Rancher's Woman Read online

  As she set the table, she thought about what she’d witnessed earlier in the bunkhouse when she’d taken the food over. She couldn’t really explain why it had been so upsetting to her. In years past she’d seen men fight, but ever since she’d been attacked at her soddie, even the thought of violence made her tremble and gasp for air. She lay one hand against the knife scar hidden under her dress and took a deep breath. Was that sort of behavior common for men on a ranch? She didn’t know if she could tolerate seeing and hearing them fight like that.

  Jack stomped into the room, unthinkingly knocking the farmyard dirt from his feet. She looked pointedly down at his boots and sighed. She supposed it would be an ongoing battle to keep the mud and worse outdoors. “Dinner smells very good,” he said in his thick accent. He leaned over the pot and inhaled deeply.

  “It’s all done. You can sit and I’ll serve you.” She ladled a generous amount into a large crockery bowl and set it before him next to a plate that held several thick slices of warm bread, butter melting on top.

  With his first bite he moaned in pleasure. “This is tasty. You must have learned to cook from your mother, no?” Before she could answer he went on. “I’m surprised you haven’t married. A woman who can cook and clean is a wonder.”

  Esther looked down at her own bowl and stalled by taking a small bite. He looked expectantly at her while he spooned another bite of fragrant meat into his mouth. “I’m happy being unwed,” she hedged. Didn’t he know about her past? She couldn’t just blurt it out, but it did seem somewhat deceptive to work for him under false pretenses.

  “What other womanly arts do you practice?” He smiled, a rare occurrence for him in her limited experience. It transformed his face. Where before his looks had been severe, all sharp angles and dark, brooding expressions, with the simple turning up of his lips, his eyes crinkled becomingly, and his teeth flashed their whiteness.

  Another sort of trembling seized her, and again she felt breathless, but this was not from fright. She spooned a piece of carrot into her mouth, and licked her lips. How would she be able to stand living there if her emotions kept swinging from one extreme to the other?

  “What happened at the bunkhouse?” she asked, changing the subject.

  He dabbed his mouth with a napkin and sat back. “The foreman wasn’t doing his duties and he didn’t like me questioning his authority.”

  “But as the owner of this ranch, aren’t you the ultimate authority?”

  “Yes, of course. Which is why I fired him.” He leaned back over his food and took another bite.

  “Who will be foreman now?”

  “I’ll offer the position to the man who Smith hit, Andy Lincoln.” He tore off a piece of bread and held it to his nose, sniffing appreciatively before stuffing it into his mouth.

  “Have you told him yet?” she persisted.

  “Why all the questions?” His pleasant expression was rapidly fading. “I haven’t said anything yet. He was occupied in cleaning the blood from his face.”

  Esther hesitated only briefly. He had said he needed help with managing things. She didn’t know if he’d meant just the house, or if he’d meant everything on the ranch. “Perhaps it would be best to offer him the position on a trial basis, to see if he can do the job.”

  Jack’s face brightened again. “What a grand idea,” he grinned and reached out to her, squeezing her hand briefly. “I will do just that. See, you are exactly what I needed.”

  She looked down at the surface of the table and blinked, willing tears to not fall. It meant nothing. His words were meaningless, because once he found out about her, she’d be lucky if she even had a job on the ranch.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Dawn had scarcely started to brighten the eastern sky when Jachym woke. He watched as the bare window, ungraced by any decorative draperies, lightened. It seemed that everything on his ranch was in upheaval. He had no foreman, but that was good riddance as far as he could tell. Esther’s advice was sound, to hire Andy on a trial basis. He could see how he interacted with the other men and handled the authority. Before he offered Andy the position permanently, he’d ask her opinion. She had a good head on her shoulders. It helped that she was also pretty.

  Seized by a restlessness he couldn’t define, he rolled over to stare at the wall opposite the window. No paintings hung on the raw plaster. He hadn’t even painted or papered it. His parents would be horrified at how crude his lifestyle was but it took all of his energy to keep ahead of the weather and the cattle, and now the men.

  The problem, he considered as he sat up and yawned, was that those who lived on his property weren’t in any way invested in each other. They didn’t really know one another. In the military the troops spent time together in training, serving to forge relationships based on trust and dependency.

  He stood and pulled on trousers over the long, itchy underwear he wore. How could he bring them together in a shared experience that would help to forge that sort of bond? Maybe the cattle drive, when they brought the new beeves up from Nebraska, would serve them in that capacity. In the meantime, it was Sunday. He’d gather them together and offer to bring them to church with him and Esther.

  His mind made up, he pushed stocking feet into his heavy boots. As soon as he opened his bedroom door, he smelled the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon. Having Esther come live there had been the best idea he’d ever had.

  Only two men agreed to accompany Jachym to church in Sweet Town. Andy and another man, Paul, had nodded at his offer and gone to prepare themselves.

  The wagon rolled bumpily over the ground, a hard frost making it unyielding to the pressure of the wheels. He could understand why some of his hands would be reluctant to attend religious services. They were hard living men, and may not like to feel the sting of guilt over their transgressions. What was shocking to the rancher was how his housekeeper had hemmed and hawed about going. She obviously didn’t want to go either, though she eventually agreed.

  The two men in the back of the wagon spoke quietly to one another, but he and Esther were silent for the most part. As they pulled up near the church, the street was lined with the buggies and horses of those who lived outside of town. The parishioners who were nearby simply walked.

  The double doors into the sanctuary were propped open and people were taking their time entering the main room. They dawdled, talking to one another, sharing stories and gossip. Andy and Paul went their own way, sitting in the very back pew. Though they took off their hats and looked respectful, Jachym had to wonder if their attendance today had more to do with their ambitions than it did with their relationship with the Almighty.

  He put his hand against the small of Esther’s back and urged her forward through the throng stopping up the entrance. As they pushed past the others, several people turned and stared. Then more, until it was obvious enough that he was sure Esther was aware.

  Even after Pastor Whitney began his sermon, they were the recipients of frequent scowls and surprised glances. He had attended services before, and certainly Esther must have since she lived in town. It was a mystery why nearly everyone seemed stunned to see the two of them on a pew together.

  After the final hymn had been sung, Jachym stood and waited for the aisle to clear. The preacher passed by the pew on his way to the doors and paused. “Can I speak with you two after the place has cleared out?” The rancher nodded, wondering what that was all about. He’d never been singled out before.

  Matthieu Whitney’s office was in the parsonage next door. The walls were lined with shelves, upon which books of all sorts were arranged. Leather bound volumes leaned against paper tracts. Though it was chaotic, Jachym spent a moment looking at the titles, realizing the pastor was an educated man.

  “Thank you both for meeting with me,” Whitney said. His green eyes glistened with intelligence as he looked at the rancher and his housekeeper. “I suppose you both know why I wanted to have this chat.”

  Jachym sat in
the offered chair and shook his head. “No, I have no idea.”

  Esther looked down at her lap and said nothing.

  “It’s come to my attention that you two are staying in the same house together. Is that true?”

  Marek nodded. “Yes, but she’s my housekeeper. She must be in my house to keep it.”

  “I think you know what I’m getting at. It sets a bad example for the young people in town.”

  Jachym twisted his hat in his hands, not used to being humbled before authority, not liking the way it felt. “Sir, I can’t see why what I do at my ranch some distance from town would have any bearing on the young people of Sweet Town.”

  Whitney leaned back in his chair, balancing on the back legs, lacing his fingers behind his head he looked up at the ceiling. “We are all affected by our brethren. I was injured by a horse some time back and was nursed by a young, single woman from town. That set the tongues to wagging.”

  “Well, then you can see why it’s simply not anyone’s business.”

  “I married her within days,” he said flatly, lowering himself back to a more upright position with a thump of the front chair legs. “Keep in mind I had been trampled by a horse and was in no condition to do anything unseemly. But it was a scandal just the same and there was talk of relieving me of my position.”

  Jachym waved his arm in the air. “See, it’s absurd. But even so, you are a minister and I am simply a rancher. You might be held accountable to a higher standard.”

  “We are all the same in the Lord’s eyes and you are no injured man in need of help.”

  He gaped at the man of the cloth. What was his point? There was nothing going on that he or Esther should be ashamed of. He spoke slowly, thinking perhaps his English wasn’t being understood. “She is my housekeeper. She cooks and cleans. She has her own bedroom.”

  “Do you or do you not sleep under the same roof?”

  Jachym stood abruptly. “You are being small-minded and judgmental. We aren’t doing anything wrong.” He held out a hand to Esther. “Come, we have work to do at home.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Another woman might think keeping Jack’s house was tedious, but Esther loved every minute. She enjoyed dusting what little furniture there was, and sweeping up the debris that fell from his boots and dried in crumbs on the floor. She would have enjoyed cooking for him more had she not had to also prepare enough for all of the ranch hands. She wondered why that was, as she turned out another loaf of minced beef. She’d flavored it with savory onions and spices, binding it together with egg and dried bread crumbs.

  Mostly she thought his employees shouldn’t get as good a fare as Jack himself got as the owner of the ranch. But she hadn’t figured out yet how to manage her time well enough to cook them a separate meal. She’d be glad when Jack hired a cook or one of the men stepped forward to take on that job.

  But for now, she had made enough of the main dish to supply all six hands in the bunkhouse. She sliced several loaves into thick pieces and poured red eye gravy over everything, scooping mounds of fluffy mashed potatoes around them.

  She placed the large pan of fragrant food on the long table at the bunkhouse. The men didn’t even wait for her to leave, but grabbed their tin plates and quickly sat, ready to spoon up generous portions. She shook her head at them; they acted like hungry children.

  On the way back to the house she stopped in the farm yard and looked around. The cold wind cut through her dress and she pulled her shawl more firmly around her shoulders. She hadn’t seen Jack in several hours. Was he even still on the ranch? A noise from the barn sent her in that direction. She told herself that she didn’t want his dinner to be spoiled by being kept warm too long, but truthfully she was interested in seeing more of the operation.

  The barn was large and shadowy. She walked between the stalls where horses stood, calmly eating their own dinners. The noise was coming from the furthest reaches. A few cats perched watching her, their eyes following her progress. Other than the tips of their tails twitching, they might have been statues.

  Suddenly a large dog, shaggy and broad shouldered, rushed toward her barking. She stopped and looked about for a safe place to go but other than climbing one of the poles supporting the roof, she was exposed and the dog would have his way.

  “Ipp, stop that right now,” Jack voice echoed in the large space. He appeared at the end of the aisle and stood with his hands on his hips. “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me. Dinner’s ready.” The dog, presumably named Ipp, ran up to her, his mouth open in a tongue lolling grin. She reached down and patted his head, which gained her more favor and the large animal leaned against her in bliss.

  “I’ll be there in a moment. I want to finish up what I’m doing.” Jack walked toward her.

  “What is it you’re up to?” Esther asked. Now that he was close, she could see the twinkle in his eye and he motioned for her to follow him.

  At the far end was the maternity section of the barn. It was where cows gave birth if their time came out of season, and where the occasional horse was bedded down at the end of her gestation. The only inhabitant was a bay mare and her foal. The baby horse couldn’t have been more than a few days old and Esther dropped to her knees in the hay, reaching out her arms to pet the animal.

  “This is Gypsy. She was born the other day and because it looks like we might have a storm brewing, I’ve brought her and her mother inside.” He reached down and rubbed her nose.

  “Hello, Gypsy,” Esther crooned. “I didn’t know you had this area of the barn set aside.” She looked up at the rancher where he stood over her, leaning against a dividing rail in the stall.

  “I’ve always had it here, though my foreman didn’t like being in the barn.” He shook his head as though marveling over some great mystery. “The man baffled me.”

  “He sure didn’t seem qualified, if you don’t mind me saying.” She struggled to untangle her feet from her skirts when Jack reached down and grasped her elbow. She rose as if by magic, his strong arms lifting her upright.

  “I don’t mind at all. You’re right, of course. I should never have hired him but I was desperate for help.” He shuffled one foot back and forth in the hay covered ground. “I see you met my dog.”

  As soon as she’d risen, Ipp had returned to leaning against her and she had to brace herself against his considerable weight. “Yes, he seems to like me. That’s an unusual name. Is it from your country?”

  Jack smiled and rubbed one hand across his jaw. “No, I named him for the Mississippi River. He's big and he keeps going. He came along on the blizzard run last winter, when we brought food to people stranded in their homes. In fact, he saved my life.”

  The dog must have known he was being talked about because he turned his great, grinning mouth to his master and with a soft woof, jumped up against him.

  “Tell me about the horses. I know that all ranches have to keep a certain number, but it seems you may have more than you really need.”

  He bristled a little. “It’s true I have more than the recommended three horses per man, but I also have a breeding program.”

  She held out a hand. “I’m not finding fault, Jack. What you do on your ranch is your own business. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

  He seemed to relax. “I was in the cavalry in my homeland, the Császári és Királyi Hadsereg, or ground force of the Austrian Empire and the Hungarian Kingdom.” Gypsy’s mother pushed him with her nose and he scratched her forehead. “Truth be told, I didn’t much care for the army but I very much enjoyed caring for the horses.”

  “Is that why you decided to ranch when you came to America? Because you enjoyed caring for animals?”

  “Partly.” He began walking back toward the front of the barn and Esther followed. Ipp ran ahead. “I had heard of the great open spaces here, the land free for the taking, and I tried to imagine some work I could do that would benefit me as well as others.”

  She nodded. “So you t
hought raising cattle would fill that role?”

  He gestured for her to go out the big door first and then he pushed it shut behind them against the wind and cold. “I had a connection to the US Army and got a contract to supply beef to the Indians fulfilling the treaty with the native nations.” They walked next to one another toward the kitchen door of the ranch house. “But what I do here is not so much raising beef as it is fattening them and slaughtering. My stock comes from south of here. This is just their last stop.”

  Esther looked around with new eyes. She had thought the numbers of cattle were low but it made much greater sense now if all he did was buy the animals and process them for the Army. She nodded, though it was hard to imagine a man like Jack liking this work. He seemed ill prepared for much of the demands of ranching and with his obvious love of animals it must be hard to do what he must to satisfy his contract for beef.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Though it seemed like winter threatened to return at any moment, the spring days stretched longer and after supper was done Jachym still had daylight left. At least a few minutes and he did always prefer to work by sunlight. The painting he'd started was no bigger than a playing card, requiring a very steady hand and watchful eye. The magnifying glass he'd swung over on its stand helped as well. Under his chair, Ipp let out a sleepy groan and Jachym reached down absently to pat him.

  “Is that me?”

  Esther's surprised voice drew his attention from his miniature painting and the dog. He turned to her. “Yes. Do you mind it?”

  She hesitated in the doorway from the kitchen, then came closer. Each step was cautious, as though she were descending into a pit of vipers. There was something about his pretty young housekeeper that always struck Jachym as though she were expecting something terrible. It made him wonder what she had seen. She was a white American woman after all, likely young enough to have not been scarred by the Civil War. What awful things could she have ever experienced?