Ruth Langan Read online

  “Not now, Aaron.” Matt swung back to Izzy. “And don’t say I wrote a letter when I didn’t, woman.”

  “Pa…”

  Matt turned on him. “Didn’t I tell you not now?”

  “Yes, sir.” The boy’s cheeks were suffused with color. He glanced at his father, then away. “But there’s something you ought to know.” He stared at a spot on the table and waited several beats before saying softly, “I wrote that letter.”

  Everyone stared at him in complete silence.

  Matt rounded the table to stand over him. “Say that again.”

  “I…wrote the letter. But it was more’n a year ago, Pa. I figured, since I never heard, that it had been lost or something. Then I…” He shrugged. “I just forgot about it.”

  Izzy’s eyes were wide with shock. Sweet salvation. She had made this long, hazardous trip at the whim of a boy.

  Matt’s tone was low with fury. “Why the hell would you do such a thing, boy?”

  Aaron pointed to the others around the table. “Look at us, Pa. With Ma gone, we don’t live much better’n the hogs. In fact, I think they live better’n us. Last time we went to town, folks were staring at us ‘cause our clothes were torn and dirty.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with a little dirt. We’re ranchers, not fancy bankers.”

  “It’s not just the dirt. Look at Little Bit here. She doesn’t even have any idea how to be a female.”

  At that, Izzy had to stifle a gasp. The youngest was a girl? With her hair chopped off and in her brothers’ castoff clothes, Izzy had just assumed…

  “I figured if we had a woman around the place, we’d all be better off, Pa.”

  Matt’s anger was growing with every word. “And what about me? Didn’t you think to talk this over with me before you did such a fool thing? Didn’t you think I’d mind?”

  “I…” The boy looked away from his father’s accusing eyes. “I figured it didn’t much matter. You never smile anyway. You’re never happy anymore since Ma…” He swallowed, seeing the look of pain and rage that crossed Matt’s face. “But it’s not fair to the rest of us. It’s not our fault. We can’t do anything about Ma. But at least we can give Del a chance.”

  Matt’s hands balled into fists at his sides. “When we’re through here, you go to the barn and prepare for a good tanning, you hear me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Choking back his anger, Matt strode to the fireplace and rolled a cigarette, then held a flaming stick to the tip and inhaled deeply. Those few precious minutes gave him time to compose himself. He turned, determined to remain calm and logical. “I’m sorry about this, Miss McCree. But as you can see, you’ve come here for nothing. Since the nearest town, Sutton’s Station, is almost twenty miles from here, I’m afraid you’ll have to spend the night. In the morning I’ll take you to town and you can catch the stage back home.”

  “Back home? But I can’t…” The sour milk was forgotten. As was the fatigue she’d suffered only a short time ago. Now there was only panic. She pushed back her chair and faced him. “That is impossible. You see, I have no home to return to. I…sold all my worldly goods to get here. And the journey took all the money I had.”

  He took a long, deep drag on his cigarette while he mentally uttered every rich, ripe oath he could think of. His mind reeled at the seriousness of the situation facing him. He had some money saved. But he’d hoped to buy Amos Truesdale’s bull. And there was the addition he’d planned for the cabin. And the seed he would need in the spring.

  “Maybe she could just stay on, Pa…” Aaron began.

  Matt rounded on his son. “We may live poor, but we aren’t trash. We have our honor. An unmarried lady doesn’t stay under my roof.”

  “Then why can’t you just marry her?” he demanded.

  “Because it isn’t right. She came here thinking we all wanted her. And the only one who did is you.”

  “I don’t mind if you marry her, Pa.” Benjamin, closest in age to Aaron, stuck up, as always, for his older brother.

  “Me, either,” Clement chimed in.

  The youngest, Del, looked from one brother to the other, clearly influenced by everything they said and did. “If Aaron and Benjamin and Clement don’t mind, then I don’t, either. But she can’t turn me into no lady.”

  “Well, I have something to say about all this, and I do mind.” Matt tossed his cigarette into the fire, then stomped out of the room, returning minutes later with a blanket over his arm. “I’ll sleep in the barn tonight, Miss McCree. You can have my bed. In the morning I’ll drive you to Sutton’s Station. I’ll give you what money I have. If that isn’t enough—” he shrugged “—you’ll have to take a job in town and earn the rest until you have enough to get back home.”

  He turned to his oldest son. “I’ll see you in the barn, Aaron. As soon as you’ve checked out the herd.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “The rest of you get on up to bed. Since I’ll have to miss a day’s chores to take Miss McCree to town tomorrow, you’ll have to take on mine as well as your own.”

  “Yes, sir.” Seeing the fire in their father’s eyes, the children scurried to a crude ladder and escaped to a loft.

  Matt yanked open the door and the hounds milled about, eager to follow their master. Aaron trailed behind.

  When the door closed behind them, the cabin grew strangely silent. Izzy stood in the middle of the room, staring about with a dazed look. Apparently, though it was barely dusk, the children would do their father’s bidding and retire for the night. Perhaps it was just as well. At least now she could try to sort through what had just happened.

  She thought about the letter that had arrived in their small town in Pennsylvania. It had been the object of ridicule, not only because of the crudely printed words, but also because folks agreed that no woman in her right mind would ever accept the invitation to live in such a wilderness. But the words had touched her. Had stayed with her through the long, cold winter. She had secretly memorized the address and had finally mustered up the courage to accept the challenge.

  She sank down on a chair, biting back raw, bitter tears. Oh, the dreams she had spun. The plans she had made. She had seen herself greeted by a courtly gentleman, surrounded by his loving children. She had pictured herself presiding over a genteel household, cooking fine meals, sewing fancy clothes. She would rescue this lonely, helpless family, and they would forever bless her name.

  She raised one foot and was horrified to see what was stuck to the brand-new sole. Oh, those hateful chickens. She got to her feet, frantically scraping her shoe against a rung of the chair. Was this why she had traveled three thousand miles? To live worse than hogs? To be tricked, humiliated and ultimately rejected?

  Rejected. She brought her hands to her cheeks. That was the worst of all. The cold, cruel rejection by that hateful man.

  Tears stung her eyes and she forced herself into action. Unless she plunged herself into some work right away, she would find herself wallowing in self-pity. And once she allowed that, there would be no stopping the flood.

  Work had always been her refuge from the rejections she had suffered through the years. And there had been enough to last a lifetime. She blinked furiously, then decided to tackle the dishes. She would think about sleep later.

  Chapter Two

  “Oh, my. Where to begin.”

  Izzy rolled up her sleeves and set to work. While she waited for the water to heat over the fire, she located a cache of lye soap. She was surprised at such a find, since the cabin smelled as though it hadn’t seen disinfectant in a year. She stacked the dishes alongside the basin, then scrubbed the kitchen table and chairs until the rough wood gleamed. While she worked, strands of her hair slipped from the knot atop her head and began to fall in sticky tendrils around her face. She swiped at them with damp hands before resuming her work.

  When the water was hot enough, she tackled the dishes. As she washed and dried the first plate, she held it up to the firelig
ht. It was a pretty thing, pale and translucent, with one perfect pink rosebud on the rim. She washed a cup and held it up admiringly. It bore the same small rosebud design. As she continued washing, she thought how lovely that here in this rough wilderness, so far from civilization, she had discovered a complete set of matched china. In her life she’d never seen such a thing before. To Izzy, it was an amazing treasure.

  Matthew’s wife must have been a lovely lady. As lovely as her china. No wonder he got so angry at his son. How could anyone be expected to take the place of such a fine woman?

  Matthew. He wasn’t at all what she’d been anticipating. Well, maybe somewhat. He did look like a rough mountain man. The kind of man who would settle in a primitive place, determined to tame it. But from his letter she had expected him to have a tender side. A kind nature. Instead he had already shown himself to be a harsh, unyielding man. One who would order his son to the barn for a thrashing.

  Izzy shuddered. Poor Aaron. Her heart went out to him. She knew only too well what he would have to endure. And now that she knew that he had been the author of the letter, she felt even more sympathy. It was Aaron who had been the kind, sweet, gentle soul revealed in his words. He had probably inherited that sweet nature from his mother.

  She opened a cupboard and carefully stored the precious dishes away, then tackled the pots and pans and utensils, crusted with burned food. These required a great deal more effort, and she immersed them in boiling water and scrubbed until her knuckles were bloody. But at least, for the moment, she had managed to put aside her troubles.

  In the barn Matt crouched beside the lantern, sifting through the packet of mail. Only one held any interest for him. The familiar handwriting had the blood throbbing at his temples as he tore open the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper. He read it quickly, absorbing first shock, then pain, and then slow, simmering fury. Then, like a man possessed, he read it again, and yet again, until every single word was committed to memory. By the time he’d read it more than a dozen times, he felt the anger beginning to drain away. In its place was a sort of numb acceptance.

  He wondered if old Webster Sutton had felt this way when he’d lost his hand.

  Like Webster, a vital part of him had been torn away, and he’d mourned and suffered and tried to function without it. But he had tempted himself, again and again, with the idea that somehow that vital part would grow back. Now, finally, he had to face the fact that it was lost to him forever. He would never get that part of his life back.

  He should be relieved. He should welcome the numbness, after the pain he’d suffered. But for a few minutes more, he actually found himself wishing he could embrace the pain. Maybe it would be better than what he was feeling now.

  He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the rough, cold wood of the stall. What was he feeling? He couldn’t put a name to it. But maybe the closest thing would be…relief.

  Impossible. He couldn’t be relieved by such cruel news. Still…that was exactly what he was experiencing. It was finally, irrevocably over. No more sleepless nights, wondering, waiting. Now, like it or not, he knew. And though the things he knew were painful, at least, hopefully, he could begin to heal. He could find a way to get on with his life.

  At last he returned the letter to the envelope and shoved it into his pocket.

  His glance fell on another envelope and he opened it more slowly. The handwriting was neat, precise, almost childlike. The words were simple but meaningful. He read this letter with a sort of detached fascination.

  Dear Matthew,

  Your words touched me deeply. I can already see your sweet, motherless children and your lovely, sprawling ranch snuggled in the bosom of the Sierra Nevada. I realize we will be strangers to each other, and that we will have much to learn. But I cannot resist the lure of your family. As soon as I can put my affairs in order, I will begin the journey to our new life together.

  Sincerely,

  Isabella McCree

  The barn door was abruptly yanked open.

  “All right, Pa. The herd’s fine.”

  A gust of cold air fluttered the paper in Matt’s hand.

  Aaron closed the door and turned to face his father. “You can whale away on me if you’d like. I guess I deserve it.”

  Matt took his time folding the letter and lifting the lantern to a post above the stall. Then he studied his son, whose eyes were downcast. At nearly fifteen, Aaron was more man than boy. The years of hard ranch chores had layered muscle on his six-foot frame. If Aaron wanted, Matt knew, he could give his father a hell of a fight. But that thought wouldn’t even occur to Aaron. As firstborn, the boy was diligent, disciplined and devoted, not only to his father but to his younger brothers and sister, as well. In fact, he had always been like their second father. And mother.

  “I’m not going to hit you, Aaron.” The thought was absurd. It had been years since he’d even had to reprimand this boy. “But tell me, son. What in the world made you write that letter?”

  Aaron shrugged. “It was Christmastime. The younger ones were missing Ma. I got to thinking if they could get a new ma, maybe things wouldn’t seem so…bad around here.”

  Matt absorbed the pain. Would it ever end? Would he ever be able to hear them speak of her without feeling this terrible emptiness?

  “Why Pennsylvania?”

  “I read about it in that paper you brought from Sutton’s Station. It said the minister of the First Pennsylvania Congregation led a prayer for the soldiers heading to California. So I just wrote the letter, and the next time we went to town I left it with Boone.”

  “You couldn’t bring yourself to tell me?”

  Aaron looked away. “No, sir.”

  “I know I’ve been pretty tough to live with. I guess…” Matt hesitated, then plunged into uncharted territory. “I guess we haven’t talked much about men and women.”

  Aaron flushed clear to the tips of his ears. “I’ve seen the farm animals. I know enough.”

  “Then you ought to know that men and women like to know each other, and feel some…sweetening toward each other, before they get married.”

  “Sweetening?”

  “Something that’ll attract them, like bees to honey.”

  “I know that.” The boy’s Adam’s apple rose and fell as he swallowed hard. “But how’re you ever going to meet a lady out here and feel any…sweetening?”

  It was his father’s turn to flush. “So you thought the solution would be to send for a stranger?”

  “Pa, do you remember the time the mother duck got killed by a coyote? We gave the ducklings to one of our hens, and she raised them like her own.”

  Matt’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying any mother’s better than none?”

  “I guess that’s what I’m saying.”

  “Then I’ll remind you what a poor substitute that hen was. She stood squawking on the banks of the river every time those ducklings started swimming. And when they joined a flock of geese and flew off in the fall, she took to her nest in mourning.”

  The boy nodded. “But you have to admit, she took good care of those babies until they could take care of themselves, Pa.”

  Matt nodded reluctantly. “Yes, she did.”

  “They’d have died without her mothering.”

  The two fell silent for long minutes. Finally Matt cleared his throat. “We’re not talking about ducks and chicks now, Aaron.”

  “No, sir. But Miss McCree seems nice enough.”

  “I guess she is. But she’s a city woman. What does she know about surviving a winter in the wilderness?”

  Aaron shrugged again. “Not much, I’d wager. But we’d be here to help her.”

  When his father said nothing more, he looked up, studying him carefully. For the first time he felt a flicker of hope. “You thinking of asking her to stay?”

  “I might be.” Matt’s eyes were hidden in shadow. But the lingering pain was still in his voice. “After all, I was outvoted. And there’s the mon
ey. It’s going to cost more than I have to send her home. It doesn’t seem fair to ask her to work in town until she’s saved enough.” At least those were the arguments he was willing to admit to. But the truth was, that damnable letter had changed everything. It wasn’t that he wanted a wife, he told himself. But Aaron was right. They needed a woman around the place. And Del needed a mother. And now, right this minute, his back was to the wall.

  He indicated the blanket he’d tossed on the straw. “You go ahead and get some sleep. I’ll be back in a while.”

  “Yes, Pa. And, Pa?”

  Matt opened the door, then turned.

  Across the barn, his son looked suddenly young and scared, with the blanket draped around his shoulders, his eyes wide in the lantern light. “You might want to try asking Miss McCree, instead of making it sound like a command. You know, like honey instead of a stick.”

  Matt nodded. “Thanks, son. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Izzy looked around the bedroom, which was as filthy as the rest of the cabin. Some of Matthew’s clothes hung on pegs along one wall. A couple of shirts. Some pants. The rest had been dropped on the floor. A parka made of some kind of animal fur. Boots, one near the door, the other clear across the room. As though he’d tossed them, or more than likely kicked them, in a fit of temper.

  There was a dust-covered dresser, with drawers that had fancy knobs. Above the dresser was an oval mirror, cracked down the middle. She turned away, not wanting to look at herself.

  She thought about tidying up the room, but the truth was, she was exhausted. And she still had to wash her clothes in preparation for the difficult journey ahead, since these were the only clothes she owned.

  She pulled a very small, very sharp knife from its sheath beneath her sash and hid it under her pillow. Then she sat down tentatively on the edge of the bed. The mattress was rough and scratchy. And lumpy. She wasn’t surprised. It suited this place. With slow, tired movements she untied her new shoes and set them carefully aside. At once her feet began to throb and she had to wiggle her toes for long minutes before she could stand. Then she stripped off her gown and petticoats and peeled off her heavy cotton stockings. Finally she slipped out of her chemise and stood shivering until she was able to pull on her night shift.