Читать книгу A Ranch To Call Home - Carol Arens - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Two wagons were for sale in the livery. One was small and weathered. It would carry her home but would not work to transport all the goods she would need in order to set up housekeeping.

The other one was large and new. She smelled the freshly sawed wood the moment she walked into the livery. It would only take one trip to bring everything she needed. But it would require a pair of durable workhorses to pull it. Saffron, her sweet saddle mare, was not used to such hard work.

Laura Lee knew exactly how much money was in the pocket of her petticoat by the weight of it. It had gotten heavier, but only slightly, since she left the Lucky Clover Ranch.

Before Johnny came for her in Travers Ridge, she, along with Agatha Magee, had worked as cooks. First for a hotel that went bankrupt, then for a traveling circus.

Laura Lee had managed to collect her pay from the hotel owner, who was a good and decent woman. Sadly, the owner of the circus was neither good nor decent and still owed her a week’s wages.

If she had her way, she would have gone after him and pestered him until he paid, but Johnny had come for her, and what really mattered other than that?

Loving man that Johnny was, he thought their time would be better spent in a hotel room. Naturally, she’d reminded him that an even better use of time would be spent with a preacher.

Given that they were traveling together, and in constant company, he’d tried to convince her it was like being married. He vowed that he was as devoted to her as he would be when they were officially wed and that waiting was hard for a man. Especially when he loved a woman so. In the end, he’d accepted the wait. He even promised to replace the money the circus owner had cheated her of.

He had more than kept the promise. He’d bought her a house...and land! Even though she was not yet Mrs. Johnny Ruiz, she soon would be. Johnny would return, just like he swore he would.

Yes, it was disquieting to remember the look on his face when he rode away, like it was the dream of a lifetime to be running free.

When that image threatened to subdue her joy, all she had to do was remember the deed packed away in her trunk.

That piece of paper proved his vision for their future was the same as hers...to settle down in their own little home and raise babies.

A huge gray-and-brown dog wandered into the barn, distracting Laura Lee from her woolgathering. Bartholomew Rawlings, the liveryman, shooed it outside with the bristle end of a broom. He shook his head, sighed, then set the broom against the gate on the larger wagon.

She dearly wanted that one. Did she dare risk spending so much of her money on it? Johnny had been vague about how long he would be gone. What if a mortgage payment became due before he returned?

She would need an income in order to cover it.

Mending and washing laundry...she knew those skills with the best of them. But one needed clients before she could begin earning money that way. The only person she was acquainted with in Forget-Me-Not was Auntie June.

Besides that, she did not particularly enjoy mending and washing.

“You can’t beat this wagon, ma’am.” Mr. Rawlings gripped the large front wheel of the wagon, shook it to demonstrate how solid it was. Then he pointed a finger to a stall on the far side of the barn. “Whittle and Bride are only two years old but are already working well together. You couldn’t ask for a better bargain.”

Given that a bargain was only a bargain as long as one could afford it, Laura Lee nipped her bottom lip, silently watching the horses eating hay. As large as they were, there would be some expense in feeding them.

Still, the ranch had three hundred and twenty acres that would need tending, not the acre or two that she had envisioned.

“I wonder, Mr. Rawlings...does the town have a market day?”

“Oh, yes, it’s quite an event. Every other Friday, farmers come from all over to sell what they have. In the winter, the ladies gather in the library to sell their jarred goods.”

Farmers worked hard, built up strong appetites. Pastries and coffee would be welcome while they sold goods on market day, she imagined.

She could set up her own little booth. In her mind’s eye, she watched her business flourish. All over town, folks were eating her muffins and pies, happily sipping her freshly brewed coffee. In time, perhaps, people would seek her out to provide pastries for parties and festivals.

If she could satisfy the appetites of circus performers, surely she could do the same for the folks of Forget-Me-Not.

“This Friday or next?” The idea sent a shiver of excitement through her. She would earn a bit of money doing something she loved and the enterprise would keep her busy until Johnny returned.

“This. Only five days from now.”

“I’ll take the large wagon and the team, Mr. Rawlings. As long as you include their tack and load the wagon with a week’s worth of feed.”

She extended her hand to shake on the deal, hoping he would accept her conditions. If she had to buy the feed and the tack, she would not be able to purchase the other things she needed to begin life in her own sweet home. Especially now that she would need to invest a bit of her precious funds in her new business venture.

The liveryman stood with his hands in his pockets for a long moment, rocking back on the heels of his boots.

When she thought she might faint in anticipation of his answer, he reached out and accepted her hand.

The deal was made.

At this point, it would have broken her heart to be forced to purchase the smaller wagon. Once she’d made up her mind on a course, nothing else would do.

Just like when she’d realized she was in love with Johnny, she’d decided that they should be married and no other man would do.

With a skip in her step, she approached the horses. She stroked Bride’s brown nose, then Whittle’s black one. Because she had spent much of her life on the Lucky Clover Ranch, she felt comfortable around the large beasts.

Of course, the acres Johnny had given her were dwarfed by the vastness of the ranch she had grown to womanhood on. She carried deep attachments for those countless acres and for everyone who’d worked along with her to keep them running. For many people, living out their lives on the Lucky Clover where they had grown and raised their families was their dream.

That was not the case for Laura Lee. She needed a place to call her own. To know that come what may, it was her own spot on the earth to just...be.

When she was small, her father had a need to wander and was never happy to settle in one spot overlong. About the time Laura Lee would make a friend or feel secure in a new bed, she was dragged off on another “adventure.”

All she’d ever wanted was a place to call home.

Her toes were nearly dancing inside her boots because very soon she would be sitting in four snug walls that were her own. She would rise with the sun and plant a garden...and a peach tree so she could sit under its shade on a hot afternoon.

As much as she would miss the Lucky Clover, would even bring her children to visit one day, she now had a home of her own and her heart was bursting with the joy of it.

“You ready, Bride?” she asked, gazing into a large, gently blinking brown eye. “Time to go home.”

* * *

With Saffron tied to the back of the wagon, Laura Lee sat tall on the wood bench, her gloved hands gripping the team’s reins. As advertised, the horses got along well and were easy to handle.

Seeing a movement beside the wagon, she glanced down. The dog that Mr. Rawlings had chased from the barn trotted beside the wagon wheel. It glanced up, woofed quietly in greeting and wagged its long, fanlike tail.

She pulled the team up short.

“Go on back home.” She pointed toward the livery with her finger.

The dog plopped its hairy rump on the dirt, stirring up dust with its tail.

“Mr. Rawlings!” she called over her shoulder. Luckily the man was standing in the livery yard. “Your dog is following.”

He crossed the road, grinning. “I reckon I ought to have mentioned.” He clapped his palm on the wagon wheel. “The dog comes with the horses.”

“But I don’t need a dog.”

“Oh, he’s useful enough. With his size, coyotes and wolves won’t bother you much.”

“I’ve never been over bothered by the beasts as it is.”

“Haven’t heard of the great wolf migration three years this past February then, I reckon?”

To her knowledge, wolves did not migrate. She shook her head. What she wanted was for the dog to migrate back to the livery.

“The story goes that a fellow named Biggers, a newspaperman, was riding out on the frontier one day when he spotted thousands of animals on the lope. He was a curious fellow, given his occupation, and he went to investigate. Turned out to be wolves. Now, no one knows quite why they did it, mass exodus like that, but Biggers wasn’t the only one to report it. Supposedly it’s the truth.”

Supposedly might be a long stretch from the truth. He wanted to be rid of the dog was what she thought.

“Truth or not, I didn’t agree to purchase your dog.”

“The thing is, he’s not my dog. When I bought the horses, he came along. Followed me just like he’s following you.” Bartholomew Rawlings petted the dog between his ears. “I doubt you’ll be rid of him. But he’s a good boy for all he’s a hairy giant.”

“Go home,” she said to the dog since she was having no success getting the livery owner to keep him. “I can’t feed you.”

“Don’t trouble yourself over that, miss. He’s a hunter. It’s fair to say you won’t see a rat in your barn or a rabbit in your garden once he moves in.” Apparently Bartholomew considered the matter finished because he tipped his hat and walked away.

“What’s his name? How old is he?” If the animal really was not going to leave the horses, she ought to know that little bit about him.

“I believe he’s two, same as the team. Don’t know the name he started with since I was a mile from the auction when I noticed he was coming along. He’s been answering to ‘Hey, dog!’ for the last six months.”

The very last thing she needed was to be responsible for a nameless dog.

After another tip of his faded brown hat, the liveryman crossed the road and went inside his stable.

With any luck, while she was busy purchasing her goods, the dog would attach himself to someone else’s horses.

* * *

Glancing out the window of the general store, Laura Lee spotted the great beast. Not only had he not taken up with someone else, he looked quite content where he was...asleep on the four-foot-high pile of hay in the wagon.

Turning her attention to the task at hand, the last of many, she examined several bolts of lace with which to sew curtains.

An especially sweet one caught her eye, having hearts and flowers embroidered on a sheer fabric. It would be romantic for Johnny to see them hanging in the windows when he came riding home with the money to pay off the mortgage for the ranch. She only hoped she had time to sew them and hang them in the windows before he did.

The problem was, she didn’t know how much fabric she would need since she had no idea how many windows the house had. The one and only thing she knew about it was that her name was on the deed...the home belonged to her.

It might be a palace or a cozy cottage. The knowledge that she was only hours from seeing it for the first time left her breathless. Tearful emotion cramped her throat when she set the fabric bolt on the counter and told the clerk she wanted only half of it.

There was no sense in spending more than she needed to. She would be back in town on Friday for market day and could purchase more if her house turned out to have an abundance of windows.

In her mind, there were dozens. She’d always dreamed of a house with lots of windows for her to sit beside. There hadn’t been a time when she didn’t long for a cozy spot with a plump chair to watch the wind blow and the snow fall, to see heat roll off the ground in waves during the summer, peer through the glass when spring rains pelted the earth.

“This will be all, Mr. Teal.”

She’d been in the store for more than an hour. Her stash of money was going to feel a lot lighter going out than it had coming in.

“Are you sure you want to head out now? It’ll be dark in a few hours.”

“I’ve been waiting all my life for this house. I can’t wait a moment longer.”

“A woman on her own...it just doesn’t seem right or safe. Let me find a fellow to ride out with you. For the life of me, I can’t picture where your ranch is.”

“You and Auntie June are of a mind. And I thank you, but I’d rather do this on my own.” If she decided to weep for joy or dance around the parlor like a mad woman, she would rather do it privately. “At any rate, it appears I’m not on my own after all. I’ve been adopted by that big dog on the hay pile.”

She scooped up the fabric and walked toward the door because she really could not wait another moment.

Mr. Rawlings followed, carrying the crate of baking pans she had purchased. “You going to be warm enough in that coat? Nights turn cold this time of year.”

If Laura Lee hadn’t just met Mr. Rawlings, she would hug him. His concern for her seemed fatherly in a way she had never known.

Her own father might be alive and well somewhere in the vast world but she had no way of knowing since she hadn’t heard from him since she was twelve years old. He’d left her at the Lucky Clover Ranch because she had begged him to. He’d waved her goodbye and ridden away with a great smile on his face.

Same as Johnny had. The thought left her feeling uneasy.

George Quinn did love her in his own way. Just not as much as he loved his adventuresome way of life. Every once in a while, he had looked at her as though he was surprised to see her.

Oh, Laura Lee, he would say, as if she had just returned from a distant place. But really, the only place she had been was out of the sphere of his attention.

“I have a warmer one, Mr. Rawlings. In case it’s not enough, I’ll snuggle up to my hairy new companion.”

The storekeeper gave her a hand up into the wagon seat. Not that she needed the help. My word, she’d been climbing in and out of wagons on her own for as long as she could remember. Back on the Lucky Clover, she’d often driven wagons like this one for miles across open land, delivering food to the chuck wagons.

Even though it wasn’t needed, the helpful gesture did make her feel at home in Forget-Me-Not.

“Thank you,” she said, her smile down at him springing from a joyful heart. “I’ll see you on market day.”

Two hours later, Laura Lee was riding toward the sunset. On her right was a farmhouse with children playing in the yard. A woman stood on the porch of her white two-story home. When she saw Laura Lee, she waved her arm. A breeze snatched hundreds of fall leaves off the trees behind the house and blew them into the yard. The fading sunlight caught them, giving the appearance of golden rain drifting to the yard.

From what she understood, her own ranch was no more than an hour past this pretty place. Laura Lee waved back, certain that she would become fast friends with her neighbor.

With the sun setting and the land darkened, the earth seemed hushed, except for an occasional breeze that stirred the grass. It whispered through the trees growing in small groves on hillsides rolling away from both sides of the trail.

It was a clear night, so the stars shone as bright as a million candles. She breathed in a deep lungful of cold air, grateful that the moon also shone down to light her way home.

As fast as the temperature had fallen, she might have been shivering had Hey...Dog not come to sit beside her on the bench.

She hadn’t intended to have a dog. Would have refused him if she could have.

But now? She could not deny that he gave off a great deal of warmth, that his solid, hulking presence made her feel safer.

She leaned into him. The chill in her cheek melted when she snuggled against the fur on his shoulder. It was interesting that for such a huge fellow he did not have the unpleasant odor that some dogs had. She had to glance up to look into his face as he sat so tall beside her. He woofed softly and set his chin on top of her head. It was a relief to discover that his breath smelled as fresh as his fur.

Since sundown, she’d noticed coyotes standing on distant hilltops. They lifted their noses, sniffed the air, then vanished back among the trees. She could only guess that they scented a dog and hoped to find an easy dinner. One glance at Hey...Dog must have made them think again about who was going to be a meal.

As long as she did not cross paths with thousands of migrating wolves, she ought to pass the boundary of her land before much longer. There was no way of knowing where the house was. There were a lot of acres; it could be on any one of them. She might spot it in half an hour or two hours.

Forty minutes rolled past before she came upon a split rail fence that looked in good repair. She pulled the team to a halt.

“Here we are,” she said to the dog. “Home! I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had one of my very own.”

She stood up, stretched, then stepped up on the wagon bench to get a better view of the land. Acres stretched before her, sloping slightly downhill, which gave her an excellent view of large meadows surrounded by trees that, with sunrise, would be flushed with fall color.

Moonlight glinted off what she thought must be water, possibly a large stream gouging the shape of a question mark across her property.

This piece of paradise could not possibly be hers. And yet, thanks to a man who was devoted to her, it was. He’d borne the pain of separation to make sure the mortgage would be paid, so that no one could ever take her home from her.

For probably the fourth time today, her throat tightened with emotion. Joyful tears pricked at her eyes. Hey...Dog looked at her and whined, nudged her hip with his nose.

In the darkness, she still could not spot a house and she knew that the horses must need a rest.

“Come on, boy.” She ruffled the dusky colored fur growing between the pointed brown ears. It was odd that such a fierce-looking creature would have fur that felt like down feathers. “Let’s go for a stroll about.”

Now that the horses’ hooves were not plodding the dirt and the new wood of the wagon not creaking, she heard the sound of running water. So it had been a stream she spotted running through her land.

Climbing on the load at the back of the wagon, she rummaged through her spanking new goods until she found a water bucket.

“You thirsty, big fella? I reckon the horses could use a drink, too.”

Climbing down the spokes of the rear wheel, she realized she could use a drink as well. She followed the gurgling noise of the stream. Come summer, she would hear the soothing song of crickets and frogs, but now there was only the rush of water running icy cold.

“Here it is.”

She stooped and drew her coat tighter against the night. The air wasn’t freezing, but it might be before morning.

Glancing about at bushes that cast shifting shadows in the night breeze, she remembered how Mr. Rawlings thought it was dangerous for her to be out alone.

All at once, she was not sure he was wrong. Any kind of predator might have come to drink at the stream. As if to confirm that fear, a large shrub to her left rustled, and not with the wind.

The dog lifted his face from the water. Icy drops dripped from the fur on his chin. His growl was a low rumble in his deep chest.

The shrubbery went still. Suddenly a large shape burst from it, flying over the water in one graceful leap.

Hey...Dog bent his head and lapped once again, not bothering to watch the big cat race over the ridge of the hill.

She would be well and truly grateful to be within the safety of her own walls.

Some creatures owned the night. She was not of one of them.