West Winds of Wyoming (29 page)

“Did you have any problems? Or troublemakers?”

One. Stevie had decided to play hooky on the first day—darn that boy of hers—but she wouldn’t tell Mr. Hutton that. No use looking for trouble when enough was sure to find the lad on its own. “No problems.”
Three trout pulled fresh from the stream is not an excuse to miss school.

She leaned forward and handed him the list of questions from that day. “If you could, please, I’ll need these answered before tomorrow morning. I’d appreciate it.”

He glanced at the list. “Of course.”

“Fine then. If there isn’t anything else you need, I’ll be going.” She glanced about, noting again his papers on the table, books and a cup. Her stomach growled softly, reminding her that she was famished. “Your supper?”

“I had some of the soup you brought over not long ago. Thank you again for that.” He sounded contrite. Like he wanted to make up. She wasn’t quite ready for that.

“Penny made it.”

“Please tell Penny it’s very good and I appreciate her sharing such a fine dish with me.”

“I will.” The jar of strawberry jam still clutched in her hands felt like an albatross around her neck. “Oh, I almost forgot. I brought you over some jam I put up last month.”

“That was kind of you.”

She shrugged, still feeling hurt over the unfair interrogation. “It’s good on toast.”

She stood and headed into the kitchen. As she opened the cabinet door, the corner of a paper stuck halfway out of the drawer below caught her attention. The creased paper looked important, like an official document. Surely, Mr. Hutton hadn’t meant to squash it in there like that. Perhaps Mrs. Hollyhock was accidently at fault, as she’d tidied up. Intent on righting the wrong, Brenna opened the drawer, her hand halting midair.

The manure-stained paper! The unlucky relationship-wrecker that had started the whole mess with Mr. Hutton in the first place. The large, bold type was impossible not to read:
OFFICIAL MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE OF THE STATE OF PENNSYLVANIA
.

Of their own volition, her eyes skimmed down the page and stopped on the date. November 20, 1879—three years ago. Brenna stifled a gasp. Mr. Hutton, with his lovely hazel eyes, tempting broad shoulders and strong, manly chin, was married! To a Miss Helen Boyd. She noted the September birthday listed, year eighteen fifty-one. The same one she’d read on Mr. Hutton’s application. She’d remembered because hers was the same month, only a year earlier.

A surge of sadness filled her. A large dark-green stain covered a good portion of the upper left-hand corner, but the names were mostly visible, leaving no doubt in Brenna’s mind who the document belonged to.

Wife? But where was she?

With a shaky hand, she pulled the drawer open a tad bit farther but stopped when she noticed a stack of letters, the post on top addressed to Gregory Hutton, Logan Meadows, Wyoming Territory. The sender was listed as H. Hutton, Poppyville, Pennsylvania.

Well, that answers my question quite nicely. Poppyville, Pennsylvania.

“Mrs. Lane?”

“Yes. I’ll be right there.”

Her voice sounded clogged. She pushed her emotions aside and set the jar of jam on the shelf, closing the cabinet door with a shaky hand. Careful not to make any noise, she quickly tucked away the document and slid the drawer closed. Returning to the front room, she took in Mr. Hutton’s feverish eyes and struggled against the crushing weight of disappointment that pushed in on her from all sides.
He doesn’t mean anything to me.
“I’ll check back with you in a couple of hours before I go to bed.”

“I assure you, there’s no need for that, Mrs. Lane.”

“I assure you
there is
, Mr. Hutton, and I won’t hear another word about it. I want you to get well as soon as you can—so you can take back your class and I can go back to my mending.”

She hadn’t meant to sound so cross, but cross she was. Hoodwinked, although he hadn’t done one single thing to encourage her, and if she were truthful, he’d done the exact opposite. “And I assure
you
, I need that list of questions answered before class tomorrow. I hope you’ll be able to return them to me this evening so I won’t worry.”

Brenna said goodbye. She hurried across to her own house and was met by the familiar scents of bread baking, the clove-studded apple Jane had made and hung in the living room, and the boys’ clothes after a hard day of play. All the things that would have brought her comfort yesterday left her cold. Loneliness gripped her heart and pain stabbed behind her eyes.

She smiled at the children sprinkled through the rooms but headed for her bedroom. Stevie sat on the couch, book in hand, as if she wouldn’t even notice he’d missed school today. She didn’t have the energy to address the situation now. “I’ll be out in a moment, dears.” Her hand rested on the glass doorknob. “I just have to slip off my boots and freshen up. Is supper ready?”

“Yes, Mama,” Jane and Penny called back in unison. “And the table is set,” Jane added.

Such good girls.
“Wonderful. I can’t wait to hear what you thought of the day.” Brenna closed the door to her bedroom with a soft click, then leaned against the wood for support.
I’ve been pinning my hopes on Mr. Hutton. What a silly nilly I’ve been. What would he want with a dumb peasant like me?

The hated, ugly nickname had the power to drop her to her knees. Her pa’s angry, red face rushed into Brenna’s mind.
“You’ll never amount to a half-bent clover, girl. Yer useless to me. Use your head. Why didn’t God send me a son to hilp me work in the mine. Least then, he’d be worth something.”

Mr. Hutton’s disapproving expression. The forgotten math books. Her years of struggle, heartbreak, and loneliness all welled up within her heart until she thought it would burst. Sliding down the door to the floor, Brenna covered her ears with her hands, trying to block out her father’s mocking laughter. Why had she taken on such responsibility? She should have known she couldn’t do it. That she’d mess it up. And she had.

There was a soft knock on the door. “Mother, is anything wrong?”

Brenna quickly wiped her eyes with the hem of her dress and made sure her voice wasn’t shaky before she responded. “I’m fine, sweetheart. I’ll be right out.” She worked to make her voice sound cheerful. “We have so much to talk about.”

“We sure do, Mama.” Jane had joined her older sister on the opposite side of the door. “School was fun. I liked everything you did.”

Fun. Don’t let Mr. Hutton hear that word.

After she climbed to her feet, Brenna squared her shoulders. This was just one tiny, little setback in the bumpy road of life. She’d faced bigger problems than this. Mr. Hutton had a wife in Pennsylvania to nurse him. Brenna would do what she could, but that was all. She’d not worry about his health, his supper, his soaring temperature. She’d put that man across the road where he belonged—at the bottom of her priority list.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

M
orning,” Nell called to Gabe and Jake. The hands on loan from the Broken Horn rode toward the ranch yard. It had been four days since she and Seth had made the decision to round up the wild horses, and each day the sun peeking over the far mountain range filled her with hope. “I see you have everything you need,” she said, gesturing to their bedrolls on the backs of their saddles, stock whips lashed to the pommels and faces full of excitement. Dog trotted off the porch and out to meet them, barking, whining, and wagging his tail.

She lifted her coffee cup and took a drink. This wild herd just might be the thing to get the ranch back on track. Surely there would be some three- and four-year-olds in the group, which they could use for the army order that hung over their heads. But more than that, there would be broodmares and fillies they could add to their breeding stock. The thought was heady and boosted her mood even more.

At the hitching rail Gabe and Jake swung their legs over the backs of their saddles and stepped off their horses. Each had a long rifle in a leather scabbard on the saddle and a six-gun strapped to his leg.

“Thanks for coming. We couldn’t do this without your help.”

“We ain’t done nothin’ yet, Nell,” Jake drawled. “I’d wait to see what happens before you go singing our praises. That’s a lot of country up there. Finding that herd will be like finding a penny at the bottom of Grant’s quarry.”

She’d not let him spoil her good mood. “You may be right. Charlie only has a vague recollection where he spotted them. But from here on out, we’re thinking positive. We’ll find those horses and bring ’em in.”

Jake nodded. “Point taken. Besides, both Gabe and me are mighty pleased with your terms. Four mares each to start our own herds. I’d say that’s a pretty generous offer. We find and gather the herd—hopefully in the first week—then camp at the box canyon and sack ’em out enough to get ’em down to your ranch. I’d say three weeks, tops. That’s good pay.” He glanced around and smiled at Gabe standing a few feet away. “Hey, you better wake up.” He buffed Gabe on the shoulder, then came up the porch steps. “You got any coffee left inside?”

“You bet. Help yourself to anything you’d like.”

As Jake went through the door, Nell recalled the days when she’d enjoyed teasing him, and even Gabe sometimes. She was younger then and they’d never really seen a woman work the cattle and horses like the men. She’d been an anomaly to them, something strange—probably still was.

From inside she heard Seth greeting Jake. The next moment Seth joined her on the porch, a coffee cup in his hand.

“Howdy, Gabe,” Seth said. “Seems you grow an inch every time I see you. How tall are you now?” A round of hacking stopped Seth, and he turned away.

Gabe waited to respond. “Not sure. Last time Jessie measured me I was six feet one.” He took in Seth, then glanced around. “You’re not going along on the roundup?”

“Not this time. But don’t be thinking I’m getting off scot-free. I’m driving the buckboard up to the mountain corral with a load of hay. Feed for the horses while we sack ’em out enough to be ponied back to the ranch.”

Gabe nodded, then followed Jake’s trail up the steps and headed inside.

Charlie came from the barn leading the black gelding, Nell’s chestnut paint, and a packhorse. His leather chaps swung easily as he walked. A giddy, happy feeling made her tremble and she gripped her coffee cup tighter. Even though he’d tried to explain away the kiss and the dance there, was no denying what she’d felt deep in her soul and the emotion she’d sensed coming from him. Perhaps he was holding back because of his wife. Like she’d said to Seth, maybe his grief ran deep. That he was still healing. And the book lent to Brenna didn’t mean anything tangible was going on. He hadn’t been back to town since. Who knew what this trip might bring.

The packhorse was laden down with camping tools and foodstuffs that would keep them happy for a week, or two if they stretched things. Interested in the newcomers tied at the hitching rail, the horses nickered. Seemed people and animals alike were ready for this adventure.

Charlie stopped a few feet from the porch. “You ready?”

She nodded, ignoring what his gaze did to her insides. She turned to Seth. “Be careful while we’re gone.” Her eyes searched his. She didn’t know why she felt so sentimental all of a sudden. “And if you get to town, go see Doc Thorn. I told him you’d be coming in.”

“You shouldn’t have done that. He’ll be waiting for no reason.”

“And if you get tired working the horses here, leave ’em till we get back. The army won’t care if we’re a few days late.”

“Nell, you told me all this last night. Stop your henpeckin’.”

She held back a retort and willed her eyes to stay dry. Even the sunshine that streamed in under the porch overhang couldn’t lift her spirits over Seth’s health.

“On the ride out,” she continued like she hadn’t heard him, “we’ll stop at the corral and prop open the gates so it’s ready when we bring the herd in.”

“You said that before, too.”

“Am I forgetting anything?”

“No. Now mount up before all these men change their minds about riding with a sentimental girl.”

“If we find ’em, we’ll do our best to cut out the stud and a few head, and leave ’em behind. With Drag Anchor, we have no use for him.”

Seth shook his head. “You’d think you was my ma, not my baby sister. Don’t go doing anything foolish. A few horses ain’t worth risking your neck for.”

“And I know that, brother.”

Unable to stop herself, Nell gathered Seth into a big hug. “I’m not leaving without a kiss and hug. I don’t care if you’re shy.” She gripped his body tightly to hers. “I love you, Seth.”

He stepped back and put his hand on her forehead, drawing a chuckle from the two boys who’d just come out of the house. She avoided looking at Charlie. In return, Seth laughed. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and sent a look full of meaning to Charlie, who had just finished giving his cinch one last slow pull before mounting up.

“I’ll watch over her, Cotton. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“And us,” Jake added. Gabe nodded agreement.