Married to Claim the Rancher's Heir Page 7

  Her hands were balled into fists by the time they rolled up to the large overhead water tank and the tall windmill that creaked with each revolution of the slanted blades. The high-pitched creaking made her neck quiver, and that increased the itching. She was tightening her neck muscles so intensely her head was starting to ache.

  He stopped the horses in the shadow the tank cast upon the ground and, after setting the brake, jumped to the ground. “Here, I’ll help you down,” he said, holding out his arms.

  In desperate need of a reprieve, she scooted across the seat and grasped his shoulders, gladly letting him lift her off the wagon. Her feet had barely touched the ground when he was leading her deeper into the shadow of the tank.

  The water tower was several feet in the air, and brace boards crisscrossed all four of the tall legs together. “It is remarkably cooler here,” she said, untying her scarf as they walked closer to the structure that thankfully blocked a fair amount of the sun’s heat.

  He stopped a few feet away from the wooden legs. “Stay here for a minute.”

  She finished untying her scarf and removed it, as well as unbuttoned the top two buttons of her collar in order for her burning skin to catch the breeze. Folding her scarf, she watched him walk the circumference of the structure, kicking at the tall grass, which was much greener and thicker beneath and around the tower than anywhere else. He then ducked under a set of brace boards and walked around beneath the tank.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked.

  “Snakes.”

  She instantly scanned the ground around her feet and dropped one hand into her pocket, wrapping her fingers around the handle of her pistol.

  “They come here for water.”

  Janette searched the ground further, looking for any movement, fully prepared to shoot anything that might even resemble a snake. Poison ivy was enough. She wasn’t about to walk into the judge’s chambers with a snakebite to boot.

  “All clear,” he said. “You can sit over here. It’ll be a while before the train arrives.”

  Glancing west, she noticed there wasn’t a tree or bush, but she could make out dark smoke and a small spot that would eventually roll close enough to look like a train. This trip that had first taken her to Texas had been the only time she’d been outside Kansas City since moving there years ago. She’d grown used to the barren plains the past couple of weeks but couldn’t understand why people chose to live out here. It was so desolate. So lonely. And certainly no place for a child.

  A thud or some such sound had her turning around. Her heart leaped into her throat at the sight of Gabe climbing the side of the water tower.

  “What on earth are you doing?”

  “Getting some water,” he said, still climbing.

  Once at the top, he unhooked a bucket and stretched over the edge of the tank so far she could see only his legs.

  “Be careful,” she shouted.

  “Do it all the time.” He hoisted the bucket over the edge of the wooden tank and then started climbing down.

  She moved closer to the structure, not completely sure why. She certainly wouldn’t be able to catch him if he lost his footing and fell. Even dragging him to the wagon would prove impossible. Once he was on the ground, and her heart was back where it belonged, she said, “You can’t be that thirsty.”

  “I may not be, but the horses probably are.”

  Having not thought of that, all she could say was “Oh.”

  He retrieved a dipper hanging on a nail on the inside of one of the boards making up the massive legs of the tank and, after rinsing it, offered it to her.

  She took the dipper, feeling as if she needed to after he’d climbed all the way to the top to get it. The water was surprisingly cold and refreshing. “Thank you,” she said, handing him back the dipper.

  “You’re welcome.”

  He started to walk toward the horses while taking a drink out of the dipper. The wagon didn’t fit beneath the shade, but the horses did, so Janette followed. After setting the bucket down, he loosened the bridle on one horse enough to remove the bit from its mouth, and while it drank, he loosened the bridle and removed the bit on the other horse.

  As he moved the bucket for that horse to drink, she asked, “Why do you do that?”

  “Water them?”

  “No, take the bits out of their mouths?”

  “For their comfort. They can do it, but it’s easier for them to drink without the bit. Eat, too.”

  “I never thought of that,” she admitted.

  “You don’t have a horse?”

  “Not for years. Living in the city, I’ve never needed one.”

  “Have you always lived in the city?”

  “Yes, before Kansas City it was Richmond, Virginia, but I barely remember living there. My father was part of a federal troop that was sent to Kansas City, Kansas, that is, not Missouri, during the Border War. Once things quieted down, he returned to Virginia, but after the Civil War, he asked to be sent west again. Shortly thereafter, he sent for Mother and us girls to join him in Kansas City. Actually, its name is The Kansas City, but no one calls it that. Many citizens are in favor of having it officially renamed Kansas City and have been for years, but of course Kansas City, Missouri, is fighting it.” Frowning, she asked, “Anna never told you that?”

  “No.”

  That struck her as odd. Anna had been obsessed with the name change. Max had known that. He’d known everything about Anna. Curious why Gabe didn’t know just as much, she asked, “What did she tell you about herself?”

  He picked up the bucket and started toward the tower. “That she was on her way to Denver, something to do with sewing machines.”

  Janette followed and leaned against the cross boards as he replaced the dipper.

  “Give me your scarf,” he said while stepping onto the lowest board.

  “Why?”

  “I’ll get it wet so you can cool down your neck.”

  Her heart skipped a beat at how heavenly that would be. She pulled the scarf out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and then started climbing up the structure.

  Very appreciative of his thoughtfulness, the least she could do was be affable in return. “Anna was going to Denver to meet with a company about selling sewing machines.”

  “That’s what it was,” he said.

  Janette held in a sigh and glanced toward the underside of the big tank. Droplets of water lined the far edge and dripped regularly to the ground, adding to how the shade cooled the air that was otherwise suffocating. Or maybe it was her thoughts that were suffocating.

  Anna had been so excited about going to Denver, while Janette had thought peddling sewing machines from town to town sounded far too dangerous and risky. She’d let Anna know how she felt, but her sister had been adamant that she had to do it. That she wouldn’t spend the rest of her life sewing, day in and day out. She wanted more out of her life than that. It had been difficult, but Janette had finally accepted the inevitable. Anna would leave. Anna needed to leave. It’s what she’d wanted. Had always wanted. Determining that selling sewing machines might be the safest option, Janette had given in and insisted Anna go to Denver. Of course, Isaac had thought it was a splendid idea. Only because he’d thought having Anna gone would give him more of an opportunity to get what he was truly after. Money.

  Janette hadn’t known that at the time but had later figured that out and had been glad that Anna hadn’t been around to witness just how awful things had turned out.

  “She said she was never going back to Kansas City,” Gabe said.

  Chapter Six

  He’d jumped off the boards and landed on the ground next to her, but the sadness overwhelming Janette didn’t give room for her to be startled. Instead she nodded.

  “She told you t
hat?” he asked.

  “She didn’t need to. I already knew it.” Spinning around, Janette leaned back against the cross boards. She’d missed her sister since the day Anna had left, and the past month, missed her more. Every time she looked at Ruby, she saw Anna and wished, oh, how she wished things had turned out differently.

  “Anna was a lot like our father. She wanted adventures and had been cooped up so long, I knew once she broke free, she’d never return.” Waving a hand toward the barren land surrounding them, she continued, “Anna was as enthralled with all of this as our father had been. She talked constantly of going west, of seeing all the things people talked about. She used to beg Father to take us with him on his many travels out this way.”

  “But he didn’t.”

  “No, he never did.”

  “Why?”

  One doesn’t disobey an army captain. Janette bit her tongue moments before she said that, but not before her stomach had hiccuped. “He said it was too dangerous. Too wild and unknown. He’d tell us stories of Indian raids and outlaws and all sorts of other perils. Mainly to frighten us. All of us.”

  “So your mother—”

  “My mother,” Janette interrupted, “would have had us packed up and ready to go with little more than an instant of notice.”

  “But it never happened.”

  “No. It never happened.”

  “And you were fine with that.”

  Janette scanned the area for a moment. It may not be as scary looking as she’d imagined, but it was barren and desolate. “Yes, I was,” she admitted. “I liked living in the city. Still do. Everything a person needs is within a short walk.” She’d told Anna that several times, but Thelma’s stories of living out here had enticed Anna to see it all for herself as much as Father’s stories had.

  He set the bucket, once again full of water, on the ground and handed her the scarf.

  It was damp and cool and felt heavenly against her neck.

  “I guess there’s something to be said for that.” He sat down and stretched his legs out in the grass.

  “You guess?” she asked, moving the scarf to the other side of her neck.

  “I can only guess because I’ve never lived in a city.” He plucked a piece of grass and examined it as he continued, “I was born right here, on the Triple C.”

  “You were?” She estimated him to be a few years older than her, in his mid-to late twenties. “The ranch has been here that long?”

  “Not the buildings, but the land has been. My father was a sailor and claimed he stole my mother from a French port. My mother said there was no stealing involved, but either way, when the ship they were on hit New Orleans, they left the sea and traveled here. Both Max and I were born in a dirt dugout that long ago caved in.” He glanced around at the land and sighed. “What I do know is that when a man works to get what he needs, he appreciates it and protects it.” He then stuck the grass stem in his mouth and lay down, putting both hands behind his head.

  She folded the scarf, wrapped it around her neck and sighed at the relief it offered before stating, “Men and women in the city work for what they have, too, and they appreciate it, protect it.”

  “I suspect they do.”

  His attitude could have spiked ire inside her, but it didn’t. It was hard to argue, hard to dispute beliefs, with a man who’d climbed a tower, twice, in order to water them and the horses and dip her scarf in the water. After a glance westward that proved the train was still far off, Janette lowered to the ground and used one thick leg of the water tower as a backrest. “Anna told me you met her on the train after it left Wichita.”

  “Yep.”

  “What had you been doing there?”

  “Can’t say I recall.”

  The tickle that raced up her spine proved all her instincts were still intact and working. He was lying. Flat out lying. “You’ll have to do better than that,” she said.

  He lifted one edge of the wide brim of his hat and looked at her with one eye.

  She grinned. “You’re lying. You know full well what you were doing in Wichita.”

  He sat up. “If you’re so sure of yourself, then do tell. What was I doing there?”

  “I have no idea,” she admitted. “But I know you know.”

  His grin produced that dimple in one cheek again. “You do, do you?”

  “Yes.” Smiling in return, just because she felt like it, she nodded. “I do.” Keeping her gaze locked with his, she asked, “So why were you there? The real reason.”

  Her spine tingled again, but this time the tingling went deeper, all the way into her stomach, where it stirred things around like a big old wooden spoon. It was his gaze that caused it. A very thoughtful gaze that didn’t waver even when he tipped his hat back a bit farther on his forehead.

  “I went to Wichita to find something I thought we needed at the ranch.” He shrugged then. “Turns out I didn’t need it, so it was a wasted trip.”

  Although his answer was vague, it was the truth, and she wasn’t sure what to think about that.

  “Why didn’t you want to come out here? West with your father?” he asked. “Were you scared?”

  The stirring in her stomach didn’t stop, but a rock formed inside her. One that had hardened over time and let itself be known on rare occasions. “No, I wasn’t scared,” she said. “It just didn’t appeal to me. Just like living in the city doesn’t appeal to you.”

  He planted both hands on the ground and in one swift moment was standing before her. “You’re right about that.” Spinning about, he walked toward the horses. “The train will be here shortly. You’ll want to keep your bag with you. Things tend to get squashed in the baggage compartment.”

  A splattering of remorse washed over her as she rose to her feet. She hadn’t meant to upset him, to end their conversation. As she glanced over the wagon that had been blocking her view, she noted two men on horseback riding toward them. “How’d you know they were coming?”

  “I heard them.” Gabe lifted her bag and his, as well as the food basket, out of the wagon and then carried them over and set them on the ground beside her. “You’ll want to stay in the shade as long as possible. It’s going to be hot inside the train, and we’ll have to load this firewood before we leave.”

  She nodded as the men stopped their horses near the wagon. Gabe picked up the water bucket and reached around her to collect the dipper. She stepped aside, as his nearness made her heart thud inside her chest.

  He carried the bucket and dipper to the cowboys, one of whom was the same man who’d given her and Ruby a ride to the ranch in the hay wagon yesterday.

  “You probably remember Dusty from yesterday,” Gabe said to her.

  “Yes, I do,” she replied. “Hello, Mr. Martin.”

  “Ma’am,” Dusty said, removing his hat and acknowledging her with a head nod.

  Gabe then gestured toward the taller and younger cowboy. “This is Scottie. Scottie, this is Miss Parker.”

  “Ma’am,” Scottie said, grinning as he repeated Dusty’s actions.

  “Hello,” she replied, saying no more since she didn’t know his last name.

  The men each drank from the dipper before they watered their horses from the bucket. While they did that, Gabe put the bits back in the mouths of the horses, which were hitched to the wagon. All three of them conversed, but she wasn’t listening. Her mind was comparing Gabe with the other two men. He was the tallest of the three and the broadest, and there was something about his stance, his movements, that seemed to emit a natural authority. In a sense, it reminded her of her father, and that had never happened before.

  Scottie was the one to climb the crisscrossed boards this time, stating it was so hot he had half a notion to jump inside the water tank.

  Janette acknowledged his statement with a smile as she moved farther beneath the t
ank. The train whistle blew again, and the ground beneath her feet rumbled.

  “Stay clear of the tracks,” Gabe said.

  She had every intention of doing so and considered telling him that, but the concern on his face said he was being sincere, not hypocritical, so she merely nodded again.

  Scottie’s return to the ground included another bucket of water, and the three men then set into moving the wagon closer to the tracks. They’d just finished when, with much rattling, whistling and screeching, the train pulled up next to the tower. Dust, dirt and smoke filled the air enough to make her eyes sting. However, believing Gabe that the train car would trap heat like a cookstove, she remained in the shade while the water spout was swung around to fill the train’s holding tank and the men threw the logs onto the train car that stored the firewood for the boiler.

  Several people stepped off the train and drank from the bucket. Some used the dipper, some, their hands, and then they walked about. There was but one other woman, older and rather prune faced, whose glare was so cool it took all Janette had to offer a token smile in return. Her token was rejected as the woman lifted her nose and turned about.

  There were no children, which made Janette glad she hadn’t brought Ruby. Of the eight people who’d stepped off the train—seven men and the sour woman—only one of them appeared to be on the friendly side. A young man who helped transfer the wood.

  Not expecting it, she was startled by the whistle of the train, as well as the hand that touched her back. She spun about, but the shrill sound still splitting the air made speaking useless. Gabe nodded toward their bags. She picked up hers while he collected his and the food basket.

  They waited their turn as others boarded, and moments before it would be time for her to step on the small metal step, she turned about to say goodbye to Dusty and Scottie. The wagon was already rolling away, with both men sitting on the seat and their horses tied behind it. A hint of sadness, which was indeed silly, sliced across her chest. Other than their names, she didn’t know Dusty or Scottie, so there was no reason to feel sad by their departure.