On Her Way Home (7 page)

The man so callously dismissing Jo as a “woman” maddened her. Before she made it the entire way across the field, the sun shined its last ray and sunk below the horizon, taking the heat of the day and the heat of Jo’s anger with it. Before her swim had been so rudely interrupted, she was enjoying the serenity of her new life and had come to the conclusion that God had led her here. For what purpose she didn’t know, but the assurance that this was true couldn’t be shaken from her.

Reaching the yard, Jo hoped to find Kirby and Mattie relaxing on the porch in the cool sundown like they had done every night since her arrival, but when she went up the porch stairs, it was empty. Not wanting to dirty the floor, she sat down on the porch rocker and yanked off her wet filthy shoes, regretting her rash decision to throw on her dress without toweling off first. Figuring it was best to change her wet clothing before notifying Kirby about the nasty stranger, she climbed up the front stairs to her room. Jo pulled the damp chemise and dress over her head, dropping them with a wet “smack” onto the hardwood floor.

Now that she was past her shock, fear, and subsequent anger, she began to wonder more about the man. He obviously felt at home enough on the ranch to inform her that she was trespassing. Leif had referred to a couple of ranch hands that had recently left to find work in the copper mines. It was possible that they hadn’t been able to get hired and had come back to the ranch to resume their old job. Jo sincerely hoped that wasn’t the case. The man was cold and obviously held certain opinions regarding the opposite sex. If he was back at the ranch to work, Jo wondered how secure her own position was. Her experiences with Leif led her to believe that he wouldn’t dismiss her simply because his other ranch hands had returned, but still she was uneasy.

In a hurry to find Kirby and clear this all up, she roughly pulled the comb through her snarled hair and threw on a fresh skirt and blouse. Bounding down the stairs, she turned the corner into the parlor, looking for Mattie or Kirby. Finding neither, she walked down the hall to their bedroom door. No light peered from under their door, so she rested her ear softly next to the wood, listening for sounds that someone was occupying it. Sure enough, she could hear the low rumble of Kirby’s snoring. It had been a demanding week, and Kirby and Mattie had retired to bed early. Back down the hallway Jo noticed the glass double doors leading into the study were open and the lamp on the desk was brightening the room. Several papers were scattered about the desk. Figuring Leif must be home, she went into the yard to find him. The black ford was absent from its usual parking spot, and there was no sign of Charlie in the bunkhouse. Jo’s questions would have to wait until morning. Once upstairs, she changed into her thin nightdress and snuggled into her bed to read.

***

Mac jogged up the back porch, taking the stairs two at a time with his long strides. As he pulled the screen door open and entered, he stumbled over something. Aptly grabbing the door jamb in the dark to prevent himself from falling, he reached down with both hands, searching for whatever it was that had tripped him.
Shoes.
Wet shoes
, he realized with irritation. Mac fumbled through the kitchen until he found the pull cord hanging from the pendant light and yanked it on, filling the room with a dim glow. Small, dirty black shoes, the same ones he had stared at not thirty minutes ago on that girl.
What the hell is going on here
? He angrily tossed the shoes by their laces onto the floor by the back door. He wished he knew where Leif was tonight so he could get some answers.

It had been an exhausting two weeks of travel. Leif had dropped him off at the depot two weeks prior to catch the train to Boise, Idaho, where thirty-five tractor companies had erected a tent city to market their tractors to area farmers. Mac must have looked at over two hundred tractors before finally deciding to buy the Farmall Tractor from International Harvester. The tractor had cost Mac four hundred dollars, plus fifty more to transport it by rail. The railway, instead of unloading the tractor at the depot in town, had sent it on to Whitefish, Montana. Once Mac had caught up with the tractor, he had the miserable task of driving it sixty miles to home in the summer heat. Upon arriving at the ranch, he was hot, tired, and irritable. Parking the tractor in the barn and saying a quick hello to Mattie, he then saddled General to take a look over the progress Leif had made while he was away. The upper pasture had been expanded and new fence posts were in place awaiting strings of barbed wire. The rest of the timber had been cleared at the bottom of the draw, and to Mac’s surprise the fields had already been plowed and planted. With an hour or so of daylight left, Mac had decided to head for the swimming hole to rid himself of lingering annoyance and travel dust. Two weeks spent away from home in strange cities with noisy people and crowds had grated on his nerves. He was grateful to be back in the solitude of his mountain ranch.

The sight and sound of the river was balm to Mac. He had walked General down onto the beach, his eyes traveling over the rocky canyon wall and the water glistening with the last rays of the day, when he spotted something floating in the water. The sunlight stroked along white inner forearms suspended on top of the water and then disappeared into a cloud of peach just below the surface. Quickly scanning the beach, he spied a pair of women’s shoes and some clothing amidst the pebbles. He led General all the way to the water’s edge before he could truly believe what he was seeing. It was a woman, drifting in the water, eyes dreamily gazing at the sky, with luminous dark hair fanning through the water around her. For a split second Mac had thought he was fantasizing. Never, not one time in the three years he had owned the ranch, had he encountered another soul on his beach. For two weeks he had been forced to socialize with people, sit in their company, listen to their dull conversations. The ranch was his sole escape in the world,
his
property,
his
beach. Standing there in her dripping dress, she had brazenly claimed to be a ranch hand.
Bull!

Fuming in the kitchen, glaring at the shoes he’d thrown next to the door, he realized that the same woman who had invaded his beach had apparently also invaded his home. If she was indeed living here—and the shoes indicated she was—then it was because Leif had decided he needed a little sport closer to home. Mac was disgusted with Leif, and if he thought for one minute he could move his lying plaything to the ranch, he was dead wrong.

Chapter Ten

Sunny rays beamed their light through Jo’s bedroom window, shining across her quilt. Since arriving on the ranch, Jo had taken over the duty of milking Shirley, Leif’s jersey cow. She rolled on her back in bed, her short nightdress creeping up her legs as she stretched the sleep from her body. She opened her eyes to stare at the ceiling above her. As anxious as she was to speak with Leif about yesterday, she was reluctant to leave her soft bed and peaceful room. Flipping onto her stomach and curling a pillow between her knees, she found a cool spot in the sheets and closed her eyes relishing the quiet morning.

A few minutes later, she was drifting back into dreamland when a low
moo
sounded through the window. Her eyes flew open. “Ugh, Shirley,” she groaned, making herself throw her legs over the side of the bed to sit up. Jo wrapped her white cotton robe around her and rifled through her tiny closet, finding a day dress the shade of a faded lilac. She picked it up along with her slip-on shoes and went to the water closet. Peering into the mirror to examine her face, she noticed that her eyes appeared larger than usual. Working in the sun the past week had bronzed her cheeks and the deeper color complemented the indigo of her eyes. Jo combed her hair, the silky strands floating around her face. Deftly capturing the long braid at the back of her head, she tied the end with a thin piece of ribbon. It was rare that Jo felt pleased with her appearance, but this morning was one such occasion. Attributing it to her new life, she left the bathroom and hummed down the stairs and out to the barn.

The morning light spread across the fields and glittered off the drops of dew left overnight on the grasses and daisies. Jo felt alive with the new day. She approached Shirley, calling a friendly hello to her and scratching the tuft of fur between her eyes. The milk would come easier if the cow was calm, so Jo took a moment to make friends then grabbed the pail and stool to begin milking. In seconds, the sound of milk shooting into the metal pail was the only noise bouncing off the walls of the barn.

Jo enjoyed milking the dairy cow. It was a rhythmic task, which allowed her mind to wander. She thought of her encounter with the presumed ranch hand last night, going back to the moment she spotted him at the river. Her cheeks colored as she recalled her peach chemise. Imagining she was the stranger, she thought about what would have been visible from his position on the beach. The way he had eyeballed her body through the damp dress was galling, but the possibility that he had observed her in the wet chemise was beyond distressing. Aside from the swimming incident when she was fourteen, Jo had always maintained a high level of modesty. Her self-concept as “sturdy” alleviated any ideas she fostered about dressing provocatively. After Jo finished milking Shirley, she carried the warm milk into the house where she found Mattie frying bacon and preparing the table for breakfast.

“Good morning, Mattie. I think Shirley and I have made progress as friends,” Jo greeted as she put the full pail of milk on the counter and began setting the table. Mattie smiled. Jo was as cheery as the Sunday morning they were having. It was a quality Mattie missed, living with only Kirby, Leif, and Mac the last year. “Mattie, do you know if Leif is around?” Jo inquired.

“Yes, he was just here a minute before you came in. I think he is in the living room speaking with Mac,” Mattie answered.

Puzzled, Jo asked, “Mac?”

“Yes, he arrived home last night.”

Light was dawning on Jo. Obviously, she had been right about the ranch hand returning last night. Dreading this introduction, she apprehensively exited the kitchen. Walking down the hallway, Jo recognized Leif’s voice in the study.

“We needed the help. So, I put in the ad four weeks ago.” Jo heard a compact slam.

“Your idea of ranch help is to hire a boy and a woman?” The unfamiliar voice was incredulous.

“They were the only applicants I had, besides a drunken drifter,” Leif charged back, exasperation saturating his tone.

“Oh… Well I haven’t met him yet; where the hell is he?” the voice said, dripping with sarcasm. “Upstairs asleep in my bed?”

Jo had no idea who the man with Leif was. He couldn’t be the ranch hand from last night, from the way he was speaking to Leif. Deciding to wait until Leif was finished with his conversation, she turned to slip back to the kitchen.

“Charlie has already been a big help planting that field, and he is eager to learn, and …Jo, well, those fence posts along the pasture are only upright because of her. I had my doubts at first too, but both of them have proven me wrong.”

The sound of her name halted Jo’s retreat into the kitchen. She stepped closer to the wall and listened.

“Charlie can stay, but the woman has to go. There is no possible use for her here. Unless…you had some less-than-respectable motive for hiring her,” the man insinuated offensively. “I ran into her swimming at the river last night and got a pretty good eyeful.”

Jo wriggled with mortification.

“I have to say, I’m a bit surprised at you, Leif. She’s rounder than the ones you generally chase,” the man mocked lowly.

Jo almost gasped. That comment stung viciously. She didn’t know what offended her most, that the man was implying she was some sort of loose skirt or that he had referred to her as round
. I have got to learn my lesson about eavesdropping
, she scolded herself.

“I should bust your lip for that,” Leif exploded furiously on the other side of the wall. The room went still, his threat heavy in the air.

“You can try,” the other voice replied with icy confidence.

Resolute silence filled the room as Jo unconsciously held her breath. She was grateful for Leif’s defense of her, but puzzled at why he had to defend in the first place. This was his ranch, and he did the hiring. Why would he need the approval of a ranch hand? She had been prepared for an unpleasant meeting with the man from last night, but this was beyond anything she had expected. Scraping her dignity off the floor and rallying her courage, she stepped around the wall and knocked politely on the open door of the study. Two sets of eyes fell on her, one friendly, the other hostile.

Leif went quickly to Jo’s side, his face flushed with fury. He looked apologetically at her, hoping she hadn’t heard the entire exchange. Taking her by the elbow, he ushered her further into the room. Motioning to the stranger, he said, “Jo, this is Mac Hawkins, the owner of the ranch.” Leif’s angry eyes met Mac’s. “My brother,” he added as if the connection was repugnant to him.

Nervously, Jo’s gaze shifted to Mac as well. From her distance yesterday, she would have never guessed he was Leif’s brother. Leif was thin with long lean muscles that allowed buoyancy to his movement. In contrast, Mac was stone, granite even. Looking at him was like looking at an impenetrable cliff. His thick neck extended into broad shoulders and tapered to a lean torso. The gray shirt he was wearing furthered his likeness to a mountain, the long sleeves wrapping his muscled upper arms tightly. His legs reminded Jo of the massive cedar trees she had spied from the window of the train, long solid trunks rising higher and higher to tower over everything around them. Yesterday, if he hadn’t been on horseback, she would have noticed his strength and size and been even more intimidated than she already was.

The room was filled with awkward silence as Jo quickly fit the pieces together. Once again, Mac said nothing and Jo was left to speak up. She stepped toward him extending her hand and for the first time looked him full in the face. “I’m Jo Swenson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Mac glowered at the lie. They both knew it was anything but a pleasure. Pushing his cheek out with his tongue, obviously displeased with the forced introduction, he grudgingly shook her hand. He would have preferred simply showing her the door and sending her back to town. The handshake lasted for less than a second before Mac let out a long disgruntled sigh and stalked behind his desk.

Mac knew he was being rude, but for some reason he couldn’t seem to help himself. Leif was always putting him in these positions with his hair-brained schemes. Now, Mac was saddled with the unpleasant task of firing this unwanted ranch hand, and she
was
definitely unwanted. Mac was already responsible for five people living on the ranch, six now, including Charlie; he didn’t need a seventh. When Mac traveled west ten years ago, he was alone with only himself to provide for. He was still growing accustomed to Kirby, Leif, and Mattie living with him, and he had known them his whole life.

During the war, Mac’s refuge had been visualizing and dreaming of the ranch he would someday own. He would lay awake in the trenches, mortar rounds screeching through the night, with the smell of smoke and blood thick in the air, and create the ranch in his mind. He would plow, build fences, ride cattle, and break horses all through the long terrifying nights. Mac never expected to be alive when the war was over, and in some ways he actually felt more dead than alive. Legs and arms weren’t the only amputations in war. Chunks of Mac’s humanity had been carted off of bloody battlefields along with the severed limbs.

Before the war Mac had established a small silver mine near Butte, Montana. A few years later, large amounts of copper were also discovered in the area. Many of the surrounding small miners sold their mines to a larger company, but Mac tenaciously held on to his. After the war metal prices increased, and Mac’s mine was the only one not belonging to Anaconda. Negotiating a deal with the company, he sold his mine for triple what they paid small miners two years earlier. At the same time, many people were using the Homestead Acts to acquire land in eastern Montana, but Mac wanted the fertile land further west in the mountains and purchased his ranch free and clear. Driving his two hundred head of cattle into the field three years ago was the first stirrings of life he’d felt since the war. The ranch was as much his refuge now as it had been then. It angered him that while he was away, Leif had transplanted strangers into his solitude
. How did Leif find this girl anyway
? he wondered irritably to himself.

“Are you from around here?” Mac asked Jo.

Clearing her throat, Jo piped up, “No, actually, I just arrived on the train two weeks ago.”

Mac looked Jo over. Her long braid was pulled over her shoulder, sliding down the soft slope at the front of her purple dress to rest at her waist. She had large dark blue eyes with thick black lashes that fell with each blink onto pink cheeks, evidence that she had spent too much time sunbathing yesterday. Her dress fell just below the knees, revealing muscled calves. Most of the women Mac saw wearing these shorter dresses had a long slinky build, but the girl in front of him was lean muscle and curves. Glancing back up to her face, he guessed her age to be around eighteen or so.
She is young, too young to be away from home
, he groused inwardly.

Growing suspicious, he questioned her further, “Why Montana?” A long pause followed while Mac appraised her. “Are you running from something?” he asked, looking at her pointedly and trying to intimidate her. Before Jo could hide it, Mac saw a flash of pain travel across her expressive eyes.

“No, I’m not running from anything,” she replied quickly, too quickly. Mac knew when someone was hiding something. He stared at  her long and hard.

Jo’s heart was racing. She had traveled a thousand miles and not one person, including her family, had guessed her true motivation for leaving the farm. She had missed her father and was weary of her monotonous life, but that wasn’t what pushed her onto the train. Two minutes in the room with this stranger and he was already digging at her vulnerable spot.

Swiftly erasing the panic from her chest, she countered, “I’m not running. I’m searching.”

Mac didn’t like her reply, flatly stating, “The only thing you’ll find here is work…hard work.”

Jo interrupted hopefully, “I don’t mind working hard; in fact, I enjoy it. If I felt I couldn’t be an asset to the ranch, I wouldn’t have accepted the job. I will be as diligent here as I was at my last job.

Mac raised an eyebrow. “What other jobs have you had?”

Ugh
,
I stepped into that one
. She quickly scrambled in her mind for something she could offer that would be impressive to Mac, but came up with nothing.

Leif piped up from behind her, “She rode herd for two years prior to coming here.” Surprised, Jo whipped around quickly to look at him.

Mac watched the odd exchange between Leif and Jo. Her reaction told him that Leif was being less than truthful, trying to secure the job for her. He was obviously set on her staying. Testing his theory, Mac pulled out the top drawer of his desk, unrolling a stack of bills and flipping a few of them into a neat pile on his desk. “Miss Swenson, this is your wage and compensation for the week you’ve worked here. We won’t be keeping you on.” The curled bills lay untouched on the desk as the room stilled. Jo’s wide expressive eyes held Mac’s until the disappointment he saw churning in them caused him to look away out the window.

Jo couldn’t hide her disappointment. Although she had only spent a week at the ranch, the majority of which being long days of heavy labor, she remarkably felt rested. She was afraid to look at Leif, for fear of divulging her reluctance to leave and causing more tension between the brothers.

Suddenly, Leif strode to the desk and grabbed the stack of bills. Holding them up in his hand, he spoke to Mac, “I’ll consider this payment for finding you two new cowpunchers. I hired Jo and Charlie. They aren’t going anywhere.” Leif pocketed the money while glaring cockily at Mac.