Wyoming Wildfire (38 page)

“Yes, and you’d best not move them if there’s any glass or china in them. It’s so cold, it’d break with just the slightest jarring.”

“Everything I need is still upstairs. Maybe the weather will get better soon.”

But as the day wore on, the wind blew even harder and by nightfall the temperature had dropped to thirty below. The snow was beginning to drift badly, threatening to cover fences and fill the deepest canyons. All day Sibyl occupied herself with anything that would help distract her mind and then went to bed right after dinner; she was really tired and the continual shrieking of the wind made her head ache.

But she lay awake for a long time, worry over Burch’s well-being steadily eroding her anger at him. She couldn’t help feeling guilty for having sent him away with such bitter words ringing in his ears. Her suffering didn’t seem so important now; certainly not as important as his safety.

The second day was a repeat of the first, and Sibyl and Rachel went on with their efforts to restore the house to normal. Emma, reluctant to show herself after her skirmish with Sibyl, took advantage of the storm to spend some extra time in bed, but by the middle of the third day she was tired of her own company and finally ventured downstairs from sheer boredom. Neither woman had time to sit and talk to her, so she followed them around, getting in the way and nearly driving Sibyl crazy
with
her pouting and petulant complaints. She even offered to help with the cleaning.

That’s kind of you, but we don’t have much more to do,” said Sibyl.

“If I don’t find something to do, I’m going to go crazy,” Emma whined fretfully. “I’ve never been caught in a blizzard before.”

“What about the blizzards before Christmas?”

“I was in Laramie,” laughed Emma, slightly embarrassed but not caring because Burch wasn’t around to hear her. “I only left to come to this party.”

“But I thought you
loved
staying at the ranch.”

“I do, but not all the time.”

“How much is ‘not all the time’?”

“Not above three or four months of the year, and then not all in one stretch,” she said, dispensing with the last of her assumed role. “What is there to
do
on a ranch except hunt and ride? Even the roundup gets boring after a few hours. I don’t see how a woman could keep from going crazy in a place like this.” Sibyl and Rachel exchanged glances.

“What do you usually do during the winter?”

“I stayed in Cheyenne,” confessed Emma. “There are lots of parties and dinners, and loads of people having a good time.”

“Don’t they have blizzards in Cheyenne?”

“Of course, but the men come for you in sleighs and drive around the streets with lanterns on the sleighs and bells on the horses. It’s loads of fun, and when everybody gets too cold, we gather at someone’s house, or the Cheyenne Club, and have a party until the storm lets up. Sometimes it goes on for days.”

“Don’t they ever think about the herds and the men who ride the line?”

“We let our men go after fall roundup and don’t hire again until spring. It’s a great waste of money to keep them lying up in cabins eating their heads off.”

“Burch is out there right now,” Sibyl informed her, trying to stem her rising anger at the callousness of this conscienceless fortune hunter, “and our men are with him.”

“And it’s such a shame, too, when he could be in Cheyenne, or even Chicago, enjoying himself. Those cows can take care of themselves. They always have.”

“But the Elkhorn herd doesn’t contain much longhorn blood anymore. It’s mostly bred from Eastern stock and they need some protecting,” said Sibyl, wanting to see the real extent of Emma’s ignorance.

“Nearly everybody snickered at Burch’s uncle behind his back when he started that, saying he was getting too old. Nobody ever expected Burch to keep it up after he died.”

“Which? The beef or the cowboys?”

“Both. Well, maybe not the new stock. Even I can see what a difference that’s made, and everybody knows Burch’s steers fetch the best prices in Wyoming. When that last check hit town, it made ripples across three states.”

So that’s why you left Laramie, thought Sibyl, finally understanding why Emma was willing to spend a few weeks on an isolated ranch in the middle of winter.

“Rachel and I still have work to do,” said Sibyl, abruptly losing interest in talking to Emma “You’ll have to entertain yourself. There are some books in the sitting room and more upstairs in Burch’s room if you want them.”

“Burch reads!”

There’s also the piano but not much else, unless you would like to crochet or do some tatting.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Well, you could go rub down the horses, but Balaam says they don’t like being bothered when it’s this cold.”

“I wouldn’t set foot out that door if they all froze to death.”

Then I suggest the piano. You do play, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Emma replied pettishly, but from the meaningless strumming that reached Sibyl’s and Rachel’s ears, they doubted the piano at the T-Bar got much use. Emma continued to shadow them off and on, actually turning her hand to helping Sibyl, but her efforts were so sporadic and she paid so little attention to what she was doing that Sibyl was relieved when they were forced to stop their work in response to Ned’s calls from the back of the house. They found him kneeling before the coal stove
with
a calf in his arms.

“It’s nearly frozen to death,” he said, settling the weak animal as close to the heat as he thought safe. “It’s forty below. Even with the shelter of the sheds, I don’t think the calves can stand much more.”

“What about the rest of the herd?”

They’re awful weak. It’s the wind that’s doing the mischief. It’s driving so hard it cuts right to the bone.” Ned vigorously massaged the calf to get its circulation going, and in a few minutes it raised its head and looked at Sibyl with great big brown eyes.

“I’ll tend this one,” said Rachel, taking his place beside the calf. “You go look after the others.” But in less than fifteen minutes Ned was back with another calf.

This one was laid down too. If they stay down, they don’t get up again,” he informed Sibyl.

“How many more are having trouble?”

“Maybe only one, if it doesn’t get any colder.”

Then you might as well bring it in now instead of waiting.”

Ned returned with Balaam following right behind. “I didn’t think to see you take to mothering calves, but then you’ll do anything for those fancy beeves, wouldn’t you?”

“Button it up, you old, leaky bucket. You have to stay with these calves tonight.”

“Me?”

“You don’t expect Miss Sibyl to do it, do you?”

“I will,” offered Rachel.

“Not on your life. This old windbag has been puffing about how much he could do all week long. Now he’ll get his chance to prove it.”

Balaam was just winding up for a good jaw when Emma entered the ranch room.

“What is that?” she asked.

“I would have thought that even you could recognize a calf,” drawled Sibyl.

“I know
what
it is. I mean what’s it doing here?”

“Well, how’s anybody to tell you what you want to know when you go asking something else?” demanded Balaam, put out at having a promising argument with Ned interrupted.

“It’s here to get warm,” Sibyl told Emma, who glowered angrily back at Sibyl.

“How long are they going to stay?”

“Until they’re out of danger. They’re from
my
herd, and all three are
bull
calves.”

Emma was still not happy, but she regarded them with more interest. “Are these the calves Burch and Lasso were carrying on about so?”

“Some of them.”

“How many do you have?”

“One bull, fourteen cows and heifers, eighteen yearlings and calves, and every one of the young ones are bulls just like these little fellas,” announced Ned promptly, before Sibyl. “Every one is worm his weight in gold.”

“They don’t look like much to me,” said Emma, disappointed. “I thought
they’d
be bigger at least.”

“They will be, just like their pappy.”

“You’re not meaning to bring that bull in here!” she stammered, truly startled now.

“I will if that’s the only way to keep him alive,” stated Sibyl.

After that Emma couldn’t find much to say, and she soon drifted off to bed.

“You be sure to keep your eye on the
rest of the herd,” Sibyl told Ned before going off to bed herself. “We can’t afford to lose even one of them.”

Chapter 25

“I didn’t think it was possible, but the storm’s worse,” Ned told Sibyl when he came in for breakfast the next morning with another calf in his arms. “And the temperature’s still dropping. If it doesn’t stop, it’ll be fifty below by noon.”

“What about the herd?”

I don’t think they’ll make it,” Ned said bluntly. “They’re almost dead now. Balaam is prodding them to keep them on their feet and I’m going back now to fetch the last calf.”

This may answer for the calves,” said Sibyl doubtfully, “but what are we going to do about the others?” The calves became more active as the heat penetrated their frail bodies and they became aware of pangs of hunger. “We can’t haul them back to their mothers every time they have to be fed.”

“If they still have mothers,” said Ned, dispirited.

“We can’t let them die,” said Sibyl stubbornly. “How could I face Burch, knowing he and the men saved the cows out on the range, but I couldn’t even take care of mine when they had a shed and plenty of food and water?”

“But it’s not the food, it’s the cold.”

“I’m going to have a look at them myself.”

“You can’t go out in that storm,” Ned objected.

“Why not? You and Balaam go back and forth all day.”

“I know, but you’re a woman.”

“You sound like Burch, always thinking women are helpless.” But Sibyl sighed in a way that told Ned that sounding like Burch wasn’t such a bad thing this morning. “Give me a few minutes to dress.”

“Cover everything but your eyes, miss. That wind can freeze the nose right off your face.”

Sibyl’s attitude bespoke her skepticism, but once out in the driving snow, all doubt vanished. The wind blew with such ferocity she had to hold on to the rope just to keep from falling down or being blown away. It was impossible to see what was in front of her. The familiar arrangement of buildings, corrals, and paths connecting them was completely obliterated by the flying needles that stung her eyes and the incredible cold that hurt her lungs as it bit deeply into the warm tissue. Ned followed behind her, calling encouragement, but his words were ripped away by the shrieking wind. There was no time to listen, anyway; it took all her concentration and energy just to hold on to the rope. After what seemed like an eternity, she felt the wind suddenly slacken and realized that they had rounded the corner of one of the sheds. At least the cows didn’t have to face the icy blast head-on.

But what she saw quickly dashed her hopes. Balaam, his frail frame muffled to the eyes in layer after layer of clothing, moved among the herd, prodding them into constant motion. But it was a losing battle. One cow was already down, and every time Balaam tried to get her to her feet, two more would begin to kneel slowly.

“It’s no good, miss,” he yelled, near exhaustion himself. “Nothing is going to keep them standing much longer.”

“Can’t you keep after them?”

“Not without freezing ourselves,” Ned told her. “It just doesn’t seem that there’s any more we can do.”

“You can’t stand about, miss, or you’ll catch your death.”

“Where can we talk?” she said, shouting to be heard above the roar of the storm. “I can’t leave without trying to do something.”

The bunkhouse,” Balaam yelled, gesturing to the long, low building that was used by the hands on the few nights each year they spent at the ranch. They fought their way across the open space, Balaam and Ned holding tightly to Sibyl.

“I’ll get a fire started,” Balaam said, beginning to throw coal into the big iron stove that stood in the center of the room. “The boys will be plumb frazzled when they find out a lady’s been among their belongings,” he chuckled.

“This doesn’t look much better than those line cabins,” said Sibyl, walking about to keep warm and glancing at the hard, narrow bunks pushed against walls thickly plastered with newspaper and catalog pages until they were airtight.

“The boys don’t spend above six weeks a year here, so it don’t much matter what it’s like,” said Balaam, pouring out some coal oil and putting a match to it. “What a man can’t keep in his bedroll, he don’t want.”

“This is not helping us decide what to do about the cows,” Sibyl reminded them. “We’ve got to think of something.”

“And soon,” Ned added unnecessarily.

“There’s no room to keep them all up at the house even if we could get them there,” Sibyl said, striding up and down the wide aisle between the bunks. “We need a big barn like I had in Virginia.”