The Lady and the Cowboy (6 page)

“I notice that you have black men working for you.”

He knew what she was trying to ask; were they former slaves?

“They always have,” Sam said. “Much of the
south was built on slavery but it never sat well with my daddy. He didn’t like the idea of owning someone else. Still, when he started this place, he couldn’t afford proper wages so he’d go to the slave auctions, buy the cheap ones, the ones that looked weak or old, then he’d hand them their papers.”

“He’d fire them?” she asked, confused. The only papers she knew of someone bein
g handed were metaphorical ‘walking papers’.

“No,” he laughed. “He’d free them, but that took paperwork and he gave them a copy, to prove that they were free.
Then he’d explain that he couldn’t afford to pay much but he needed workers, and they got free room and board thrown in, so the wages weren’t as bad as they might seem at first. Some went right away, some stayed until they’d saved some money, some just stayed. My father was a good man, he treated his workers well and he didn’t expect them to do anything he didn’t do.”

“But why only bid on the weak ones?”

“Because it was all he could afford, and he knew some would leave as soon as he freed them; he had to hedge his bets. Turns out, once they had good regular food, most of the small or weak ones weren’t so small or weak anymore!”

“He sounds like a lovely man.”

“He was.

“Can I ask, how did he die?”

“The war.” He said shortly. Ruth thought that he wasn’t going to elaborate but after a few minutes he sighed and continued talking. “We were on the side of the South but because of his stance on slavery, a lot of people thought he sided with the North. We took a lot of flak for it. They tried to run us out, shot some of our livestock, beat a few of our workers, and I once caught them trying to set fire to the barn.” Again he paused. “Eddie was one of my father’s oldest workers, he thought he was in his 50s when dad bought him and he’d been on the farm for 15 years. He had a bad fall one day, broke his leg pretty bad and Dad knew there wasn’t anything he could do for him out here, so we got the cart and drove to Midridge.”

He paused again and Ruth waited patiently for him to continue.

“A group of Confederate soldiers were staying there, passing through. Just bad luck really, but they saw us carrying Eddie into Doc Harper’s house. The leg had to be amputated so we were in there for hours and by the time we left, it was late and the soldiers were drunk. Seems they’d whipped each other up into some kind of righteous frenzy in the meantime and were spoiling for a fight. Dad wasn’t a fighter, he was a peaceful man, but they wouldn’t be appeased. They accused him of being a Yankee sympathiser, a spy, a…” he glanced at her and seemingly rethought how much detail to go into. “They hurled all sorts of ugly names at him. Finally they grabbed poor Eddie and held a gun to his head, threatening to kill him unless Dad admitted that he was a traitor. So Dad said what they wanted to hear… and they shot him. Shot Eddie too, point blank, right in the head. Doc Harper did what he could for Dad but it wasn’t enough. He died right there in the gutter.”

“What happened to the soldiers?”

“Nothing, far as I know. Dad was popular locally, the kind of man who’d give you the shirt off his back if he thought you needed it. Sure, some hounded him for freeing his slaves but they mostly understood that it was for personal beliefs and he didn’t tell them what to do with their slaves. The soldiers quickly realised they’d killed a good man in cold blood and scarpered.”

“Did you know their names?”

“The tavern they were staying over didn’t ask for names; they were soldiers, supposed to be fighting for us, not our enemies. The sheriff looked into it, of course but like I said, he’s not exactly effective. It may have been fifteen years but if I ever see them again, I’ll know them.” His voice deepened on that last sentence and Ruth had an inkling of what he would do to them.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, truthfully.

“We all got our crosses to bear,” he said, shrugging off her words. “The South is littered with similar stories. Everyone lost someone, some lost a lot more.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“Maybe not, but there’s no use crying over what’s done.”

Ruth th
ought that there was a lot of point, that crying could help you deal with the sense of loss, release some of the sadness inside.

“You probably think even worse of us now,” he said, trying
to lighten the mood. “I’ll bet ol’ England doesn’t see wars like that.”

“We have crime and riots,” she assured him, “but our civil
war was in the 1600s so it’s ancient history now.”

They turned away from the wild horses and walked further on, until Ruth suddenly began to laugh.

“What?” Sam asked, perplexed by her mirth, especially after what he’d told her.

Ruth couldn’t answer though; her laughter was too strong to allow her time to speak.

“I'm sorry,” she said, calming down a little and wiping tears from her eyes. “I’m not laughing at you, honestly. I just…” her laughter overcame her again, even although she tried to rein it in. “I just wondered what my family would think if they could see me now, wearing trousers, loose hair and rising astride. I could see their faces and…” she began laughing again.

“They’d be surprised?”

“Scandalised,” she agreed.

“An
d what about you, how do you feel looking like this?”

“
Thankfully I have no idea what I look like, but it does feel good to ride like this. I feel so much more secure in the saddle, and this thing, as massive and clunky as it looks, is very comfortable!”

“Better than your English saddle?”

“Different. Mind you, I haven’t ridden since I left England, so I'm sure my muscles will be protesting by tonight, no matter how comfortable the saddle.”

“Yeah, I’d say that was a safe bet,” Sam laughed.
“And while we’re friends again, I really do want to apologise for how I behaved when we first met. I resented your intrusion and thought you might try meddling in the business. That was wrong of me and I'm sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. I honestly don’t usually insult people.”

“I just bring it out in you?” Sam teased.

“Actually, yes,” she laughed. “You seem to be able to rile me up like no one else can.”

“I like it when you’re mad,” he admitted. “I may have goaded you a little, trying to see that fire again. Truth is, you are part owner and if you want the ranch hands and buyers to respect you, you've got to be strong. Meek and mild didn’t win the West.”

“You think I'm meek?”

“I do,” he answered seriously. “I’m not saying that’s your fault, but I do know there’s strength inside you and you need to bring it out.”

“It’s hard,” she admitted.

Sam stopped his horse and got a canteen of water from a saddle bag. He offered it to her and she took a long swig.

“Thank you.” She handed the canteen back. “The truth
is I was raised to be ladylike and I don’t know any other way to be.”

“Around these parts, being a lady doesn’t mean you stay quiet. It means you’re good people, means you go the extra mile, means you care about
your family and local folks, and about behaving in a Christian manner.”

“You’re Christian?”

“You think we’re heathens?” he asked, a mite defensive.

“What? No, I didn’t mean that, I just haven’t seen you attend church.”

“Yeah, well the local pastor and I don’t get along. He’s a mean son of a bitch. Don’t mean I still don’t believe in Jesus, or at least in his values. Besides, I haven’t seen you running off to church either.”

“I didn’t want to put anyone
out to take me, at first but… well my family and I went every week, without fail, come rain or come shine. Ladies attended church. I suppose I feel a little rebellious in not going. But I still say my prayers every morning and night.”

She blushed as she looked over and caught him
laughing at her.

“I know, it’s not much of a rebellion but...”

“But what?”

“Well, I don’t know. It’
s just that we’d sit through the sermon about love or forgiveness or turning the other cheek, then the ladies would congregate at the end of the service and behave in a very… unchristian manner. Spreading rumours, gossip, judging people that they didn’t even know. It never sat well with me.”

“
There’s a lot of Christian folks like that,” he assured her. “Men and women. Maybe our countries aren’t as different as they might seem at first.”

“
Maybe not,” she agreed with a smile, taking in the vista around her. “The scenery changes but I think people are the same everywhere.”

“Come on,” Sam smiled. “Let me teach you a few cowboy moves before we head back.”

He taught her to turn on the haunches to the left and right, then to half-turn on the forehand to both the left and right. Then he taught her to rollback and some lateral manoeuvres. She was a quick learner and explained that some of the moves she had already learned.

“How?” he asked as they walked back towards the barn.

“They’re things that Army horses are trained to do. Like that jump in place that Angel and I did in the paddock this morning. Army horses have to be ready for many eventualities on the battlefields.”

“Were you thinking of signing up,” he asked with a teasing smile.

Again she blushed. “Sometimes when we were in London, Father would take me to the Horse Guards Parade to see the soldiers schooling their horses. I just tried to imitate what I saw.”

“Your mother let you go to see infantrymen?” he sounded scandalised and his hand fluttered around his chest, as though he may faint.

Rather than blushing, Ruth laughed for a change. “Actually she was. Father insisted though. I think if Peter had liked horses more, that’s my brother, he would have taken him but I was the only real horse fanatic among his children. Besides, he was always with me so there was no opportunity for scandal. Sometimes they gave me tips as well and once-” She suddenly stopped speaking, as though she might be breaking a confidence.

“Once?”

She hesitated for a few moments. “Well, once we had dinner with a Major after watching them and after dinner, he took father and me back to the stables. He gave me some breeches and a jacket to wear and let me ride his horse, calling out improvements to my technique.”

She was wearing a kind of half smile, as though she knew that she shouldn’t take pleasure in such a shocking revelation.

Sam laughed out loud. “I knew there was a horsewoman in there,” he said.

“You did not!” she argued, s
ounding a little outraged but not angry. “You thought I was a useless waste of space when you first met me.”

“True,” he acknowledged. “But ever since
I saw you cleaning Angel’s tack… well, only a true horseman cares for the equipment as well as the horse.”

“Or horsewoman.”

“Or horsewoman,” he agreed.

Ruth called it a day when they got back to the barn. She had been on horseback for four hours and she knew that her
muscles would protest tomorrow. She assured Sam that she would do the same or more each day until she was used to riding astride, again.

Back in the house she went upstairs to wash and change (she had gotten awfully dusty) and finally got to see what she looked like in her mirror. The woman staring back at her was a sight to behold. Her hair was covered by the Stetson but many curls had escaped around her e
ars and in the nape of her neck; she thought they looked rather fetching. Despite the hat, her face had a slight pink tinge to it, proof that she had caught the sun. Looking a little closer, she was surprised to see that she had freckles on her nose. She wasn’t allowed in the sun for too long at home, she had to ride in the indoor school in summer, so she never knew that she had freckles before.

As she examined her outfit she thought it rather
attractive. Scandalous but nonetheless, flattering.

She really would need some darker blouses though, as she could see that her shoulders had turned pink in the sun. Plus, the material of this one was just too thin to be practical around
horses; she would be forever darning rips and tears.

A knock came at her door and although her first instinct was to hide
whilst wearing such formfitting clothes, she didn’t. She had been wearing them outside all morning, so to hide now seemed foolish.

“Come
in,” she called pulling the blouse back on.

“Oh my,”
Mamma smiled. “Don’t you look nice.”

Ruth blushed.

“I saw you and Sam heading out on the trail this morning and couldn’t help but think what a nice pair you two make. Are you becoming friends?”

“I think so. I hope so.”

Mamma smiled. “I also heard that you beat my son in a race, is that right?”

“Well, Angel beat him.”

“Good on you, Ruth. Much as I love my son, he does need putting in his place at times.” Mamma laughed. “So, are you going to be helping out around the ranch now?”

“I think so. I said I’d take it slowly for a few days, give my legs a chance to adjust to riding again, but then I’ll help full time.”

“Well, I reckon you’ll need some more riding clothes in that case. Follow me, we’ll see what we can find.”

Mamma
led Ruth along the upper landing, then she pulled on a lever in the ceiling, causing a panel to open and a ladder or steps to slide off it.

“I keep all the old clothes up here in the attic,”
Mamma explained. “We’re not too big on waste in these parts, so we keep almost everything, long as it’s still good.”

As
Ruth looked around at the many trunks that were stored up here, Mamma went from trunk to trunk, opening each.

“
Here we go,” she said, lifting what seemed to be children’s clothes out of the way. She held a lot of shirts and trousers up, eyeing up Ruth’s figure at the same time. Most items were rejected as too big, too small or too worn, but finally Mamma found some items and held them up against Ruth’s frame.

“Waist is a bit big, but I can sew some loops on and you can cinch it with a belt.”
Mamma made many comments like that and seemed to be talking to herself more than Ruth and by the time she was finished, she had about a dozen shirts and trousers hung over her arm as they made their way back down.

She took Ruth into the sewing room and began measuring her, jotting down each measurement in a notebook.

“I think I’ve got what I need,” Mamma finally announced. “I’ll have these adjusted for you in no time.”

“
Whose are they?” Ruth asked.

“They were my boys
’,” she answered. “Mostly things they outgrew but that might be still be useful someday.”

Ruth had often heard mention of another son but no one talked about him very much.

“Where is your other son?” Ruth finally had the courage to ask.

“Not too sure these days,”
Mamma answered, her expression gloomy. “He writes every now and again but… Last we heard, he was up near San Francisco. He’s probably moved on by now though.”

Ruth wanted to ask more but she could tell it was difficult for
Mamma to talk about.

She
finally got a chance to wash the dust off herself, then she changed into one of her dresses. She would have liked to stay in the breeches as they were so comfortable, but it didn’t seem right to wear them in the house. She went to join Mamma in the kitchen garden and spent the rest of the afternoon helping her water the vegetables and picking weeds.

She carried on after
Mamma went inside and when every weed was gone, she went to the water pump by the kitchen door to wash her hands.

She could hear
Mamma and Sam talking and smiled, finally feeling at home here. She was about to work the pump handle when Sam’s words stopped her.

“I’m telling you,
Mamma, this horse could put us on the map!”

“He
’s really that good?”

“Good? With the proper training
, Angel could wipe the floor with every horse on this ranch. All he has to do is win a couple of races, then imagine the interest we’ll be getting? He could make our name for us, and the stud fees could allow me to buy some real racing stock.”

“You make
it sound easy.”

“With that horse, it
could be, Mamma. You didn’t see him, he’s a natural sprinter, perfect for racing.”

“Have you discussed your plans with Ruth yet?”

“Not exactly…”

Their voices were fading as they walked away and she couldn’t hear what was said next. She felt tears
sting her eyes as she realised that Sam’s change of heart towards her, was only because he wanted Angel.

She had been so happy today, finally feeling as if she might have a chance to make a new life here but Sam was just humouring her, making her feel
that she could be a part of things so that she would let him race Angel.

Still, all the while he was humouring her, she would use the time to prove to him that she could be an asset to the ranch. Maybe he still wouldn’t like her, but she wouldn’t let him keep her locked up in the house any longer. She belonged with the horses.

***

Sam detected an atmosphere over dinner but he wasn’t sure why. Ruth wasn’t acting frightened ar
ound him as she used to but something was off with how she was acting. He tried to wonder what might be affecting her but he simply didn’t know her well enough to even guess.

He hoped that she might sit with him and his mother after dinner, so they could talk more and get to know each other but as usual, she retired to bed with an oil lamp to read by.

“Is something wrong with Ruth?” he asked his mother when they were alone.

“
Not as far as I know and I think she enjoyed her ride today. Will you be doing it again?”

“
I suppose we could. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“If you want, I’ll make you a picnic lunch
to take with you, and then you can stay out longer.”

“We’ll see,” Sam smiled,
although he was still unsettled by Ruth’s unusual behaviour.