The Rancher (2 page)

Colorado, Spring 1876

“You can’t just ride into town in your mother’s wedding dress, Abby, and expect some man to marry you.” An incredulous snort accompanied Lily’s proclamation.

Abigail McCallister jerked her head toward her best friend and frowned.  She hit her gloves against her denims, pulled her hat a little lower on her head, and wiped her wrist across her chin, wet with perspiration.

“Well, it’s true.” Lily stepped up onto the wide bottom plank of the fence separating the two women.

Abby noted how Lily’s raven curls,pulled up onto her head, contrasteddramatically with the spring yellow of herdress.  She mused at the huge dissimilaritybetween the two of them.  Best friends all

their lives, nothing in common. Lily, as usual, was gussied up in a fancy dress and would be attending the Patterson’s tea party this afternoon.  Abby looked down at her own clothes, faded denims and work boots.   The last event she’d

attended, other than standing at the back of church most Sundays, was her mother’s funeral.

She tilted her head enough to see Lilyout of the corner of her eye.

Nothing alike
, she determined.

Abby leaned against the fence whereher friend had perched.  Avoiding Lily’s

eyes, she crossed her legs at the ankle and folded her arms.  With one deep breath she inhaled the fresh spring air.

She loved mornings on the ranch.  The sun had just risen over the countryside, framed by snow-capped mountain peaks.  It appeared as if an artist’s brush had swept pink and orange hues across an otherwise cloudless sky.

“True or not, it has to work.” Abby flipped her hand at a buzzing sound in her ear. “My pa’s not used to losing bets.  If I don’t find my own husband by the time the stage leaves on Friday, I have to be on it.”

“What about Alaric?” Lily’s question was simple enough, but Abby had not wanted to think about the boy who’d walked away from her nearly six years ago. His tall blond image had haunted her

dreams for far too long.  It was time to let it go, but the familiar knot in her stomach returned in protest.

“His promise expired a long time ago,” Abby said, blowing a lock of hair from her face. Normally, her curls stayed tucked up under the faded brown leather hat, but today, one stubborn strand fell in disarray at her temple.   She folded it behind her ear for the third time this morning.

“You don’t think he’ll come and whisk you away on his noble white steed?” Lily asked with dramatic flair.

“He said two years, Lily. It’s been almost six. He’s not coming.” She hoped her   tone  would   end  this   line   of conversation.

It did.  But Abby didn’t know if she

liked the new topic any better and she turned on the fence to watch the horses in

the corral.

“I can’t remember the last time you put on a proper dress.  I’ll bet most of the men in this town don’t even remember you’re a girl.”  Lily held on to the top fence plank and leaned back, her face aglow in the morning light.

Abby dropped her head with an exasperated sigh.

Snapping her head up quickly, as if she’d just had a sudden thought, Lily leaned in close to Abby’s ear and whispered, “Except for maybe Jeremiah Carson,” she giggled.

Abby’s gaze shot up.

“If you’re so set on getting a husband,” Lily said more loudly with teasing

laughter in her voice, “why don’t you just

ask him?".

A cloud of dust appeared a shortdistance down the road, rescuing Abbyfrom   a   reply.   Three   horsemenapproached.  She hoped they had the newstallion in tow.  Abby pushed away fromthe fence, scurried to the gate, and swungit  open  wide,   allowing  the   ridersunrestricted entrance.

“Your pa’s gonna whip you good if hesees you in them men’s britches again.”  The gruff old hand dismounted, shakinghis head and muttering under his breath.

Abby reached up to grab the front of herhat and tilted her chin downward to hide

the smile that threatened.  When he pulled the new horse around into Abby’s view, her breath caught in her throat and she

could contain it no longer.   Excitement welled inside of her until she could hardly breathe.

“Oh, Caleb,” she exclaimed, rubbing the horse’s neck and leaning into his long, slender nose, “he’s beautiful!”

Pulling away from the stallion she took in the horse’s strong features and ran her hand down the front of his nose.  She bent

toward him and blew into his face.  The horse shook his head and whinnied in

approval.

“What’s his na..,” she spun around, the words on her tongue, but stopped short when four faces, laced with quizzical expressions, stared back at her, “...name?” she finished.

“What in tarnation are you doing there, girly?” Caleb had taken off his hat and

scratched his head.

Abby looked into the faces of each of her observers with furrowed brows.  The tall redheaded boy, Davey, was new to the ranch and his freckled mouth hung wide open. Jim, one of the older hands at the SilverHawk, stood a might shorter than her own five feet five inches.  His nose scrunched   above   a   burley   orange mustache, his eyes bulging heavily from their sockets.  And then she glanced at Lily, whose eyebrows arched higher than Abby had ever seen them.

She looked back at the horse and

realized they didn’t know about the new technique   she’d   learned   from  their previous foreman.  “I overheard Jesse say that blowing gently into his face is the quickest way to teach him my scent.”

Each   of  their   faces   relaxed   inunderstanding. All except for Caleb, whoharrumphed. Jesse had been killed in a barroom fight just a few weeks ago.

“Well, get on with ya then.”   Calebreturned his hat to its place on top of hisslick graying head.  “He’ll be needin’ agood brushin’ and feedin’ before ya doany work with ‘im.” He waited longenough for Abby to nod, then turned hispaint gelding around and led him to thebunkhouse.

Abby smiled to herself.   She wasgrateful that the horse didn’t seem to beskittish or ornery.  They’d been careful totake all the mares out to the pasture to runand play while the new stallion wasintroduced to the ranch.

Abby reached down and gathered the

horse’s reins in her hand.  She leaned into him, nuzzling her cheek into his, and wrapped an arm under his neck in a welcoming embrace.  “Chester,” she said, hugging the willing horse close to her.  “We’ll call you Chester.”

“You sure do have a way with horses, Abby.” Lily came from behind and linked her yellow satin covered arm with hers.

Abby tried to pull away, worried about dirtying Lily’s dress, but her friend held firm.  Abby smiled.  With the reins still in her free hand, she led Chester into the stable, where a fresh stall awaited the newest addition to the SilverHawk ranch.

“It was my mother’s dream.” She pulled her arm from Lily’s to open the stall door and guide the beautiful stallion inside.  “To breed and train horses, I mean,” she

continued once the horse was settled.

“We all know how much she loved this

ranch. Do you still think about her a lot?”  Lily took the brush box off the metal post in the wall and handed it to Abby, who set it on the floor next to Chester.

“I know it’s silly.  It was a long time ago, but this… ” Abby looked out into the yard and around the ranch, “this was all she ever wanted.” Abby moved across the stable and loaded a tin bucket with oats.

She handed it to Lily, who stared at her indisbelief.

“And what, exactly, am I supposed to

do with this?” Lily asked with an upturned

nose.

Picking up a larger bucket near the stalldoor, Abby smirked at her inexperiencedfriend.  “Feed him, silly.  I’m going out to

pump some water for the trough.”

Abby had only gotten a few feet from the stable when a hair-raising scream reverberated off the walls of the stable

and into the courtyard.  Abby dropped her stick and both water pails, running back toward the stable.

Lily, crouched into the corner of thestall, had terror etched across her face.  She held the bucket of oats up to her chin,her eyes open wide and wet.  Chester’snostrils flared and he snorted heavily withapprehension.

Before Abby could see what hadevoked such fear in her friend and hadriled the horse, she heard it.   Only onecreature sounded like an innocent baby’stoy before lunging with its deadly strike.

She snapped her head toward the sound

and was greeted by a coiled rattlesnake flicking its forked tongue in the air, seemingly focused on the whimpering woman in the stall.  Slowly, Abby reached inside the stable door to the wall where

her papa’s old Winchester rested.   She removed it slowly from the sturdy nail bracket, careful and steady.

Boom.  The shot shook the rafters and

all of the horses, within the close confines of the stable, snorted and reared, pawing at the air.  Within moments men’s voices sounded from every direction.

Abby reached down, the rifle in one hand, and picked up the now headless serpent.  The width of its body required the use of both hands.   Abby laid the Winchester on the worktable and moved

to the open doorway.  A half a dozen men

ran toward her, mostly coming from the

bunkhouse and the barn.

“Miss Abby?” Davey was the first at the door, bent over, hands on his knees, attempting to catch his breath. He raised his head to look at her, his breaths coming in ragged heaves. “Is everything...” he swallowed, “all right?”

Abby shifted with the weight of the snake.   The buttons of the tail rattled together in reaction. Davey’s eyes opened wide.  He jerked up, board straight, and took one slow step backward.  Without warning,   Bert,   another  young  hand, plowed into him from behind, and they sprawled forward toward Abby and the dead rattler.

Abby dropped her shoulder as they came at her and the two men fell to the

stable floor, scrambling against each other for their footings. Abby stepped over them and out into the courtyard.

A short, curt whistle stopped the rest of the frenzy.   “Everything is fine,” she bellowed.  Holding up the snake’s lifeless body for all to see, she attempted to reassure them.  “It was just a rattler.”

“Yeah, one with seven buttons on its tail.” Davey emerged from under Abby’s

arm,  just  below   the   snake’s   once formidable rattle.  A low breathy whistle of his own followed his appraisal.

The other men, satisfied all was well, returned to their various chores about the ranch.

Abby smiled.  Davey looked down atthe snake and then back at Abby. Sheswore it was admiration playing with the

freckles on his face.  He tipped his hat, turned, and walked away, grabbing a reluctant Bert by the arm as he left.

Lily cleared her throat.  “Well, that was unpleasant.”  She stood up and brushed the skirt of her dress.  One hand moved to the back of her head, primping the loose tendrils at her nape. “Tell me again why on earth you like this type of work.”

Abby tossed the snake toward the muck pile and opened her mouth to respond.

“Now, that’s good eatin’.” Caleb spoke before she could. “I’d wager near four feet of prime meat.”

Lily nearly choked.  “Excuse me.  You are going to eat,” she looked toward the dead serpent, “that?”

Caleb used the handle of his shovel to

pick up the snake carcass.  “Why, sure,

missy. Haven’t had Rattlesnake stew since ol’ Broots left us to cook for the

Graysons’ last year.” He hung it over ahook near the door.

Abby rolled her eyes.   Satisfied Lilywas fine, she walked into the stall where Chester now appeared unaffected by thepotentially perilous display.  She roamedher hands over his flanks and up his neck,rubbing as she went.

Looking down into the freshly laidbedding, Abby noticed a small, torn pieceof black cloth protruding from the straw atthe edge of the stall.  She patted Chesteron the side of his neck and reached downto pick it up.

“What is it?” Lily asked.

Abby pulled at the cloth and freed alarge black linen knapsack. She couldn’t

think of a reason as to why it would be in the stall or where it had come from.  She

had prepared the room herself just a little over a half an hour ago and had not seen anyone else enter since she’d spread the straw on the floor.  Something didn’t feel right, but she dismissed the feeling as nerves from killing the snake.

“Nothin’.” Abby shoved the cloth into her back pocket.

Content all had returned to normal, Abby grabbed the bucket of oats from the spot Lily had dropped it and handed it to Caleb, who leaned against the stable entrance, picking at his teeth with a piece of straw. He took the bucket without a

word and pushed himself away from the

door.

Abby returned outside for the water

pails she’d left in the courtyard.

Lily followed.