“I don’t know yet, I—”
“Yes, he will. I know he loves to dance,” Berta Mae interjected.
“Good. I’ll see you there.” Belinda guided the horse and buggy down the road and out of sight.
Brady went back inside, and found his mother looking out the front window. He grabbed her and hugged her tightly.
“Since when did you become a matchmaker?”
“I could see you needed a little help. You know I won’t always be around and you’re going to need a wife to help take proper care of that baby.”
“While you may be right, I’d like to do my own picking, if you don’t mind.”
She pushed away and looked up at him. “It’s Molly, isn’t it? You’re still in love with Molly!”
“Ma, what did I just say?”
“Oh, it is.” She clapped her hands together. “I should have seen it right away. She’s the sweetest girl and will make you a good wife and mother for Marshall. I’m so excited!”
He thought for a moment she might float to the ceiling. She should mind her own business, but she wasn’t wrong. He was still in love with Molly. Somehow, he was going to have to get her to talk to him so he could convince her she loved him, too.
As promised, Brady arrived at the Butters’ Ranch one week to the day after he met with the owner. Molly met him at the door and led him upstairs to see her father.
“Papa and Cal are waiting for you.”
“Thanks.” He caught a glimpse of her as he entered the room. He could tell from her tightly clasped hands to the look in her eyes, she wanted him to tell her why he was here. That wasn’t up to him. Her father would divulge that information as he saw fit. He closed the door behind him.
“Ranger Forester, my foreman, Cal Harder.”
He shook hands with the foreman and said, “Call me Brady.”
“I’m Cal.”
Butters made an entry into a ledger. “What’s your cover story?”
“I came home to work on my parent’s homestead, and now that I have the kid, I need to supplement my income.”
“Sounds good,” Butters said.
“I’ve found it’s easier to go with as much truth as I can. Less to remember that way.”
“I’ll expect reports a couple of days a week, unless you need to get with me sooner, let Call know.” He closed the ledger and made eye contact. “Cal will take you to the bunkhouse and introduce you to the men.”
Brady knew at that point the meeting was over and followed Cal outside. The red barn, horse corral and bunkhouse were a short distance from the house yet far enough Molly kept a small garden without interference from the working part of the ranch.
“The hands are already out rounding up the cattle to be worked today. We’re branding the calves born this year. Do you want your Appaloosa or a ranch horse?”
“I’ll stick with my horse. I know which way she’s going move. There’re fewer surprises.”
They reached the barn first and Brady saw someone had brought Emma back here. She had been tied next to another horse also saddled and ready to ride.
Once they were in their saddles, Cal said, “It ain’t going to get any cooler. Let’s get at it!”
Chapter Seven
Molly watched Brady and Cal ride off toward the south pastures. She had hoped to talk to him when she found out he was coming to see her father, but he rode off before she had a chance to corner him. It seemed he was avoiding her. But why? She would try to understand if he had a wife. It wasn’t like he had promised her to be true or anything like that. She, on the other hand, had pledged herself to him at their first pretend marriage at the age of four.
As children, she and Brady had played cowboys, rustlers, and damsel in distress. Sometimes, his brother Jimmie would play and, of course he played the part of the sheriff and Brady had to play the bad guy. She had liked it better when Brady was the sheriff. She much preferred him to rescue her. But those days had been long gone for too long.
She turned toward the oven when she smelled the cake, she had put in to bake. She wanted to take a nice pound cake to Brady’s mother to welcome her home, because who didn’t like pound cake?
After taking a tray up to her father, she drove to the Forester Ranch. She knocked on the door and waited for Mrs. Forester to answer the door. She almost knocked again but heard a woman speaking in a soft, sing-song voice from another room. Then she saw her. Brady’s mother carrying a baby and her heart dropped to her toes.
“Molly, I was hoping to see you,” the woman said, smiling and pushing the screen door open. “How are you?”
“F-fine, Mrs. Forester,” she managed. “It’s nice to see you.”
“Come on in, Marshall and I were just about to have something cool to drink.”
Molly followed the woman, so familiar to her, into the kitchen as she had done so many times in the past. She hadn’t realized, until this moment, how much she had missed their talks. From skinned knees to bruised egos, Berta Mae Forester had always taken care of her as well as her own children. Now, she was going to introduce her to the woman Brady had taken for his wife.
“Have a seat dear.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Forester.” She put the cake on the table and then sat in one of the chairs. “I don’t want to take up your time, I can see you’re busy. I just wanted to welcome you back home.”
“You always were a sweet girl and now you’ve grown into a lovely young woman.” Joining Molly, she sat in a chair on the opposite side of the table with the baby in her lap.
“You said the baby’s name is Marshall?” Molly asked.
“Yes. I’m sorry, have you two not met?”
“No, not yet.”
“Well, Miss Molly Butters this is Marshall. Brady calls him Shorty, but I like his formal name.” Standing, she handed Marshall over to Molly. “Here y’all get acquainted while I fix us a glass of tea.”
Molly sat him in her lap to give him support. She looked closely but saw no resemblance to Brady. His hair was dark brown and had blue eyes, while the little one had light blonde hair and his eyes were brown. She guessed he must look like his mother.
“Can I help you, Mrs. Forester?”
“You sure can. I’d like you to call me, Berta Mae.”
Molly thought about that for a minute. Her own mother would never allow it. “It will be hard, but I’ll try.”
“Good!” Berta Mae set two glasses of tea on the table, then small plates, forks, and a knife. “I want to try a slice of this cake.” She removed the metal cover and cut into the dessert. “Oh, my goodness, it’s still warm, too.”
Marshall started to fuss a little, so Molly put him on her shoulder and began rocking slightly back and forth in the chair.
“Do you want me to put him in his crib?” Berta Mae asked.
“No, he’s fine. I don’t mind.” She took a sip of the cool, sweet tea, and wondered why Brady’s wife and mother of his son hadn’t come into the kitchen to meet her. She had convinced herself she could handle the meeting and now she had all this curiosity built up. She was going to have to ask. “Berta Mae?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Where is Brady’s wife? I had hoped to meet her today.”
The woman coughed and almost choked on her last bite of cake. Clearing her throat, she said, “Brady isn’t married.”
“What?” Molly jumped, startled by his mother’s statement. Marshall fussed at her sudden movement but settled right back down. “I thought with the baby and all, surely… but that’s why you’re here.”
“I assumed you knew, just like all the town does by now.”
“After I saw him with the baby, I purposely avoided talking to anyone except Sally. I guess I thought if I didn’t confront him or the situation, then it wouldn’t be true.” She seemed lighter, except for the weight of the sleeping little boy on her left shoulder. She kissed the creases and folds of his neck and hugged him tighter. Just because there was no wife in the picture didn’t mean there
wasn’t a mother somewhere. “How did Marshall come to be with him, then?”
“You should really talk to Brady, it’s his story to tell.”
“I think he might have tried, but I didn’t let him through the walls I put up.”
“Molly, you were simply trying to protect yourself.” Berta Mae tapped her chin and stared out the window, apparently deep in thought. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and she smiled. “Tell you what. I already have a chicken in the oven, we’ll put some green beans and potatoes on to boil. You’ll stay for supper and you two can talk after, uninterrupted.”
“That sounds nice, but I have to be home to fix Papa’s supper.” She felt the imaginary weight piling back on, bringing her down.
“I have it! Marshall and I will take a basket of food to your papa for his supper.” The woman smiled like she knew a secret. “Lloyd always did like my baked chicken. I’ll use your buggy, meaning Brady will have to bring you home giving y’all more time together.”
“Well, I—”
“Good, it’s settled. Go put Marshall in his crib, and you and I will peel potatoes and snap the green beans.”
“All right.”
Marshall stayed asleep when she put him to bed. Off to the side, lay a small handmade doll, which she laid next to him. She kissed her fingertips and lightly touched his head. She didn’t know how their talk would go, but at least they could clear the air between them.
***
The ride to the southern most pasture took slightly less than thirty minutes. By the time Brady and Cal reached the site, the hands were back at work branding this season’s calves.
They dismounted their horses next to the river, which at this time of year, with no rain, was little more than a trickle. But the horses would be able could get a drink to cool down. Brady led Emma to the rocky bank and then scooped water into his hat and poured the liquid over his head, face, and beard. The cool water gave him shivers as it ran down the middle of his back.
At the temporary corral, he met the men, Jake, Jason, Bobby, Lem, and Buster, a young kid from Wyoming. The last one he met, and the last one hired, was Charlie Weathers. Turned out he looked to be a fairly good worker. Something about him, though, made Brady uncomfortable. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
Cal untied his neckerchief, removed his hat, and wiped his face and the back of his neck with the already wet cloth. He wiped the inside band of his hat and replaced it on his head. He stuffed the neckerchief into his back pocket. “What do you think?”
“I think they work well together, and they work hard.” He jumped away when a spirited calf got lose and ran straight into the corral fence. “Do you suppose I could see the files you have on each one?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” he said. “I’ll get them for you when we’re finished here.”
“I appreciate it.” He climbed the fence and hopped onto the ground inside the enclosure. “Guess I’ll get to work so I look like I know what I’m doing.”
Brady walked over to the fire and motioned for the man take a break. Then when the next calf was in place, he picked up a branding iron and seared the Butters brand onto the calf’s right hip. In no time at all the calf ran out to join the rest of the cattle. He branded five or six others and about the time he thought his face might melt from standing close to the fire, Jake replaced him. After Jason roped the next one, Brady helped Lem wrangle the calf to the ground. That’s the way the rest of the afternoon went until they had branded the last one.
At the ranch, Brady picked up the files from Cal and headed to his own house. He saw the buggy parked out front and wondered who the dickens were here now. He was so tired his tired hurt and he didn’t look forward to pretending he wasn’t. He rode Emma to the barn, removed the saddle, fed and watered her, and gave her a good brushing. Then patted her rump and went to the house.
Outside the open kitchen window, he heard Marshall laugh. It was amazing to him how in a few days he could feel so tied to one little boy. He loved him so much. Whoever had him laughing obviously had a way with him, too. He stuck his head into the kitchen. His mother stood by the stove carving a chicken and Marshall laughed himself silly at… Molly, who had her hands firmly around his waist holding him upright on the table. She lifted his shirt and blew onto his stomach. That had to be the funniest because Marshall could barely catch his breath. If he had ever worried that Molly would like Shorty, that worry had been nixed.
“There you are!” Berta Mae wiped her hands on a towel laying beside the platter of chicken. She walked over to him and covered her nose with the towel. “Go clean up and change your clothes. You smell like the south end of a north bound cow!”
He glanced toward Molly as she giggled. The little boy had wrinkled his nose and made a face. “Shorty, not you, too?”
“See?” Berta Mae still had her nose covered. “Even that sweet little baby knows you stink. Now, get out of my kitchen!”
Brady admitted, once he got outside, he smelled pretty bad. Problem was, he needed clothes to change into. He shouted from the yard, “Hey, Ma? Throw me some pants and a shirt?”
Within a minute or two, the requested items came flying out the back door, along with his mother’s suggestion, “Don’t take too long. Molly worked hard on your dinner.”
Well, that’s an interesting development. Molly cooked dinner. He tried to recall if he had ever tasted Molly’s cooking, but nothing came to mind. The only thing he did remember was taking her to Hazelton’s General Store after he had saved the damsel and buying her a penny candy stick from the big glass jar. He had walked her home after that planning the next day. He also remembered the last time he bought her stick candy. She had been mad as a hornet because he wouldn’t let her rescue him. His argument that girls didn’t save boys went no where and she walked home alone.
He pulled up his pants and tucked in his shirt tail. On the way into the house he wondered how long Molly had carried a grudge over their disagreement. He might just ask her to see if he could rile her again. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Who knew? What he did know, he was glad she was here.
***
Molly cleared the table while Brady closed the barn. She heard the squeak of the screen door when he came into the kitchen, and she tossed him a towel over her shoulder. “Here, dry the dishes please.”
“You don’t think I worked today?”
“Of course, you did, but so did I and so did your mother.” She drew her hand from the dish pan and flicked soapy water in his face. With a grin, she said, “Now, get to it.”
He gave her a salute and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
They finished in short order with both working together. She spread the dish cloth and towel out on the counter to dry, and then led him into the living room.
“It’s stuffy inside, shall we sit on the porch for a while before you take me home?”
“Sure,” he agreed. “Maybe we can catch a breeze.”
“That would be nice.” She sat on the top step of the front porch and pulled her skirts closer to her when Brady sat beside her, resting his arms on his thighs. After sitting in silence for a few minutes, she said, “I hate to admit it, but I owe you an apology.”
“What for?”
“For not giving you the benefit of an explanation, for letting my imagination run away with me.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“I know, I’m still doing it.” Say what you mean and then he can take you home. “You see, last week, when you came back to town, I had the bright idea to come here, clean the house for you, and fix your supper. I came in the back door, like we always did as kids, and found the mess you had left. I started to clean up the water and wet towels, your clothes, and that’s when I found the baby clothes.
“You didn’t mention a wife and baby at the barn raising. I felt betrayed, first because you didn’t trust me enough to tell me and then, second, I had embarrassed myself by invading your privacy. When I saw you coming toward the house with the baby, I ran away as fast as I
could make the horse go.”
“I wanted to catch up with you, Molly, but I had to take care of Shorty.”
“I didn’t want to see you and had half-convinced myself I never wanted to see you again.” She leaned forward to hug her knees. “I didn’t find out until your mother told me today you aren’t married.”
“Nope, I never found anyone away from Sugar Springs that interested me.”
“I see.” Wasn’t that a curious way of putting it. She hesitated a fraction of a second, the said, “That still leaves Marshall and how you ended up with him.”
“Ma didn’t tell you?”
“No, she said that was your story to tell.”
Molly listened as he told her about finding the baby in a basket, on the porch. How finding the letter from Marshall’s mother, under the blankets, gave him information about Marshall’s birth and family. And finally, how the information also helped him, and the volunteers find the parents to give them a proper burial. She wanted to cry at the sad story but focused on the hope and faith instead.
“Martha Copeland was a strong and courageous woman.”
“Yes, she was.”
Molly concentrated on a single bright star. “I can’t imagine the courage she had to muster to leave her baby on a stranger’s doorstep. God guided her here.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely. Look how you’ve taken him in and all but adopted him. He’s very fortunate to have you as a father.”
“Thanks, Molly. That’s nice of you to say.”
“It’s easy to speak the truth.” What a load of malarkey. You can’t even tell him how you feel. “I’m glad you’re home, Brady.”
“Oddly enough, so am I. When I left out of here, I couldn’t wait to be gone.” He faced her leaning on the post railing. “The longer I was out there, seeing the rottenness of people, the more I longed to disassociate myself from the decline of people doing the right thing.
“After I was shot last winter, that sealed it for me. I made up my mind to come home and, if you’d have me, make you my wife.”
Brady (Bachelors and Babies Book 15) Page 6
