Montana Rose (8 page)

The baby kicked again and Red moved his hand to find the source of this activity. “Is it exciting to think about a little person living in there?”

Cassie had never thought about it that way because Griff didn’t want her behaving like a giddy girl, so excitement was something she controlled. But now that Red put it like that, she decided it was very exciting. “It’s strange isn’t it, to think that he—”

“Or she,” Red interrupted.

Cassie smiled. She wanted it to be a baby girl so badly. “That he or she is in there, alive and waiting to get out. Nine months—no one ever told me that. That’s only two more months. I’ll have a baby by Christmas.”

Red had both hands on her stomach now. He moved them around, searching for more movement. He looked up at her and lifted one hand to lay it on her cheek. “
We’ll
have a baby by Christmas, Cass. We’re in this together from now on.”

Cassie’s eyes burned with tears again, and she had the strange sensation of feeling safe. She’d never been safe with Griff, because she was always waiting for him to find fault with her and punish her. Now, at the surge of safety, hot tears spilled onto her cheeks.

Red wiped them away with his thumb. “Don’t cry, Cass honey. I know you miss your husband and—”

Cassie kissed him. She leaned forward, only really thinking about making him stop talking because she was so ashamed at her disloyal thoughts about her newly dead husband. Her hands were full holding Red’s on her stomach, so all she had left was to bump her mouth into his.

The kiss was over before it started, but it had the desired effect. Red quit talking.

Cassie jumped to her feet when she realized what she’d done. She knocked the chair over behind her as she backed away and might have fallen if Red hadn’t caught her arm.

“It’s okay, Cass. I know it’s ... I understand you’re still in mourning.” Red pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. She stiffened against him, but he didn’t do anything but hold her and smooth her hair. It felt so wonderful that she slowly relaxed against him. But relaxing was a mistake because the minute she did, she started to cry.

Red’s arms tightened. The first tears were for Griff, and those tears flowed faster when she thought of her cowardly decision this afternoon to die, denying her baby life. The tears deepened into sobs over her fear of Mort and Wade Sawyer and all the men who had touched her. She wept over her terror of Red’s anger about her bills. Then her body shuddered from the relief that he hadn’t punished her for them, even though she knew he and every other person in town blamed her for Griff ’s financial straits.

She cried until she wasn’t aware enough anymore to know why she was crying.

And always Red was there. He rubbed her back and brushed her hair off her forehead and crooned sweet words into her ear, surrounding her with strength and kindness.

The storm started to wane at last, and she became aware that she was sitting on Red’s lap. Her cheek was pressed against his coarsely woven shirt and her arms were around his neck as if he was the only steady thing in a reeling universe.

She pulled her arms away from him, ashamed of the closeness between them. Slipping sideways, she tried to stand.

Red didn’t let her go. “Just rest another minute, Cass. You needed to cry those tears. You’ve been through a terrible time. Just let me hold you.” There was an extended silence while she relaxed back into his arms, ashamed of herself for using his strength when she should have her own.

At last the trembling weakness receded. “I need to clean the kitchen, R–Red.” She stumbled over his name again. Odd that she was having trouble saying it.

Red tilted her chin up with one finger. “You’re going to sleep, little mother. I’ll clean up in here.”

Cass said, “This is my job. I’ll do the—”

“Do you know how to milk a cow?”

The question struck her as so strange she didn’t answer.

He smiled. “Would you be willing to learn? And I’d like you to gather the eggs, too. There are a few things left in the garden, some beets to dig and a few pumpkins that I left, hoping the frost would hold off and they’d ripen. I’d be obliged to you if you’d tend to those things, and most of the time, I’ll be thrilled if you clean up after meals. But I’m used to doing for myself, and when you’ve had a hard day, I’m willing to pitch in.”

Cassie was amazed that Red had framed his offer to help so perfectly. It was as if he knew she’d want to do her part, and he was reassuring her that accepting his assistance this once didn’t mean she couldn’t contribute. The words could have come from her own mind. They were possibly the only words that would have made her leave the kitchen to Red.

“I’ll be proud to help with the milking, Red. I’ve never done it. We didn’t have a milk cow, but I’d try real hard to learn. I’ll help wherever you need me. I want to be however you want me to be, Red. Just tell me what to do.”

“Right now, I’m telling you to go to bed. We can start worrying about chores tomorrow.”

Cassie nodded and eased herself off Red’s lap.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Red went to the saddlebags he’d brought into the house with him when they’d first come home. “Muriel said you’d need this tonight.”

Cassie looked at the brown paper package and vaguely remembered Muriel saying it was a wedding present. She unwrapped it and found a snow white nightgown. It was embroidered around the neck and made from the softest flannel Cassie had ever touched. She thought it was more beautiful than the finest silk.

She remembered it was not an appropriate piece of apparel to look at in front of Red and blushed as she folded it quickly and held it against her chest. She looked nervously at him and expected him to say something about immodesty as Griff would have. But he was smiling at her as if he were reading her mind and found her embarrassment at looking at a nightgown in front of her husband funny. Another one of those new rules she needed to learn.

“I’ll go on to bed then,” Cassie murmured.

Red nodded. “Good night, Cass. Sleep as late as you need to in the morning.”

Cassie hung her only dress on a nail in the bedroom and donned her nightgown quickly in case Red would come in. She crawled into bed. Her muscles ached as if she had been beaten. Her eyes were as scratchy as sandpaper from all her tears. The white nightgown wrapped around her, touching her almost as warmly, not quite but almost, as Red’s hands.

Her husband had been buried today. She’d been married today. Already her new husband was superseding thoughts of the old, and she supposed that made her as stupid and childish as Griff had always said she was.

The day was finally over, but she was afraid the guilt and confusion would last the rest of her life. This had to be the worst day of her life, but she had survived it. Tomorrow would have to get better. Tomorrow Red was going to let her help him. It was something she had longed for with Griff, but he’d never given her the chance to prove herself.

She fell asleep planning a wonderful new life where all her dreams would come true.

Red’s life was a nightmare. And he was never going to wake up.

“Cassie! Don’t open that...”

Cassie started screaming and flapping at the escaping chickens.

“...gate!”

Cassie screamed and started yelling, “Shoo, no, stop! Shoo, chickens!” and frantically waving her skirt at the escaping hens. Her noise and flapping skirts only served to make the chickens run out of the coop faster.

It bothered Buck, too. It was just pure bad luck that when Buck started crow hopping, Red was on one of the chancier spots on the steep path down to the spring where his animals watered.

Red was watching Cassie instead of minding his horse. So he was unseated—and slid over the edge of the cliff. The dropoff wasn’t sheer, and there was some brush growing. He grabbed it and dangled for just a few seconds before he clawed his way back from the brink. There were lots of stunted evergreens on the slope, all the way down, so Red figured if he’d missed the first bushes, he’d have caught the later ones.

As he dragged himself back onto the trail, he saw Buck run off, kicking his heels. Once he’d landed himself on the level ground, slightly panicked at the close call, he admitted he hadn’t been
that
close to death. The last drop-off, which was thirty feet straight down to jagged rocks, was still quite a ways away when he’d stopped sliding.

Cassie, as near as Red could tell, hadn’t noticed him fall, because she was busy jumping and screaming and flapping her skirts to try and stop the chickens from flying the coop.

He rushed over to calm her down. “Cass, honey, calm down.”

She whirled to face him, looking terrified. She didn’t seem to register his dirty jeans and torn shirt or his scratched-up arms and face. Or the fact that his hat now had a horse’s hoofprint stomped straight into the crown.

“Red, I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t mean to let them go.” Cassie turned to him with fear in her eyes.

He had scolding words pressing to get out, but he couldn’t say them. How could he yell at her when she looked so scared? Instead of shouting, which had been his natural inclination, he said, “Don’t worry, Cass. They get out from time to time. They used to do it to me.”

That was the truth, strictly speaking. They’d gotten out just this same way when he’d gathered eggs for his mother.

He was five at the time.

He’d learned his lesson then, and he reckoned Cassie had just learned hers, so there really wasn’t any point in talking about it.

“Don’t worry, Cass. Just remember to always close this outer gate before you open the inner gate. Then close the inner gate while you’re inside, and on your way out, make sure all the chickens are in the inner yard before you open this outer one.”

She’d left both of the gates wide open. “Yes, Red. I’ll never leave them open again.” She pressed her hands to her chest, and he could have drowned in those big, scared eyes.

“Most of them will come home to roost come nightfall.” He patted her arm to get her to calm down. “I let them out to scratch most days in the spring and summer.”

In the spring and summer when there were weeds to pick at and bugs to chase. In the fall they’d wander far afield looking for food, then they’d roost wherever was handy. Red didn’t tell Cassie all that.

“Gather the eggs and go on back in and start breakfast. I’ll milk Rosie and bring in the bucket.”

Cassie still looked nervous. She said with an almost pathetic eagerness, “Didn’t you say last night that you wanted me to milk the cow?”

Red’s stomach sank at the thought of what Cassie might do to his precious Rosie. Rosie, a big-boned black and white Holstein, had followed him out here from Indiana, tied behind his covered wagon. He’d raised her from a calf. Rosie was one of the gifts Red’s pa had given him when he’d first gone out on his own. It was one of the last things his pa had done before he died. In short, Red had known Rosie a lot longer than he’d known his wife.

“Sure, I want you to learn.” Red propped both gates wide open and scattered cracked corn around the inner yard, hoping some of the chickens would come around scratching for food. “But I’ll be done by the time you’ve hunted up all the eggs, so I’ll take care of her this morning.”

Cassie nodded and entered the little chicken yard. “Ugh!”

He turned from his hurried trip to the barn to get Rosie milked before Cassie could help. She had a sickened expression on her face as she scraped her foot. Red wondered what kind of person didn’t know to watch her step in a chicken coop.

Turned back to the barn and his milking, Red noticed Buck loitering around the corral, still loose. The horse looked eager to enter his pen but turned contrary when Red tried to catch him.

“Get back here, you old galoot.” Red hustled after the stubborn critter and finally cornered the beast.

By the time he got to Rosie, she was overdue for milking and kicked him a couple of times to remind him to keep to a better schedule.

“Do you want me to try?” Cassie had leaned down over his shoulder.

He jumped. Rosie, startled, kicked over the nearly full bucket of milk. The bucket skittered across the barn floor and slammed into the hay bale where the lantern sat. Kerosene spilled across the hay.

“Cassie, fire! Get out of the barn.” Red raced toward the burning hay with a feed sack.

Cassie didn’t get out. She charged the haystack with her bare hands. Her skirt caught on fire.

Red grabbed her and pulled her to the barn floor. “Roll, Cassie. That’ll put the fire out.” He swatted at her skirt until the flames were gone, and then he turned back to the crackling barn.

Red had dropped his burlap bag. He retrieved it and dunked it in the spilled milk and doused the flames.

Red turned to ask Cassie what in heaven’s name she’d been doing with a lantern in the barn in the full daylight. She stood behind him, tears streaming down her face.

Red’s anger fizzled away as surely as the fire. “Now don’t cry, honey.” Red went and slung an arm around her trembling shoulders. “We’re fine. The fire’s out.”

He glanced down at her charred skirt. Her one and only dress. He shuddered to think of how badly she could have been burned. He tipped her chin up to look at him.

“Everything’s fine now, Cassie. I want you to stop that crying, okay? The important thing is that you weren’t burned. There’s no damage except to a little bit of hay, and I have plenty. It was pure clumsiness on my part to let Rosie knock that bucket of milk over. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Cassie pulled herself together and squared her shoulders. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have startled you. I shouldn’t have brought the lantern in with me. I was trying to learn to light it and I wanted to ask you if I needed to turn the wick down. I’ll never bring a lit lantern into the barn again. That hay catches fire too easily.”

“That’s a right good idea. I think we oughta make that a rule. I’ll never bring one in here either.” Red wanted to say, “Only an idiot brings a lantern into a barn full of hay and leaves it sitting close behind a cow like that.” But he figured she’d learned everything his yelling would teach her. And besides, he wasn’t much of a yeller.

Red smiled down at her pretty, sad face. “It was my fault and you’re sweet to try and take the blame, but I won’t have it. Just go on back to the house now and start breakfast.”

Please, dear Lord, let her go back to cooking. She has a knack for that.

Cassie sniffled for another second and the terror faded from her eyes. She nodded and headed out of the barn.

With a sigh of relief, Red turned to untie Rosie. Just as he let Rosie out into her corral, a piglet squealed, Cassie screamed, and it was all drowned out by the bloodcurdling roar of an angry mama sow.

Red raced out of the barn, took in the situation in a glance, and dived between Cassie and the furiously protective mother. “Drop the pig, Cassie,” he roared.

Harriet slammed, with slashing teeth, into Red’s leg. He rolled and dodged her, kicking at her gaping fangs.

Cassie dropped the piglet, and it ran toward the pen. Harriet whirled away from trying to kill Red and chased after her baby.

Red scrambled to his feet and rushed to the gate Cassie had so casually left open. Apparently the woman had decided she wanted to cuddle a cute but unwilling piglet. He glanced down and saw two long slits in his pant leg. Before he could check for bites, he needed to make sure the gate was secure. When he had it tightly wired shut, he turned, his temper simmering, to brace Cassie about being so reckless. He took one step toward her, and his ankle, still sore from his fall off the horse, almost gave out on him. He caught the gate to keep from falling, then decided to turn his attention to his ankle until he quit wanting to holler at his wife.

Harriet was still woofing, but she was focused on her babies.

Red bent to look for bites. He found several deep scratches on his leg but was relieved to find Harriet hadn’t drawn blood. Animal bites could turn septic, and Red had heard of many a man dying from a bite that wasn’t very serious.

This time he’d have to say something. Cassie couldn’t touch anything on his ranch, ever again. Red turned to look at her and saw her face had gone pure white. His heart clutched and his anger vanished. Could this much fear hurt the baby? He hurried as best he could over to her side, doing his best to hide his limp.

“Are you all right, Cass honey?” Red reached for her face, to study her pallor, then hesitated and wiped his hands on his pants, still filthy from being thrown off Buck, never cleaned after he fought the fire, and now worse from being rolled on the ground by Harriet. Red had a second to think of what could have happened to Cassie if Harriet had gotten to her instead of him.

“Red, Red, I’m sorry—” Her voice broke.

Red didn’t give her another second to talk. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the house, his leg only a distant, nagging ache. He got through the stubborn, heavy door with her still in his arms and settled her in a kitchen chair. He knelt down in front of her. “You’re okay, Cassie.” All he could think of was calming her down before something awful happened. He jumped up and got a dish towel and plunged it into the bucket of water he’d hauled from the cooler this morning. He wrung out the cold water, then dropped back to his knees and bathed her chalky skin.

“You’re fine, Cass. No harm done. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about Harriet. She’s fierce about her babies. No one would ever know a mama pig could be such a dangerous animal.” He felt the worst of the tension drain out of her. Her eyes, fixed wide with horror, dropped closed, and she sagged against him until her head rested on his shoulder.

They stayed like that for long minutes. Her trembling gradually eased and he felt some strength return to her muscles. She slowly raised her head.

Red sighed with relief. Her color was better. He pressed the cool cloth on her cheeks and forehead again. “Are you all right? Do you need to lie down?”

“No, I’m better now.” Cassie shook her head and straightened her spine.

He had to admire that. A mama pig could take the starch out of a mighty steely spine. “You just rest here. Let me go finish the chores. Then I’ll come back and get us some breakfast.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to do that.”

Red shuddered. Then he thought of last night’s supper. Yes, she could cook. If only she’d just agree to do nothing else.

He said, with a calm that took a Herculean effort, “So what’s for breakfast?”

“I’ll fry some eggs if that suits you.”

Red nodded. “Eggs sounds fine. Let me add some wood to the fireplace for you.”

“Thank you,” she said so breathlessly, he felt like he’d offered to slay a dragon.

“I won’t be gone long.” He patted her knee, rose from the floor, stoked the fire, and made it out the door without limping.

He didn’t bother to hide his limp once he was alone. He hobbled around finishing his chores, double-checking the gate as he always did.

He checked the hay pile a dozen times for any smoldering embers. Then he got to thinking about how close she’d snuggled up to him in the night last night. They’d started the night with a solid two feet of space between them, but in the morning he woke with her arms wrapped around his waist as if she craved his warmth. He thought of how her soft hair had fallen out of its braid and spread over his arm and across his chest.

He was far gone thinking about Cassie when he tripped over the basket of eggs Cassie had left sitting by the front door. He fell down and hurt his ankle a little worse.

She rushed to the door to see what the racket was. “Oh Red, I should never have left that basket sitting there. I was almost in the house when I noticed the pigs and went to look at them.”

Red could blame her for everything else that happened this morning, but this one was all his fault. He reassured her he was daydreaming. Not for one second did he consider telling her what he was daydreaming about.

She lost that look she got, like she was afraid of him. She seemed to believe him when he took responsibility for this latest mess, a trifling matter compared to what had gone on earlier. He picked up what was left of the eggs and limped inside with them.

The sun was just fully up and already she’d about ruined him. He’d never survive the week. If he did, it wouldn’t matter. All his animals would be dead, his buildings burned to the ground, and she’d probably find a way to lose all his ranch land and dry up his creek while she was at it.

He tossed split wood on the embers of the fire, determined to take charge of all fire-related chores from this moment forward.

“How did your shirt get torn, Red?”

He looked down. He was more of a wreck than even he’d realized. “I reckon they’re just old and have been torn for a while.” Red was an honest man, but
a while
could be weeks or it could be minutes, and the fact that one of the two outfits of clothing he owned was now halfway to rags, even though it’d been fine when he’d put it on this morning, didn’t mean it hadn’t been “a while.”

“I’ll mend your clothes if you take them off and leave them with me.”

“How about I just wear ’em for the rest of the day, and you can do them tomorrow?” He thought if she had anymore hijinks in mind, maybe he’d better stick to the clothes that were already ruined.