Wyoming Heather (16 page)

Chapter 30

The look on Whip’s face was priceless. He gulped twice, coughed, and nervously rubbed a hand across his lower face. Then, remembering his manners, he tipped his hat and said, “Nice to meet you, Mrs. McVee.”

“Molly.” Her voice carried loud and clear, even though it came from behind as Molly clambered down from the wagon. “Ain’t none of the Mrs. McVee stuff. I’m plain and simple Molly. Whooee.” She turned her head back to the watching Heather. “Lord love a duck, Heather, you never told me he was so durn pretty. I might just snatch him up for myself. Put a little meat on that lanky body and he’d suit me just fine.” She boomed out a chuckle that could be heard at the bunkhouse.

The entire time she was speaking, she was moving. Whip was now looking over his shoulder at Buster Walking Tall, leaning against the corral fence. Buster’s face was void of emotion, until you looked into his eyes, which were filled with malicious delight. To say he was enjoying Whip’s discomfort would be inaccurate. He was reveling in it.

Whip backed up, but Molly kept advancing, until he backed into the corral poles, trapped. There was no help coming, and he looked again to Buster.
Nope, as he’d thought, no help coming
. He’d seen Buster’s eyes.

“Buster, I’ll get even. Some brother you are,” he gritted the words out between clenched teeth.

“Big, pretty lawman don’t need no help from Indian brother.” Buster’s words were low, heard only by a grimacing Whip.

Molly threw her arms around Whip’s stiff body and gave him a hug worthy of a grizzly. “Like I said, Mr. Whip. I’ve come to take over making a home for those two kids of yours.” And, beaming happiness from every pore of her body, Molly gave him another bone crushing squeeze.

“Well, uh, I, uh, thank you mightily, Ma’am.” When he saw her admonishing look, he added, “Molly, Ma’am.”

“No Ma’am. I’m just Molly.” She slapped Whip on his back, chuckling loudly.

Whip staggered with the blow and knew then and there he’d better make a friend of Molly McVee cause Lord help the man who was her enemy.

Before anyone could say anything else, Molly spied Buster, arms crossed over his chest, his manner erect, his gaze penetrating.

“So,” she said, walking over to his friend. “I’d bet my bottom dollar, you’re Buster Walking Tall. Heard all about you from Heather.”

Whip, Heather, and even little Jesse stood quietly, holding their breath. It was as if a northerner had blown in and frozen everyone but Molly and Buster in place.

Molly held out her hand. “Ain’t gonna hug you, Mr. Walking Tall. Not ‘cause I wouldn’t, but cause you’d hate it even more than poor Whip. And he did tolerable,” she said. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to shake your hand. You’re a man to cross the river with and I’d be proud if someday you’d call me friend.”

Buster eyed the hand held straight in front of him. Then with a nod of his head, he took her hand and held it. “
Hohahe
,” he said.

She turned her head toward Whip, then back to Buster.

“
Hohahe, hecheto welo
,” Buster said imperiously, speaking only to Molly.

Then in a whisper meant only for her, he interpreted. “Welcome. It is good.”

Molly stood taller and looked him in the eye. “You’re a man of few words, Mr. Walking Tall. My Jake were, too. He always said, though, that it was ‘cause I talked enough for both of us. You and me got our hands full. But we’ll do it. We’ll look out for these two.” She nodded her big head toward Heather and Whip.

All of a sudden, the silence was broken by a banshee yell and the sound of hooves. Around the corner of the barn came a black and white spotted horse with a small boy hanging on its back. The boy was shirtless, and his moccasined feet dug into the horse’s flanks urging it on. The boy grinned from ear-to-ear as he held center stage, regaling them all with one war cry after another. His face was dirt streaked, and his shoulders were beet red from the sun.

“
Haho, haho
!” he shouted in Lakota. “Look at this, look at this.”

He pulled the horse to a skidding stop, threw one leg over, and, in a sliding fall, rolled off the horse’s rounded rump to the ground. Unabashed, he picked himself up and ran to Jesse, grinning.

“Jesse.” The words flew from his mouth. “Look what I got. Whip gave him to me. And I’ll share. It’ll be ours. He’s the best, Jesse. I call him
Cola
, that’s Lakota for friend. Buster’s teaching me. And he’ll teach you, too. Whip says we’re his now, and he’s letting me be a boy cause he says I ain’t never been a boy. I don’t have to work even. Well, Whip says I have chores just like any man, but you and I can stay for free. Can you beat that? Anyhow, we can ride, and eat in the bunkhouse, and help the cowboys and—” His eyes widened and his Adam’s apple jerked in a gulp. His eyes blinked and his mouth worked wordlessly. He looked from her to Heather, then back to Jesse again.

“Dang it, Jesse. You done let them girl you up. You’re sissified. Where’s your pants? Tole you never to take ‘em off.” Gone was the show off warrior and in his place was a bewildered and angry little boy. A little boy that had lost his brother and found, to his dislike and mistrust, a sister.

“How you gonna ride Cola, huh? How you gonna ride in a dress?” he asked disdainfully. He walked closer until he was inches from her. Then, seeing her hang her head at his rebuff, he said gruffly, “You okay, Jesse? Ain’t nobody hurt you?”

Jesse shook her head ‘no’.

“’Cause you can’t always take care of yourself. You need me ‘cause I’m so much bigger. Don’t you?” he asked fearfully.

The response came in a second. A smile wreathed her face and her head bobbed up and down. Then she reached out and put her hand in his.

“Well, come on. Guess you’ll do for now. But you gotta have pants, Jesse, if you want to be a real cowboy. I want to show you Cola. Whip says I can ride him anywhere as long as I stay in the barnyard. When I’m a better rider, you and I’ll take him down to the river. He’s fast, Jesse. Real fast. So I’d better hold the reins ‘cause I’m stronger.

“Toby.” Whip’s voice cut across the yard. “Forget your manners? There’s ladies present. Get your shirt on, then come say hello. Cola can wait.”

And to no one’s surprise, there was no argument from the boy. “Yes sir, Whip.” With a smile on his face, he pulled the shirt off a pole and onto his thin frame. Still smiling, he looked over at Heather and Molly and said, “Hello, Miss Heather. Thank you for taking care of Jesse. I appreciate it. She looks and smells different, but I guess it’s okay.”

Heather laughed. “I’ll just bet she does, Toby, but I promise you it will be okay.”

Toby walked a little closer. “How do you do, Ma’am? I’m Toby, Whip’s boy.” He held a small hand out to Molly.

There was some throat clearing and averted eyes at this pronouncement. Whip inched closer to Heather and rested his hand on her shoulder.

Molly took the small hand in her oversized one. She could feel the thin bones in his, and he could feel the calluses on hers.

She held the hand while looking him squarely in the eye. “I’m Molly. Not Ma’am, not Mrs., not nothing but Molly.” She dropped his hand and waited for his response.

He wrinkled his small face, eyes narrowed suspiciously. He pursed his lips and squared his shoulders.

“If you’re from the orphanage, you can’t take us away. We’re Whip’s kids. He said so and he don’t lie. He tole me so. And Miss Heather promised me she wouldn’t let anyone hurt Jesse. You take us, and we’ll just run away again. We ain’t going back. I got me a horse and Jesse, why just look at Jesse. She’s lookin’ pretty. We got plenty to eat here. An there’s hay in the barn for our beds. An’ we’re no trouble. An’ I can work for Whip if I have to, but I’m supposed to be a boy, but I don’t need to be one, that is, I can take care of me an Jesse just fine.”

“Lord love a duck, take a breath young’un fore you pass out. Now you listen here. I ain’t from no orphanage.” Each word was emphasized and spoken so loud Cola raised his head from a particularly succulent blade of grass, and with ears up and big brown eyes at alert, gave full attention to the woman. A muscle flickered in his haunch.

“You ain’t?”

“Nope. I ain’t. I’m here because Miss Heather asked me to be here. I’m here to help you take care of Jesse if you’ll let me.”

“I don’t need no help. I been taken care of her real well. We don’t need anyone.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” And with those words Molly turned her back and took a step. “Darn shame, though.” She took another step. “Real darn shame. Guess I was wrong. I ain’t wrong too often, but guess I was. Well, I’ll just have to go lookin’ for another boy. Yep. That’s what I’ll have to do.”

Toby turned his head to the side. His ears were practically twitching as they quivered to hear every word Molly was uttering.

“What’s a darn shame, Ma’am?”

“Molly.”

“Molly,” he repeated, waiting for an answer.

“Molly, Ma’am. What’s a darn shame?” he asked louder.

“Why, the chocolate cake.”

“Cho-chocolate cake? You said chocolate cake?”

“That’s right, I did.”

“Uh, Molly Ma’am, there ain’t nothing that’s a shame about chocolate cake. I don’t mean no disrespect, but there couldn’t be a darn shame about cake, especially chocolate.”

Slowly, as if weighted by thought, Molly turned her ponderous body around until she faced the boy.

“Well, begging your pardon, Toby, but I call it a darn shame when I bake the best durn chocolate cake this side of the Rocky Mountains. Why, bears stop eating berries when they smell my cake cookin’. Snakes slither on their bellies just a beggin’ for a piece, a crumb. Fish jump outta the river and lay there flopping on the bank, their mouths opening and closing waiting for just one bite. Did I tell you I put chocolate icing on it? Yep, and lots of it.”

“Icing? Chocolate?”

“Yep. Well, it’s no never mind now. I’ll just be going. Got me no one here to bake for. No boy. I’m real partial to baking for boys. Like girls too, but I usually save the icing spoon for the boy. Darn shame. Real darn shame. And after that chocolate cake I was gonna stir up a batch of sugar cookies. Nothin’ like a warm sugar cookie to start a day out right.”

Molly turned again, and this time moved a mite faster in the direction of the wagon.

“Uh, Ma’am.” No response. “Uh, Molly.”

“Yes?” She turned around.

“I’m a boy.”

“That you are. That you are.”

He wrinkled his brow. The woman wasn’t making this any easier.

“I’m real partial to chocolate cake and, and icing.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I do like a sugar cookie every now and again. Just to start the day out right, you know.”

“I do. I do.” And she nodded her head.

“If you was to stay, I suppose I could be the boy. You know, the boy you save the spoon for. I could give it a good lickin’. You could bake those cookies too. Jesse, she ain’t never had a sugar cookie. I had me one once. Took it when the baker had his back turned.” He gulped back the words and cast a worried look at Whip. “It weren’t a whole one, just a piece,” he quickly explained, looking for forgiveness from the man standing so quietly by Heather.

“Hmmm.” Molly laid a plump finger against her lips, her face reflecting some serious thinking. “No, no. Thanks anyhow, but it wouldn’t work.”

“Wait,” Toby cried out anxiously. “Why wouldn’t it work?”

“Well, if I had me a boy. Now understand I ain’t saying I do, just if, then I’d expect him to live where I was living so’s he’d be around whenever I was stirring up something special, like chocolate cake. And if that boy had a sister, why that would just be icing on the cake.” With that, she bellowed out a chuckle. “Made a joke there, but it’s true, she’d be the icing all right. Nope, couldn’t have my two kids sleeping in a barn. Nope.”

“Wher-where would they sleep?” Toby’s voice was low.

“Why, with me at Miss Heather’s. She tells me she’s got a couple of extra bedrooms just waiting for me and a couple of kids.”

“Well, it ain’t us. We’re Whip’s kids.” Then he risked a glance at Heather.

“Oh, that’s okay, Toby. I understand. I really do. You can stay in Whip’s barn. Isn’t that right, Whip?”

“Huh?” He threw Heather a perplexed look. And then feeling a nudge in his ribs, responded, “Yeah. Barn’s fine. Course there’s mice. Not too many, but a few. You’ll need to pile on lots of hay. It’s scratchy, but Wyoming winters dip to twenty, thirty below. Still, you shouldn’t freeze. Maybe a finger or two would fall off but—” Whip was warming to the story.

“Whip,” Heather whispered a warning.

He grinned at her. “Well now, Heather, could happen. Ain’t saying it would, but it could.”

“Stop it. You’re scaring him to death.”

“Fingers?” Toby gulped.

“Fingers,” Whip affirmed.

“But-but—” Toby’s face was a stage of emotions. Each one, an actor flitting across it.

“Toby.” Heather jumped in to the rescue. “What I had in mind was you and Jesse would stay at my ranch and then you would ride Cola over every day so you could be of help to Whip, you know, be his boy. Jesse could come whenever she wanted. Until you got to be a better rider, though, someone would have to accompany you. But I think Whip and I could work that out. Right, Whip?”

“How, Heather?” It was Whip’s turn to look puzzled.

“I don’t know, Whip. We just will.” Each word was bitten off through clinched teeth.

Whip rubbed a hand over his face. Heather had the bit in her mouth and was running with it.

“Miss Heather,” Toby interrupted the byplay. “If I was to stay at your house, Jesse could stay too?”

“Of course, Toby. I’m sorry, I didn’t make that clear. That’s why we have Molly. She’d be like a, well like a mother?” she threw out the word questioningly to the listening boy.