Sweetwater (12 page)

“I think you should know something about my situation here. It will help you decide whether or not to accept my offer.”

“Don’t tell them too much, Virginia. They might leave and, frankly, I don’t think my stomach can endure another one of your meals.”

Her complaint brought a small smile to Colleen’s lips, but she wiped it from her face quickly as if it were disrespectful so soon after her father’s death.

Jenny spoke of learning of Walt Whitaker’s will and that being a teacher, she decided to come here. She told them she was unaware that Stoney Creek Ranch was so isolated and that so much, other than teaching, would be required.

“McCall said the agent was tryin’ to run ya off. Why’er ya stayin’?” Colleen’s clear eyes looked directly into Jenny’s.

“Because I want something for myself and my sisters that I have earned with my own two hands.”

“And mine,” Cassandra added and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.

“And yours.” Jenny smiled proudly down at her sister. “Thank goodness Cassandra soaked up information back home about how to unhitch the team or they would have been standing there yet.”

“What you’re sayin’ is that you want me’n Granny to stay here and work for eats and a roof over our heads. The agent that sent the men out to kill Pa won’t want us here.”

“I was employed by the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Washington. The agent has nothing to say about who stays with me here on the ranch. As soon as I can get a letter to the Bureau, he will have less say about anything here. The man is a crook!”

“Seems not many folks ’round here know that.” At Jenny’s forthrightness, Colleen’s resistance softened a bit. “Granny was the best cook in the county back in Missouri when she had the fixin’s to work with. What did ya have in mind for me to do?”

“Help me do whatever has to be done. Mr. McCall said he would bring a rope and pulley and fix the well, so that’ll be taken care of. I’ve got the schoolhouse to clean out and get ready for classes. We need a cow and chickens, and … I suppose it’s too late to put in a garden. There’s a root cellar out there that I’m afraid to go into—”

“Suppose ya get tired of me and Granny. Would ya send us off in the dead of winter?”

“Suppose you get tired of us. Would you pull out, desert us, leave us here alone without a hope of finding someone else to stay with us?”

Cassandra made a face, waving her hand in front of it like a fan.

“You’re being dramatic, Virginia. If you say something that makes them leave, I’ll never forgive you.” She moved around the table to be closer to Mrs. Murphy. “I always wanted a granny. If you stay, can I call you Granny like Colleen does?”

“Of course, child.” Granny’s work-worn hand cupped Cassandra’s cheek, and a pleased smile brightened her weathered face.

“I can offer you a small salary in addition to your room and board.” Jenny continued the conversation as if her sister hadn’t spoken.

“We’re not fancy folk, ma’am,” Mrs. Murphy put her arm around Cassandra who leaned against her knee. “But we always had our own place. We ain’t never lived in the house with other folks.”

“I’ll tell ya right up front, I won’t have my granny bossed around and treated like a slave.” Colleen’s eyes were hard as they looked into Jenny’s.

“She’ll never be treated as such. We will share the work. Cass and Beatrice will do what they can. You can have one room, the girls and I the other. Mr. McCall said he would come and build in a bunk—”

“Colleen, do you like Trell?” Cassandra asked from close beside Granny Murphy. “His name is Trellis, but he said that I could call him Trell.”

“Honey, must you ask such personal questions?” Jenny’s voice was calm, but her face showed her exasperation with her sister.

“Why not? I asked him if she was pretty, and he said she wasn’t ugly. I couldn’t tell if he was sweet on her or not. I want to know if she’s sweet on him.”

Jenny looked quickly at Colleen to see if she was offended. She wasn’t smiling, but there was an amused gleam in her eyes.

“Ya think I’m goin’ to take him away from ya?”

“I’m too young for Trell. If I was older I’d set my cap for him.”

“Ya’d probably land him, too.”

“I don’t know about that. Men don’t like me much.”

“They will when yo’re older.”

Cassandra shrugged. “I can wait. Well … are you setting your cap for him?”

“I’ve not give it any thought.”

“If you decide to, I can help you spruce up. I’m not sure a man like Trell would go for a woman in overalls.”

“Cassandra! Enough of that talk!” Jenny’s face was flushed with embarrassment. “At times you try my patience.”

“Don’t fault her, ma’am.” Colleen pushed back her chair and stood. Jenny noticed that her eyes changed easily; warm one second, cold as a blizzard the next. “I like folks that come right out and say what they think. Right now I’m thinkin’ we’ll stay a while. But, mind you, me and Granny can go on down the road if we start to get in each other’s hair.”

Jenny got to her feet. “I accept your terms. And, please don’t call me ma’am. Call me Virginia or Jenny, whichever you prefer.”

“We got to tend the mules and find a place out of the weather to put the things in our wagon.” Colleen went to the door and out into the yard.

The next thing Jenny heard was the ring of an axe. Trell, hatless, sleeves rolled up, was working at the woodpile. He had pulled a deadfall up using the Murphys’ mules and was chopping off branches to cut into lengths for the stove or fireplace. Beatrice sat a safe distance away watching something on the ground.

“Jenny! Cass! Looky what Trell finded for me.” She scooped something up, placed it in the palm of her hand. “It’s a baby frog!”

“Oh! Ugh!” Cassandra, curious at first, turned away in disgust.

Jenny bent over the small extended hand and with a gentle finger stroked the little creature’s head.

“Ah, it’s a baby! It’s scared, honey. Its little heart is beating fast. You must let it go soon so it can find its mama.”

Trell had stopped chopping the branches and watched Jenny come toward him. How gracefully her body moved under the soft linsey dress! A row of pearl buttons from neck to waist accented her high, firm breasts. Her smile, her nearness brought a funny tightening to his chest. Trell took a shallow breath and hoped to God she didn’t know the effect her magnificent eyes had on him.

“They’re going to stay. Thank you, Trell. Oh, thank you!”

Trell nodded and cursed himself for being so tongue-tied when he was near the woman. He sank the blade of the axe into the chopping block.

“I sharpened the blade on Murphy’s grindstone. It’s best to keep it up off the ground.”

He walked beside Jenny to the wagon, where Colleen was handing down bundles to her grandmother.

“Is the room by the shed a good place for the things they don’t want to take into the house?” Jenny asked.

“It’s the only place.” Trell propped open the door, and he and Colleen carried the heavy stove inside.

Cassandra was more than willing to help Granny Murphy. She danced alongside her, chattering, as they made trips from the wagon to the house.

The wagon was almost empty when Jenny’s eye caught movement. A buggy and a rider were approaching. She began to get a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Colleen took her rifle out from under the wagon seat and leaned it against the wheel.

“Is it Mr. Havelshell?” Jenny asked Trell.

“I can’t tell from this distance.” He squinted and stared. “But I don’t think so—”

The buggy, pulled by a handsome high-stepping dapple gray came quickly into the yard. The escort riders stayed a distance away. After winding the reins about the brake handle, a pudgy little man with silvery white hair stepped down. Jenny went forward to greet him.

“Good morning.”

“Morning, my dear. I’m the Reverend Henry Longfellow.”

“How do you do? Virginia Gray.”

“And before you ask, yes, I am distantly related to the poet Henry W. Longfellow.”

“You must be very proud of your famous ancestor.”

“I am. Although it’s an honor to carry his name, at times it becomes a burden. Some folk expect me to quote long narratives from his
Evangeline
or
The Song of Hiawatha
.” When the little man laughed, his stomach jiggled. His eyes were a bright blue and merry, his clean-shaven cheeks rosy. “Frankly I can’t remember but a verse or two of each.”

Jenny introduced him to the others and then invited him into the house.

“Some other time, my dear. I’m expected at the agency. I could not come this close and not stop by to welcome you to our community and to invite you to attend church. We are exceedingly proud of our church in Sweetwater.”

“Thank you for the invitation.”

The preacher looked at Colleen and Mrs. Murphy. “The invitation includes you ladies. I’m sure you understood that. Are you staying on here, Mr. McCall?”

“No. My place is across the river, but I plan to come back from time to time.”

“I can’t blame you. Two lovely ladies on one ranch. Ah … to be young again.” The Reverend Longfellow climbed back into the buggy. “I must go. It was nice meeting you … all of you. Come to church. It’s good for the soul.”

The escort rider fell in behind the buggy as it left the ranch house.

“At least there’s one friendly person in Sweetwater,” Jenny remarked.

“Granny and I are cooking dinner,” Cassandra announced. “Are you staying, Trell?”

“You betcha. You couldn’t pull me away with a team of mules.”

Trell grinned; and when he did, Jenny realized that not only was he one of the nicest men she’d ever met, but that he really was quite handsome.

Since he had met Jenny Gray, she had not been far from Trell’s mind. He admitted that he was rather pleased with himself for bringing the women together. It had worked out better and more quickly than he thought it would. After dinner of grouse and dumplings, cooked by Granny Murphy, (the grouse having been caught early that morning by Colleen), the women seemed to be more comfortable with one another.

Jenny, very much a lady in her dress and clean apron, her hair pinned to the top of her head, took Colleen, in her pa’s overalls, hair hanging down her back, over to show her the destruction in the schoolroom. Colleen had been quiet, almost suspicious, at first. Trell could almost read her thoughts.
Why is she doing this—giving us a place to stay, feeding us? How can we repay?
Then she must have realized that a city woman like Jenny, alone on a ranch, was like a lamb in a pen with a coyote.

What worried Trell was the gunmen who worked for Havelshell. He was reasonably sure the agent would see that they didn’t openly terrorize Jenny and the girls. He wouldn’t allow it for fear of the reaction of the Indian Bureau. However, this would not prevent his arranging a very clever accident that would rid him of the teacher. Havelshell valued his job. Trell suspected that he had more at stake and that it was tied to his job as agent.

Colleen was another matter.

Trell felt that as long as he was responsible for Colleen and her grandmother’s being here, it was only fair that he alert Jenny to the possible danger. He got his chance in the middle of the afternoon when she came to the woods that edged the homestead where he was tying a chain around a deadfall in preparation for dragging it to the woodpile.

“Mr. McCall, may I ask you something?”

“Only if you call me Trell.” He straightened up and grinned at her. “Folks out here don’t pay much mind to what’s proper.”

She laughed at that, her eyes sparkling like a fresh green meadow covered with morning dew. He was so fascinated that he couldn’t look away.

“Then you must call me Jenny.”

Jenny! Jenny! I’ve been doing that in my mind since the day I saw you in Sweetwater.

“Trell, do you know if the agent has the authority to whip a boy for stepping off the reservation?”

“I’m not familiar with
all
the duties of an agent, but it doesn’t sound likely to me that he’d have that power.”

“Whit’s in danger of suffering Havelshell’s wrath for taking out the dam his men had put in to divert the water from the ranch buildings. I’m writing a letter to the Indian Bureau in Washington; but I’m afraid that if I post it in Sweetwater, Mr. Havelshell will intercept it.”

“I’ll post it for you in Forest City.”

“Will you?” Her shoulders relaxed in relief. “Thank you.”

“And I’ll pick up your mail there if you want me to. Now, there’s something I want to tell you. Havelshell’s gunman may come after Colleen. He’ll try and get her away from the homestead and eliminate her as a witness to Murphy’s killing—” His voice trailed. Jenny glanced at him and saw that he was staring at something beyond her. “Stand still, Jenny,” he warned in a low voice. “Stand very still.”

Jenny froze in place, moving nothing but her eyes. She watched Trell’s hand slide down to the scabbard that held his knife. He grasped the handle and brought it up slowly. Behind her she heard the rustle of dead leaves, then in a lightning move, Trell sent the knife flying past her. She gasped as he shoved her out of the way and grabbed a thick stake he’d been using on the deadfall.

Jenny turned to see a large snake pinned to the ground by the knife. Its flat head and six inches of its body reared and swayed. Trell struck quickly, pinned the head to the ground with the club, pulled out his knife and cut the head from the body. The serpent in its dying throes tried to wrap itself about Trell’s arm. Jenny shuddered and turned away.

After Trell had picked up the snake by the tail and thrown it into the bushes, he came to Jenny and put his hands on her shoulders. She was trembling.

“Are you all right?”

To his surprise she turned and wrapped her arms about his waist.

“Oh, oh, oh—”

“It might have crawled on off. I didn’t want to chance it.” He lied to comfort her. The snake had been coiling to strike.

Jenny was a tall woman. Her head lay nicely on his shoulder and her face fitted into the curve of his neck. Her body, from shoulders to knees fitted tightly to his. Suddenly she realized that she was holding on to him and that his arms were locked about her. Although she had no memory of rushing into his embrace, she had an overwhelming sense of belonging there. She felt him in every nerve, every bone.