The Heart's Frontier (11 page)

“See that you keep it, boss,” said Charlie.

“Don’t worry. If I sink, Jesse will come after me.”

Jesse aimed a glance at the hutch. “In your dreams.”

Luke sized up the leaning piece of furniture. It towered over him like that big old oak tree in the backyard when he was a boy. He glanced over his shoulder, toward the place where Emma stood. His grandmother said she used to say a prayer for his safety every time he took a mind to climbing that thing. If Mrs. Switzer truly was praying, he hoped she’d send one up for him and not only for her precious possession.

With a hand on the wagon’s side, Luke edged slowly around the corner, feeling his way with his boot. He hated soggy boots, but couldn’t risk a cut that might fester, so he’d have to put up with wet leather till they dried. He located the stone he’d found before and fixed both his feet. Not six inches behind him, the rock’s edge gave way to the riverbed. Not much maneuvering room, but it ought to be enough. Jesse and the boys slid into their places.

“Ready?”

They all bent their knees, grabbed the underside of the wagon bed, and nodded. He slid his fingers below the lower lip until the thick plank rested in his palms.

“Jonas, when I give the word, you back those oxen up one step. Only one. Then when I shout again, take them forward as quickly as you can. Got it?”

“
Ja
. I got it.”

Luke firmed his grip, nodded at the three by his side, and shouted, “Go!”

On the shore Jonas uttered something to the oxen in his low, calm voice that was almost snatched away by the rush of the water. The wagon started to roll backward. Luke tightened his muscles and tried to lift a tad, enough to keep the wagon relatively steady as the wheel rolled from beneath the ledge. The weight of the thing was staggering. Beside him, Jesse grunted, and Willie’s fair complexion purpled with the shared effort. Luke’s bulging muscles trembled. He hadn’t lifted anything this heavy since…well, ever. His eyes switched to Emma standing on the bank. Was her smile really pretty enough to break his fool back for?

He felt the wheel jerk upward when the axle slid loose from the outcropping. Only an inch or so, but the bed wavered at the sudden release. The strain in his muscles shifted, and Luke’s balance tilted. Though his brain knew better, instinct kicked in. He staggered backward—and found no footing. “Ease up! Ease up!”

His shout rang out as he plunged into the water. The errant foot sank into the sandy muck and jerked his other boot off the rock. A dark object loomed above him. The hutch was tilting his way. He splashed and kicked backward, but the muck held fast.

“Luke!”

Jesse’s yell mingled with a woman’s scream. A tiny, detached part of his brain wondered which one. Probably the old woman, worried about her hutch. Kicking harder, he threw his arms over his head, trying to move backward through the water with a powerful stroke.

Not enough.

Above him Jesse edged around the corner of the wagon and slid into the place he’d vacated. With a shout that was half-grunt, he strained against the weight of the wagon as Jonas coaxed the oxen ahead at a trot.

In the chaotic seconds that followed, everything happened at once.

The wagon rolled forward, out of the water and onto the shore.

The alarming sound of hooves thundered against the grass behind him. A stampede?

He turned his head and caught sight of a black dress and white cap racing across the grass. Emma. Startled cows scattered before her.

The water behind him splashed and churned as cattle plunged into the river, running blind to get away from the unknown black-clad figure racing toward them.

A hard object slammed into his body as Jesse lost his footing on the narrow rock and fell backward. The force of a cowhand’s backside hit him square in the face.

In the second before the river closed over him and sucked him under, he heard Mrs. Switzer’s cutting voice echo across the water.

“
Dopplich Englischer
.”

He had no idea what it meant, but he was fairly sure he’d just been insulted.

E
mma sat on the empty trunk beneath a tall tree on the riverbank and tried not to look anyone in the eye. She hadn’t
meant
to cause a stampede. Granted, she didn’t know cattle would startle so easily. And she certainly didn’t mean for
so many
to run straight into the river. After the first two sank belly-deep in the mud, couldn’t the rest of them see the predicament and stop?

And after all that, their trunk was empty. All her belongings, along with Mama’s quilt, had been removed. Luke had barely spoken a word since his men fished him out of the river, half drowned. And he certainly couldn’t be pleased right now. Once again he was waist deep in the rushing water trying to haul his cattle out. She kept her gaze to the ground lest he looked up and saw her misery.

“Jonas, pull her out,” Luke called from the middle of the river.

She raised her eyes to watch without lifting her head. Papa had one end of a length of rope around an ox’s neck, the other end secured around a steer in the river. Jesse stood on one side of the frightened animal, and Luke on the other. Papa led the ox, pulling the bellowing steer forward. Its head disappeared under the water, cutting off the sound with a gurgle, and then it resurfaced a moment later, still bawling. The steer was dragged onto the shore, where it wallowed on the grass, loudly voicing its displeasure.

Luke cut the knot from around its middle while Jesse loosened the second rope with which they had tied the rear legs together to stop the steer from struggling. They both jumped back when the animal broke loose. It scrambled to its feet and trotted off down the trail toward the main herd.

The cow’s rescue set the rest of them to hollering. Emma’s gaze swept over the last six bovine bodies mired fast in the muddy riverbed bottom. With only the top of their backs and their heads sticking up out of the water, they were like a logjam of frightened roasts. The sound of their bawls filled the air, accompanied by the shouts of cowboys who hollered instructions to each other about how to safely maneuver them out.

It was all her fault.

Emma’s chin drooped lower on her chest.

Up in the wagon,
Maummi
straightened from a crouched position, a hand pressed against the small of her back. She’d inspected every square inch of her hutch, and judging by her fierce expression, she wasn’t happy with the condition. She stepped to the wagon’s rear edge and sat, preparing to drop to the ground. Griff hurried to help her.

“Here you go, ma’am.” With strong arms, he lifted her down and set her on the grass as gently as if handling a baby.

Maummi
brushed her apron and looked sideways up at him. “
Danki
.” Then she switched her gaze to Emma. “
Dopplich Englischers
. A scratch, on the far side. Forty years and no scratches. Now?” She sliced through the air with a vicious gesture. “A scratch.”

“I saw that, ma’am.” Griff hooked a thumb in his belt. “More a scrape than a scratch. You might be able to buff it out when you get to where you’re going.”

She pursed her lips but acknowledged the suggestion with the faintest of nods.

The old cowboy turned a kind gaze toward Emma. “Don’t feel too bad, miss. The sight of that wagon tipping would have stampeded me too. Nothing but plain bad luck that the cattle spooked in the direction of the river. Since we didn’t lose a single head, there’s no cause to fret. There’s not a man here who hasn’t seen worse than this.”

For some reason, his kindness only made Emma’s misery worse. Swallowing against a lump in her throat, she managed a weak smile of gratitude.

Even
Maummi
spoke in a voice without its usual sharp edge. “Did any of our things in the trunk survive?”

Emma drew in a shuddering breath. “Nothing.”

“I’m guessing when that wagon got mired down, the thieves packed up whatever they could carry and chucked the rest in the river.” Griff turned to look upstream. “All except that stuff over there.”

Emma jerked upright. He pointed to a small cluster of trees behind them.

“Not much left, and some of it took a beating, but we moved it out of the way so the herd wouldn’t trample it any further.”

“Rebecca,”
Maummi
called as she headed toward the trees. “Lend a hand, girl.”

Rebecca turned from her vantage point on the bank and followed. With a quick “Thank you” to Griff, Emma hurried after them.

Stuff
was an appropriate description for the mound of clutter piled on a grassless embankment inside a small copse of trees. Emma stood, speechless, and stared at the havoc that had been made of their belongings. Everything had been uncrated, and the few breakable dishes
Maummi
had carefully wrapped for the journey lay in shards. A couple of the crates had been splintered.

Maummi
crossed to the other side of the jumble to where her rocking chair lay on its side. She stood over it and peered downward. “Broken.”

Emma knelt and grasped the corner of a bed sheet between a thumb and forefinger. When she lifted it up, she spied several slashes in the fabric, as though it had been purposefully cut with a knife.

“Why are they so mean?” Rebecca tugged a black garment free of the rubble, and then another. Dresses. They had been similarly destroyed.

A frantic flutter began behind Emma’s breastbone. Had the thieves slashed Mama’s quilt to pieces? She bent over and began tossing things out of the way, searching for a glimpse of bright color or the thick bag in which she’d wrapped it. Nothing.

“Here’s something, anyway.” Rebecca lifted a heavy black skillet out of the wreckage and held it up for
Maummi
’s inspection.

The old lady’s scowl deepened. “Why could we not find it before we paid good money for a new one?”

Behind them, the volume of the cattle’s frightened mooing diminished, and Emma peeked through the trees. Another cow had been rescued and galloped after the other.

While
Maummi
began the task of separating the few usable items from the debris, Rebecca sidled over to her.

“Why did you run toward the wagon, Emma?” She spoke low enough that
Maummi
wouldn’t make out the words while her attention was elsewhere. “Did you think to hold it upright yourself when four men could not?”

Emma kept her eyes averted under the pretense of picking up a sadly bedraggled prayer
kapp
. “I didn’t think anything. I ran because…” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

In the silence that followed, she formed an unspoken prayer of forgiveness for the blatant lie.

And for the alarming reason behind her foolish action.

When the last steer had been hauled out of the river, Luke climbed the bank and collapsed beside his men lying on the grass. The work had been exhausting, and as he lay beside Jesse, his muscles protested. Judging by the sounds of the moans coming from the others, his weren’t the only ones.

Jesse spoke without opening his eyes. “She’s staring at me.”

Luke turned his head to eye his friend. “Who?”

“The younger one. Been staring at me all afternoon. It’s starting to make me edgy.”

A glance toward the Switzers’ wagon revealed Rebecca standing by the bench, her face turned their way. “How do you know she’s not staring at me?”

“First of all, because I’m better lookin’ than you.” A weak chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Second of all, watch.”

Jesse rolled onto his side and propped up on one arm to look the girl in the face. Startled, she swung around and became suddenly busy fiddling with something on the wagon bench. Her shoulders shook with a girlish giggle.

“See? She’s spooking me.”

“Since when did a girl’s attention spook you?”

“Since the girl isn’t older than thirteen or fourteen. Add another five years and it would be a different story.” He drew in a sharp breath with a hiss when he rolled back around to face Luke. “I think I busted a gut on that dad gum wagon. Thing’s as heavy as a full-grown steer.”

“That reminds me.” Luke sat up and rested his arms on his knees. “I haven’t thanked you for saving my hide back there.”

“You’re welcome.” Wincing, Jesse rose to sit beside him. “So now I figure you owe me a steak dinner
and
a bottle of whiskey when we get to Hays.”

He chuckled. “You know I won’t buy your whiskey, but I’ll buy you a bath and a shave. How’s that?”

“That’s all your life’s worth? A bath and a shave?”

“Nope. I’m worth a five-dollar steak, not one of those cheap things you’d try and force on me.” He grinned sideways. “But you
need
a bath. You’re starting to smell so bad you’re scaring the herd.”

Jesse pointed at the river. “I had my bath, thank you. And washed my long johns at the same time.”

Speaking of which, Luke would welcome some dry clothes. He climbed to his feet and scanned the sky. The storm had skirted around them to the north. He glanced toward the herd. From this vantage point he could see the chuck wagon in the distance on the far side. When the cattle had mired in the muck, he’d sent word to halt and let the herd graze. Kirk, Morris, and Vic kept guard while the rest had helped out with the rescue. Judging by the position of the sun, they only had a couple of hours of travel time left before they would need to find a good place to bed down for the night. He searched his memory of his last drive on the Chisholm Trail. As far as he could remember, there wasn’t another appropriate place within four hours of here. This would have to be it. What was a couple more hours when they had lost a full day?

He spoke to the men lying in the grass around him. “We’ll graze the herd a little longer and then settle them here for the night.” Jesse drew breath for an accusation, but Luke held up a hand to stop him. “It’s my fault. You men did a good job today. Let’s get those cattle taken care of and then get some extra shut-eye ourselves. Tomorrow we’ll get an early start.”

There was less grumbling than expected when the men rose and started gathering their belongings.

“I hope the cook ain’t serving beans again tonight,” Charlie said to no one in particular. He winked. “Been noisy enough around here today.”

Griff scooped his hat off the ground. “Some of those molasses cakes he whips up sure would go down good. Got an ache in my sweet tooth tonight.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Luke promised. “You fellows go on ahead. I’ll be along in a minute.”