Debra Holland (23 page)

Although I’m still not sure about the pigs.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Ant had some heavy thinking to do on the way back to Widow Murphy’s. After talking to the men last night, he’d learned that there were still some parcels of land available on the main street. There was also a small store, almost a shack, abandoned by the previous owner, which he could move into. The men he’d talked to agreed that if he wanted to use that store for a few months while he built a newspaper office there wouldn’t be anyone to pay rent to.

Should he go for broke? Sink his money into building an attractive brick office, with room to grow, and buying the latest printing equipment—the linotype. Or should he stay in the pokey building and buy some secondhand equipment—preserve some of his capital?

Permanence.
The very thought made his stomach churn. It was bad enough buying a house and a little land, but to pour his fortune into a newspaper meant he would be so committed to living in Sweetwater Springs there’d be no turning back.

And what to do with David while he set up an office and worked long hours to establish a newspaper? He could bring the boy with him, but then what? Later there’d be chores David could perform, sweeping, running errands, etc. But he’d have to learn to talk first. And the boy needed to learn to read, write, and cipher so he wouldn’t be too behind when school started.

Ant slumped in the saddle, feeling weary.

On the outskirts of town, he straightened. Seeing the mercantile in the distance, he headed Shadow in that direction. It wasn’t until the horse stopped in front of the store that Ant realized why he’d ridden here.

Harriet.
Ant wanted to talk to her, receive her wise counsel. He swung down from the horse and looped the reins over the hitching post.

Inside the store, Ant paused, grateful to be out of the sun. He inhaled the briny smell of pickles from the crock near the door and decided to buy one. He picked up the serving fork resting on top of the wooden lid. Then he lifted the lid of the crock to see pickles of various sizes packed in their briny liquid. He stabbed a large one and lifted it out, shaking it to get rid of the drips, and then dropped the pickle on a sheet of waxed paper. He folded the paper around it. Then he took the parcel to the counter to pay for it.

Cobb sat on a stool behind the counter, his normal taciturn self. In the hopes that Cobb would reveal where Harriet was without him having to ask, Ant made small talk over paying for the pickle.

“You missed a fine shindig Saturday night.”

Cobb’s red nose twitched.

“Good food, dancing, and conversing.”

The man scowled.

“I even saw your wife take a turn about the floor. Mighty light on her feet,” he commented.

Cobb’s face relaxed. “Met her at a dance,” he volunteered. “I couldn’t put two feet in a dance step without falling over myself. Made her laugh.”

Ant tried to keep a straight face at the picture his mind conjured up. He wondered what had happened to turn the light-footed woman who had laughed at a bumbling dancer into the dour, critical woman she was now. He thought of Emily and Isabella. Maybe the Cobbs also had hidden pain.

For a moment he felt some sympathy for the couple. Then he thought of how they treated Harriet and the feeling vanished. He knew plenty of people suffering afflictions and hardship who managed to remain kind and respectful to others, or at least polite.

“Miss Stanton didn’t dance, with her sore ankle and all.” Ant tried to keep his tone casual. “How is she doing today?”

“Well enough to go traipsing up the mountain to that Swensen family.”

“Alone?” Ant felt a stab of alarm at the thought.

“Na. Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Rodriguez and their girls went along.”
 

That’s right. Samantha Rodriguez had mentioned that she’d be away from the ranch part of the day, and the boys would be under the auspices of her housekeeper, which had been fine with him.

So much for talking to Harriet right away.

Ant nodded good-bye to the shopkeeper, and once outside, thought about what needed to be done next. He settled on buying a pony for David. Unlooping Shadow’s reins from the hitching post, he didn’t bother to mount up. Instead, he led the horse down the street to the livery stable, munching on the pickle and enjoying the tart taste while he walked.

Once inside the stable, Ant blinked in the dimmer light and saw Mack sitting on a hay bale mending a harness. At the end of the barn, Pepe mucked out a stall.

Mack looked up from his mending and gave him a nod. He studied Shadow, and apparently finding everything to his liking, bent to his task.

David’s old mule put his head over the stall door and brayed a greeting, and Ant rubbed the gray muzzle. Already the animal looked better. Whatever salve Mack had used on the sores had started to heal them, and the ribs, while still sticking out weren’t so prominent. Even the dull coat was brushed and the tail, what there was of it, combed out.

Ant led Shadow to the stall and was glad to see Pepe had already cleared out the soiled straw and added fresh feed and water. He unsaddled Shadow, took off the bridle, and began to brush him down.

The horse drank noisily, chomped on some hay. Once Ant finished with one side of Shadow, he started on the other. From where he stood, through the open stall door, he had a good view of Mack, and they were close enough to talk.

“I need to buy a pony for David.”

Mack looked up from his mending and cackled. “I’ve seen that young ’un of yours. He’s too big for a pony. Scrawny tike. Reckon that’s from his Pa starving him. But once you feed him, he’ll shoot up like a weed.” He looked Ant up and down. “Might not grow as tall as a pine tree, but big enough. That boy’ll need himself a horse.”

Ant blinked a few times, adjusting his thinking. His memory of David on his pony was so strong, he didn’t realize it was two years out of date. He thought back to seeing the boy stand next to Daniel Rodriguez and realized his nephew was tall for his age. And still probably behind in his growth like Mack said.

He rubbed his chin. “A horse then. You have one that’s suitable?”

Mack slowly shook his head. “Not at the moment. You need to talk to Sanders. The horses he raises are top of the line. Well broke, but with spirit.”

Ant sighed, adding a trip to the Sanders’ ranch to the list of things he needed to accomplish.

Mack held the harness up to a shaft of light, as if checking the stitching. “Sanders will probably be in town today or tomorrow. With that new place and the barrage of things his wife’s family sends out, there’s usually some letter to send off or parcels and boxes to pick up from the depot. I’ll let him know you’re lookin’ for him.”

“Much obliged,” Ant said, feeling relieved not to have to make the trip to the ranch today.

Mack returned to his mending.

Outside, Ant heard the approach of riders and happy girlish voices. Harriet called something to one of them. He couldn’t make out the words. With a traitorous lift of his heart, he set the brush down; he was practically finished anyway, and left the stall, closing the door behind him.

Outside, he saw a pack of ladies and girls, which on closer inspection proved to be three of each. He walked over to Harriet.

Mrs. Carter and Mrs. Rodriguez called greetings to him, which he returned.

Harriet gave him a smile that lit up her whole face and made something flutter in his stomach. She moved her leg, starting to dismount.

Ant went up to her and placed his hands around her waist, lifting her off the horse, and gently lowering her to the ground.

Cheeks pink, she thanked him.

“Your ankle all right?”

“Well enough.”

“I’m going out to the Rodriguez ranch to pick up David. I’ll rent a buggy from Mack Taylor. Will you come with me? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

Samantha Rodriguez had dismounted, and stood within earshot, holding onto the reins of her horse. “Do come, Harriet. You haven’t been to my ranch since that horrible day when the boys were in the caves, and the foals are adorable.”

Alarm prickled up Ant’s spine. He thought it had been safe to leave David with Daniel. “Caves?” He visualized losing David in a cave system. He must have looked alarmed because both women smiled.

Harriet laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s a long story, and those were extenuating circumstances. I’m confident the boys won’t go anywhere near the caves.”

Samantha nodded. “Let’s refresh ourselves at the Cobbs and water the horses. That will give you time, Mr. Gordon, to rent the buggy and harness the horses. Then we’ll be off.”

Behind them, Mack cleared his throat.

Ant turned to look at him.

Mack’s attention was directed toward the ladies. He swallowed, obviously uncomfortable. “I have a favor…” His voice trailed off, and he seemed to struggle for words.

“My daughter’s coming out to live with me.”

Pamela briefly touched the man’s arm. “Why Mack! I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

“Her ma died when she was five. I didn’t know what to do with a girl child on my own.” He looked away and rubbed his hand up and down his gray-bearded cheek. “Powerful pain to lose your wife. And my Constance looked just like her ma.”

Ant’s gut clenched.
Twice in one day!
He couldn’t look at Mack, remembering all too well the agony of loving a woman, of losing her….
 

“I came out here.” Mack jerked his head toward the stable. “Established the livery.”

Mrs. Rodriguez drew the blond girl to her side and kept a protective arm around her. “Did you ever see your daughter again?”

The man shook his head. “Write her at Christmas and her birthday, though. She writes back.”

The oldest Carter girl, who looked like her mother except with blue eyes, piped up. “How old is she?” Her tone indicated that she hoped for another friend her age.

“Twenty.”

The girl’s face fell.

“Had a fella, or so I thought. But nothing must of come of it. Anyway… she’ll be a fish out of water here. Used to big city life. Won’t know nobody, not even her own pa.”

Pamela gave the livery owner a warm smile that lent beauty to her plump, plain face. “We’ll take care of that.”

Harriet laid a reassuring hand on Mack’s arm. “We’ll give her a warm welcome, Mr. Taylor.”

His shoulders relaxed.

“When do you expect her?”

“Not sure. She’s got her aunt’s affairs to settle. Probably before winter.”

The women exchanged glances. Ant could feel unspoken female undercurrents that a mere male wouldn’t understand. They were probably making plans.

Mack thanked everyone and turned back to the barn, leading Brown Boy. He looked ten pounds lighter.

Glad to leave the ladies to their plans, Ant fell into step beside the man so he could make arrangements for the buggy. But he knew he only had a few minutes of a reprieve before he’d be diving into feminine conversation again.

* * *

One by one, the women and girls used the privy in the back of the mercantile and then went inside the kitchen to wash up. Although no one said anything, Harriet sensed everyone was glad the Cobbs were at work in the store. She offered them all a drink of water from the dipper by the pump, and then everyone trooped out again.

A horse was already harnessed to the faded black buggy.
 

Everyone but Harriet mounted their horses. The Carters waved good-bye and set out in the opposite direction.
 

Ant helped Harriet up into the black leather seat and handed her the reins to hold. Then he went around to the other side. When he climbed inside, his presence filled the buggy, even though he didn’t take up as much actual space as the Cobbs did when Harriet rode with them. He took the reins from her and flicked them to start the horses.

The buggy wheeled forward. The fringe hanging across the canopy of the buggy danced with the motion of the vehicle.

Samantha and Christine headed their horses along a faint track that was wide enough for the buggy. Ant followed them, but far enough behind to let the dust kicked up by their horses’ hooves settle to the ground.

Ant handled the reins with ease, and Harriet relaxed. During the first part of their journey, she recounted the trip to the Swensens. He was an attentive audience, listening intently, giving her quick side-glances, and nodding or grinning at the tale.

When she finished, he gave her a thoughtful glance. “Not that I had any doubt you’d find a way to finagle those girls into school...but you managed without causing a blow to Mrs. Swensen’s pride. Took a delicate, yet controlling, hand on the reins. Well done, Harriet.”

She blushed with pride.

“I have no doubt, with the education you provide your female students, they’re going to do fine in their lives. Make good wives. Or—”

“Doctors!”

He gave her his crooked grin, his eyebrow pulling up in the upside down
v
. “I was getting’ there,” he drawled. “Actually, I was going to say politicians. Your girls will probably become part of the suffrage movement when they grow up.”