Carla Kelly (22 page)

“Okay,” Julia whispered. “Paul, how did we ever keep our hands off each other last year?”

“It was a miracle, Julia Otto.”

Julia and Charlotte spent the morning reorganizing the furniture in the bedrooms, now that everyone had cleared out, and getting to know each other. Julia knew Indians well enough not to ask a lot of questions, but just let the conversation move where it wanted. They made beds and fluffed pillows, and gradually Charlotte told her about her childhood on the reservation, going away to Indian school, and being so lonely.

“I learned to cook and sew,” Charlotte said proudly.

“Your stew was excellent last night,” Julia said. She looked around the room at the two beds and dressers. “I suppose we could move this bed into the empty room… No. I'll save it.”

While Charlotte swept the house, dusty from the work of carpenters, Julia baked bread and fried a mound of bear sign, fragrant lumps of dough seasoned with cinnamon and maple extract and rolled into logs. “I'd prefer to dust them with powdered sugar,” she told Charlotte as she mixed sugar and more cinnamon. “I suppose they're better hot, but we don't cook for a picky crowd, do we?”

Charlotte nodded. Julia could see in her eyes that she was pleased to be included. “They'll eat anything that's fried, Mrs. Otto.”

“I know. It's my cross to bear. Let's try these nasty things and make sure they're edible.”

The kitchen was hot, so they sat on the side porch, which Julia had already decided was an excellent idea. Some thoughtful soul had nailed together a rough bench just the right height. Julia ate one last bear sign. “Just to make sure,” she told Charlotte.

Charlotte was sweeping the front porch when Julia noticed a horseman on the ridge, watching them. She looked closer, wondering who it was, and why he didn't ride in. She almost raised her hand to beckon him down, but something stopped her. She knew the rules of the ranch. A rider would come into the camp or in the yard and just wait on his horse until invited to dismount. Even last summer, when the range was on fire and men were coming and going, no one rode onto the Double Tipi and dismounted without permission. And here was this rider on the ridge, watching, but coming no closer.

Julia stood up slowly. She walked around the corner of the porch to the main part of the veranda, where Charlotte was sweeping.

“Any idea who that is?” she asked, keeping her voice low, even if there was no chance the rider could hear her so far away.

Charlotte looked up and frowned. “He comes around every now and then, always when the men are away.”

Julia felt a chill down her back. “Does… does he ever come any closer?”

“No. I tried to wave him down once, but he left.” Charlotte leaned the broom against the railing. “It's like he's looking for someone in particular.”

“He's giving me the willies,” Julia said. “Maybe Doc knows.”

Without knowing why, she went upstairs to her bedroom. She knew that Paul always carried a gun, even though he didn't wear it. Even in as civilized a place as the Plainsman Hotel, he had taken it out of his valise and put it in a drawer.

She went to his bureau and pulled open the top drawer. His pistol lay there among his socks and garments. She touched the gun, then closed the drawer quickly. “You're too jumpy, Mrs. Otto,” she told herself as she sat down on the bed, carefully looking through the uncurtained window. The rider was still there, watching. She went to Paul's bureau again and just stared at the drawer pulls. When she looked back through the window, the horseman was gone.

Dinner was broiled steak, green beans, applesauce, and bread, hot from the Queen. “Timing is everything,” Julia told Charlotte. She took the last loaf out of the oven as Paul and Doc rode in, accompanied by the others, who must have ridden out too.
We were all alone here
, she thought as the chill traveled her spine again.

Comfortable in familiar routine again, after so many months away from it, she knew precisely when to begin broiling the steaks, after the men went into the horse barn.

“Miss me, sport?” Paul asked as he came through the side door later. He sniffed the air. “Me oh my, the head cook has been busy.” He kissed her. “I didn't know what the menu was, but I've been thinking about it anyway, all afternoon.”

“You were thinking about food?” Doc asked, all innocence.

“Now and then,” Paul said, unperturbed. “Treat me with respect, Doctor McKeel, as you would any newly married man with a hickey on his neck.”

Julie rolled her eyes. The men laughed and went into the dining room. With shy smiles, the rest of his crew trooped through the side door a few minutes later, followed by Kringle, who scowled at her as usual. Julia felt her calm returning as she watched them eat, silent and appreciative, with a glance in her direction now and then.

“Soo-perb,” Paul said when he finished and pushed back his chair. “I will get fat again.”

“You've never been fat in your life, cowboy,” Julia said. “We're not done yet. Charlotte?”

A chorus of “ahs” went up as Charlotte returned to the dining room with a platter of bear sign. Paul leaned over and kissed Julia's cheek. “You read my mind,” he whispered.

“I'll bet I did,” she said drily, which earned a chuckle from Doc as he applied himself to a bear sign, dipping it in his coffee.

“You know, you're missing out, having abandoned coffee for life among the Mormons,” Doc said.

“They're just as good in milk,” Paul replied. “Darling, should we get a cow?”

“That's such a funny question, coming from a stockman,” she said.

“None of us are brave enough to milk a range cow,” he told her as he ate another bear sign. “I could locate a Jersey, if you or Charlotte might be interested in milking it. Something small and harmless, to replace last year's cow.”

Julia looked at Charlotte, and they both nodded. “Consider it done,” Paul said. “There might be someone at the roundup willing to turn loose of such a bovine.”

He started to rise, but Julia put her hand on his arm. “We need to tell you something.”

The look he gave her was alert and attentive. “What happened?”

“There was a rider on the ridge, just watching us,” she said, her hand still on his arm. She felt the sudden tension. “He stayed at least an hour.”

“I've seen him there before,” Charlotte added. “I never said anything, because he just stayed on the ridge and never came down.”

Paul glanced at Doc, then back at Julia. “Doc told me about the rider this afternoon. He just waits, like he's looking for someone.”

Julia's throat felt suddenly dry. “It's Mr. McAtee, isn't it? He's looking for James.”

I fear so.”

Julia reached for another bear sign, her eyes on her husband. “Just sitting there, he frightened me. Can we do anything?”

“I wouldn't know what it could be,” Paul said. “If I confront McAtee, he'll just say he's passing through, or that he's still looking for strays.” He pushed back from the table and stood up. “Walk with me, Darling.”

She stood up without a word and put her hand in his. He took another bear sign as they left the table. Outside, his arm went around her waist.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Nowhere in particular.” He gave her a sideways glance. “I can't tell you how many times a year ago, I wished for an excuse to say ‘walk with me.’ ” He stopped and stared at the ridge, his lips in a thin line. “Blast the man, anyway. He has a ranch of his own to run! Let's go up there.”

They walked to the rise. Paul stared down at evidence of the horse. “He was here a while. Smoked a few cigarillos too.” He looked to the north. “And then he lit off for the Niobrara country.”

“Charlotte and I didn't realize that all the men were gone until you all rode in together tonight. The only man on the property was Kringle, I guess.”

Paul gave her a faint smile. “Kringle's tough enough. I'll have a word with him and he'll keep an eye out. No fears, there.”

“He's not going to the cow gather?”

“Not this year. He's having a harder and harder time walking, and I have plenty of harness work here for him to do while we're gone.”

“We?”

He took her hand again. “Yeah. Come along with me.” He kissed her hand and kept walking. “Doc told me that Angus Clyde rode in here a week ago to make sure that you were coming to the cow gather too. He and his brothers Malcolm and Laird are the roundup bosses this time.”

“I'm the greenhorn.”

“Yep. You'll come in for some ribbing, I am certain.”

“I don't know anything about roundup cooking.”

“No fears there, either.” He patted her hand. “Your chief duties will probably be peeling spuds and watching that the beans don't burn. You're going to meet the ferocious and legendary Cookie Brown. He's worked for Clyde Cattle Company for years, and he's the boss of the chuck wagon. You keep Cookie happy, and all is well.”

“You don't call him by his last name?” she teased.

He shuddered elaborately. “I wouldn't dare! We're all afraid of Cookie.”

Sitting up in bed a few hours later, running a brush through her short hair, she watched Paul as he sat on the end of the bed, staring out the window.

“Matt will be back tomorrow. Charlotte and I will put up all those lace curtains and find good homes for useless doodads,” she said. “I'll put the cut glass knife rest on top of the sideboard. What a joke.”

She doubted he heard her, so intent was he on the window and the darkness beyond. “Hey, cowboy, are you in there?” she asked.

“Strange, isn't it? Logic and everything else tells me that McAtee is miles away and back on his own property, but once someone's spied on you, you're never quite sure.” He laughed softly. “I
was
listening! With lace curtains on these windows, at least we won't scare the horses.”

She threw her pillow at him. “They'd have to be awfully tall horses.”

He threw it back. “Starting something? You'll lose.”

“I was hoping to, Romeo.”

Later, drowsy and satisfied, Julia listened to Paul's heartbeat. “Good thing no one's upstairs except us,” she whispered.

“Then why are you whispering
now
? You're a bit of a rascal, wife.”

“No. I'm just the standard issue,” she assured him.

“Still… have you noticed anything different?”

She closed her eyes, content. “No. You're the same cowboy I gave the hickey to in the Plainsman Hotel.”

He ruffled her tousled hair. “No, I meant around the place. Things have changed. Used to be I paid your wages every month, and you basically did what I asked.” He laughed softly. “When you weren't doing what you wanted to, instead. Funny how that didn't bother me much.”

She thought about what he was saying and understood what he meant. Now she was giving orders to Charlotte, and the house was hers. “It
is
a different outlook now, and it may take some getting used to. For you too?”

He nodded, his fingers gentle in her hair. “Before the fires last summer, I was all work. Well, you know that. A spread this size will never run itself.” His hand pressed more firmly on her head, and she had a fleeting memory of his hands on her head at the edge of the shallow river. “After the fire, I learned something about high stakes. Oh my word, I did. You were the center of it all, and not the ranch anymore.”

“Oh, Paul,” she murmured.

“There you were, wet, wounded, burned, and determined to live.” He traced the scar on her breast. “Julia, you have the same fire inside you that I have. That tough time cut you close to the bone, but it didn't stop you.”

“I'm afraid of McAtee. I'm afraid of my nightmares.”

He put both arms around her now. “Let me tell you something, Darling. I've never told you much about my father's death, partly because it's still hard, and partly because it shows a side of me that only you will ever know.”

“You've never told me anything about his death, my love,” she said.

“I love it when you say that.”

“My love. My love.”

He kissed her cheek. “It was about this time of year in ’89, and we were doing the early work, getting ready for the cow gather.” He released his grip on her. “I'm squeezing you too tight.”

“I don't object.”

“We were roping, and he was leaning out over his saddle when his horse stepped in a prairie dog hole and broke its leg. Pa was thrown and the horse landed on him.”

He stopped, and Julia pulled herself closer again. She rubbed his chest until he sighed.

“Pa got up and kind of shook himself, and said he was all right. I shot Blackie for him. I hated that. Blackie just stared at me with those big brown eyes. Not a sound, but he knew.”

She felt the shudder that went through him almost as though it went through her too.

“Pa wasn't all right. I got him back to the ranch, and he just sat there at the kitchen table, like he was listening to his insides. Then he started bleeding from his mouth. I didn't know what to do. Julia, I was fifteen.”

She nodded, thinking of her life at Salt Lake Stake Academy at fifteen, with friends, visits to the malt shop, and buying shoes.

“When he started to convulse, I tried to put him in the wagon and take him to Gun Barrel. He just shook his head and said it was too late.” His hand was back in her hair again, idly pulling her curls through his fingers. “I had no one to turn to except Dawes McLemore, Charlie's father, and he was almost two hours away.”