Читать книгу The Courtship Of Izzy Mccree - Ruth Langan, Ruth Ryan Langan - Страница 7

The California-Nevada border, 1880

“How soon, driver?” Izzy poked her head out the window of the stage and shouted above the pounding hooves and creaking harness. The rushing wind tugged at her hat and would have whipped it loose if she hadn’t clamped a hand to it.

“I told ye. The name’s Boone. And ye’re already on Prescott land, ma’am.”

“I am?”

“Yes’m. Been on it for the last couple of miles. Should see the ranch house just over this next rise.”

Izzy dropped back to the hard seat and stared out the side window. Who would have thought? All this land belonged to Matthew Prescott. Though the countryside looked forbidding, with rocky fields climbing upward to high, snow-covered peaks, Izzy couldn’t help but be impressed. Her husband-to-be owned all this. She clasped her hands to her cheeks, which had suddenly become flushed.

Working quickly, she opened her satchel and removed a pair of shoes. They’d been too fine to wear, so she’d carried them all the way from Pennsylvania. Over three thousand miles she’d carried them. On the train. On a succession of stagecoaches. Handling them like a treasure. Though her traveling gown was soiled and coated with a layer of dust, and her hair beneath the fussy bonnet was windblown and tangled, her shoes were polished to a high shine.

She removed her scuffed boots and stuffed them into the satchel, then slipped her feet into the shoes and carefully laced them. And all the while she rehearsed the lines she’d been preparing.

Isabella McCree. Member of the First Pennsylvania Congregation. So pleased to make your acquaintance.

When she glanced up, she had her first view of the ranch house.

Her heart sank. It looked to be no more than a rough cabin surrounded by several equally rough outbuildings. The structures were dwarfed by the forested peaks of the Sierra Nevada rising up directly behind them.

The horses strained against the harness until they crested the hill. The ground leveled off, and they sped across a high meadow until they came to a shuddering halt at the cabin.

“Here you are, ma’am.” The grizzled driver leapt to the ground and yanked open the door to the stage.

Izzy handed him her satchel before stepping down. The new shoes were stiff and uncomfortable, but to her delight, her gait was sure and even. Money well spent, it would seem.

“I don’t see anyone, Boone.” She glanced uncertainly toward the door of the cabin. “Could Mr. Prescott have gone somewhere?”

The driver grinned, showing teeth stained brown with tobacco. “He’s out in the fields, I expect.” He handed her a packet of mail. “Haven’t been out this way in more’n six months. He’ll be happy to get this. Oh, and to see you of course, ma’am.”

He heaved himself up to the driver’s seat and caught the reins. With a crack of the whip, the horses lurched forward, hauling the stage in a wide turn. Within minutes the team and driver had disappeared below the tree line.

Izzy glanced uncertainly at the closed door. Though her journey had left her weary beyond belief, she didn’t think it would be right to let herself into a stranger’s cabin. And so she stood, hand lifted to shield her eyes from the thin autumn sun, staring at the distant hilltops.

Within minutes she spotted a figure on horseback coming at a brisk pace from the nearby woods. Running alongside was a baying hound. From the opposite direction came another horse and rider, racing through a stream. Several more hounds ran alongside. In the sunlight the water splashed out in a rainbow of color, making a dazzling display. But before she could admire the beauty of it, she heard barking directly behind her and a child’s voice.

“Well, I’ll be. Del, look. It’s a…lady.”

Izzy whirled to find herself facing three scruffy children. All were dressed in tattered britches and faded shirts with the sleeves rolled to their elbows. All had straggly hair cut in identical fashion, chopped just below the ears, falling in bangs that covered their eyebrows. The youngest had fine blond hair; the middle one had red gold; the tallest had coarse dark hair. Except for the similar haircuts and shabby clothes, they looked nothing alike. These couldn’t be Matthew’s children.

Circling her were a handful of hounds, sniffing at her ankles, yapping so loudly she knew it would be impossible to make her voice heard.

Still, she was determined to try. “Hello. I’m…”

Before she could continue, the two horsemen reined in their mounts and dropped to the ground, keeping their rifles trained on her. The younger of the two wore his pale yellow hair exactly like these three. The other one was taller by a head. It was difficult to tell what he looked like. Thick black hair hung below the collar of his shirt, and his cheeks and chin were covered by a bushy dark beard, masking his features.

The newly arrived dogs joined in the chorus of barking until their master gave a curt command. At once all the animals dropped to their bellies.

In the silence the older man’s voice seemed even more commanding. “My name’s Matt Prescott.”

“Yes. I know.” With a warm smile Izzy handed him the packet of mail. “The stage driver left these for you.” She then offered her hand. “I’m Izzy…” She nearly groaned aloud. All these miles and all these hours to prepare, and still the old hated name had almost slipped out without warning. “Isabella McCree.”

Instead of accepting her handshake, he pocketed the mail while keeping his rifle pointed at her. “I thought that was the stage I spotted in the distance. Why did Boone drop you here in the middle of my land?”

Her smile faded. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. I said my name is—”

“I heard you, Mrs. McCree. What I’d like to know is what you’re doing on my land, handing me my mail.”

“What I’m…?” She felt the heat rise to her cheeks. “It is Miss McCree. And I am here at your invitation, Matthew.”

At her use of his given name, he shot her a frigid look that had her taking a step back.

“Now, what’s that supposed to mean, woman?”

“I came in answer to your letter.” She could tell by the look on his face that none of this was making any sense to him. She sucked in a breath as the realization dawned. “Sweet salvation. You never got my reply to your letter?”

“Miss McCree, not only did I not get your reply, but I don’t have any idea what letter you’re talking about.”

“The letter you wrote seeking a wife.”

“A wife?” His voice thundered, and several of the hounds began to whimper.

She fumbled in her satchel. When she finally located the paper she’d been seeking, she waved it in front of his nose. “This letter addressed to the First Pennsylvania Congregation, seeking a good woman with the courage to make the journey to your home and assume the care of your family.”

He barely glanced at the words on the paper. “If this is some sort of joke, I fail to find the humor in it.” He lowered his rifle and turned away. Over his shoulder he called, “Children, get back to your chores. There’s still an hour or so of daylight.”

“But, Pa…” Aaron, the oldest boy, who stood nearly six feet, seemed torn between obeying his father and dealing with their visitor. “What about the lady?”

“She can go back where she came from.” Matt pulled himself into the saddle.

Izzy felt faint For a moment she trembled and feared that she might sink to her knees. Instead, she gathered her courage and found her voice. “That is impossible.”

Matt stared down at her from the back of his mount. “Why?”

“Because I spent everything I had to get here.”

He gave a savage oath, then caught himself when he saw his children watching in silence. He slid from the saddle and handed the reins to one of the boys. “Take our horses to the barn and unsaddle them, Benjamin.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy grabbed the reins and hurried away.

To the others Matt said sternly, “Take the lady’s things inside.”

While the two older ones carried her satchel between them, the youngest one raced ahead to open the cabin door.

Matt turned the full power of his glare on her. “Come along, Miss McCree. Let’s see if we can get to the bottom of this.”

Without waiting for her reply, he strode to the cabin, leaving her to follow behind. She entered the cabin, then paused just inside the door to stare around in dismay.

The floor was littered with assorted clothing, guns, dog bones and even chickens, hopping and strutting about, leaving a mess in their wake. The windows were layered with so much dust and grime the sunlight could barely filter through. The room smelled of animals, dung and rotted food.

“Del,” Matt snarled at his youngest. “You let the damned chickens in again. How many times have I told you about this?”

“But, Pa, if I don’t lock them up, the coyotes will get them while we’re off doing our chores.”

“Then lock them in the barn where they belong. You heard what I said. Not in the house.” He picked up a broom and sent the chickens squawking and leaping out the doorway. Then, with a sweep of his hand, he cleared the table of all the clutter.

“Aaron, Clement, as long as we can’t get any more work done, you may as well start supper.”

“Yes, sir.” The two boys began bustling around the cabin.

“Sit, Miss McCree.”

Izzy crossed the room, picking her way through the debris, and ran a hand over the rough wood of the chair before sitting. She watched in fascination while the oldest son removed a hunting knife from his belt, wiped it on his pants and began carving slices from a side of beef that had been roasting on a spit. Blood from the meat sizzled into the fire as he sliced, sending a cloud of steam toward the roof. His brother ladled liquid from a blackened pot hanging over the fire. And the youngest poured glasses of thick, clotted milk, handing one to her.

“Ah. Buttermilk.” Izzy took a long, grateful swallow. “I must confess I’m parched from my travels.”

But it wasn’t buttermilk. She nearly gagged as she realized that what she had swallowed was warm, curdled milk. For the space of a few seconds she feared that she would embarrass herself. But after several attempts, she finally managed to get it down, then prayed it would stay down.

When his fourth child returned from the barn, Matt called them all to the table.

Izzy stood. “Would you mind if I washed up first?”

They all looked at her in surprise. Without a word Matt poured water from a pitcher into a bowl and finally located a clean square of linen in a cupboard. Knowing they were all watching made Izzy awkward and clumsy. Her fingers fumbled as she removed her hat and set it aside. With quick, nervous movements she washed her hands, her arms and her face and patted them dry. That done, she made her way to the table and took a seat.

As they began reaching for the food, Izzy bowed her head and closed her eyes, then whispered a blessing.

“What’s she doing, Pa?” the youngest asked.

“Praying.” Matt paused a moment and waited until she opened her eyes before passing her a platter of beef.

“Why? Is she scared?”

“Little Bit, some people pray even when they aren’t scared,” the oldest boy said with authority.

“You’re lying, Aaron.” The youngest turned to Matt. “He’s lying, isn’t he, Pa?”

“No, Del. Some people pray even when they aren’t afraid. Toss me a biscuit.”

Izzy stared in surprise as the youngster tossed a biscuit across the table. Matt caught it and popped it into his mouth. “Hard as rocks,” he said after a couple of bites. “Clement, that’s the last time you make the biscuits.”

“Yes, sir.” Following his father’s lead, the boy ducked his head and continued to shovel food into his mouth.

While Matt and his children ate, the hounds circled the table, snapping up scraps tossed to them. Occasionally two or three of the dogs would get into a fight over a morsel, until Matt called out a warning. Then the animals would crouch and wait for the next scrap of meat. And the next fight.

The children behaved no better. They tossed biscuits among themselves. They stole meat from one another’s plates. Benjamin waited until Clement had his fork to his mouth, then nudged him roughly, causing Clement to miss his mouth entirely and spill his food down the front of his shirt. That brought a roar of laughter from the others.

Matt glanced at Izzy, who had pushed aside her plate. “Had enough, Miss McCree?”

“More than enough, I’m afraid.” She swallowed hot, bitter coffee in the hopes of washing away the foul taste of sour milk and meat that was barely cooked. Her plate was swimming with beef blood. The sight sickened her almost as much as the smell of the cabin and the complete lack of civilized behavior exhibited by its inhabitants.

“Good.” Matt leaned back, sipping his coffee, watching her over the rim of his cup. “Then I guess we can get to this other business. Where’s your home?”

“It was in Pennsylvania.”

Was. The word grated. “As I understand it, you came here thinking I needed a wife.”

“And your children needed a mother. That’s what your letter said.”

He clenched his teeth. “Let’s get one thing straight. I never wrote any damned letter.”

She folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t hold with swearing, Matthew.”

“Damn it.” He stood, nearly upending his chair. “Don’t call me Matthew.”

“Pa…” his oldest son began.

“Not now, Aaron.” Matt swung back to Izzy. “And don’t say I wrote a letter when I didn’t, woman.”

“Pa…”

Matt turned on him. “Didn’t I tell you not now?”

“Yes, sir.” The boy’s cheeks were suffused with color. He glanced at his father, then away. “But there’s something you ought to know.” He stared at a spot on the table and waited several beats before saying softly, “I wrote that letter.”

Everyone stared at him in complete silence.

Matt rounded the table to stand over him. “Say that again.”

“I…wrote the letter. But it was more’n a year ago, Pa. I figured, since I never heard, that it had been lost or something. Then I…” He shrugged. “I just forgot about it.”

Izzy’s eyes were wide with shock. Sweet salvation. She had made this long, hazardous trip at the whim of a boy.

Matt’s tone was low with fury. “Why the hell would you do such a thing, boy?”

Aaron pointed to the others around the table. “Look at us, Pa. With Ma gone, we don’t live much better’n the hogs. In fact, I think they live better’n us. Last time we went to town, folks were staring at us ‘cause our clothes were torn and dirty.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a little dirt. We’re ranchers, not fancy bankers.”

“It’s not just the dirt. Look at Little Bit here. She doesn’t even have any idea how to be a female.”

At that, Izzy had to stifle a gasp. The youngest was a girl? With her hair chopped off and in her brothers’ cast-off clothes, Izzy had just assumed…

“I figured if we had a woman around the place, we’d all be better off, Pa.”

Matt’s anger was growing with every word. “And what about me? Didn’t you think to talk this over with me before you did such a fool thing? Didn’t you think I’d mind?”

“I…” The boy looked away from his father’s accusing eyes. “I figured it didn’t much matter. You never smile anyway. You’re never happy anymore since Ma…” He swallowed, seeing the look of pain and rage that crossed Matt’s face. “But it’s not fair to the rest of us. It’s not our fault. We can’t do anything about Ma. But at least we can give Del a chance.”

Matt’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “When we’re through here, you go to the barn and prepare for a good tanning, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Choking back his anger, Matt strode to the fireplace and rolled a cigarette, then held a flaming stick to the tip and inhaled deeply. Those few precious minutes gave him time to compose himself. He turned, determined to remain calm and logical. “I’m sorry about this, Miss McCree. But as you can see, you’ve come here for nothing. Since the nearest town, Sutton’s Station, is almost twenty miles from here, I’m afraid you’ll have to spend the night. In the morning I’ll take you to town and you can catch the stage back home.”

“Back home? But I can’t…” The sour milk was forgotten. As was the fatigue she’d suffered only a short time ago. Now there was only panic. She pushed back her chair and faced him. “That is impossible. You see, I have no home to return to. I…sold all my worldly goods to get here. And the journey took all the money I had.”

He took a long, deep drag on his cigarette while he mentally uttered every rich, ripe oath he could think of. His mind reeled at the seriousness of the situation facing him. He had some money saved. But he’d hoped to buy Amos Truesdale’s bull. And there was the addition he’d planned for the cabin. And the seed he would need in the spring.

“Maybe she could just stay on, Pa…” Aaron began.

Matt rounded on his son. “We may live poor, but we aren’t trash. We have our honor. An unmarried lady doesn’t stay under my roof.”

“Then why can’t you just marry her?” he demanded.

“Because it isn’t right. She came here thinking we all wanted her. And the only one who did is you.”

“I don’t mind if you marry her, Pa.” Benjamin, closest in age to Aaron, stuck up, as always, for his older brother.

“Me, either,” Clement chimed in.

The youngest, Del, looked from one brother to the other, clearly influenced by everything they said and did. “If Aaron and Benjamin and Clement don’t mind, then I don’t, either. But she can’t turn me into no lady.”

“Well, I have something to say about all this, and I do mind.” Matt tossed his cigarette into the fire, then stomped out of the room, returning minutes later with a blanket over his arm. “I’ll sleep in the barn tonight, Miss McCree. You can have my bed. In the morning I’ll drive you to Sutton’s Station. I’ll give you what money I have. If that isn’t enough—” he shrugged “—you’ll have to take a job in town and earn the rest until you have enough to get back home.”

He turned to his oldest son. “I’ll see you in the barn, Aaron. As soon as you’ve checked out the herd.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The rest of you get on up to bed. Since I’ll have to miss a day’s chores to take Miss McCree to town tomorrow, you’ll have to take on mine as well as your own.”

“Yes, sir.” Seeing the fire in their father’s eyes, the children scurried to a crude ladder and escaped to a loft.

Matt yanked open the door and the hounds milled about, eager to follow their master. Aaron trailed behind.

When the door closed behind them, the cabin grew strangely silent. Izzy stood in the middle of the room, staring about with a dazed look. Apparently, though it was barely dusk, the children would do their father’s bidding and retire for the night. Perhaps it was just as well. At least now she could try to sort through what had just happened.

She thought about the letter that had arrived in their small town in Pennsylvania. It had been the object of ridicule, not only because of the crudely printed words, but also because folks agreed that no woman in her right mind would ever accept the invitation to live in such a wilderness. But the words had touched her. Had stayed with her through the long, cold winter. She had secretly memorized the address and had finally mustered up the courage to accept the challenge.

She sank down on a chair, biting back raw, bitter tears. Oh, the dreams she had spun. The plans she had made. She had seen herself greeted by a courtly gentleman, surrounded by his loving children. She had pictured herself presiding over a genteel household, cooking fine meals, sewing fancy clothes. She would rescue this lonely, helpless family, and they would forever bless her name.

She raised one foot and was horrified to see what was stuck to the brand-new sole. Oh, those hateful chickens. She got to her feet, frantically scraping her shoe against a rung of the chair. Was this why she had traveled three thousand miles? To live worse than hogs? To be tricked, humiliated and ultimately rejected?

Rejected. She brought her hands to her cheeks. That was the worst of all. The cold, cruel rejection by that hateful man.

Tears stung her eyes and she forced herself into action. Unless she plunged herself into some work right away, she would find herself wallowing in self-pity. And once she allowed that, there would be no stopping the flood.

Work had always been her refuge from the rejections she had suffered through the years. And there had been enough to last a lifetime. She blinked furiously, then decided to tackle the dishes. She would think about sleep later.