The Cowboy's Orphan Bride Page 3

  Moving and using her hand to gesture toward the table, Bridgette said, “There’s more bread and the beans are on the stove for when Cecil returns. I set the rabbit to simmer while I’m gone, and there’s nothing you need to do with it or the noodles.” She’d hoped to have left long before now—sincerely wished she had—but Emma Sue hadn’t wanted lunch prepared until Cecil arrived home. Not willing to wait any longer, Bridgette had overridden that notion, explaining there were other tasks that needed to be completed yet today.

  “Will you teach me how you made those noodles?” Emma Sue asked, gesturing toward the cloth. “Cecil really enjoyed them when you made them last week with the pheasant he shot.”

  Bridgette had to bite her tongue to keep from pointing out that she’d shot the pheasant—another skill she’d been taught while being a nursemaid to yet another family. Once the urge passed, she said, “You just beat a couple eggs with enough flour to make a sticky dough and then fold in enough flour until you can roll it thin and slice it into strips.” Pulling the apron over her head, she crossed the room to hang it on its nail. “I’ll be back as soon as possible, and add the noodles to the pot then, so don’t worry about that. They’ll only need to cook a few minutes and supper will be ready.”

  “I don’t know what I would have done without you these past few weeks.” Emma Sue sighed. “Walking all the way to Hosford and back to sell the eggs would have been too much for me.”

  “Yes, it would have been,” Bridgette agreed. Suggesting Cecil could easily make the trip, considering the money they made from selling eggs was about their only income, crossed her mind, but there was no need in pointing out the obvious. “You’ll rest while I’m gone?” she asked Emma Sue pointedly.

  “Yes. I might sew, but I’ll do that in my bed.”

  “Good, that’s what I needed to hear.” Bridgette took down her bonnet from the nail in the corner where her personal belongings were folded and stacked, including the blankets she spread out on the floor to sleep upon each night. Twisting the bonnet ties into a bow beneath her chin, she said, “I already have the rabbit fur soaking. Once I’ve tanned it, you’ll be able to make something for the baby. Maybe a warm hat for this winter.”

  “Oh, that is so nice of you.” Emma Sue shook her head. “You are so smart. How did you learn about so many things?”

  “I’ve been a nursemaid for many families over the years,” Bridgette answered. “And have learned something from each one of them. Opal Andrest showed me how to make the egg noodles and Ted Wilkenson taught me how to tan a rabbit hide.”

  “Oh, what are you learning from us?”

  How I don’t want to live. Not able to say that, she smiled. “I’m not sure yet, but I’ll tell you as soon as I do.” Since that didn’t sound very flattering, she added, “Someday we’ll have time for you to teach me some of your embroidery stitches. You are very good at that.”

  Emma Sue beamed. “Oh, yes, I will teach you.” Her smile faded. “But I’ll need to get some more thread and—”

  “Don’t worry about that now,” Bridgette said. “We have time.” Picking up the two baskets of eggs, she added, “But I don’t. I must hurry. Don’t want Mr. Haskell closing his store before I get these eggs delivered.”

  “Please remember Cecil’s plug of tobacco.”

  Bridgette nodded and walked out the open doorway. If she kept biting it, she wouldn’t have a tongue left by the time Emma Sue delivered that baby. Leaving the door open for some air circulation, she started down the pathway that would eventually lead her to the road to Hosford.

  She couldn’t seem to walk fast enough. It was as if she was escaping, running away. That wouldn’t happen. She was only taking the eggs to town to sell them. However, that in itself was an escape. A welcome one. Even though it wouldn’t be more than a couple of hours. She couldn’t be gone any longer than that. Emma Sue’s time was near.

  A shiver rippled Bridgette’s spine. “No,” she said aloud, forcing her mind not to bring up any images. Not to remember Emma Sue’s statement. She knew what husbands and wives did to produce babies. She’d helped with numerous deliveries and had performed several alone when Dr. Rodgers hadn’t arrived in time.

  Every birth made her think of her own life. Her future. Babies of her own. It felt as if she’d been waiting forever for that to happen. Waiting to start living the life she dreamed about each night. Waiting for her husband.

  She sighed at that thought. Garth wasn’t really her husband. It hadn’t been a real marriage. She’d been seven and just learned the truth about her parents, that they’d died and would never be coming back to get her from the orphanage. She’d told Garth she didn’t want to be an orphan and he’d said he’d be her family, then neither of them would be orphans. When she’d said two people couldn’t just become family, he’d said they could if they got married. So he’d married her. It had been a pretend ceremony, in the backyard of the orphanage under the same big tree she’d fallen out of—and broken her arm in the process. But she’d never felt like an orphan, never felt alone, after that make-believe ceremony.

  An outsider yes. That she’d been since being taken off the train. Living with people who would never be her family.

  “Hold up there!”

  Frustration shattered her thoughts. Letting out a long sigh, she turned about and watched Cecil riding his big plow horse along his barbed wire fence. She squinted as he rode closer, trying to figure out what he had on his lap.

  Curiosity won out, and she made her way toward the hole he’d made in the fence. A gate would have been too much work for Cecil. “What do you have?” she asked.

  “You told me to get a cow,” Cecil shouted. “I did better than that! Got a calf!”

  Sure enough, it was a calf. She recognized that now that he’d pointed it out. “How on earth do you expect to keep a calf alive?”

  He rode past her, toward the barn that was in serious need of repair. “I ain’t gonna keep it alive. We’s gonna eat it.”

  Momentarily stunned, Bridgette shook her head, questioning her hearing. It only took a moment for her to realize she’d heard right. This was Cecil, and that’s just how he’d think. “Oh, no, you’re not!” she shouted, running after him. She’d carefully packed straw around the six dozen eggs in the baskets to prevent breakage, but at this moment, she didn’t care if every egg broke.

  When the horse stopped near the barn door hanging on one hinge, she set down both baskets and marched forward. “A calf’s not better. Emma Sue needs milk, cream and butter. That you would have gotten from the calf’s mother. Whom that calf needs. Where is she? Where’s this calf’s mother?”

  “Back with the rest of the herd,” Cecil said. “And I am too gonna kill this here calf. That’s what that cowboy was gonna do.”

  “What cowboy?” she asked, rubbing the calf’s nose. It was adorable. Red-brown with the cutest little white face and big brown eyes. The poor thing couldn’t be more than a few hours old.

  “One of the cowboys with the cattle drive,” Cecil said. “The trail boss told him to shoot the calf. Lucky for me I rode up when I did.” Curling one edge of his upper lip, he chortled. “He didn’t want to shoot it. Tried, but didn’t have the guts to pull the trigger. I watched him.”

  Infuriated, Bridgette slapped his leg. “Get down.”

  “Let me hand you the calf.”

  “No,” she snapped. “Leave the calf where it is. Just get off that horse.”

  “I cain’t get off with it on my lap.”

  She grabbed a handful of his pant leg and pulled. “Yes, you can. Now get down. Hurry up.”

  “Why?”

  Holding back a scream that tore at her neck muscles, she growled, “You either get off that horse, or I’ll leave. I’ll go to Hosford and you’ll be out here alone, taking care of Emma Sue, and the baby that’ll be born any day
now.”

  “You cain’t do that.”

  “Oh, yes, I can.” As a second thought, she added, “And I’ll tell Emma Sue’s father you wouldn’t listen to me. That I couldn’t tolerate being in your presence any longer.”

  He scooted back in the saddle and swung a leg over the horse’s rump. “You don’t gotta get snippy about it. I thought you’d be happy. I did what you said.”

  As soon as he was out of the way, she gathered her skirt with one hand and stuck a foot in the stirrup. “No you didn’t,” she said once she’d swung into the saddle. “I told you to get a cow.”

  “Well, whaddya call that?” Cecil frowned. “Where you going?”

  Once she had her skirt positioned so she could sit comfortably, she scooted forward, easing the calf onto her lap. “To get its mother.”

  “They won’t give you its mother,” Cecil said. “They wanted it dead so they could take the mother to Dodge.”

  What she’d told Emma Sue had been the truth. She’d learned a lot from the other families she’d been farmed out to as a nursemaid. The things she’d learned came in useful every day. Including today. “Give me those egg baskets.”

  “What for?”

  Huffing out a sigh at his ignorance, she explained, “Because I’m going to trade them to the cattle drive cook for the calf’s mother.”

  “Eggs for a cow.” He guffawed. “You’re addlebrained.”

  “No, I’m not.” Unable to hold it back, she said, “You are. Eggs are a luxury to the men on a cattle drive.” More than once she’d seen people trade eggs and vegetables for beef when the drives came through. “Go in the house and get me that bucket of beans, and my apron.”

  “What ya need the calf for if’n your trading the eggs for its momma?”

  She closed her eyes in order to gather her temper. “Because there will be hundreds of cows out there. I’ll need the baby so the mother will sniff it out, and that will tell me which cow is its mother.”

  Cecil frowned. “Well, what—”

  “Just go get the beans and my apron, and hurry up! This calf isn’t going to live long hanging over this saddle.”

  He spun around. Bridgette knew it wasn’t because of her. Emma Sue had shouted his name from the doorway. Loud enough it had startled her. She breathed easy though, seeing Emma Sue standing in the doorway with the bucket of beans and her apron.

  “Go get them,” Bridgette said. “Don’t make her walk out here.”

  She waited until he’d taken the items from his wife before she said, “Emma Sue, you go lie down now. We don’t want that baby coming any earlier than necessary.” For the baby’s sake. If it was up to her, the baby would have come shortly after she’d arrived so she could get out of this place and never lay eyes on Cecil again.

  Emma Sue waved and stepped back inside the house.

  “What are you gonna do with this stuff?” Cecil asked while handing her the bucket and apron.

  “Just get me the eggs.” After hooking the bucket handle over one arm, she used the calf as a table. Laying out the apron, she folded the skirt in half, tucked the edges around each other and used the ties to form a makeshift bag. She then dumped in the beans.

  Handing the bucket to Cecil, she hooked the strap around her neck and then took the egg baskets from him. One at a time set the baskets in the bag, trying not to smash the beans or jostle the eggs too much. They were now worth more than if she’d taken them to town and sold them to Haskell’s store. Once satisfied the bag would hold, she eased the apron around her side. “Help me,” she told Cecil while holding onto the neck strap that was tightening against her throat with one hand. “Place the bottom of the bag on the swell of the saddle. Right in the middle. Use the beans to level it so it won’t bounce about too much.”

  “Use the beans?”

  “Yes, they are in the bottom. Be careful, but separate the bottom of the bag enough so some beans are inside the saddle swell and some are on the outside.”

  He did as she instructed. “I’ll be. That works pretty well.” He stepped back then. “But it’s a long ride to where I got that calf.”

  It couldn’t be that far. He never traveled too far. “We’ll make it,” she told the calf, not Cecil, and then nudged the horse forward.

  “Don’t you want directions?” Cecil asked.

  If he’d found it, she’d find it. “No,” she answered. “I’ll just head toward the dust in the air.”

  “That’s what I did,” Cecil said, walking beside the horse.

  “You don’t say.” She nudged the horse again, desperate to pick up enough speed to leave Cecil behind.

  “If’n you don’t come back, I ain’t coming to look for you,” Cecil shouted as the horse gained ground on him.

  “Thank you,” she shouted in return. He most likely wouldn’t grasp the insult, but she did, and that made her smile.

  “You best be back in time for supper!”

  She opened her mouth to tell him there was food on the stove, but chose against it. The shout could startle the horse or the calf, and neither deserved that. The calf was newly born, and the horse had to be as uncomfortable as her. The saddle was made for a riding horse, so the tree was too narrow for the plow horse’s wide back, making it ride high on the horse’s sides, and knowing Cecil, she couldn’t imagine he’d had much concern for the animal in tightening the cinch.

  Letting the horse amble along, she petted the soft fur of the calf. “Don’t worry, little one. We’ll find your momma. That we’ll do.” The notion the trail boss might not be interested in making a trade for eggs and beans crossed her mind, but she sent it packing. There was no sense in worrying about something until it happened.

  Chapter Four

  By the time Garth rode into camp, one of his eyes was swollen shut and the other wasn’t far behind. Despite the mud he’d caked on, the side of his face was on fire. JoJo had found the marker he’d left and already had a fire going, thankfully. Unable to see much, he’d relied on his nose to lead him to the campsite. There was no doubt the men had settled the herd in for the night a mile or so away, as usual, and today he appreciated their competency more than ever.

  “What happened to you, Boss?”

  “My horse stepped on a hornet nest,” he told Bat while swinging out of the saddle. “Unsaddle her and put her up for me.”

  “That looks sore,” Bat said.

  “It is.” Garth tried harder to see out the eye that hadn’t been stung, but it was watering profusely, and that forced him to leave the things he’d picked up in town for Bat to collect as well. “Both packs are full of supplies.”

  “Got it,” Bat said. “You need help?”

  “No.” Garth spun about to make his way to the camp, but paused. “Who’s that?” Things were too blurry to make out much other than the chuck wagon and a large plow horse. Strangers of any kind visiting the camp singed his nerves almost as sharply as the hornets had stung his face. Cattle drives held no room for social gatherings. Most folks respected that.

  “She brought us some eggs,” Bat said.

  “This here gal needs to talk to you, Boss,” JoJo shouted the same time as Bat had spoken. “I done said it’s a fair deal, but that ain’t my call. No siree, it ain’t my call. Even if’n I’m thinking it’s a fair deal. A mighty fair deal.”

  Dang near blind, one foot snagged on a rock or lump on the ground of some sort. Garth caught his balance before going down, but his frustration tripled.

  “What the hell happened to you?” JoJo asked.

  “Hornet nest.”

  “You fall on it?”

  “No, I didn’t fall on it,” Garth answered. “I put the mud on to cool down the sting.”

  “You gotta tug out the stinger, not force it in further,” JoJo supplied.

  Garth�
�s nerves had snapped awhile ago. “I couldn’t see the damn stinger,” he growled.

  “Well, I’ll get it out for ya,” JoJo said.

  Having arrived near the wagon, Garth gestured toward the woman standing on the other side of the fire. “In a minute,” he said to JoJo. “What deal?” It probably was a good thing he couldn’t see. This country had a way of making even the finest gal look beyond her years in no time. The brim of this one’s gray bonnet arched from one side of her chin to the other and hid most of her face. He didn’t need to see it in order to imagine her skin had been wrinkled and aged by the wind and sun.

  She pointed toward two crates sitting on the ground. He squinted, but it didn’t help him make out much. The eggs Bat referred to most likely. The other crate had some kind of greens it. As water dripped out the corner of one eye, he turned his other eye back to the crate holding the eggs. His mouth practically watered. He’d considered buying eggs while in town, but there had only been half a dozen in the basket on the counter of the mercantile. Not nearly enough for eighteen hungry men. The cowboys had to be as hungry for something besides beans, biscuits and bacon as he was.

  “Those for the calf and its mother,” the woman said.

  Disappointment that neither he nor anyone else would be eating eggs filtered in amongst his frustration at not being able to see. “We don’t have any calves, ma’am.” Another heifer had better not have let loose. That was about the last thing he needed this close to Dodge.

  “Yes, you do,” she said. “The one you ordered to have shot this morning.”

  The loss of that calf had hung in the back of his mind all day. Not only for the critter. He’d counted on getting the entire herd to the stockyards. The money every cow would bring in. Before leaving Texas, he’d calculated on giving a few head to the Indians; they expected it, and he’d gladly given them the beeves for allowing safe passage, but loosing another one, even a calf, was not in his plan. Furthermore, her snooty attitude settled about as well as the hornet sting had. “How do you know about that?”