying, “It has been a hard few months, getting through the winter and making sure the mares don’t lose their foals. But it’s going to be worth it.”
Stepping out of the stall, he wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist, and led her out of the stables. They walked behind the structure and over to a nearby clearing where Cort sat, patting a spot on the grass next to him. Since they were both in work clothes, Margaret did not have to worry about getting dirty.
She joined her husband and sighed in contentment. “I have to say, I am quite pleased with the progress we have made. Not many horse breeders can say they have three new colts their first season, especially with the bloodlines we are sporting. We are doing a fine job rearing some horses around here.” The words sounded silly to Margaret’s ears as she said them. She had planned to speak like a horse rancher, but instead, the words felt foreign on her tongue.
Cort shook his head in amusement and tried to stifle a laugh, but he was unsuccessful. “What? What is so humorous, James Cortland Westcott?”
“Nothing,” he said, trying to keep himself from doubling over in laughter. “Nothing at all.”
She sniffed, pouting over the fact he was amused at her expense. “I swear, every now and then, you act such the opposite of your upbringing as an Englishman. Truly, at this moment, you seem the very brutish Yank cowboy I distaste so venomously.”
