The Rancher Takes a Cook (17 page)

Anna nodded, absorbing his words. Other than
their neighbor’s dog when she was little, she had never witnessed
anything give birth. She sent up a little prayer that she would get
to see one of these foals being born. Edward had described the
excitement of each of the calvings he’d watched over the last few
weeks, and she couldn’t help a twinge of jealousy over his
experiences.

She crept into the barn behind Jacob, the
musty combination of horse, hay, and leather flooding her senses.
She followed him as quietly as her long skirts would allow until
they reached a stall midway down the row. He turned the lantern
wick down so it emitted only a soft glow of light. She peaked over
Jacob’s shoulder through the wood beams into the stall. He slipped
a hand around Anna’s waist and moved her in front of him. Now she
had an unobstructed view.

Inside the stall, a large chestnut horse
with very swollen sides stood. The mare’s neck and flanks gleamed a
darker brown from perspiration, and she hung her head low in a
painful stance. The mare’s attitude suddenly changed. Her skin
tightened and she swung her large head around to nip at her belly.
She pawed the straw on the stall floor and turned around in small
circles several times.

“She’s having a contraction,” Jacob
whispered.

Anna didn’t dare speak, but her heart
pinched at the mare’s pain. The poor creature looked miserable.
After pawing the ground and circling several more times, the horse
finally laid down, an effort that sounded a bit like a tree
falling. The mare lay propped on her side, breathing hard. Then
with a whoosh, a flood of water escaped from under her tail.

Jacob touched Anna’s elbow, keeping his
voice low. “It shouldn’t be long now. I’m gonna get the foaling
bucket and blankets.”

Anna could only nod, eyes focused on the
horse so she didn’t miss anything. The mare seemed to be resting
for a moment, though. She became aware of another presence at her
side. It was Manuel, the ranch’s wrangler who usually cared for the
horses. Relief washed over her. The man had a vast amount of
knowledge when it came to the animals. If anything went wrong, he
would know what to do.

The mare began breathing hard again. She lay
flat on her side, tail raised, muscles rippling along her
sides.

“There’s the first hoof.” Manuel pointed
toward the mare’s tail where Anna glimpsed a little white bubble
barely visible. He slipped into the stall to crouch in the corner,
but Anna’s attention stayed focused on that little bubble. When the
mare gave another push, the bubble became bigger and a dark color
appeared underneath the semi-translucent film.

With each push, the mare would groan and
more of the bubble appeared, until it took on the shape of a
miniature head. Manuel stepped forward and broke the end of the
bubble, pulling it away from the little face. Anna sucked in her
breath at the tiny, delicate features.

As the mare continued to strain, the head
with cute floppy ears and part of a neck, along with the two front
legs surfaced. The baby still kept its eyes closed, and only the
barely flaring nostrils announced it to be alive.

“Manuel, it’s not moving,” Anna whispered.
Was the foal not strong enough?

“He’s doing fine. They don’t usually open
their eyes until everything’s out of the Mama. If it moved now, he
might kick her insides and do some damage. As long as he’s
breathing, everything’s going along just right.”

Anna released the breath she’d been holding
and watched in rapt attention as the mare’s next push brought out
the foal’s shoulders and most of the torso. That left only the rear
feet still inside. The foal’s eyes opened then, and it raised its
delicate little head to look around in bewilderment.

The mare lay still for a few moments then
gave a final grunt and rose to her feet. The motion caused the baby
to pull free, and it lay quietly on the stall floor until its mama
came to nuzzle its neck. She licked the foal’s body free of the
white film that still covered in spots. The mare worked her tongue
back toward the little head, finally finding the baby’s muzzle.
Mama and baby touched noses, and the mother gave a soft little
nicker. The action was so sweet, Anna felt like she was intruding
on a private moment.

She took a step back from the rail and hit a
solid form behind her. Spinning around, Anna stared into Jacob’s
blue eyes, the shadows from the lantern making them appear darker
than usual. He caught her shoulders then lightly ran his fingers
down the back of her arms, sending shivers coursing through her
body.

“Cold?” he asked in a husky whisper. The
intensity in his gaze made it hard to breathe, let alone speak, but
she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Instead, she shook her head
slightly.

“Pretty neat, isn’t it?” The twinkle
appeared in his eyes and the corners of his lips rose to reveal
slight dimples.
My goodness, but he’s handsome.

Jacob quirked a brow. He was expecting an
answer. She blinked, remembering the miracle of the birth she’d
just witnessed, the joy of new life. “It’s amazing.”

As March rolled into April, the spring rains
came in a steady torrent. For two weeks straight, the deluge fell
for at least a part of every day. The mud made things harder and
messier for the cowpunchers, and each night the men would drag
themselves into the dining hall, covered in the brown gunk. At
least the temperature had warmed, so the rain produced rich green
grass across the pastures.

When May arrived and the downpours became
less frequent, the countryside opened up in a vast array of color.
The woods were full of greenery, with pink cherry blossoms and
white dogwood flowers mixed throughout. The pastures were covered
in yellow, pink, and white wildflowers, and Anna took every
possible opportunity for a ride on Bandita. The mare seemed to
enjoy the outings as much as Anna and would toss her head
continually until Anna loosened the reins and allowed the horse to
stretch out for a run.

The highlight of Anna’s day was still the
early mornings when Jacob stopped in for coffee after milking the
cow and gathering eggs. He would bring her up to speed on the
happenings with the herd, and he was quickly becoming a master
storyteller as he recounted the episodes the cowboys experienced on
the range.

This particular morning was no different as
Anna wielded the round biscuit-cutter in the floury sourdough
mixture on the worktable. Jacob had just finished telling of
Edward’s growing skill with the lariat, when he stopped to take the
last gulp of his second cup of coffee. He set the empty mug on the
table and leaned back in the chair, but Anna didn’t move to refill
it. He held himself to a two cup maximum before breakfast.

“Well,” Jacob spoke as if contemplating his
words, “branding starts next week.”

Anna quirked a brow. “What does that
mean?”

“We always do our own branding on the ranch
the week before the community round-up. Most of the other ranchers
don’t have enough hands to keep their cattle from roaming like we
do, so every spring all the ranchers round-up the cattle in one
spot, brand the calves, and drive the steers to Kansas. Since we
keep the Double Rocking B cattle on our land, we brand the new
calves before the main round-up. We still participate in the town
event, though, just in case some of our cattle have strayed. It
helps us stay in good standing with the community, too.”

Anna worked in silence for a moment,
processing the information. At last she looked up. “Does that mean
our boys will be going on the cattle drive, too?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. We don’t do a
spring drive like most of the other ranchers. Since they already
have their cattle rounded up, they go ahead and drive them to
market. I like to wait until the fall, though, when the young ones
are stronger and they’ve had a chance to gain weight over the
summer.”

Anna was once again amazed at the wisdom of
this man. “So you’ll start the branding on Monday?”

“Yep.” He leaned forward in his chair.
“Hopin’ to get it done by Wednesday. Everyone’ll have a job for the
branding. Aunt Lola usually comes out with the wagon to handle the
food and medicine. She’s gettin’ up in years to be sleepin’ on the
hard ground.” His eyes roamed down to stare at his hands. “I was
hoping maybe you could take her spot this year?” He looked up at
Anna with a bit of pleading on his face, almost like a boy begging
for a second piece of dessert.

A surge ran through her chest. “I’d love to.
What will I be doing?”

His shoulders relaxed. “We work from sun up
to sun down and sleep out with the herd to keep the finished cows
separated from those we haven’t touched yet. You’ll be cookin’ and
makin’ sure the boys have the supplies they need, as well as
doctoring any scrapes they come up with.”

Anna took a deep breath. “I probably need to
get more supplies then.”

He nodded. “I was plannin’ to go to town on
Saturday to get a few things we’ll need. You and Aunt Lola can come
too, if you’d like. She can show you what she takes.”

* * *

The branding was different than anything
Anna had imagined. The men set up camp on the northern end of the
property and quickly developed a system: The calf was roped and
brought first to the man in charge of the branding iron, then
another cowboy would step forward with a knife to mark the cow’s
ear, another method of determining ownership on the range. After
the calves were marked, the male calves were castrated. A final
cowboy was stationed nearby with a bucket of foul-smelling medicine
to dab any open wounds the cattle might have.

The process was a loud, miserable event with
the painful bleating of the calves almost as awful as the aroma of
singed hide that filled the air. At least the cowboys weren’t rough
with the animals, just matter-of-fact in their handling. Monty said
each of these tasks had to be done to properly identify and care
for the cattle, but they were still painful to witness and probably
even harder to perform. The cowboys rotated jobs frequently.

Anna’s role was much less miserable, cooking
meals and bringing the men fresh water, rags, and medicine. The
cowboys ate in shifts, and she did her best to make the food as
appetizing as possible. She relied heavily on the canned goods
she’d bought in town, as well as those she and Aunt Lola had put up
in the fall. Of course, she made sure to provide something extra
tasty for dessert like peach cobbler in the Dutch oven or apple
tarts in the frying pan. She was a little bit limited without her
stove, but after the first time she burned the flapjacks, she
started to get the hang of how to improvise over the open fire.

Aunt Lola had warned Anna she would also be
in charge of the camp medicine box, doctoring any wounds the men
received from the long sharp horns of the cantankerous cattle.
She’d often cared for Edward’s scrapes growing up and the times
Papa had burned himself in the candle shop. But should she be
doctoring grown men not in her family? That was a bit unnerving.
Before the War, such a thing would have been unheard of, but now
most people thought it acceptable. Women had doctored men in war
hospitals all over the country, and the harsh realities of the
Texas plains often loosened society’s strictures by sheer force of
necessity.

During the first day of branding, the wounds
were few and fairly mild. Donato had sliced the top layers of skin
on his arm while trying to mark the ear of a feisty overgrown calf.
Paco had been kicked by another calf during the castration process
when the frightened animal managed to get a hind leg loose from the
tie string. But these casualties served to heighten Anna’s
awareness of the dangers inherent in ranching. She kept a watchful
eye on Edward throughout the day but was thankful he stayed safely
in the saddle as a roper.

By the second day, Anna was getting used to
the sights and sounds of the branding camp. After finishing the
breakfast dishes, she grabbed her Bible from the tent the men had
rigged for her and sank down on the back side of the wagon to read,
propping herself against the large metal wheel.

From this vantage point, she could see the
cattle grazing peacefully in the herd that had not yet been
branded. She couldn’t help but feel sorry for the innocent calves
playing around the edge of the group. They had no idea what trials
they were about to experience. Funny how people were often like
those calves, going along about their own business, never knowing
what calamity was about to befall them until it changed their
lives.

As she sat in the sunshine, unopened Bible
still in hand, Monty appeared on horseback in the distance, riding
toward the edge of the herd with his rope coiled and loop ready to
throw. His arm was quick and his aim true as he landed the noose
around a calf. He guided his horse back out of sight toward the
branding station, calf begrudgingly in tow. The little guy had been
so busy exploring new patches of grass, it never saw the rope
coming and didn’t have any choice in the matter.

Anna’s life had unfolded much like the
roping of that little calf. So many times she had been hit, out of
the blue, by a life-changing event. By now, she was so gun-shy and
always seemed to be fearing the worst. Always worrying about the
next catastrophe.

She flipped open her Bible, hoping to find
encouragement in the Psalms. She skimmed a well-worn page, not sure
what she was looking for. Her eyes settled on a verse the Pastor
had used in his sermon a few weeks ago.
I will lift up mine eyes
unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the
Lord, which made Heaven and Earth.

The words hit her like a ton of bricks.
Father, I’m so sorry for not trusting in You for help. I know
You know the future and want the best for us. Please help me to
place it in Your hands.