Providence (24 page)

“Yes, and doing a right good job
with it, too. He bought old man Huckaby out, and Michael is the proprietor
now,” Greta said with a note of pride in her voice.

“You must miss him, being so far
away,” Kate said wistfully, wondering how she would respond when the time came
for Jo to leave her.

“Oh, I do, but he’s a grown man
now, making his own way. He never did like the farm life much, but he’s found
his calling in town.”

“So, who did he marry? Anyone I
know?”

 “Oh, no, she seems a right
nice girl, though. She’s from down south of here, little town called Rush
Springs. I’ve only met her once. She’s tall, quiet -- stately I guess you’d
call it, but she takes real good care of my Michael, and that’s a good thing.”
Greta said.

“Hello, everyone!” Martha breezed
in, depositing a crate filled with food on the already laden table. “I’ve sent
the men on up to get a job done, and I’m ready to work. Where do I start, Mrs.
Insley?”

“Well, it’s about time somebody
was ready to work around here, rather than jest stand around jawing all
morning!” Nana replied, handing Martha an apron and a pan of beans to snap.

“Oh, guess we’ve been caught
out,” Greta said with a twinkle in her eye. “What do you want us to do?”

“I’ll need that big table set in
the yard, but you’re in no shape to be totin’ that.”

“Greta, why don’t you snap these
beans? Martha and I can see to the table,” Kate decided, taking the pan and
apron and handing them to Greta.

“Hey! How come I have to do the
hard work?” Martha protested laughingly.

 “Well, I could give you the
dish rag, but it looks like Kathy has that well under control,” Kate retorted.
The pretty blonde girl blushed and ducked her head back to the dishes piled
before her. “C’mon, let’s get that done before the real heat sets in.”

They headed out to the yard,
where they were met by the Kelly’s wagon pulling in. Jim Kelly rode to the
corrals, while Lila and Ruth pitched in to help prepare the lunch.

***

“Kate, were you expecting anyone
else today?” Martha asked setting the heavy clay pitcher down on the table.

Kate glanced up, following
Martha’s gaze to see two riders coming in from the main road. Frowning, she
placed the pies she was carrying in the center of the table, and wiped her hands
on her apron as she watched their approach. Worry began to gnaw at her as she
recognized the bay colt and the man riding him. What was Matt Johnson doing
here?

“I’ll be in the house if you need
me, Kate,” Martha said, watching the men.

“Don’t go far.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Will you tell Jake they’re here
before you go in?”

“Of course.” Martha hurried off
in the direction of the roasting pit.

“Matt,” Kate greeted him as they
drew closer.

“Kate, I heard you were branding
today. I’ve come to offer my assistance.” Matt Johnson dismounted smoothly.
Dropping the reins, he took Kate’s hand and kissed it warmly.

“Matt, I think we need to talk.”

 “Of course we do, so many
plans to make, so much to do,” he smiled at her. “I fear I have been quite
remiss in coming to call over the past weeks, but then neither of us are in our
first bloom of love, ours will be a marriage of convenience and maturity, will
it not?” His hazel eyes shone with a possessive light as he put an arm about
her waist, steering her toward the garden.

“Matt, I...” Kate began to
protest.

“Dick, you head up to the corrals
to lend a hand. I’ll be along shortly.”

Kate’s heart froze at the mention
of the name. She looked at the man now riding away from her. He was small,
nondescript, wearing a dark jacket even in this heat, and riding a roan horse.

“So, my dear, have you considered
a date yet? Perhaps September might be a good month for a small wedding.”

“No!” his question brought her
attention abruptly back to him. “I
-
I mean, no, I
haven’t thought about it. Matt, I can’t
B
“

 “Oh, that’s all right. I
fully understand, what with spring planting, calving, and now the branding, of
course you haven’t had the time to think about it.” He turned to her, “That’s why
I’ve made arrangements with Reverend Watterston in Guthrie. I thought I’d leave
the exact date up to you, but do make it in September. I’m having the house
there redecorated. You can begin moving your things up there anytime you wish.
I’m sure you’ll be relieved to get away from all this drudgery out here.”

Her heart sank. She dropped her
gaze to the ground, searching for the words to make him understand. “Matt, I
can’t marry you.”

“Don’t be silly, of course you
can. A woman cannot manage a ranch like this alone.” His voice was hard, his
grip tightened about her. “Right now, I’m going out to oversee the branding.
When I return, we’ll announce the happy news to all our friends here.” He
tilted her head up to meet his eyes, “I really don’t think you have any choice,
do you?” The veiled threat sent a chill through her and she shivered in spite
of the heat.

***

Luke focused on a small brown and
white calf. He could feel the powerful black horse beneath him tense as Raven
picked up the calf and began cutting him slowly from the herd. Luke marveled at
the natural talent and ability of the horse. The calf ducked back and tried to
turn, Luke grabbed the saddle horn and held on as the stallion’s lightning
quick moves mirrored the calf, moving him away from the herd and toward the
branding fires.

Jim Kelly sat on his sorrel
gelding with his lariat loosely coiled, ready to rope the calf as he ran past.
Once roped and down, one of the boys quickly tied his legs while a second brought
the hot iron to sear the Providence brand onto the left hip. Bert Hanneman
worked deftly with a sharp knife to castrate the bull calf.

 Luke’s ears rang with the
bawling of calves, snorting irate cows, and the shouts of men at the fires and
on horseback. The acrid stench of burnt hair and hide mixed with the coppery
scent of blood permeated the air, and the dust boiled, settling in thick layers
on man and beast alike.

Luke rode over to the corral
fence where Jonathan waited with a canteen of fresh spring water. Taking off
his hat, he wiped a dusty arm across his brow.

“Give me that, will you?” Luke
asked shortly.

“Sure thing,” Jon replied. “It’s
not too cold, but it’s wet enough.”

“Right now, that’s all that
counts,” Luke said, taking a long drink. He felt the water slide down his
parched throat and was thankful for the cooling refreshment it provided.

“Someone’s coming,” Jon said,
indicating a lone figure approaching the far corral.

Luke watched for a moment
unconcerned, until a flash of memory pictured a roan horse through a thicket of
green shrubbery. Taking a closer look, he recognized the dark coat and the
rifle holstered on the saddle.

“Mike, take over the cutting here
for a minute, would you?” Luke called. At a wave from Mike, he handed his reins
to Jonathan, “Stay here.”

Luke approached the stranger,
eyeing him warily. “Can I help you?”

 The man sat stiffly in the
saddle, returning Luke’s gaze with lazy, indolent eyes. “Just here to lend a
hand,” came the drawled reply, though he made no move to work.

“Roping or branding?” Luke asked,
keeping his voice steady.

“Believe I’ll wait till the boss
gets here. See where he wants me working.”

“The boss?”

“You know, Matt Johnson, man
who’s marryin’ old lady Shaughnessey. He’ll be takin’ over here and callin’ the
shots ‘fore too long,” the man said obviously baiting and watching for Luke’s
reaction as he began to dismount.

The bald-faced statement hit Luke
like a gut punch. Marrying Kate? Why hadn’t she said anything? A blind rage
overcame him as he grabbed the man by the shoulder, jerking him roughly from
the saddle. “What are you talking about?” he asked through clenched teeth.

The stranger winced in pain as
Luke’s hand clamped down. Realization swept through him. He pulled the jacket
and shirt back roughly, exposing a crudely bandaged shoulder. “Do you want to
explain that,” Luke asked harshly.

A small knot of men had gathered,
watching the confrontation from a short distance. “And while you’re at it, you
might try explaining what you were doing on this ranch shooting at the owner
and me a few days ago,” Luke raised his voice. A murmur ran through the
gathered men.

 “I don’t know what you’re
talking about,” the man countered, trying in vain to escape Luke’s iron grasp.

“What’s going on here,” a sharp
voice commanded their attention.

Luke turned to meet hazel eyes
glowing with hatred beneath the low brim of a dark hat.

“That’s what I’d like to know,”
Luke answered, undaunted. “This man took a few shots at us earlier this week.
Trouble is, I shot back, and there’s the evidence.”

“Dick, what’s the meaning of
this?” Matt turned to the cowering man.

“But, boss, you know...” he began
feebly, faltering under the baleful gaze.

“If you’re back to your rustling,
Dick, I have no further use for you.” Matt said, his eyes never leaving the man
still held firmly in Luke’s unyielding grip.

“But, Mr. Johnson...” Dick
started to protest.

“Get on your horse and get out of
here. If I ever set eyes on you again, I’ll have the law out so fast you won’t
know what happened.” Matt spoke harshly, but something in his demeanor caught
Luke’s attention, making him wonder at the validity of the words.

 Dick West grabbed the reins
of his horse and mounted, glaring at Luke, and casting a questioning glance at
his erstwhile employer. At a subtle nod from Johnson, West turned the horse,
spurring him harshly, he disappeared quickly over the rise.

Luke could hear the men muttering
among themselves.

“...not enough law in this
territory.”

“Only the federal marshals... too
few and far between.”

“That's why we need statehood, we
need organized government to run this country right.”

“Well, it ain't likely to happen
any time soon, and you know it.”

Luke caught snippets of the
conversation, but his attention was focused on Matt Johnson.

“You must be Josey,” Matt said,
his eyes narrowed.

Luke remained silent barely
acknowledging the statement.

“I believe the show's over men.
You'd best get back to work. Those cattle aren't going to brand themselves.”
Matt Johnson spoke in a commanding tone, yet the men remained, looking to Luke
for direction.

Luke's gaze locked on Johnson,
unwavering. “He's right, men, Kate needs a job done. Let's get it finished.”

***

Kate stood silently, her heart
filled with loathing as she watched Matt Johnson ride away. Fear crept through
her stealthily. What had he meant by saying she had no choice? Her mind raced,
searching for answers. Overcome by the shock, she turned and fled up the path
to the lone willow grove, collapsing in tears at the secluded cemetery.

“Lord, oh Lord, what am I going
to do?” she prayed. “I can't marry him, I can't, I won't!” she grew desperate,
fear building within her until she felt as though it was pouring forth from her
soul in great waves of anguish. Her heart raced, her breathing became labored.

“I will love thee, O Lord, my
strength. The Lord is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my
strength, in whom I will trust,” she repeated the familiar Psalm again and
again until the words brought a peace to her heart.

Sighing, she sat up and wiped the
tear stains from her face. Kate knew that the strength to face Johnson would
come only through her faith.

“Help, momma, somebody please
help me!” Jo's plaintive wail reached Kate's ears borne on the breeze beginning
to stir the still heat of the day.

“Oh, Lord, what now?” Kate cried,
racing toward the yard.

***

“Kate, there you are!” Martha
called. “Come quickly, it’s Jo.”

“What is it? What’s happened? Is
she all right?” Kate scanned the yard looking for her daughter.

“She’s up there, ma’am,” came a
timid voice.

 Kate glanced down into the
terrified face of Jeremy Hall. He was pointing to the windmill. Shading her
eyes with one hand, Kate could just make out the small form of her daughter
clinging desperately to the wooden framing, her blue dress billowing in the
light breeze.

“Jake’s gone to fetch Luke.”
Martha said.

Kate picked up her skirts and ran
to the base of the windmill tower, followed closely by Martha and Jeremy.
Several women and children were already gathered there, some calling
encouragements to the stranded girl, others wringing their hands.

Nana stood apart, hands firmly
planted on her hips, “What were you thinking, Jolene Rose Shaughnessey?” she
scolded. “How could you have done such a thing?”