The Rancher's Courtship

“Sure, Papa, that’s a great idea,” she said. “And when we come back in, I think Mama’s got some lemonade, if Dan hasn’t drunk it already.” She rose and gestured for Amelia and Abigail to join her, and they seemed happy enough to do so, excitedly asking what color the kittens were, and how many, as they left the room.

She wished she could be a fly on the wall, so she could hear the dressing-down Jack Collier was about to get. Her father wasn’t one to suffer fools gladly.

Caroline stayed out in the shed with the girls and played with the kittens as long as she dared, purposely staying away from the parlor. Then they came inside via the kitchen door and found her mother working on supper.

“Jack’s agreed to spend the night with us, him and his girls,” her mother announced happily and beamed when the girls cheered.

Caroline stifled a snort. He’d “agreed,” as if he was bestowing a favor on them? Her mother didn’t know she had already invited them. But who was she to complain about something that obviously made her mother so happy? Mama had enjoyed helping Caroline cook special meals for Pete, and now she was clearly overjoyed at the prospect of having girls to spoil, at least for one night.

Caroline had found she was enjoying Abby and Amelia’s company, too. Was it because they looked so much like Pete? It was like seeing the children she and Pete might have had together, which made her confusingly happy and sad at the same time.

So she snapped beans and made corn bread while her mother plied the girls with lemonade and got them to talk about themselves.

The rain came at last, pounding on the tin roof with an intensity of a marching army, but neither girl seemed to notice.

Caroline didn’t hear any raised voices coming from the parlor, which she thought was a good sign. Of course, it could mean the two men had reached a stalemate, with Jack refusing to admit his idea of taking the girls on a trail drive was foolish beyond words, and her father glowering in silent disapproval.

The kitchen door was flung open and Dan burst in, dripping rainwater. “It’s comin’ a gully washer out there,” he announced. “What’s for supper? I’m hungry enough to eat an iron skillet.” Then he spotted the girls, who smiled at him from over their lemonade, and he headed for the table to meet the newcomers.

Caroline stepped between him and the twins. “A skillet is all you may have to eat unless you take those muddy, smelly boots off, Dan,” she told him tartly, pointing at the offending articles. “You can meet our guests after you go take them off outside.”

For once, he did as he was bid, without grousing at the sisterly reprimand, and was introduced when he returned. But the twins didn’t get much time to talk to him, for as soon as he learned the girls’ father planned to drive a herd to Montana, he dashed toward the parlor.

“Montana? Great stars an’ garters! Can I go, Ma?”

Caroline caught her brother by his collar. “Dan, you stay out here—Papa and Mr. Collier are talking.”

“Oh, let him go, Caroline. They’re probably done by now,” her mother said calmly, but as Dan wrenched free, she added, “And no, son, you may not go on a trail drive. You’re too young yet.”

An hour later, when they all sat down to supper together, her father and Jack seemed to be in perfect amity, much to Caroline’s mystification. If Jack had received a dressing-down, she couldn’t discern it from his relaxed, amiable manner as Dan pestered him with questions about cattle drives. And yet her father had looked so upset when he’d heard Jack’s plan…

As it turned out, her father had been biding his time. The twins and Dan ate quickly, then proclaimed themselves full. Once they’d been excused, so Dan could show the girls his collection of arrowheads, Caroline saw her father turn to Jack.

“You know, Jack, late in the year as it is, you won’t no more than get to the Panhandle with them beeves before the snow’s apt t’ start fallin’. And that’ll leave you in the Llano Estacado—the Staked Plains—right where the Antelope Comanches set up winter camp, so you don’t want to be lingerin’ around there, no sirree.”

He bit off a large chunk of his corn bread, buttered it and sat chewing while he waited for Jack’s response.

Jack took a sip of lemonade before he replied, his tone considering. “Oh, I was thinking we could get to Colorado or at least Kansas, depending on the trail we took.”

“It’s my opinion you wouldn’t,” her father said. “And you ought not to gamble with those girls of yours along.”

Caroline realized Papa and Jack Collier must not have even spoken about Jack’s plan when they’d been left alone. Her wily father must have spent the time speaking of some related topic like ranching in general, drawing Jack out, creating a relationship—“softening him up,” he’d call it—before broaching this difficult topic now, after Jack and his daughters had been treated to a delicious supper and were about to spend the night.

“Please, won’t you leave the girls with us?” her mother pleaded. “You could always send for them once you were settled, as you originally intended.”

To Caroline’s surprise, Jack’s only response was to look at her.

Was he waiting for Caroline to give permission before he agreed, since they’d had a confrontation? She was willing to bend, if it meant the girls would be left in safety with them. She said, “Please, Mr. Collier. We’d be happy to have them for as long as you need them to stay. Let them stay with us.”

Jack’s eyes were unreadable as he finished chewing before answering, but before he could do so, Caroline’s father spoke again.

“I’ve got a better idea than that. You don’t want to lose half your cattle to a pack of hungry Indians, even assuming they’d let you pass safely. Why not spend the winter here in Simpson Creek? You could stay with your girls that way, and set out in the spring, when you’d have the best chance of actually getting to Montana with your herd intact.”

That was obviously the last thing Jack Collier expected to hear, for he blinked and set down his fork. “And where would I keep a thousand head of ornery longhorns around here, Mr. Wallace?”

The fact that Jack hadn’t refused to consider her father’s suggestion surprised Caroline. Maybe he was beginning to see reason.

“There’s a ranch south a’ town that’s come vacant recently,” her father said. “The owner died.”

Caroline knew he was referring to the Waters place, next to her friends Nick and Milly Brookfield’s ranch. Old Mr. Waters had died in a Comanche attack two years back, while his nephew from the east, who had inherited it, had fallen victim to a murderous bunch of men bent on taking over the area this summer. The Comanches had damaged the ranch house badly, but the conspirators had finished the job, burning it to the ground, along with the Simpson Creek church.

“No buildings on it just now, but you and your men had reckoned on camping out anyway. Seems to me it’d be a perfect place for you to stay the winter, then make a fresh start in the spring,” Mr. Wallace went on. “The bank is trustee for the property, since the heir back east wants no part of it.”

“And they’d be willing for us to keep the herd there for the winter? How much would they want as rent?”

“Probably not much—maybe even nothing. If you and your cowboys built a cabin there, you’d have a dry, warm roof over your heads, and your cattle would have a place to stay.” Her father spread his hands. “Sounds like a perfect solution to me.”

Well, it didn’t sound perfect to Caroline. She’d liked the idea of keeping Jack’s appealing children till he sent for them, but the prospect of having the man himself anywhere near, a man who looked like Pete but could never be Pete, rankled. Besides, she hadn’t forgotten that Jack had taken back the ring Pete had given her. And there was a disturbing feeling of attraction she’d felt instantly for him, the same attraction that had led her to blurt out during their confrontation at the schoolhouse that he was handsome.

Now as she felt his gaze swing toward her, she turned to stare out the window, lowering her hand below the table so he wouldn’t see her touching the empty space on her finger where the ring had been.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jack scratch his chin. “I dunno… .”

“It wouldn’t hurt for you to talk to the bank president, see what the terms would be,” her father said reasonably.

None of them had heard the twins creep back into the room until they exploded around their father, jumping and shrieking.

“Papa, do it! Stay on that ranch!”

“Yeah, Papa, then you wouldn’t have to travel in cold weather!”

“I don’t know, girls… .”

It was the most reasonable plan, Caroline thought with irritation. Was Jack too proud, or pigheaded, to see it? Why was he hesitating?

“I’ll have to think on it, Punkins,” he said, gathering them into his arms and kissing each on the tops of their heads.

Her throat tightened. He was obviously an affectionate father who cared for his children. How could he love them yet be willing to either expose them to danger on the trail or leave them for months on end? They were excited to have him stay nearby now, but wasn’t that postponing what would be a painful separation in the spring? Why had he sold the ranch in south Texas?

She burned with questions, but held her tongue. As a result, the evening passed pleasantly enough, with Dan agreeably playing games with the twins while Jack and her father sat reminiscing about the war years, her mother knitting and Caroline sitting silently, listening. As an older man, her father had joined the home guard, rather than the regular army, and had spent the war protecting Texans against the depredations of the Indians. Jack had served with General Hood, rising to the rank of major before the war was over.

When the clock struck nine, her mother rose. “Girls, let’s arrange your beds on the summer porch. We can make up your father’s bed there, too. I’ll put out some quilts, but it’s still plenty warm at night, so you’ll be comfortable.”

Abigail and Amelia followed her eagerly, and Caroline guessed they found it a treat not to be sleeping out in the open for a change. The rain had stopped, but the ground would surely have been muddy.

“I’m tired. Reckon I’ll turn in,” her father said, yawning as he stood up. “You, too, Dan, since you have to be at the livery at sunrise.”

Caroline stared after her father, wishing she could call him back. What could he be thinking, leaving me alone with this man? Can’t he sense the distrust between Jack and me? She didn’t want to admit, even to herself, the feeling of attraction that lay between them, too. She should have gone with her mother and the girls to help make up the beds on the porch, but it was too late. If she left to do that now, she’d obviously be fleeing Jack’s presence, and Caroline wasn’t about to let it look that way.

Jack watched her father and brother go. Then, when the sound of their doors closing echoed in the parlor, he turned to Caroline.

“Can we call a truce, Miss Caroline?” he asked, the lamplight flickering on his face.

“I…I wasn’t aware we were at war,” she said stiffly, unable to meet those blue eyes that reminded her so achingly of Pete’s.

He uttered a soft sound that might have been a barely stifled snort of disbelief, but he didn’t call her a liar, at least. “Please, Miss Caroline, for the sake of the man we both loved?”

Oh, unfair, she thought, to invoke your brother. But since he had, how could she disagree?

“Very well, Mr. Collier, in memory of Pete.”

“Please call me Jack. Mr. Collier was our father,” he said, as if that wasn’t a complimentary comparison. “And I have an olive branch of sorts to extend to you.” He reached into his shirt pocket, brought out the pearl ring and held it out to her. “Please, take this back and keep it with my blessing. It was wrong of me to take it. Pete would have wanted you to keep it, so…so that’s what I want, too.”

“But…shouldn’t it stay in the family?” she asked, wanting to do the right thing, the self-sacrificing thing. “For your girls?” For you to give the woman you will marry?

“I want you to have it.”

Something flickered in the depths of those blue eyes, and she wondered what he was thinking. She reached out and took the ring, finding it still warm from his body. Her hand shook a little as she slipped it back on her finger. “Thank you, M— Jack.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling in approval.

She decided to test this moment of amity. “So…what are you going to do, Jack? About your daughters, and the cattle drive?” she asked, hoping the question wasn’t pushing him too hard.

“Said I was going to think about it, didn’t I?” he said, but his tone indicated he was amused rather than offended by her persistence.

She refused to be buffaloed by him. “You’ve already decided, I think.”

He rubbed his chin again. “I’m going to leave the girls here, for sure. I reckon it only makes good sense,” he admitted. “And I thought I’d talk to the bank president in the morning, and see what the terms would be, if we wintered on that ranch your pa spoke of.”

Even though they’d achieved a sort of peace, Caroline knew it wouldn’t be easy being around him. But aloud she said, “You’re making a wise decision, Jack. Papa wouldn’t steer you wrong.”

He held up a hand. “Now, hold your horses, Teacher. It’s all going to depend on what the banker says. And if I like his terms, I’ve still got to ride out to where the herd’s bedded down and talk that bunch of misfits that call themselves drovers into helping me build a bunkhouse where we can spend the winter. Cowboys are an independent lot, you know. They might not at all be willing to stay, especially if it means doing some hard work between now and cold weather.”

She fought to stifle a smile. There was something about the way he called his men misfits that told Caroline the bond between them went deep. And she didn’t want to admit, even to herself, how much she’d liked the way he called her “Teacher.” Her pupils called her that sometimes, but it felt different, somehow, when this man said it.

As soon as she thought it, she felt guilty, as if she were cheating on Pete. No. She’d lost the love of her life, and she was done with romance and marriage. And even if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t give the time of day to a man who would leave for Montana. She wouldn’t be left behind again.

Her mother returned just then, with the twins skipping ahead of her.

“Come see our beds, Papa! They’re oh-so-cozy!” one of them—Abby?—called.

“Yeah, we’ll be snug as bugs in a rug, Aunt Mary says,” the other one added, pulling on her father’s hand. “Come see.”

Aunt Mary? Caroline darted a glance at Jack, wondering if he would object to the name. After all, there was no real relationship between her mother and these two girls, any more than there was between them and herself.

“I hope you don’t mind if they call me that, Jack,” her mother said. “Mrs. Wallace just seems so formal.”

Jack shook his head. “Not a bit, ma’am. Good night, ladies.” His gaze lingered on Caroline, leaving her feeling decidedly unsettled.

Chapter Four

The scent of frying bacon led Jack to the kitchen the next morning where he was surprised to see the twins already freshly scrubbed and sitting at the table, digging into bacon and biscuits.

Caroline sat at the table, too, and raised her head as he entered. She looked clear-eyed and neat as a pin but once again was dressed in black. The hue looked impossibly severe on her, he thought. In spite of the unflattering dress, she was a lovely woman, with her glossy brown hair and large expressive eyes. He had no trouble understanding why his brother had fallen in love with her.

He wondered when she planned to give up wearing mourning. Surely she didn’t expect to wear black for Pete forever, even if she grieved inwardly for him? He couldn’t help imagining what she’d look like wearing some hue like deep green or gold. But some other man would have the pleasure of seeing her wearing colors again, and that man wouldn’t be a rancher with a weathered face and mud, or worse, on his boots. A woman of her education and refinement would pick another safe sort of husband who worked in the town, as Pete had. A shopkeeper or a preacher, perhaps.

“Good morning, Papa,” the twins chorused, catching sight of him.

“Morning, girls.” They looked neat and tidy, too, he noted. Amelia’s hem now was free of stains, and Abigail’s sleeve had been mended. Their hair was neatly braided.

He hadn’t even heard his daughters get up—which was natural, he supposed, considering how long he’d lain awake last night thinking about Pete. He’d shed some tears, too, but quietly, letting them leak soundlessly out of his eyes and soak into the pillow, lest he wake the girls.

They’d talked about Pete, before falling asleep, and though the girls were sad about the loss of their uncle, they hadn’t grown up with Pete as he had. Pete had been working in Houston in a druggist’s store by the time they were old enough to remember. He’d made it home to the ranch in Goliad County only a few times a year. In time their uncle would become a distant memory to his daughters, Jack knew. But he would always remember the older brother he’d idolized, the one with all the “book learnin’” their father seemed to prize so much. Jack had always disappointed the old man, even though he, not Pete, had been the one to follow in his father’s rancher footsteps.

“Good morning, Jack,” Mrs. Wallace said from the stove, where she was turning flapjacks. “I hope you slept well.”

“Sure was nicer than sleeping on the hard ground, ma’am,” he admitted, not about to let on how long into the night he had lain awake.

Caroline took a sip of coffee, then cleared her throat. “Why don’t you let Abby and Amelia go to school with me today, since you’re going to be busy going to the bank and out to talk to your men?”

Abby looked excited at the prospect. “Please, Papa, can we?”

“Yes, please? I love school,” Amelia added.

“How do you know, Punkin? So far you’ve only seen recess,” Jack teased. But he felt a surge of guilt, thinking of how slapdash their rearing had been thus far. They were only six, true, but with their mother gone, he’d been too busy around the ranch to teach them the things that children properly learned at their mothers’ knees. Things that prepared them to learn in school. He didn’t want them growing up ignorant of their letters and sums and history and such. Even wives and mothers needed to know these things. Would there be a school in Montana, when he got there?

“Yes, you can go with Miss Caroline,” he told them, and they clapped. “But you mind what she says,” he added quickly. “Make me proud.”

“We will, Papa,” Amelia promised, and Abby nodded. Both girls bounced happily in their chairs. “Hooray! We’re goin’ to school!”

“Then you’d better finish up,” Caroline told them. “The teacher has to be there earlier than anyone to ring the school bell. If you’re done with your breakfast in five minutes, you may take turns ringing it.”

Immediately they attacked what was left of their meal with enthusiasm.

Evidently done eating, Caroline brought a plate of flapjacks, bacon and biscuits to the table and set it in front of him, then refilled his coffee cup.

“Thank you, Miss Caroline,” Jack said. Silence reigned, broken only by the clink of forks on crockery plates, and he fell to musing about his situation. What would Pete have done, if their situations had been reversed?

Then he realized Mr. Wallace had said something to him while his thoughts wandered. “Pardon me, sir? Guess I’m not fully awake yet.”

Mr. Wallace looked faintly amused. “That’s all right, Jack. Drink some more of that strong coffee. Caroline makes it so strong a horseshoe will float in it. I was just saying that Caroline tells us you’ve decided to take my advice and talk to the bank president about the Waters ranch,” Mr. Wallace said.

Jack glanced at Caroline, who was smart enough to look down just then—so he couldn’t see the satisfaction shining in her eyes, he guessed. “I’ll see what the man has to say,” Jack said noncommittally. “And whether my men are willing to stay on here.”

“You’ll find Henry Avery a reasonable soul,” Mr. Wallace said. “But it probably wouldn’t hurt to tell him I suggested it.”

“I will, sir, much obliged.” It could only add to his respectability to have the postmaster, a longtime resident, vouch for him. Mr. Wallace had told him yesterday afternoon that the town had held Pete in great esteem, but Jack knew drovers had a reputation everywhere for being wild and irresponsible.

Jack was thankful Mr. Avery wouldn’t be aware he’d considered pressing north with his herd and his children even with winter coming soon. The more he thought about it now, the more harebrained the idea seemed. What had he been thinking? It was a good thing Caroline and her parents had talked him out of it.

“Time to go,” Caroline announced to the twins. They jumped up, and she scooped up her poke. The slates rattled inside as she did so, and Jack wondered when she’d had time to look at them. Had she sat up, reading her students’ work by lamplight, after he and the girls had gone off to bed?

The twins jumped to their feet and dashed over to kiss him. “Bye, Papa,” they chorused.

“We’ll see you later, Jack,” Caroline said. “Good luck with your trip to the bank.”

“Bank doesn’t open till nine, young man,” Mrs. Wallace told him. “You might as well have another round of flapjacks.”

“Don’t mind if I do, thank you,” he said, sure these were better than any flapjacks Cookie had ever made. He thought about asking for the recipe, then realized there’d be no forgiveness from his cook if Jack suggested his pancakes were less than perfect already. Then, to fill the silence, he asked, “Does your daughter like teaching?”

“Seems to,” Mr. Wallace said.

“Yes, she needed something to occupy herself,” Mrs. Wallace said, as she plunked the coffeepot back on top of the stove. “She was devastated when your brother died during the influenza outbreak, Jack. We were worried she’d—well, we used to call it ‘going into a decline,’ back before the war. For a while we thought she was going to die of a broken heart.”

Jack’s own heart ached at the thought of Caroline’s grief hitting her so hard that she’d almost died of it. He remembered how he’d felt when his own wife had passed away—bewildered, helpless, but so busy keeping the chores done while trying to console his very young children who had lost their mother that he’d had little time to cry.

It had only been at night, when the ranch house was quiet, that he’d had time to lie awake and mourn for his young wife. He remembered he hadn’t slept much for about half a year, until his body eventually tired from sleep deprivation and his sleep became heavy and dreamless.

Was love really worth it if the loss of a mate could wreck a body like that? Yet he missed being married, missed the softness and tenderness of a woman.

Mr. Wallace rose, muttering that it was time to open the post office, and went through the door in the kitchen that connected their house to it. Mrs. Wallace came to the table with a small helping of bacon and eggs, finally sitting down to break her own fast now that everyone else was fed. He hated to leave her at the table by herself, and since his pocket watch indicated it was still only half-past eight, he decided to keep her company.

“When Pete left Houston, he wrote me that he was coming to Simpson Creek to meet the ladies of ‘the Spinsters’ Club,’” Jack began, thinking he’d satisfy his curiosity and make conversation at the same time.

Mrs. Wallace smiled. “Yes, they started out calling it ‘the Simpson Creek Society for the Promotion of Marriage,’ but that didn’t last too long. They’re really something, those girls. When the war ended, and the only men who managed to return home to Simpson Creek were the married men, Milly Matthews decided she didn’t want to be an old maid and organized the others who felt likewise into a club. Well, sir, they put an advertisement in the Houston newspaper inviting marriage-minded bachelors to come meet them, and the men began coming, singly and in groups. First one to get married was Milly herself, to a British fellow, Nick Brookfield. In fact, if you do spend the winter on the ranch, they’ll be your neighbors. Then her sister Sarah met her match, the new doctor, and Caroline would have been the third, except for the influenza…” Her face sobered, and she looked down.