Dawn Comes Early (14 page)

His mouth spread into a lazy grin. “For want of a horse the rider was lost.”

She tried to think of the next line. “The kingdom was lost?” she asked.

“Battle,” he said. “For want of a rider the battle was lost.”

“Of course,” she said, feeling as if she was losing some sort of battle herself. She studied him while he worked. “Thank you for not mentioning my earlier mishap in the corral.”

Luke glanced up at her, his eyes warm with humor. “I still think that was a mighty fine rope trick. I reckon Buffalo Bill could use someone like you in his Wild West show.”

The idea was so absurd she couldn't help but laugh. “I'll keep that in mind.”

For a moment they stared at each other and her heart fluttered. His gaze settled on her mouth and warmth rushed to her cheeks. As if to suddenly catch himself, he bent his head down and continued working on Decker's shoe with firm but careful movements.

Shaken, she was unable to find her voice. What was the matter with her? One smile from him and all good intentions flew out the window.

“You're lucky your horse isn't lame,” he said, his voice husky. “I'll replace all four shoes.”

She swallowed hard. “Is that why he keeps throwing me off? Because of his shoes?”

“Hard to tell. There's no injury that I can see. Looks like we caught it in time.”

She moistened her lips. “Ruckus said that when a rider eats gravel it's seldom the horse's fault.”

Luke glanced up at her. “That's true most times. Except when the rider is a lady. Then it's always the horse's fault.”

“It would be just my luck to have a misogynistic horse,” she said lightly.

His square jaw tensed and some unreadable emotion flashed in his eyes. Without a word he straightened, walked to the workbench, and exchanged the rasp for a long-handled pull-off.

Did she imagine the sudden chill in the air? Or had she simply imagined their earlier rapport as they recited that silly rhyme? “I heard Ruckus ask you to work here. Do . . . do you plan to accept his offer?”

“'Fraid not.” He checked one front foot and then the other before returning to the one he started working on. “People in town depend on me. If I worked here at the ranch I'd have to close my shop. Can't do both.”

Kate let out her breath, surprised at the mixed feelings of disappointment and relief that surged through her.

“I'll trim him up and give him new shoes and he'll be rarin' to go. Shouldn't take more than an hour.”

“There's no hurry,” she said. Still sore from the morning's spills, she looked forward to keeping both feet on the ground for a while. How she longed to take the afternoon off and sit in the shade with a nice cold drink. The thought burst like a bubble the moment Ruckus rounded the corner of the barn and beckoned to her.

“Come on, Goldilocks, let's get to work,” he called.

She gave an inward groan. Would the day never end? And why didn't the heat bother Ruckus like it bothered the rest of them?

She thanked Luke and followed Ruckus to the barn.

Chapter 11

Brandon stole a glance at her sweet countenance. The slight stain of tears upon her cheeks added to her innocent beauty and stole his heart.

T
he day before, Kate had helped clean the calving barn, and now the scent of fresh hay tickled her nose. A loud moo greeted them as they stepped inside and rounded a corner. A pregnant cow in obvious distress was strapped inside a chute. Restlessly stomping her hooves, the bovine bellowed and thrashed from side to side trying to pull free from her restraints.

Ruckus led the way to the back of the cow. “This lady's ready and you're gonna learn how to pull a calf.”

Kate's eyes widened. She never dreamed the term was meant literally. For all the stories she'd heard about working on a ranch, never once had she heard about delivering calves.

Ruckus wrapped twine around the cow's tail and tied it to her neck. After rolling up his sleeves he picked up a bucket of clean water and splashed it onto the cow's backside.

“You're about to witness God's work at his finest,” he said, lowering the empty bucket to the ground.

Kate clamped her mouth shut and said nothing. If it was God's work, then why was the cow in such terrible pain? She pushed the thought away and rolled up her sleeves.

The cow's deep bellows were almost constant. Her hide rippled from head to tail with strained muscles.

Ruckus nodded. “She's pushing. If we're lucky, she'll complete the job herself.”

He talked to the cow in soothing tones. He was equally at ease no matter what he was doing, whether chasing a steer, calming a cow about to give birth, or reciting the Bible.

“How long have you worked on the ranch, Ruckus?”

“I've been here 'bout nine, ten years,” he said. “Prior to that I drifted from ranch to ranch, which was hard on the family. Most ranches can't afford to hire people year-round. When the boss lady offered me a permanent job I grabbed it. She gave my wife and me a place to live and a way to make an honest livin'.”

“You're married?” That was a surprise. In all the time she'd worked at the ranch, Ruckus had never spoken of his private life and she simply assumed he had none.

“Yep, goin' on twenty years.”

“That long?” Her voice rose in surprise.

He studied her for a moment before replying. “I don't know how it is where you came from, but out here
for better or worse
means for
good
.”

“Miss Walker's marriage wasn't for good,” she said.

He shrugged. “Miss Walker ain't like normal folks.”

She bit her lip. No argument there. “So where is your wife?”

“We live in a cabin on the northern part of the property. That's where us married folks live. The good Lord blessed us with three children, two sons and a daughter. One's in law school and another's studying to be a preacher.” He chuckled. “A preacher. Imagine that? Soon as he finishes seminary he plans to come back and preach right here in Cactus Patch. After hearing me preach to him all these years, he's gonna make me sit in church every week so he can return the favor.”

Kate laughed. “What about your daughter?”

He flashed a fatherly smile. “Our daughter got hitched and she and her husband started their own ranch west of Tucson.”

He was obviously proud of his family and she couldn't help but envy his offspring. Could they possibly know how lucky they were to have such a caring father?

“And you've been happy all these years?” she asked. “Some people might even say this is godforsaken land.”

Ruckus's eyebrows rose as if the thought were inconceivable. “And they would be wrong.” He pointed at the pen. “What do you see?”

She followed his finger. “I see a miserable cow.”

“What I see is God's amazing handiwork. Man has figured out how to build trains and send messages through wires, but there ain't no man on earth figured out how to turn grass into milk.”

“I never thought about it that way,” she said.

Ruckus's faith in an almighty God never failed to amaze her. Growing up, she'd never attended church. Her mama seldom mentioned God except in a drunken stupor and that was to curse, not worship him. So Kate had a hard time believing in the loving and caring God Ruckus so often talked about. She wanted to, oh, how she wanted to. She just didn't know how to make herself believe that God could be as good or trustworthy as Ruckus insisted.

“Get ready,” Ruckus said. “You're about to witness more of God's handiwork.”

One hoof popped out and Kate gasped in delight. Just as quickly another hoof showed.

Ruckus grinned. “Two front legs. See that?” He pointed to the hoof. “The soles are pointing down. Pointing any other way and we're in a heap o' trouble. Today, we're in luck.”

No sooner had he said it than the young cow popped free, dropping upon the pile of clean straw. Ruckus quickly grabbed the not-so-little calf by its hind legs and dragged it to a clean bed of straw.

Fearing the calf was dead or had been injured in the fall, Kate fell to her knees by its side.

“Come on, little fella, you can do it.” She patted the calf's wet hide. “Breathe!”

Ruckus pushed a strand of straw into the calf 's nostrils. “This helps the calf cough up anythin' plugging up its breathing tube,” he explained. It worked. The calf made a funny sound and opened its eyes.

Kate exhaled with relief, her own eyes moist with tears. “It's alive.”

Ruckus's grin practically reached his ears. He looked like a proud rooster and Kate couldn't help but laugh. He scooped the calf in his arms, his body bent backward to accommodate the weight, and laid it down on a pile of fresh hay in front of its mother.

“Whooeee. That baby gotta weigh at least a hundred pounds.” He stepped back and wiped off his hands with a clean towel.

The cow stared at the calf before nuzzling it with her nose and, finally, licking it clean with gentle strokes of her large gray and pink tongue.

“That . . . that was incredible,” Kate said. All the weeks of torturous work were forgotten in the wonder of the moment. She was exhausted, but she couldn't take her eyes off the little calf. She felt some odd sense of maternal pride when later the little fellow struggled up on wobbly legs and probed its mother's udder with its mouth.

“Do you normally help with the birthing?” In all her ranch stories, never once had she written a birthing scene. “I thought cattle had their babies naturally out on the range.”

“They do most times,” he said. “But this one lost a calf last year and had been acting strange for a couple of days. We decided to bring her in.”

“How do you know her history?” she asked.

“What?”

“All the cattle look alike. How do you know this one lost a calf?”

He laughed. “A cattleman ain't worth his salt if he don't know his cattle,” he said. “We only have to keep track of a thousand or so cattle, whereas God the Father has to keep track of millions of his people. Kind of makes you feel humble just thinkin' about it.”

“Miss Walker owns a thousand head of cattle?” she asked. She hadn't seen more than a few cattle at any one time.

“Yep. Used to be two thousand but that was before the drought. It's getting harder. More ranchers are fighting for grazin' rights on public land and there's only so much grass to go around.” He shrugged. “But, God willing, we'll get the numbers up again. Done it before and we'll do it again.”

She never met a man like Ruckus, a man so comfortable with his faith that it seemed as much a part of him as his crooked nose and relaxed, easy manner.

“Are we finished here?” She was anxious to clean up. More than that, she didn't want to hear any more references to God the Father. The very word
father
turned her blood cold. The term
Forever Man
didn't help much either. Nothing was forever, except perhaps land.

“For now. One down and only fifty-five more calves to go.”

Her mouth dropped open and he laughed at her expression. She followed him outside and together they washed in a wooden barrel.

“Don't worry. The boss lady figured out that if we feed the cattle at night, they're more likely to drop their calves durin' the day. Since we switched feedin' times, we've gotten a whole lot more shut-eye.” He studied her. “Speakin' of the boss lady, it's late. You better go and get ready for supper.”

In all the excitement Kate had almost forgotten that she'd been summoned by the ranch owner. “I hope she's not going to send me packing,” she said, rinsing off the soap lather. “If that's what she plans to do, I'd rather she tell me now and get it over with.”

Ruckus lifted a bushy brow. “If she was gonna send you packin', she'd have told me first.” He wiped his hands dry and then tossed her the towel. “That's not why she invited you to have supper with her. She just wants to get to know you better. Can't blame her for that.”