The Rancher Inherits A Family

Seth released the boy’s arm. Harper backed up, spotted an empty bucket, which he turned over for a stool, and sat a few feet away from Seth’s bed. “I’m gonna sit here and watch for a while.”

“I have a chore for the both of you. There’s a shed out behind the house. Go back there, leave the door open for light and find me a couple of lanterns. I’ll want them when it gets dark.”

“To see your way to the privy?” Harper asked.

Seth nodded. “And to read. Where’s Little John?”

“Inside with Miss Brewster.” The two turned and darted around the corner of the house.

The screen door opened ten feet away, and Miss Brewster exited the house carrying a tray. Little John walked so closely beside her, Seth hoped he didn’t trip her.

“We heard you talking to the boys. Your mother sent your lunch.” She set the tray on an upended crate and moved it closer to him. “Do you want to sit up a little more?”

“I reckon one more cushion.”

She leaned across him to tuck the padding behind him, and her citrusy scent enveloped him. The unique zesty scent suited her—it wasn’t heavy or floral, but bright, like her hair and eyes. She wore a pale blue shirtwaist with lace trim down the front and an apron over a blue-and-white checkered skirt. The fabric rustled as she moved. Standing, she handed him a plate of food and smoothed her hand over her hip in an unconscious nervous gesture.

Looking at the bruise on her delicate jaw made him wince each time he saw it. Her face was flushed and her eyelids seemed pink. The day wasn’t uncomfortably warm, which made him wonder if she’d been crying. The thought disturbed him more than he’d have liked. “Have a seat.”

She glanced behind her and lowered herself onto a cushioned twig chair.

Little John immediately leaned against her knees, and she lifted him onto her lap. He stuck a thumb into his mouth and rested back against her. His untrusting gaze bore into Seth’s.

She smoothed the little boy’s hair from his forehead. The gesture made something in Seth’s chest shift uncomfortably, and he questioned his reaction. No female had ever affected him the way this one did. In her presence, he felt appreciative, protective, uncertain, wary...and enchanted. All at once. The tumble of emotions confused and worried him. He didn’t have time to think about perplexing feelings.

He said a silent blessing and ate the meat and potatoes his mother had prepared, his gaze moving across the landscape. Once spring had arrived, he’d inspected all the buildings and made repairs to stalls and corrals. He and old Dewey had ridden fence for weeks, mending and replacing. Dewey was most likely finishing that chore today. Seth’s mother hadn’t mentioned him, but she’d left for town early and probably set out a breakfast for their hand. Right now Seth should be checking wells and pumps, inspecting the troughs to make certain they’d hold rainwater. Once this rib quit hurting he’d be able to ride.

He glanced at Marigold, noting Little John had fallen asleep on her lap. “You can lay him at the foot of the cot here. I’ll sit up while he naps.”

She shifted the boy’s weight so he was in a manageable position, then rose to place him on the bed. The child curled up and stuck his thumb into his mouth. Seth watched the boy slumber, his long lashes against his pinkened cheek. Glancing up, he noticed that Marigold hadn’t moved away, but was studying Little John as well, her expression undecipherable.

“You’re good with the boys,” he said.

She came out of her reverie to glance at Seth. “Children fascinate me. I suppose that’s why I became a teacher. They’re impressionable and for the most part unspoiled. They don’t resist change or new information, and unless they have cause not to be, they’re accepting.”

She moved back to the chair and smoothed her skirts.

“He’s pretty wary of me.” Seth set aside his plate. “I confess I don’t much know what to do for youngins. I realize Tessa was desperate for someone to look out for them, but I don’t know that I was the best choice.”

“Apparently she trusted you.”

He took a deep breath that shot a stabbing pain to his side. “I reckon.” He shifted, trying to get more comfortable. “Aside from feeding them and giving them a place to sleep, what do I do with them?”

“They’re curious. They’re energetic. Give them room to play and discover. They need guidelines and routines, enforced with kindness. They need a sense of well-being and someone to listen to them.”

Still feeling inadequate, he thought over her words.

“Not all that different from adults in that respect,” she added and glanced away from his gaze.

Was she missing a sense of well-being? She’d come all this way on a train by herself. He’d heard talk about the hiring of a new teacher, but until now he hadn’t put any thought into what kind of person would accept the position. All of the other women who arrived in Cowboy Creek were either already married to businessmen or ranchers, or had come seeking husbands. Marigold Brewster had apparently come to teach, but it was a long way to travel for a position.

“What brought you to Kansas?” he asked.

She glanced at Little John and then aside. “I lived in Ohio with my sister. We worked and took care of each other. And then she died. It was lonely living in my parents’ home without them—without Daisy, I mean. I saw the advertisement for a teacher in a growing boomtown community, so I sent a telegram and once I heard back, I sold the house. I wanted to start over.”

“Did you have friends there? Other family?”

She shook her head. “We had friends once. The war changed everything.”

He nodded. “Indeed.”

A moment passed and the cry of a hawk echoed in the distance.

“Where were you during the war?” she asked.

“We ranched in Missouri, so I guess that tells you something. We were battling over statehood from the start. Towns and families split over joining the Confederacy. My father had built up stock and my brothers and I helped out. The ranch was thriving, but when the war broke out, most of the ranchers had to set their cattle loose while they went to fight. We thought it would only be for a few months and we’d come back and round ’em up, sort ’em out and go on. We lost at Wilson’s Creek early on, won at Pea Ridge, but the battles went on and on, and there was no law to be had.”

“I followed the newspaper reports,” she said. “What about your parents?”

He collected himself before speaking. “My father was killed in sixty. Before the war. Then between Quantrill, the James brothers, Bill Anderson and the like, it was too dangerous to leave my mother alone, so we sent her to her brother’s family in Philadelphia, and she waited out the war with my aunts. I ended up fighting in Arkansas, was with General Steele during the Red River Campaign.”

“You said ‘we’?”

“I have two younger brothers.” He spotted a trail of dust in the distance. “Looks like you’ll be meeting one real soon.”

* * *

Marigold turned in the direction Seth studied. Dust rose in the air as a rider approached. He reached the dooryard and slid from his sleek black horse. Dressed in a black waistcoat, black trousers and shiny boots, he approached the porch and removed his hat. He was as tall as Seth, but leaner. A neatly trimmed goatee made his face appear all the more angular.

The stranger turned his attention on Seth. “I just returned from Lawrence this morning and heard you got banged up yesterday.”

“I didn’t know you were gone.”

“Last-minute trip.” The man turned to Marigold. “You must be Miss Brewster, our new schoolteacher. Russell Halloway, miss.”

“A pleasure,” she said.

His gaze slid to the sleeping boy. “And this is one of Tessa’s children?”

“That’s Little John,” Seth answered. “Did you look over the letter?”

“I did. She had it witnessed, and I sent a telegram to the witness who confirmed being present and that Tessa was of sound mind when she wrote it. If someone contested your custody of the children, the letter would be enough to sway a judge that you should have them. It’s not a legal document, however, so no court could force you to take the boys if you were set against it.”

“What other options would there be?” Marigold asked with concern.

“The records of disposition of desperate orphans have increased by thousands in the past five years,” Russ explained. “There are orphan asylums across the country that take children from infancy to age thirteen.”

“Desperate orphans,” she repeated, glancing from his brother to Seth. A slice of panic rose in her chest. “An asylum sounds dreadful.”

“I’m not refusing to take them,” Seth assured them both. “Tessa wanted them in my care, so that’s where they’ll stay. I just want to make sure everything is legal. There can’t be any question about the authenticity of Tessa’s will.”

She took a deep breath and thanked the Lord for Seth’s magnanimous compassion.

The brothers looked at each other, and Marigold sensed the tension barely below the surface.

“I wouldn’t want ’em to settle in and then find there’s a problem,” Seth insisted.

“You can petition a judge and sign papers to adopt them if it’s what you want,” Russ told him. “Just remember if they carry your name that upon your death they will legally inherit your land and holdings—shared with any other children you might have, so you’ll need to have a will in order.”

The thought of leaving these children a share of his land didn’t seem to bother Seth, because he replied immediately. “Get those papers ready to sign then.”

Russell rested his hat on a small table. “It will take me a few days to put the papers in order, so you’ll have time to think about it.”

“I’ve thought about it.”

“Russ!” Evelyn pushed open the screen door and hurried to give her son an energetic hug. “I was expecting to see you yesterday.”

“Just returned this morning,” he explained.

“Miss Brewster, you’ve met my second-born son? He’s a lawyer and has his very own practice in town—the one you saw on Eden Street. Daniel Gardner and Will Canfield contacted him and suggested he come to Kansas. Russ is the reason we’re here, too. He told Seth about this ranch when it came available.”

Russ appeared uncomfortable with her lengthy introduction. “We’ve met, Mother.”

Undeterred, Evelyn continued. “Russ is expecting a lovely young woman to arrive by train very soon. We’re all looking forward to her arrival.” She turned to her middle son. “Would you like some dinner? It’s still hot.”

“I am hungry,” he said.

“I’ll get it.” Marigold stood quickly. “You sit and visit with your sons, Mrs. Halloway.”

Marigold entered the house and busied herself making another tray, giving the Halloways time to talk. When she carried out the tray minutes later, Evelyn had moved the table near Russ’s chair.

“Thank you, Miss Brewster.” Russ picked up his napkin and settled it on his lap.

Evelyn gave her son an affectionate look. “After my husband died, we got into hard times back in Missouri. Russ was at university out East. He had to take a job and earn scholarships to finish his law degree. It took him a few years, but even with him going off to fight, he did it.”

Marigold found a narrow space on the opposite side of the sleeping Little John and squeezed herself in. “That’s quite an accomplishment.”

“After the war, he earned himself a reputation fighting for veterans’ rights,” she went on, with pride in her voice. “That’s how he came in contact with Daniel and Will.”

Russ’s harsh features showed his displeasure. Marigold imagined he was a force to be reckoned with in a judge’s chambers. “I’m sure Miss Brewster doesn’t want to hear about me.”

“I’m captivated,” Marigold said with a smile.

“I have another son, too,” Evelyn added, lifting her chin. “Adam is my youngest. After the army, he joined the Pinkerton National Detective Agency.”

“And that’s the last we’ve heard of him,” Seth commented.

“He’s written a few letters,” Evelyn said quickly. “I’m sure he’s very busy bringing criminals to justice.”

Marigold had noted the vague information in Seth and his mother’s stories about his father’s death. Seth had mentioned he was killed. Marigold barely knew them. She didn’t want to ask personal questions that would surely bring up a painful subject. After all, she had her own hurts she didn’t want to talk about.

As they talked, an older man approached on foot from the direction of the barns. He was tall and slender, wearing bibbed overalls and a shirt with the sleeves rolled back. As he approached the house, he removed his hat and held it against his chest.

“Hello, Mr. Dewey,” Evelyn called out. “Our morning was so busy, I didn’t see you. Are you ready for some dinner?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. I fixed myself something. Didn’t wanna be no bother. I just wanted to see how Seth was doin’.”

“Well, come join us and meet Miss Brewster, the new schoolteacher we’ve been hearing about.”

“How do, miss,” the fellow said and stopped at the foot of the stairs.

“Come up here and sit with us. I’ll get you a cup of coffee,” Evelyn said. “Marigold, this is Mr. Dewey. He’s Seth’s friend and works here.” Evelyn hurried into the house.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dewey.”

“Just plain Dewey, miss.”

“Dewey and I drove cattle from Texas to Colorado and have more than a few scars to show for it,” Seth said.

Dewey brought a chair from the far end of the porch and settled onto it. He was a lanky fellow, his body all sharp angles. He had a full head of silver-gray hair, but his big mustache was still shot with patches of black. “And a whole passel o’ stories.”

Tate and Harper came around the side of the house and set dusty lanterns inside the porch rail.

“How many did you find?” Seth asked.

“Four, sir,” Tate replied.

“Fine work. Come close.”

The boys glanced at the two strangers and moved beside Seth.

Seth introduced them to his brother and the ranch hand, and Evelyn returned with a tray of full coffee cups for the men.

“This is more people than we’ve had on this porch since we got here last fall,” she said with a smile.

“Reckon you should get busted up more often,” Dewey said to Seth, and Seth chuckled while holding his side.

It was the first time Marigold had seen a smile on his face, and she appreciated the relaxed expression. He and Dewey had obviously shared a long friendship.

“You rode the train all the way from Missouri?” Russ asked the boys.

Harper looked at Tate, and Tate responded. “Yes, sir. Part way we met Miss Brewster, an’ she helped look after us.”

“She has a cat,” Harper added.

“Where do you live?” Tate asked.

“I have a place in town,” Russ replied.

“A new house,” Evelyn said. “I helped him with rugs and furniture and the like. It will be a fine home for a family.”

Russ gave his mother a tolerant grin. “Someday.”

“Not long now.” She glanced at Marigold. “The young woman Russ has been corresponding with is coming to Cowboy Creek in only a few weeks.”

“Mother,” Russ said by way of shushing her.

“Where do you stay, Dewey?” Marigold asked, to change the subject.

“I have a place in the rear of the small barn.” He gestured over his shoulder with a thumb.

Evelyn tilted her head. “I’ve tried to get him into the house, but he won’t have it—not even over the winter.”

“Got ever’thing I need right out there, and I don’t bother nobody when I get up to look at the stars of a night,” he replied. “Ain’t slept in a house my whole life, an’ I don’t have a mind to now.”

It was clear they’d had the discussion more than once, and Evelyn wasn’t winning.

Little John woke up, and his disoriented gaze went from person to person, until he found his brothers. He sat up and scooted close to Marigold. She patted his leg. “This is Little John,” she told the newcomers.

The boy stuck his thumb into his mouth.

“Harper, will you please take him around back?”

“Yes’m.”

Tate followed his younger brothers.

“Three children are a big responsibility,” Russ commented.

“I know all about responsibility.” Seth’s voice held a depth of meaning.

Russ took a sip of his coffee.

“Miss Brewster is here to help us.” Evelyn gave Marigold a warm smile.

“I’ll see to those dishes now,” she said. She got up and made her way inside.

There was more to this family than anyone had shared, but it was none of her business. None of this was her business, when it came right down to it, but here she was, embroiled in the care and feeding of three children and a wounded rancher.

Chapter Four

That evening she was putting things away in her room when there was a tentative knock at the door.

“Come in.”

Tate entered and looked around. “Seth asked me to fetch you.”

“Thank you. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

She found Seth alone, propped in a sitting position on the narrow bed on the porch. As far as the eye could see the darkening sky to the west was streaked with vivid tones of orange and purple. Already a few stars blinked in the broad expanse.

“I thought we should talk some about how the days are going to work.”

She seated herself on the twig chair. “All right.”

“For now, Dewey will give you and the boys a ride to school in the mornings. The more efficient way to travel will be if you learn to ride and take a couple of horses. There’s a corral and water troughs behind the livery and saddle shop. If there was a storm, Colton there would see to the stock. From there it’s just a walk around the corner to the schoolhouse.”

Horse riding hadn’t been in her plan when she’d traveled here, but she understood the practicality. “I see.”

“And then there’s safety.”

At his words, she looked straight at him.

“We’ll start lessons tomorrow.”

“Lessons?” she asked.

“Shooting, loading. I have a few revolvers, and you’ll be able to find one you can handle well enough.”

Alarmed, she balked at the plan. “Who might I have to shoot?”

“You may never have to shoot at all, but you need to know how.” He paused and she continued to question him with her stare. “A snake, a bandit, a wolf.”

The woman was obviously reluctant about the prospect of these lessons, but Seth felt as accountable for her as he did the boys. She’d be staying under his roof, on his land, and he had to look out for her.

“I’m just going to say this straight,” he continued. “Cowboy Creek is a peaceable town, with lawmen and regulations, but it’s a cow town and it’s brimming with men. Lots of men, young and old, nearly all of them looking for a woman. The school is located near prestigious homes and close to businesses, so it’s not secluded whatsoever, but sometimes things happen. Ruffians have been known to ride into town. You’re there to teach the children, and they’re in your care each day. Always be aware of your surroundings. Keep a gun in a safe place, just in case it’s needed.”

“Does the current teacher have a gun?”

“I can’t tell you for sure, but if she was my wife, I’d be sure she had one.”

Her focus skittered away and her face seemed a trifle paler than it had moments ago. She swallowed and rubbed her palms on her skirt. She was a city girl, raised in a comfortable home, educated and perhaps protected. He felt bad about delivering hard facts, but someone had to. She needed to be aware.

“Miss Brewster...” he began.

Her gaze flitted to his again.

He took a match and striker from the small stand beside his cot and held them out to her. “Will you light a couple of the lanterns, please?”

She did as he asked, her skirt pooling on the porch floor as she kneeled. Dust flamed inside the glass chimney and burned off quickly.

“You know more about me than I know about you, partly thanks to my mother. No one ever has to wonder what she’s thinking.” He shrugged. “But I’m curious. What was your life like in Ohio during the war?”

“Probably very different than the stories I’ve heard about lower states,” she answered. “The men, young and old—except the very young boys—were off fighting. My father was a banker. His family had come to Ohio from New York when he was a boy. He took a job working for the governor just as the war started, and he spent a lot of time in Washington. Daisy married about that time. Her husband was wounded at Arkansas Post and later recovered and went back to his regiment. She wrote him daily, but rarely had a letter in return. He returned for a day or two now and then between assignments. My mother became sickly, so my sister and I cared for her with domestic help.”

She adjusted the wicks on both lamps, stood and took a seat again. “We followed the news and corresponded with neighbors and schoolmates who were off fighting. When news came of men killed, the war seemed so far away. Daisy and I attended church and oyster suppers and gatherings and received callers. We made cakes for special occasions. We had ladies over and sewed quilts for sons and husbands, rolled bandages for the field hospitals, and all the while we prayed for the fighting to end.”

The sky had darkened, and now the golden light from the lanterns glowed on her delicate features. “I’m sure my telling seems idyllic to someone like you, who was in the thick of things, getting shot and all.”

“Thinking of scenes like that kept a lot of us going,” he answered. “Knowing there was gentility to return to. Families, church suppers and cakes. Quilts.”

His deep tone and heartfelt words betrayed his emotions, so he cleared his throat. “Did you write to someone special?”

“I was merely fourteen when the struggle over slavery began. My father insisted Daisy and I continue our studies. I hadn’t time to grow into thinking about boys before they were all gone.”

“But you’d become a teacher.”

“Yes. And I got my father’s affinity for numbers. I’d make someone a good accountant in a pinch, but I prefer working with children. I’ll always find employment.”

She was obviously smart and ambitious, and took pride in being able to support herself. “That’s admirable.”

“Thank you.”

The breeze picked up her citrusy scent and carried it in his direction.

“What’s that scent you wear?”

She looked at him with surprise. “Orange-flower and almond-oil toilet water. My father always gave it to me at Christmas.”

“It suits you.”

Marigold had lived a life very different from his, from that of his family. It had taken courage and a desire for change to come this far alone. Quite a few brides had arrived in Cowboy Creek, and he’d heard some of their stories, but he’d never stopped to consider what the journey had meant for them. Until now.

“I don’t want you to be afraid living here. I only want to make sure you’re able to protect yourself and the children in your care.”

“Truly, I never considered I might have to protect them.”

“You will likely never have to. But you’ll be prepared regardless.”

She nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”

“Thank you. For looking after the boys.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“You’re likely exhausted.”

“I am.”

“Good night then. Sleep well.”

“And you.” On a delicate current of orange and almond, she departed.

Dozens of cowboys and business owners were going to appreciate Miss Brewster’s delicate beauty and intelligence. The last teacher hadn’t lasted six months before she was married. He suspected this schoolmarm would be temporary as well. Even Russ had shown covert interest when he’d thought no one was looking. And why not? Marigold Brewster was the prettiest thing Seth had ever seen.

* * *

Little John cried the next morning when Marigold and the boys prepared to leave with Dewey. She kneeled and gave him a gentle hug. “You’re going to be just fine with Mrs. Halloway. She loves little boys. I’ll bet she’ll even read you a story.”