Wyoming Wildfire (10 page)

“I’m Betty Crabtree, ma’am, and this is my husband, John” the young woman said, climbing down from the wagon and introducing herself to Sibyl. “We don’t plan to live in the country again. In fact, I don’t care if I never see another cow or pig as long as I live. John has promised to go back to his accounting job. He has a position in San Francisco if we can just get the money together to get there. Ned told us you might need some help about the place, you being new and not settled in yet.”

“Well …” began Sibyl uncertainly.

“We don’t need much more.”

“There is a lot that needs doing,” suggested Augusta.

“We
do
need help,” agreed Sibyl, making up her mind. “Ned, show them where to put that wagon and do something about those pigs. Tell Balaam, he’ll know what to do, but for goodness sakes don’t let them run loose until I get a chance to talk to Mr. Randall.”

It was wonderful to have milk and fresh butter again. She guessed she’d use the pigs for hams and bacon, but before she could decide where to build the smokehouse, the sow gave birth to a new litter of pigs. “You’ll have to sell ’em, miss,” Balaam informed her. “Mr. Burch won’t have no part of running a pig farm.”

The thought of Burch up to his ankles in mud and squealing pigs caused Sibyl to periodically break out into unexplained chuckles for the next two days, but her aunt was too busy to be curious about the cause. She put Betty to work scrubbing the house from top to bottom, while Ned and John spent their time building pens for the hogs and a shed for the cow. Balaam was deputized to find space for the additional chickens, some prized Rhode Island Reds. Sibyl didn’t know what she was going to do with so many animals during the winter, but she decided not to worry about it until she had to.

“Why don’t we eat early,” Augusta suggested when they realized how long it was going to take to serve the dinner. “Then we can wait on the table.”

“I’m tempted, but even if I have to get up twenty times during the meal, I’m going to sit down and eat just like I’m one of them,” Sibyl decided.

“But you can’t carry on a sensible conversation, much less eat your dinner properly, if you’re jumping up like a jack-in-the-box the whole time.”

“I know, Betty and John can serve dinner,” Sibyl exclaimed, delighted to have solved her problem. “Now we can sit down and eat like we
really
belong.”

Jesse was the first of the men to arrive. “Evening, Miss Cameron,” he said, hanging his hat on the peg. “I scraped my boots and nearly took the skin off washing my hands,” he said with a cheerful grin. “I wasn’t taking any chances on being sent back to the pump and losing my place at the table. I got the boys lined up like steers at a trough. You can inspect their hands as they come through the door.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Sibyl said, smiling. “You’ll have them thinking I’m some kind of straight-laced Puritan come to teach them manners and how to say grace.”

“They’ll be on their best behavior tonight, you can depend on that. They ain’t seen a woman in so long they probably won’t make any sound at all.”

Sibyl laughed, but his comments proved prophetic. The men came through the door, self-effacing, hats in hands. They had obviously put on their best flannel shirts and jeans, the handkerchiefs tied around their necks were neat and clean, and not a single one left a trail of dirt or mud on the freshly mopped floor. They milled about at the far end of the room, barely speaking above a whisper, waiting for someone to tell them what to do.

Sibyl was pleased to see Burch had gone to the trouble of dressing himself more nicely than anyone else. He was the most handsome man there and her eyes kept straying in his direction.

“The boys would be happy to help with the food,” he offered.

“We’ve already taken care of that. Why don’t you all sit down.”

“Not until you ladies are seated,” Burch said.

“I still have the biscuits to go.”

“We can wait.” Augusta looked at Sibyl in wordless appeal. Capitulating, she took off her apron and they took their seats, one on either side of Burch.

The cowboys appeared to be extremely youthful and miserably uncomfortable; the combined shock of clean clothes and two nice-looking women embarrassed them into a bashful silence, but the smells coming from the kitchen demolished any tendency to dawdle in coming to the table. They mumbled their “Pleased to meet you” and “Pleasure, ma’am” with hung heads, and stood shifting their weight on spindly legs until Burch signaled them to take their seats.

“Just help yourself to whatever’s nearest you,” Augusta told them kindly.

After that, things began to take care of themselves. Burch and Jesse did most of the talking, but the men became more comfortable as their bellies grew full. Sibyl was amused to see the tension and uncertainty replaced by a luxurious contentment. When the last piece of cake had been refused and the custard eaten, Augusta rose from the table. The men scrambled quickly to their feet.

“Why don’t you relax near the fireplace. You can smoke if you like,” she offered.

Sibyl looked sharply at Augusta, but Burch smiled at her with grateful approval.

“Are you sure it won’t bother you, ma’am? Cigars are mighty strong” Jesse said, directing his question to Sibyl.

“We can open the windows if it gets too strong, but I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t use tobacco until someone can find spittoon.”

Burch didn’t look entirely pleased with that, but Sibyl wasn’t about to have Betty spend another day scrubbing up after men too thoughtless to consider the work they made.

The men were profuse in their praise of dinner, so much so that Sibyl began to feel a little guilty about Sanchez’s feelings. She wouldn’t have felt so charitably toward him had she known he was pitying them for having to eat such bland, odd food and then be forced to thank her for it.

It took a long time to clean up, even with Betty’s and John’s help, and when Sibyl was at last free to join the men, they were in the midst of a discussion about the roundup just ahead. Except for the pleasant fullness in their stomach, they had forgotten all about the women, and Sibyl’s entering the circle produced a widespread constraint; they were still not comfortable in her presence.

“I’ve decided to begin the roundup early, even though it means we’ll have to work the range by ourselves,” Burch was saying.

“They’d bring a better price if they were fatter,” Jesse pointed out.

“I’ve thought about that, but I think tins year it’ll pay us to try and beat the market.”

“That could mean giving away a lot of money.”

“Or saving it, if the bottom drops out. There’re too many beeves for sale this year to suit me.”

“What would be giving away money?” asked Sibyl.

“Burch is thinking of sending the steers to market early,” Jesse explained. “I suggested we keep them on the range a few extra weeks. They don’t look very good now, and they’d bring a better price with a little extra flesh on them.”

“Why can’t we wait?” Sibyl demanded sharply of Burch. “It seems silly to throw money away for no reason.” A hush fell over the room and the crew fidgeted uneasily, but Jesse watched with apparent disinterest as Sibyl waited impatiently for an explanation Burch was not at all anxious to give.

“I doubt they’d gain any weight no matter how long we put off the roundup. There’s hardly any grass left, and what there is will be needed for the winter. In fact,” he said, deciding to bite the bullet, “I was planning to sell some of the breeding stock as well. All the herds are weak and I doubt if the old cows will survive a hard winter.”

“But the last five have been very mild,” Jesse obligingly pointed out.

“With plenty of lush grass each summer,” Burch finished for him, “but this summer was bone dry. I don’t like the signs, and I don’t like the condition of the herds.”

“But even if it’s only a few dollars a head, that would be a lot of money,” argued Sibyl. “I can’t agree to let you do that.”

“I also think,” continued Burch with deadly calm, “that every other rancher will hold his steers back, hoping they’ll pick up a few pounds.”

“That’s because it’s the sensible thing to do,” snapped Sibyl. The tension in the room was so great it was almost tangible.

“If everyone takes their cattle to market at the same time, the price will drop,” Burch explained with excruciating self-control. “Maybe a little, maybe a lot, it’s impossible to say. All I know is that the price is the best now it’s ever been; if we hit the crest of the market, even with under-fed steers, we’re assured of getting a good price.”

“How many will you sell this year?”

“Somewhere between twenty-five hundred and three thousand head.”

“At only five dollars a head, you’re talking about an extra fifteen thousand. How much can the price fluctuate?” she asked Jesse. Burch’s eyes flamed dangerously; not one cowboy moved a muscle.

“I can’t say, Miss Cameron,” answered Jesse. “The market is a mighty changeable thing. If it stays strong, maybe two or three dollars, ten at the outside. But I think you ought to listen to Burch. He knows the market.”

“This has nothing to do with markets, it’s plain dollars and cents. How long can prices be depended upon to stay at this level?” Sibyl’s continued referral to the second in command enraged Burch and made everyone except Jesse think of at least a dozen different things they ought to be doing; Augusta poured herself another cup of coffee after she’d already decided that any more would keep her awake.

“I can’t say, Miss Cameron,” responded Jesse. “You follow Burch’s advice; he knows what he’s doing.”

“I’ve heard what he has to say, and I think we ought to wait as long as possible before we sell.”

Burch’s eyes rested on Sibyl, cold and threatening, not at all touched with the amorous heat she had come to expect. She was a trifle disconcerted by the intensity of the hostility reflected there, but she refused to back down. “It’s my herd, too,” she said defensively.

“I’ll take your wishes into consideration,” Burch said with quiet deliberation, “but we won’t discuss it any more. The boys have to be off early tomorrow. We don’t require breakfast, ma’am,” he replied to Augusta’s courageous but unenthusiastic offer to feed the men at dawn.

The tension seemed to evaporate in the hubbub created by the men’s departure and their free-flowing compliments on dinner. Sibyl had almost forgotten the look on Burch’s face until he closed the door behind Jesse and turned to face her with blazing eyes.

“What do you mean by trying to undermine my authority in front of the men?” he demanded, bearing down upon her as though he meant to vent his fury by attacking her bodily.

“I wasn’t doing any such thing,” she shot back, stung by his unfair accusation but rattled by the sheer physical force of his wrath. “I only wanted to know why you were set on giving away thousands of dollars. You should have at least told me about it. After all, I do have a right to know what goes on around here.”

“And then you kept asking for Jesse’s opinion.”

“That’s hardly significant when all he said was I should listen to you.”

Burch’s eyes clouded over. “Since you don’t know the first thing about ranching, that advice shouldn’t have been necessary.”

“I don’t have to have been born in Wyoming to have common sense. I see no reason to throw money away, and I have just as much right as you to make decisions around here.”

“My uncle may have felt he couldn’t ignore your claims on him, but he left absolute control of the ranch to me. I make all the decisions, and I say the cattle go to market as soon as we can get them to the railhead. I may even take them to Chicago myself.”

“And I say they don’t! I’ll have my lawyers fight you over that clause, if there really is such a clause.’’

“I don’t lie, not even to ignorant little girls without enough sense to know when to shut up.”

Sibyl was nearly bereft of speech.

“Your lawyers are powerless in the territories. Before they could do anything the steers would already be in Chicago.”

“That’s unethical,” she stormed, feeling stymied.

“I don’t think so. I’ve let you come in here, take over this house, and do anything you want without a word of protest. I even let you saddle me with an extra hand and God only knows how many cows, pigs, and chickens, and still I haven’t raised any objections. From the number of the pens and sheds you’ve built, we’ll be taken for farmers instead of ranchers.”

“But I did it so everybody would have decent food.”

“I realize that. Why do you think I never interfered? Your organization is remarkable, but this is my home and it would have been nice if I had been consulted.”

Sibyl squirmed at the echo of her own words.

“Be that as it may, you can have a free hand in the house and I promise not to interfere. I’ll even listen to your suggestions and answer any questions you have about the management of the ranch, but there are two considerations that I absolutely insist upon: You are not to question me in front of the men, and my decisions are final.”

“And if I don’t agree?” she said, livid at his dictatorial stance.

“You can go back to Virginia. If you stay here and try to fight me, I’ll turn you across my knee and give you the spanking your father should have given you years ago.”