He swept the room with a considered eye. In the corner hung a sling large enough to handle a full-grown cow or horse. Deacon’s recent experience with her healing ability had shown that she knew how to treat human complaints. It appeared Dr. Grace handled animal husbandry with equal aplomb.
He and Dan carried Ketchum to the table, stretching the wolf out for inspection. Dan hovered on one side of the animal’s head. When the beast halfheartedly growled at the doctor, Dan spoke softly to him in Kiowa.
“Ketchum knows his manners,” Miri said, leaning close, petting the wolf’s muzzle. As he listened to her steady stream of reassurances, cautions and stories aimed at Ketchum, Deacon was reminded of how she’d done the same to him on their trip from Pettigrew’s camp.
Once, the doctor glanced up from working on the hole in the wolf’s side to exchange looks with Dan. Deacon hadn’t noticed the child sitting on a bench in the corner until Hawks crossed the room to stand by a copper-skinned boy of four or five intently following the operation.
Dan spoke softly to the boy. “William, would you like to help me feed the foals?”
Casting one last look at the operation, William held up both arms. Deacon watched with envy as Dan swung the boy up with a practiced move. Child and man both grunted in satisfaction. William clung to his perch as they headed for the barn.
“Need any help?” Deacon asked, turning his gaze back on Ketchum.
“No,” the women answered together.
Needed or not, Deacon stepped behind Miri, keeping vigil with her and making it clear she wasn’t alone.
Miri refused to leave Ketchum’s side when the McCallisters moved him back to the MC3 to recuperate, so Deacon carried the wolf up to his bedroom, laying him on a pallet in the room, telling his female in-laws to shush when they had a fit.
Miri concentrated on nursing her wolf and let Deacon take charge of most everything else, glad to have someone watching her back while Ketchum healed. It was strange to her though, living in the same room with Deacon, even if he didn’t do more than massage her shoulders or tug on a lock of her hair from time to time. She wasn’t oblivious to the intimacies developing between them.
“I’d rather have a beer,” she told him truthfully one evening when he brought her a glass of milk with a plate of Eden’s food.
“Waste not, want not,” he said, chugging the contents of the glass. A drop of white clung to his mustache when he finished.
“You need a bib,” she scolded, climbing up from her spot on the floor to blot the excess from Deacon’s face.
“I need
you
,” he growled, kissing her forehead. “Eat first. I’ll bring each of us a beer to drink before you stretch out and I take a turn watching the wolf.”
He left her alone and Miri listened to the sound of Deacon’s feet hitting the steps before she buried her face in Ketchum’s fur. She didn’t hug on her friend much anymore now that both of them were full grown. But she’d been telling him her thoughts and her stories for years. It wasn’t any different this time when it was him she was afraid she’d lose. She wrapped her arms around his neck, wiping away her tears and mumbling a prayer.
“God, you and me don’t always see eye to eye on things. But I’m asking you to do this for me. Don’t take him away from me. I know it’s purely selfish on my part. He’s a fine one and you’d be lucky to get him. But he’s my partner. I’d take it kindly if you’d hold off a spell with any plans you have for Ketchum.”
She thought about her request and then amended it
.
“A long spell.”
Gradually Miri became aware of another presence in the room though she had no idea when Deacon had entered. Pretty sure her face was a mess, she didn’t turn to look at him. “If you were an outlaw, I’d be dead. I didn’t hear you come up behind me.”
“Ketchum heard me. He’d have torn my throat out if I meant you harm.”
Startled, Miri looked down. Ketchum gazed at her out of clear eyes no longer dulled by fever and his tail thumped weakly against the floor.
“Charlie says he’s only part wolf.”
Deacon’s words gave her time to get composed and she wiped her face on her sleeve before she answered. “I know that. After I raised him, I let him go. He tried to join a wolf pack but they ran him off. He came back to me torn up somethin’ fierce. I took care of him, let him know he was welcome to stay with me. We’ve been fine since.”
“You’re both part of the McCallister clan now, and we guard our own.” Deacon’s answer warmed her heart. He handed her a glass of beer and took up his own for a toast.
“To Ketchum’s recovery and our partnership.” He lifted his mug and waited expectantly. She bumped her glass against his before drinking the warm frothy alcohol. It was just what she’d needed to ease the tension she’d been carrying.
She didn’t drink often and when she had in the past, she’d been alone with Ketchum and Possum. She curled up on the bed and Deacon pulled a cover over her and took her place on the floor next to the wolf.
“Sleep,” he ordered her. And she did until he nudged her awake the next morning. She blinked up at him and yawned.
“That felt fine,” she admitted, stretching.
“Good. I’m on my way to town. Breakfast can be had in the kitchen if you’re hungry. I figure Ketchum’s well enough to sustain your absence while you eat.”
Nobody in the ranch house seemed to think it was strange, her moving in, though they’d been a mite slow accepting her wolf. As for her being a woman pretending to be a man, the women just shrugged that away, talking
female speak
to her as if she was one of them and hadn’t been pretending to be male most of her life.
“I’ll be back from Eclipse by nightfall,” he said. Since Ketchum was better and she was hungry, Miri walked with Deacon downstairs and went to the kitchen when he left for town.
The women were gathered around the stove listening intently to one of Eden’s cooking lessons when Miri interrupted to announce her good news.
“Ketchum’s doing fine. I guess he’s too ornery to die.”
She saw her mistake immediately. Three interested pairs of eyes turned to her. Eden set the skillet on the back of the stove. Naomi crossed to a curtained area, pulling the material back to show a tub. Charlie’s mother, Rachel McCallister, carried a cauldron from the fireplace where water had been heating.
The McCallister women worked in a coordinated unit, herding her toward the bathing area.
“You poor girl, you’re worn out. Whatever happens, you need to take this time to freshen up.” Eden looked pointedly at Miri’s shirt covered in rust-colored stains.
“I’d be grateful for a bucket of water, and that’s the truth. It’s been awhile since I bathed.” In fact she shivered remembering the cold dunking she’d endured at Deacon’s hands. That had been her last connection to soap and water. She was a mess and it would feel good being clean. The women filled the tub, hustled her into the bathing area and left her to enjoy a soak.
She’d not ever had such flowery perfumed soap before. It reminded her of the rose-smelling scent she’d doused herself with in the outlaw camp. Only that had been sickly sweet, making her stomach churn a little. This smell was nicer. Miri sniffed the bar of soap, drawing in the pleasing aroma to remember later. Eden had advised her to pour some of the oil in the blue bottle into her water. She dribbled in the oil, then sank into a luxurious bath to relax.
I’ll skip scrubbing my hair since drying it takes too much time.
I need to get back to Ketchum.
She soaped her chest, loving the feel of her breasts bobbing in the water. Miri grimaced at their size. She bound them most of the time. Unbound, she made shirts two sizes too big, just to get the material loose enough to hide them.
“Use that cream on the chair to make your hair nice and shiny.” Naomi McCallister stuck her head around the curtain and caught Miri gawking at her breasts.
Miri scooted lower in the tub, concealing her body and her blush beneath the opaque soap film on the water.
Well I guess my hair’s wet now.
She soaped it and rinsed it and then used Naomi’s concoction as advised. Not lingering longer, she climbed out of the tub and wrapped the long pale strands in one towel and herself in another.
“Reckon you can pass me my clothes?” She poked her head through the curtain to get the ladies’ attention.
“You’ll have to make do with this, Miri.” It was Naomi again, handing her a dress. “Your pants and shirt are too dirty to put back on.”
“It’s probably a mite short, Naomi, me being taller than you McCallister women.” Miri frowned at the pale lavender garment handed in to her.
Naomi pushed the dress into her hands anyway.
“That’s one of my sister’s gowns. Comfort is a tall woman like you. Charlie went into town yesterday while you were in the sick room and brought you back some clothes for you to change into.”
It occurred to Miri that the McCallisters had been doing a little too much thinking about her. Argument was silly since she was standing in a towel with water dripping down her back. “I’ll make sure I take care of it.”
She ducked behind the curtain and pulled on the assortment of clothing in the pile given to her. White undergarments with lacy trim made her snort. The corset she didn’t even bother with. But she pulled the drawers on and the chemise.
The dress was too nice to be lending out, and Miri wondered how Charlie had been able to coax it from Comfort Quince. She buttoned as many of the buttons as she could before stepping into it and pulling it up the rest of the way. It snugged some over her breasts, not hiding the size of them at all, and she wore a frown when she stepped around the curtain.
The conversation among the women stuttered to a halt and silence greeted her as all eyes looked at her with amazement.
“Is Deacon back?” she asked hopefully. His female relatives made her nervous when she faced them alone. Nobody answered as they continued to stare at her.
“I’ll need someone to do up the buttons,” she said self-consciously.
Deacon’s aunt stepped behind Miri to oblige and as soon as the buttons were closed, the dress pulled even tighter across her chest.
Though she was grateful for the clean outfit, it seemed prudent to focus the McCallisters on what was important—Ketchum. She needed to get back to make sure he was faring all right. Her words were sharper than she intended when she spoke.
“I’ll need my real clothes back. This dress is too tight.” They remained silent, but Eden walked closer and tested the fabric on the shoulders.
“We can let the dress seams out a little right here. The waist needs a tuck or two, since Miri is so slender.”
She stepped back, ignoring Miri as if she were a doll to be dressed and put aside. “The length is still a little too short. We’ll let the hems down too on the others.”
“I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but I need some kind of a shawl to cover this dress before I can traipse around in public.” Miri rubbed at her wet hair with the towel, trying to look commanding.
“Why?” Eden seemed puzzled.
“On me, this dress isn’t decent,” Miri answered sharply. She dipped her head, nodding silently at the fabric outlining the swell of her breasts. “I don’t look right in such as this.”
Nobody disagreed, a fact that disappointed her in some inexplicable way. Rachel handed her a white scarf to drape around her shoulders and Miri accepted it, wrapping it around her arms and across her chest. Then, being as polite as she could be, she proceeded to set them straight.
“I won’t need the dresses Comfort sent. You don’t need to fix them to fit me. My clothes will suit just fine once they’re clean.” It wasn’t lost on Miri the way the women avoided meeting her gaze.
“I’ll just sit on the porch out front until my hair dries,” she told them and took the comb that Rachel handed her as she scooted out the door.
It’s sure something, this ranch they call home.
Miri sat in the porch swing and rocked herself back and forth while she combed out her hair. The bench was high enough from the porch floor to let her stretch out in comfort. She figured it was because the McCallister men were such long-legged fellows.
“Mighty flimsy stuff to be standin’ ’tween me and the elements,” she muttered, stroking the soft material of the borrowed dress as soon as the other women had left her alone. Nevertheless, she continued to touch the lavender material with calloused fingers, savoring the feel of what she had on.
She liked watching the people who lived on the ranch. They were an odd lot for sure. She’d been hesitant to mix with the women, having no experience in that direction. Deacon’s introduction had been embarrassing.
“You’ve previously met Miss Beauregard in her male guise as Beau. She’s a master of disguise, smart and brave and she saved my life. Miri, meet the family.” Then he’d pronounced each name and though she’d met them all before, she met them all over again.
Deacon emphasized their partnership. Nobody questioned that they shared a bedroom. Of course, since she was nursing Ketchum, it was a moot point. She’d stood watch from a chair every night, sometimes stretching right out next to Ketchum on the pallet.
“A body could get used to smelling pretty like this. But I suspect it’s wasted on outlaws.” She sniffed her sleeve and grinned.