Carla Kelly (41 page)

“You might.” Paul stood up and went to Kaiser. “I'm still too proud. But now I wake up every morning, knowing in whom I trust.”

“You're sure it's in that book?” Kaiser asked, sounding doubtful.

“It's in that book.” Paul held out his hand. “Friends again?”

Kaiser shook it. “Friends.”

Julia left a note on the table for Charlotte, and they went to bed, Mr. Kaiser in her best guest room across the hall. “Just hold me, Paul,” she whispered when he came to bed. “I'm still shaking.”

He obliged her, and she slept, secure in his grip.

When she woke, the house was still quiet, even though the sun was high. Paul sat in his usual spot. He looked at her, hesitant; she knew what he had to say but just couldn't.

“I know you and Mr. Kaiser have to ride out of here this morning,” she said, sitting up. “Charlotte and I will be fine. There's nothing to fear now.” She chuckled, because he still looked so serious. “After all, I have a knife rest, and I know how to use it. Time to cowboy.”

While Doc prepared a pallet in the back of the buckboard for the still-unconscious Mr. McAtee, the three of them went into Paul's office and wrote down their own interpretation of events. Still fearing the Niobrara ranchers, they agreed not to mention James's involvement and wrote instead that McAtee had somehow developed an unhealthy obsession with Mrs. Paul Otto. Julia watched John hesitate, but he never said a word about Malcolm Clyde, to her relief. Over her objections, the men included Colby Wagner's part.

“I doubt he'll ever come back,” Julia argued. “I think I scared him sufficiently.”

“Amen to that,” Kaiser said under his breath. “Paul, your little missus has the patented Otto treatment down in spades.”

“Good. Still, I'm not leaving any wiggle room for that scoundrel.”

After Doc was on his way to Gun Barrel with his patient, the documents for the sheriff, and sandwiches, Julia fixed a massive breakfast that left Mr. Kaiser a little stunned.

“You eat like this every morning?”

“Generally,” Paul said, passing him the maple syrup for his flapjacks. “If I didn't work it off during the day, I'd need a block and tackle to get on Chief. Maybe you need a real cook on your place, John.”

Julia brought her copy of the Book of Mormon downstairs while the men were in the horse barn. She opened it to her favorite passage in Mosiah 4, running her finger over the beloved words of King Benjamin. “‘O then, how ye ought to impart of the substance that ye have one to another.’ ”

She closed the book, thinking of the Rudigers last year whom she fed, and who had returned blessings to them both. She thought now of John Kaiser, who had saved her life, or at the very least, her virtue, and probably kept her husband from committing murder.
Read it and believe it, John
, she thought.
This is the substance we can impart.

She was standing at the sink washing dishes, still thinking about Mosiah, when Paul came into the kitchen. He put his arms around her as she stood there. She leaned against him as he put his hands on her belly, content.

“Some action inside you this morning,” he spoke into her hair. “Feels like somersaults. Not a dull moment on the Double Tipi for you, eh?”

She nodded and put her soapy hands over his.

“I just had the strangest conversation with John,” he told her. “He gave me the brother talk.”

“
What?
” She turned around to stare at him.

“I kid you not, sport. He told me that I had better behave myself, because he'd be more than happy to look after you if I should either come up short and make you unhappy, or slough off this mortal coil. Julia Otto, you have an admirer on the Colorado plains. Incidentally, he has more land than I do.”

She leaned against him, laughing. “My stars, Paul! I'm sticking out to here and my apron's riding high, and I have an
admirer
?”

“Face it. You'll always be the prettiest lady in Wyoming. Best one too. Guess I'll keep watching my back.”

He kissed her so long that she wished there was time for a trip upstairs. “Hold that thought,” he said in her ear. “I'll be back in nine days. Walk with me, Darling.”

She picked up the Book of Mormon and walked her best guy to the horse barn. She handed the book to him, but he shook his head.

“You give it to Kaiser.”

He kissed her, mounted Chief, and started up the road, kind and confident enough to give her a moment alone with the man who saved her life. Julia took a deep breath and held out the Book of Mormon to John Kaiser. He took it from her, ruffled the pages the way Paul had done nearly two years ago, then stuffed it in his saddlebag.

She watched him, hesitated, then asked what had been on her mind since last night. “Mr. Kaiser, was it your vote that tipped the balance at the Stock Growers Association meeting?”

Her question seemed to embarrass him, as if she had found him out in a secret good deed. “Yeah. I'd caused Paul enough problems.” He wouldn't look at her. “I did it for both of you.”

“Then I thank you for both of us.”

Julia held out her hand to him, and he held it a long moment. “If you ever need help or something happens to Paul, I'm easy to contact: Kaiser Land and Cattle, Grover, Colorado.”

“I'll remember that, Mr. Kaiser,” she said, her voice equally serious. “I'll also remember how you kept me from being shamed and kept my child safe.” She couldn't help feeling shy then. “And thank you for my husband's life too. You're always welcome on the Double Tipi.”

“I know I am.” He squeezed her fingers, then let go of her hand. “I'll keep an eye on Paul at the roundup and make sure Malcolm doesn't come near. Word of honor, Julia.”

She raised up, and he bent down. She kissed his cheek. “You're a good man.” Julia turned and went into the house, not wanting to hear both men ride away.

Paul and the men of the Double Tipi were back in nine days, dirty and reeking of sweat, the same old clothes, and wood smoke. “I think I almost like
eau de corral
,” Julia whispered in his grimy ear as she hugged her husband. “But what do you know: since that monster herd whipped up miles of dust, we saw you coming. There's already hot water in the tub, cowboy. Use it.”

“Keep me company?”

Julia shook her head. “Charlotte and I have dinner to get on the table.” She kissed him again. “Maybe if I don't think you're clean enough, there will be an encore later tonight in the river. I'll scrub you myself.”

“You're on, sport.”

Dinner was a far cry from her pitiful effort more than a year ago, with watercress soup no one ate, the now-infamous warm liver salad, and a roast cowering under an oyster blanket. To the appreciation of Paul's veteran crew, the newcomers he hired for the drive to Cheyenne, and two buyers, they began with oyster soup and crackers, segued to roast turkey moist and crackling in its skin, mashed potatoes so fluffy Kringle had tears in his eyes, and onions in cream, which banished all skepticism. Fruit pudding in sterling sauce sent the home team skidding around third base, with Maraschino cherry ice cream completing the grand slam.

“There has never been a meal like this in the history of Wyoming,” Charlotte whispered to her as she held out an empty bowl for more mashed potatoes.

From the Queen Atlantic, where she whipped the sterling sauce into submission, Julia could see into the dining room. Satisfied, she watched the whole meal unfold before her as Charlotte served.
Mr. Otto's not the only member of this family who is too proud
, she thought.
So is his wife
.
I suppose every yolk will crack for tomorrow's fried eggs, and I'll deserve it
.

While the crew and guests sat or lay on the front porch, stunned, Paul and Matt helped their ladies with the dishes.

“Was it a good roundup, Paul?” she asked, handing him the last platter.

Paul looked at Matt, and they both shrugged. “I'm hard put to say what it was. Entertaining maybe, Malloy?”

Matt nodded. “At the very least.”

Paul draped his damp dishtowel over a kitchen chair. “Cookie fixed your recipe for Rocky Mountain oysters to general acclaim. A fight even broke out over the last three or four oysters. Good thing you weren't there. I haven't heard so much bad language since that cow stepped on my foot last month.” He laughed and ducked when she grabbed the towel to swat him. “But here's the good part: Cookie made your sonofagun stew right down to the bay leaf.”

“I'm certain that thrilled the Clyde brothers,” Julia said drily.

“That's not the half of it,” Matt said, jumping into the narrative. “Guess what Cookie did then? He glared at his employers and tossed in a whole handful of bay leaves. He stared at that unwholesome trio and declared, ‘I quit, you, uh, sonofaguns. They named this stew after you.’ ”

“My word!” Julia exclaimed.

“Kaiser hired Cookie on the spot,” Paul concluded. He nudged her. “By the way, he just started Second Nephi, and he told me to tell you howdy.”

“Something unfortunate did happen as the roundup ended,” Paul told her much later, when she lay with her head pillowed on his chest. “I'll probably have to repent of this, but I didn't feel too sad.” His hand just naturally went to her belly. “Hmm, Pete's pretty subdued right now. He's probably wondering, ‘What the Sam Hill just happened?’ ”

“Oh, hush,” she said. “I'm amazed that you can still make me blush.”

“It's my other special gift,” he teased. “Well, we had separated our herds.” He stared at the ceiling. “Julia, I doubt we'll see such a roundup again, not with the range changing so fast. Wish my dad… he'd have enjoyed it.” He took her hand and twined his fingers through hers. “The Clydes had moved out their herd and camped just over a little knoll, away from the rest of us. I don't know what caused it—it never takes more than a sneeze or striking a match sometimes—but their whole herd stampeded.”

“I hope I never see that!” she said with a shudder.

“I'll see that you don't, my love. Malcolm got caught in it and was trampled. They could hardly find enough of him to bury.”

Julia digested what he had said, thinking of Malcolm's cruelty to Elinore and his own nastiness at the cow gather, when he humiliated them both over Mattie Daw and Jennie Rogers, and his scheming with Mr. McAtee and Colby Wagner. “Poor man,” she said.

“You're kinder than he deserved. Here's the really rough part: Angus and Laird decided to bury him right there.” He shrugged. “Good a place as any, when there's not much to bury, I suppose—Scottish economy. Outside of a few stockmen, no one bothered to come.”

“You were there,” she said quietly. “I know you were.”

“I was.” He raised her hand and kissed her fingers. “Angus even asked me to pray. Not to be too mean, here, but it kinda taxed me.” He yawned. “You wore me out, wife. Let a husband get some sleep now?”

“In a minute, Romeo,” she said. “Did any of the other herds stampede?”

“Not one. My Double Tipi critters were as well-behaved as debutantes at a finishing school. It gave me pause to wonder how the Lord works, sometimes. Maybe He really does fight our battles.”

“I know He protects us,” she told him, thinking of John Kaiser and wondering about that stampede. “Maybe in ways we never would have imagined.”

“I forgot to tell you—there is one thing more,” he told her when he woke up an hour later. “What with the Clydes still hunting strays from that stampede, the Association moved my railroad schedule back into its original slot. We head out in two days for Cheyenne. That's probably a five thousand dollar difference.” He held up her ring hand. “Your ruby is safe for another year.”

Julia and Charlotte waved good-bye to their men two days later, as they trailed the Double Tipi's largest herd south to the railroad. Without a word, but obviously mutual consent, Charlotte made a batch of pie crust, experimenting with a pinch of mace this time. Butter cream frosting was Julia's brilliant stroke. “You know, we could make this for our best guys,” she said, dipping the last of the crust into the last of the frosting. “Miss Farmer would be horrified at how I have slid, but Jee-rusalem Crickets, this is good!”

Eight days later, their best guys returned with a handful of mail, more comfortable dresses from Mama, and a glum Doc.

“He got a letter from his former wife,” Paul whispered to her as she watched Doc standing at the horse corral, arms on the top rail, staring at the horses. “After all this time, she's still thinking about it, and he's pretty much fed up.”

“She could still say yes, once she stops being coy,” Julia whispered back.

“She could.” He returned to the kitchen table and pulled out a large envelope. “Speaking of coy, it appears that my poker-playing buddies think all is forgiven.” He held it out to her. “Go ahead. It won't bite too bad.”

“
I
might,” she grumbled. “Your
buddies
are despicable.” She pulled out an elegant, embossed invitation. “What on earth…”

“That's one of the rules. You're supposed to emboss the earthiest words on the classiest invitation. I wouldn't sully your eyes with it, except that since March 17, you're considerably wiser in the ways of men, and you're game.”