Wild Horses, Wild Hearts 3, page 6
It was a truth of the cattle industry that ranch hands weren’t necessarily tied down to any one ranch. Though the McNeal Ranch could accurately boast that it had one of the best retention rates of ranch hands in the west, thanks in no small part to Maggie’s tough but fair rules of day-to-day operations and her penchant for paying a good wage, there were still a few hands who chose to take their leave for one reason or another.
In the weeks previous, no less than a dozen ranch hands had bid John and Maggie their thanks and hit the trail once again. The bulk of them had been greenhorns who had only worked the one season, but one or two grizzled cattle hands had decided to move along the trail as well.
Maggie had assured John that it was an eventuality of the cattle industry, even under an employer like herself. This time of year always saw the loss of a few ranch hands, but she told him that the number they had left would be more than sufficient to get them through the winter and that she’d gotten through with even less before. And there’d always be new hands to refill their ranks once the spring thaw came along.
It was sweet of Abigail to confirm her story, John recalled. Though he loved his wife dearly and rarely ever had cause to seriously doubt anything she told him, his mother-in-law had sensed his unease at the situation and quietly informed John that Maggie was telling the whole truth.
The worst was the winter after Peter’s passing, Abigail had told him one night in the parlor while Maggie was sleeping. Three quarters of our ranch hands took their final pay and made their way further west when Maggie announced that she had inherited the ranch and the business. It was a bitter winter for the ranch, the girls, and myself, and not just because we had lost Peter. But Maggie never gave up and when the spring came she and those who had remained set about making this ranch thrive.
John had been more than reassured by Abigail’s story, but he’d have felt even better knowing that they were working with a full complement of ranch hands through the winter.
Then again, he thought hopefully, this might work in my favor when Guarding Wolf and the rest of the tribe arrive.
Both Maggie and Abigail had stated that John’s extended family were welcome to stay at the ranch through the winter if they wanted to, but John was quietly working out the possibility of suggesting to Maggie that they stay and work the ranch. The family had shown no hostility whatsoever to John’s unconventional upbringing among the Natives before, so he couldn’t see any reason why they would start now.
We’ve already got a ranch run by a pregnant show rider, John chuckled, so what difference would a few Native ranch hands make thrown into the mix?
The thought that he would be able to bring his family new and old together warmed the very core of John’s being, making him feel impervious to the November chill. All he had to do was find the right time to pitch the idea to his wife and mother-in-law.
Speaking of family, I wonder when Guarding Wolf is going to turn up, he wondered. For that matter, I wonder why Leyla and Chase haven’t shown up here yet.
It hadn’t taken long before Leyla had responded to the telegram announcing her sister’s pregnancy. Her response informed the ranch that she and Chase were making their way back aboard the show train as it headed for winter quarters in the south. Since that message a month prior, they hadn’t had any word from the two.
As for Guarding Wolf and his tribe, John knew full well that trying to anticipate their movements and send a telegram to track them down would be a futile effort. In addition to their more circuitous movements to avoid more bigoted traffic back east, John doubted there were more than a handful of telegraph operators east of the Mississippi who would even bother to make an effort finding a Native recipient of a telegram.
Well, just like Guarding Wolf told me when we were on the hunt for a herd of wild horses, they will appear when they appear and not a moment before that, he remembered, reaching down and running his hand along Longbow’s mane. The ebony mount had been the product of that same hunt so many years before.
John was about to guide Longbow toward the barn to check on the progress of the other ranch hands when the horse seemed to refuse to yield to his rider’s command. Instead, he felt as though Longbow was trying to pull John in the direction of the stable.
“Whoa there, Longbow,” he said, trying to ease his mount’s behavior. “What’s got you up in fits all sudden like?”
In response, Longbow pulled in the direction of the stable again, as though he were trying to tell John to look in that direction.
When John finally caught on and looked, he suddenly saw why Longbow had been so upset. There, just exiting from the stable with Apollo, was Maggie.
MAGGIE CLOSED THE STABLE door behind her and prepared to mount Apollo’s saddle. Doing so had started to become more difficult as she felt her center of gravity start to shift, but she could still manage to get her leg up and over the saddle when she put her mind to it.
Apollo, however, seemed to be against her efforts and he made as much clear when he bridled at her approach.
Maggie felt her annoyance at the horse flare up. “Now don’t you start again, Apollo,” she chided. “I get enough from John and Mama about my riding, and I don’t need any more of it from you, you hear me?”
Apollo appeared to ignore her attempt at discipline and tried to sidestep away from her, but given that he was stuck between his rider and a fence there wasn’t much of anywhere he could sidestep to.
“That’s what I figured,” Maggie said smugly as she prepared to climb into the saddle. With an intake of breath she stuck one foot in the stirrup and proceeded to haul her body up and over the horse.
She succeeded in her effort and felt exceptionally proud of the achievement, but her triumph was short lived as she felt a pop right around her navel.
For a moment, she felt panic set in as she worried that she had just done something that had harmed the child inside her. However, instead of pain she felt a sudden relief around her abdomen. When her hand moved to inspect, she quickly discerned why she felt that way and what had happened: the button from her trousers had popped clean off through a combination of her movement and the strain her growing belly had been putting on it.
“Tarnation with it all!” she hissed, looking around to see if she could spot the button on the ground and having no luck whatsoever.
To add to her aggravation, Apollo gave a few short huffs of air that could have been taken as laughing.
Maggie quickly gave the mount a light swat between his ears. “That’s enough out of you,” she growled.
“Maybe so, but you haven’t heard anything from me yet,” said a voice to Maggie’s side.
Turning to look, Maggie pursed her lips as she spotted her husband and his mount slowly trotting toward her.
Whether it was irritation from Apollo’s behavior or just the irritation that occurred naturally with her pregnancy, Maggie did not care in the slightest. She fixed her husband with a glare that would have stopped many men dead in their tracks.
John Baldwin, however, was not many men and he had long grown accustomed to her little fits of annoyance.
“Afternoon, Miss McNeal,” he greeted cordially, using her maiden name as he so often did during work despite the fact that their marriage was public knowledge. “Might I ask what you’re planning on doing with old Apollo there?”
“Mister Baldwin,” Maggie replied curtly, her eyes already full of venom. “I wasn’t planning on anything. I am going to take a ride around the ranch and check on the progress of the winter preparations. That is if that’s alright with you.” The bite in her tone as she finished indicated that she had no intention of letting him tell her what she was going to do one way or another.
John gave her a thoughtful look, a look that aggravated Maggie to no end because she knew that it meant he wasn’t going to be cowed by her.
Hundreds of men in the west and I have to fall for the one that isn’t afraid of me, she thought bitterly.
“Truth be told, Miss McNeal, it’s not alright with me, but we both know that nothing I say or do is going to convince you otherwise,” he replied with a sigh. “So why don’t we make like I’ve already tried to do that and just mosey along around the ranch so you can see that everything is coming along just grand?”
Why won’t he argue with me about it, damn it?! she wondered, knowing full well that desiring an argument was irrational, but it was just another thing that she chalked up to her pregnancy and its effects.
Without another word, Maggie spurred Apollo forward. The horse hesitated at first, but he quickly relented at a gentle trot. Once more, it was as though the mount knew that his rider was in a delicate condition and was intent on trying to limit any and all roughness from his movements.
John and Longbow quickly fell into position alongside Maggie, and they began making their rounds across the ranch.
“The ranch hands have been hard at work since this morning making sure the cattle are keeping well fed, being rotated, and that their winter coats are coming in nicely,” John assured her as they rode between the buildings that made up the McNeal Homestead. “The cattle should keep nice and warm throughout the winter, and we’ve already stockpiled more than enough feed to see them through in case the worst happens.”
“Keep stockpiling and remind the hands to pack their wool coats and long johns for when they’re camping out in the pastures with the herds at night,” Maggie all but spat, still unaccustomed to not overseeing every aspect of her ranch personally.
“Already done, Miss McNeal,” John replied, trying to soothe her anger. Despite his protests against her continuing to ride, John knew better than to argue with his wife, especially when it came to matters concerning her ranch and the running thereof.
“Good, good,” Maggie retorted, though her voice still carried traces of aggravation with it, as though she were trying to find something else to criticize or find fault with. “What about the barn? Have you—?”
“All of the troublesome spots have been replaced with fresh wood and we’ve a king’s ransom in hay ready for the cattle to eat and bed in,” John answered swiftly, a mild confidence in his tone that was meant to reassure her but only served to make her only more annoyed.
“And the—?” Maggie started.
“Bunk houses had their shingles replaced yesterday and any cracks in the windows or doors have been tarred and sealed,” John replied, anticipating her question like the expert ranch boss he was.
This is maddening! Maggie mentally shouted, trying to keep her frustration inside of herself. Thinks he’s so smart, doesn’t he? Thinks he has everything ready and that there’s not going to be a single problem. Well I’ll show him...somehow.
The truth of the matter was that Maggie had utterly no idea what she could do to try and disrupt her husband’s quiet and calm confidence in the progress of the preparations for the winter months. Though she knew it was likely just her body and mind going stir-crazy from the effects of her pregnancy, she still had a strong desire to find something wrong with the way John was running the operation of the ranch.
To make matters worse, the loss of the button on her trousers was allowing a slight breeze of the November chill into her pants and the cold was only serving to make her even more irritable. She steadfastly refused to make mention of it to her husband as she knew that he would immediately set about trying to convince her to go inside where it was warm.
I know he’d worried about me and the baby, but really, I can handle myself, she thought defiantly. I’m still riding Apollo with no trouble, and I’m at least dressed for the weather. The way John and Mama carry on, you’d think it was snowing like Jack Frost had a bone to pick with all of us.
With her determination reaffirmed, Maggie gave Apollo another spur to his sides and forced the animal to pick up the pace a bit more. Without turning around, she knew that John was mimicking her actions with Longbow with the full intention of keeping pace with her and refusing to let her out of his sight for a single moment.
I’ll figure out something you’ve done wrong around here, John Baldwin, she resolved within her mind, completely determined to locate something, anything, no matter how small it was that she could point out as being in error.
CHEYENNE, WYOMING TERRITORY, November 1885
With a great screech of wheel slip and a double blast of its shrill whistle, the train that bore the Professor Monro Wild West Show lurched forward from the railroad station in Cheyenne, heading east with the full intention of reaching the warmed climates in the south for a cozy winter stay.
On the freight platform sat Leyla and Chase atop their horses, watching as the train and the people they considered family moved further away from the station. Numerous arms and hats were waved from every spot on the train as it made its way eastward.
“KEEP AN EYE ON THAT CARPETBAGGER FOR ME, WILL YA LADY LEYLA?” shouted Bull Beauregard, the southern show rider whooping and hollering as the train gathered speed.
“ADIOS AMIGOS!” called Phillipe, the soft spoken Mexican, cupping his hands over his mouth to make himself heard over the racket of the train’s movement. “AND STAY WARM DURING THE WINTER!”
“NOT FAREWELL BUT FAREFORWARD!” came the booming voice of Professor Monro, the showman standing on the platform of the bright red caboose on the train’s end. “MAY TROUBLE OVERLOOK THE BOTH OF YOU AND FOTUNE FAVOR YOU BOTH!”
Chase and Leyla remained on the platform, waving at the train until long after it had vanished into the distance, even the inky plume of smoke from the locomotive no longer visible.
I hope they reach Florida safely, Leyla prayed, wishing all of the people who had welcomed her into the exciting world of professional show riding with open arms all of the best.
Turning to regard her lover, she smiled as she caught the rough but charming Chase McAllister wiping at his eyes to try and clear the tears that had gathered there.
“Miss them already, hun?” she asked sweetly, knowing full well that the man had just watched one of the only families he’d ever known disappear over the horizon.
Chase sniffed and tried to hide what he’d been doing, attempting to look as though he wasn’t affected in the slightest. “What me?” he asked, trying to sound surprised. “Miss them? Don’t be silly, Leyla. I just, uh, got some smoke and cinders in my eyes from the engine. Yeah, that’s it!”
Leyla couldn’t help but laugh as she reached over and squeezed her lover’s hand in hers, the two feeling the warmth of their hands through the thick gloves they wore.
“You’ll see them again before long,” she promised, trying to assuage his slight anxiety. “Besides, after two weeks stuck in a town in the middle of nowhere with all of them I thought you’d be happy to finally have some alone time with me.”
Chase laughed at her assertions. “More than you know, darlin’,” he replied with a sigh.
The train and its occupants had found itself effectively stuck when heavy autumn rains washed away a bridge over a river in the Sierra-Nevada Mountains. It had taken several days before the waters had receded enough to allow workers a chance to rebuild the bridge, a task which took another week and a half. During the wait, the train had resided in a town that was effectively a switching junction at the base of the mountains, wherein frustration and boredom had quickly and hilariously set in.
By the time the bridge had been restored and the train resumed its journey, nearly three weeks had passed since they’d first departed from San Francisco. Now that they had finally arrived in Cheyenne, it had been nearly a full month since their travels had begun.
But we’re back in Cheyenne now, and that’s all that matters, Leyla thought triumphantly, even as a stiff November breeze cut right through the lighter jacket she wore.
Beside her atop Cannonball, Chase showed signs of discomfort in the cold as well, making no effort whatsoever to conceal them this time.
Though Leyla was anxious to make her way home to the ranch and see her family, the chill in the air persuaded her to take a detour into town first.
“Let’s go see Uncle Fergus first,” she suggested, knowing that her godfather would be overjoyed to see her back. “We can warm ourselves up for a spell and maybe borrow some heavier clothing.”
“You won’t hear any argument from me,” Chase replied, his arms crossed over his chest and his hands rubbing his upper arms in an attempt to generate heat.
The young couple spurred their horses and made their way into Cheyenne, ready to get their first look of the town since they’d left it two months before.
Despite it being late afternoon, there was far less hustle and bustle occurring in the town than one would’ve seen in the months prior. Obviously, the residents of Cheyenne were inclined to stay indoors as much as they could in the face of the chill, overcast day.
The quiet suited Leyla and Chase just fine, both of them glad to finally have an opportunity to be away from the roars of the crowds. Keeping their horses moving at a gentle trot, they soon reached Finnegan’s Grand Saloon and dismounted, tying their horses’ reins to the hitching post.
Silence, however, came to an end when the two stepped through the doors of the saloon and Leyla immediately heard her godfather’s melodic brogue pierce the air.
“Why, Bless my soul!” the Irishman cheered, and in a feat suited to men far younger than he was, he vaulted over the bar top and made a beeline for his goddaughter, his thick arms sweeping her up in a powerful hug that lifted her right off the floor.
Leyla giggled like a little girl as her godfather picked her up and spun with her in his arms, sharing in his delight at her return. “I’ve missed you too, Uncle Fergus,” she whispered into his ear.
“And I’ve missed you, Little Leyla,” he chuckled, finally setting her down so that he could wipe a stray tear from his eye. “And you, Chase McAllister! Good to see you again, Lad!” His hand struck out like a sidewinder and grasped Chase’s, giving it a welcoming pump.
