Robin (3 page)

THREE

            
 
Robin settled onto the wagon seat and tucked her skirts around her legs. A ride across the Kansas prairie sitting on a hard slab of wood was not how she envisioned her journey. The uncertainty of meeting Uncle John, coupled with Ty Morgan’
s
proximity for the trip, caused her palms to perspire.

              “Here, dearie.” Emma handed her a paper-wrapped bundle “I packed a few extra items. I doubt you’ll find enough in John Wenghold’s kitchen to last more than a few days. You’ll be needing supplies soon, so don’t let that old man keep you penned up out there, you hear?”

              Robin’s lips twitched with her attempt to smile. “Emma, whatever would I have done without you? Thank you. I’ll make sure you get paid.”

              “You’ll do no such thing. Now, lean down here so I can give you a peck on the cheek, then you two best be on your way.”

              “Thanks, Emma.” Ty embraced the older woman, then climbed in beside Robin. “Ready?” He grinned.

              Robin straightened her shoulders and nodded.

              Ty flicked the reins, and when the wagon lurched, Robin clutched the seat with both hands.

              “Sorry, I should’ve warned you.” He smiled. “You might want to hang on tight. Can’t always avoid the bumps.”

              Robin peered over her shoulder one last time as the town slipped from sight, then turned and set her face toward the hills. The road stretched before them in two long brown ribbons as far as she could see, while tall grass swayed and danced with the passing wagon. A brown and black bird sporting a bright yellow bib perched on a rock and warbled as they rolled past.

              They traveled in long stretches of silence, broken only by birdsong and the occasional nicker of one of the horses. Grateful Mr. Morgan didn’t seem to require a lot of conversation, Robin relaxed with the rhythmic roll of the wagon. The prairie revealed constant change. Great expanses of flat land gave way to unexpected rocky cliffs and valleys that plunged so deep shadows obscured the bottom. It was a far cry from the bricked streets of Chicago, but she was fascinated. Would she ever get used to the vastness, the sense of being as small as one of the insects tha
t
whirre
d
from the grass as they passed? The wagon slowed, and the horses strained against their harness as they trudged their way up a steep incline. Robin’s eyes widened when they reached the summit.

              Ty reined the horses to a halt. “Quite a picture, isn’t it?”

              Trees, absent thus far, meandered through the valley below, then melted into purple shadows. The solitude was palpable.

              “I didn’t know grass and hills could be so beautiful.” Robin whispered. “How can it change so quickly? Last night it blew wild and dangerous, and now”—she swept her arm in an arc—“this is so peaceful. Chicago has storms, too, but the only things to show for it the next morning are a few puddles and broken branches. Here, everything is so green and new. Even the sky looks washed clean.”

              “The old-timers say Kansas is like a woman. You never know when she’s going to up and throw a fit, then the next minute she’s smiling and happy as can be. You love her, or you leave.” He wrapped the reins around the brake handle and jumped from the wagon.

              “I take it you love her?” Was it appropriate to talk about love? Mama would make her recite the three L’s of proper conversation
with someone of a
different gender: A lady doesn’
t
laugh alou
d
, nor speak o
f
limb
s
o
r
lov
e
. If only she could fan herself. Past experience warned her that when she had a sudden gush of heat her face was also bright pink.

              “She’s in my blood. I don’t suppose I’ll ever leave. I’ve simply learned to live with her little temper tantrums. Would you like to walk a bit?” He removed his gloves and laid them on the seat.

              “Now?” She peered at the sea of tall grass that surrounded the wagon. It was hard enough to navigate well-worn paths. How could she shuffle through such unmarked terrain?

              “Here, let me help you.” He circled her waist with his hands and lifted her from the wagon. “This is perhaps my favorite spot on the ranch.”

              Robin straightened her skirts. “Why? Though I must say, it is beautiful.”

              “This is Morgan Hill. When I reach this plateau I know I’m almost home. I never tire of the sight.”

              “I don’t know anyone who has a hill named after them. I’m impressed.” Robin glanced sideways at her escort.

              “My grandfather gets that distinction. The story goes that he and Grandmother braved heat, storms, and occasional encounters with Indians to cross these plains. Then came the day they topped this hill and knew they would stay. They dreamed of a big family, but my father was their only child. I’m also a lone offspring.

              Robin sucked on her lower lip to keep her mouth from gaping. “Then all of this is yours? Oh my. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen so much open space. And to think it belongs to only one person.”

              Ty gave her a crooked smile. “I suppose it’s hard for a woman to understand, but my sole claim to owning this ranch is my name on the deed. In reality, Miss Wenghold—the land owns me.”

              She’d heard the same awe in Papa’s voice the few times he reminisced about his childhood on the Feather.

              Ty peeked around the brim of her bonnet. “You still here, Miss Wenghold?”

              She nodded. “I’m sorry. Your regard for this wild country brought back memories of my papa. I’m trying to imagine him as a boy in these hills.”

              “Maybe I can help. We’re not far from your uncle’s place, and we’ve time. I’d like to show you our fair prairie.”

              She grinned. “I have eyes, you know.”

              “Ah, but you’re only able to see the surface. This is beautiful country but full of risks. I survive out here because I’m aware night and day of the dangers that exist.”

              “More dangerous than Chicago, Mr. Morgan? Have you ever been to a big city?”

              He chuckled. “Believe it or not, Miss Wenghold, I’ve been to many a big city and am well aware of the hazards they hold. But out here it’s not the people that pose the perils—it’s the land itself. Come with me.” He placed her hand in the crook of his arm and led her to a rocky overlook.

              Large slabs of rock jutted from the hillside below and scrawny bushes obscured the depth. Robin tightened her grip on his arm. Would he think her forward? But peering over the edge caused her knees to tingle. Or was it Ty Morgan’s bay rum? “How far down does it go?” She shuddered. “A person could tumble over the edge before they know it’s here.”

              “And this is one of the more obvious ones. A man can get killed if his horse happens to step in a hole hidden among the grass while they’re galloping across here. They say not so many years ago, the Indians killed buffalo by running them off a ledge like this. Look.” He pointed to a large rock below them. “See that stick lying there?”

              “You want to show me a stick?” She peeked over the edge once again. “We have sticks in Chicago, too, you know.”

              “It’s not what you think. Watch.” Ty picked up a stone and hurled it onto the rock.

              She shrieked when the stick slithered into an S-like shape then coiled.

              “Listen closely. Can you hear it?”

              Robin pulled the bonnet away from her ear and leaned forward. “You mean that buzzy sound?”

              “That’s it. Memorize that sound because it signals danger.”

              “Is that a rattlesnake? I’ve read of them.” She shivered and rearranged her bonnet. Her pulse buzzed in her ears with this man standing so close. Wa
s
h
e
dangerous?

              “Yes, and believe me, your horse will hear it and most likely shy away from it. If you’re not paying attention, you’ll go off his back faster than you can think. Rattlers are poisonous. Don’t ever mess with them.”

              “But what if I’m not on a horse?” Dare she tell him she couldn’t ride?

              “It’s best you carry a stick with you when walking through tall grass. And if you should happen to meet a snake, stand still. More than likely it will slither away. But you can’t be too careful.”

              Staring at the tall grass around her she quivered and willed her voice to remain steady, “Do they come close to houses?”

              “Yes, they’ll come close to a house. You can also find them along anything rocky. In woodpiles. Around the well. Just learn to watch for them. Until you’ve been here for a while, assume any snake is dangerous.”

              “Could we please change the subject?” Whatever made her think she could live in this wild place with hailstones the size of her fist, wind so fierce it could topple buildings, and now creatures that slithered and could kill you? And tall grass separated her from the wagon.

              “I don’t mean to frighten you, Miss Wenghold. In time, I think you’ll love it here. This land has a rhythm and beauty all its own. It will talk to you, but you need to listen. See the trees in the distance? They’re telling you something now.”

              Robin patted a handkerchief across forehead. “Like perhaps it’s cooler down in the valley?”

              “That—and more. Remember how Emma said she learned t
o
loo
k
at a person’s face t
o
hea
r
what they were indeed saying? This land is the same way. Sometimes it’s what you don’t hear that’s telling you something. Take a good look at her, then tell me what she’s saying.”              

              “You keep referring to Kansas as a female. My introduction to this land was anything but ladylike.”

              “She threw a tantrum last night.” Ty gave her a crooked smile. “See how repentant she is today? Kansas is very much a lady. See how her long prairie tresses blow in the wind. She births new grass every spring and cradles the hills like a mother with a newborn babe.”

              Robin avoided his gaze. Mama’s idea of proper conversation between a man and an unmarried woman didn’t include mention of a woman’s tresses or giving birth to anything. But she’d admit he did have a way with words. He might even make a good preacher, though no preacher she’d ever known made her heart do such funny things.

              “Shield your eyes a bit so the sun isn’t directly in them, then let the lady have her say.”

              Robin stepped away and positioned both hands above her eyes. She cocked her head then giggled when a gleam of light sparkled through the trees. “Water. She’s telling me there’s water down there.” She glanced at him. “Did
I
hea
r
correctly?”

              A slow grin spread over his face. “You did, indeed, Miss Wenghold. That’s Pigeon Creek. In fact, that branch of water is how your uncle’s ranch got its name.”

              “Then why do they call his ranch the Feather? Is it a joke? Mr. Rempel found my name funny enough.”

              Ty tugged a clump of grass from the ground then smoothed the dirt with the toe of his boot. “From what we can tell, if we were flying like a bird—and I’m not teasing about your name, Miss Wenghold—but if we could fly, Pigeon Creek would look something like this from the air.” He drew a long curving line in the dirt. “That’s the main creek, but then there are these other branches that jut out from it.” He drew several lines away from the original one. “This big one here, protrudes onto your uncle’s land and becomes his water supply. Guess somebody thought it resembled a feather the way it was shaped.”

              “Do you get your water from the same source?” She studied the way his shirt strained across his shoulders. If he caught her staring and could read faces like Emma, she’d be in a heap of trouble.

              “My land follows the entire course of the creek. As far as anyone knows, the Pigeon has never gone dry so there’s always been plenty of water.” He dusted his hands on the back of his britches.

              Robin bent and traced the drawing. “It’s kind of funny when you think of it—Pigeon Creek. The Feather. Robin. You want to hear something even funnier?” She might as well get it over with. He’d find out in time.

              “And what would that be?” Ty lifted his hat and wiped his forehead on his sleeve.

              “I have two sisters named Wren and Lark.” She dared him to laugh.

              He smiled and plucked a long stem of grass. “Want to hear something even funnier? My ranch is called the Hawk.”

              “You’re making that up.”

              “Nope, every word is the truth.” He laughed and stuck the stem in the corner of his mouth.