Brazos Bride Page 8

  "Hey, baby brother. Hello, new little sister." The one named Joel grabbed her waist and swung her down. "Come on into the house. We're waiting lunch for you."

  Micah cautioned, "Now, Joel, don't get all bossy. She already lit into me for that on the way here. Give her a few days to get used to us."

  Joel winked at her. “Trying to keep you in line, is she?”

  One of the thinnest men she'd ever seen took of his battered hat. "Welcome, Mrs. Stone. I'm Slim Carter." He was a good six feet tall, but looked taller for his lack of width. His sandy hair fell below his ears, and his blue eyes twinkled.

  "And no one ever gets used to them Stone brothers,” Slim added with a laugh. “Not even Bert and me, and we both knowed the Cap’n for nigh onto ten years now."

  Did Slim mean Micah was a Captain? He was young to have been a Captain in the War. Maybe the term came from elsewhere.

  Zach made a mock bow. "Welcome to Stone Mountain Ranch." He was the best looking of the three brothers, though all three definitely qualified as handsome. Each stood at least three or four inches over six feet and each had the same molasses dark hair and pale gray eyes and muscular build.

  Since Zach bowed, she curtsied. "Thank you."

  The other man hung back and she surprised herself by stepping toward him, remembering the name Slim had mentioned.

  "You must be Bert."

  His brown eyes widened and at first she thought he'd turn tail and run, but he nodded at her. "Bert Wells, Ma'am. Welcome to you. Glad the Cap’n got hitched." Bert was only medium height in this group of giants, and his brown hair had almost disappeared from his balding head.

  Micah took her elbow. "If they're holding lunch let's have at it. I'm starving, even if it is early for the midday meal."

  Joel slapped him on the back. "Bert cooked up a big batch of stew and made a peach pie. We weren't sure you'd come this far out of the way, but we figured we'd split your share if you didn't show up."

  A dog run separated the kitchen and living quarters and chinking around the home’s cedar logs looked tight. Inside, large stones laid out an almost smooth floor and made a large fireplace. Had Micah fashioned the cedar table and chairs? At the other end of the room she saw five bunks. Only about twenty feet long and maybe fifteen feet wide, the entire cabin must be about the size of her bedroom. Micah cleared his throat and she turned.

  He held a chair for her at the table. "Figured I'd get a stove once the drought's over and I sell cattle. Bert's a good cook, though, and he can make about anything in the fireplace or open campfire. Hot days he usually cooks outside in the shade."

  Bert beamed at Micah's praise. The table was laid for their meal and the men took seats, except for the cook. He left and returned with a large pot and ladled thick stew into their tin plates. Slim grabbed a napkin-covered plate and passed around biscuits. Bert returned and poured coffee into tin cups, then took the remaining chair. They all watched her and she wondered what to do.

  Hope bit her lower lip and looked from one man to the other. Micah raised a brow and she saw his finger tap his spoon. Smiling with relief, she picked up her spoon and dug into the thick stew. Like magic, all the men followed and talked while they ate. She didn’t know what she’d expected, living roughly as they did, but their show of manners pleased her.

  She savored a bit of the stew, then bit into a fresh biscuit covered with syrup. Closing her eyes in bliss, she chewed slowly. “Oh my, this is wonderful. Never have I tasted better stew. And these biscuits are light enough to float away.”

  Bert blushed and lowered his head. “Thank you, Miz Stone.”

  Micah’s dimpled smile demonstrated his appreciation for her comment. Why should that please her so?

  Hope learned more about their struggle for water, how they'd hauled barrels of it from some spring a good ways off on Zach's land, apparently their only remaining dependable source of water.

  She remembered her father’s angry reprimand and the blow he’d delivered when she’d suggested he install windmills on their land. Her eye was swollen and purple for days, but he told the servants she’d fallen against the door. They knew, of course, and wouldn’t look at her until the bruises faded. She pushed the sad memory aside and returned to the present. Did she dare make a suggestion to Micah?

  She gathered her courage. “Have you thought about a couple of the Mitchell Self-Governing Patent Windmills? I saw an ad for them and plan to install them in several spots on my land.”

  Excitement gleamed in Micah’s eyes. “Hey, I saw an ad also, and I’d love to have them. Until now, I haven’t had the cash.”

  He’d planned the same thing. And he didn’t appear to resent her suggestion. She wanted to shout with glee. He actually respected her opinion, and didn’t say a woman had no business thinking such thoughts. “Oh, well, maybe we can get a discount on the freight and cost if we order together.”

  Zach nodded. “Good idea, Hope. I wouldn’t mind a couple of them myself, soon as we get your and Micah’s problems settled.”

  They talked about where the windmills would be placed and guessed how long it would take them to arrive. All through their discussion, Hope was treated as if her ideas were equal to those of the men. Their response surprised and soothed her. Maybe this arrangement would work for everyone.

  Micah laid his spoon aside while Bert served up the pie. "I need to talk about something less pleasant. Someone tried to kill us last night." For a minute everyone stopped talking and stared at Micah. The only sound was a horse’s nervous whinny.

  Bert cocked his head toward the window and paused as if listening to the horse, but it quieted so he resumed serving. Everyone forked up the pie while Micah explained about the ordeal.

  "Sheriff know?" Joel asked between bites.

  Micah nodded. "Surprised me. Acted halfway decent about it. Said he'd keep investigating, but don't suppose anything will come of it. Without a witness, it could be anyone."

  "So what's your plan, Cap’n?" Slim asked.

  Micah swallowed and said, "I'm leaving you and Bert in charge here. For months now someone’s been poisoning my wife. You know her father was murdered, and now someone's tried to kill us. We have to be on guard all the time. You two are charged with taking care of this place while the rest of us take care of my wife." He dug into the last of his pie.

  Slim looked indignant. "Poisoning a purty lady like Miz Stone? Low down sidewinders!"

  "You’re right about that.” Micah pushed his plate aside. “Tomorrow you can start the cattle toward the river. One of us will stay at the Montoya ranch with Hope so she's always protected, but the other two will be over to help."

  Always protected. She repeated the words in her head while she nibbled at her pie. The words reassured her and she looked at each of the men at the table. She might not have her home to herself, but safety in numbers popped into her mind. She no longer faced danger alone. Things would be all right now.

  Bert asked, "Reckon I ought to go cook for you? I could make sure no one messed with Miz Stone's vittles."

  Zach smiled apologetically at Hope as if he'd known she should have been included in the decision. "Our two aunts will arrive soon to help our new sister, maybe today if they caught the stage."

  Micah said, "You're badly needed here, Bert, to look after this place."

  Bert actually smiled. "Me and Slim can do it, cain't we?"

  Slim nodded and started to say something, but another horse whinnied and this one sounded alarmed. Slim frowned and sniffed the air. "You smell smoke?"

  Micah sniffed at the same time. "Something burning, Bert?"

  "Nope, I done put the fire out on account of how dry it is. Covered it good with dirt." He rose and ambled to the window.

  "Lord A’mighty, the barn's afire!"

  Chapter Twelve

  Bert threw open the door and took off. Slim, Joel, and Zach followed.

  Micah called, "Hope, stay inside and bolt the door in case there's someone out there after you. Don't
come out unless the fire spreads toward the cabin." He slammed the door behind him.

  She hurried to the window and looked outside. Fire, a rancher’s nightmare! The brothers led screaming horses from the barn. Bert whooped, driving them away from the flames and into a paddock. If the fire spread, at least the animals could run away.

  Next the men dragged tack and saddles and a few tools out. There was no time to rescue more. In the dry air, flames licked up more and more of the barn. Black smoke billowed.

  Buggy horses still tied to the cabin hitching post stamped and pulled at the reins, their eyes rolling in fear. She wished she knew what to do to calm them. If fire spread she’d set them free, but she wouldn't unhitch them yet.

  She couldn't watch and not help. Leaving a beautiful flower garden quilt on one bunk she imagined as Micah's, she gathered other bedding not so fine and took it to the horse trough. Panic drove her and she plunged the wool blankets into the water. The men divined her intentions.

  Micah threw down a singed horse blanket and took a wet one from the trough. “Thanks. Now go back inside the cabin where you’ll be safe. This may spread.”

  Quickly, Zach traded blankets. “Thanks, Hope, but this work’s too hard for you. Go back in the house.”

  On a run, Joel said, “Wait on the porch away from the sparks, little sister. We’ll handle it from here on out.”

  Bert warned, “Best stay well back, ma’am, lest a spark land on that fine yaller dress. You ought to take care of yourself.”

  Slim stopped long enough to ask, “Can I fetch you a chair, ma’am? Cap’n won’t want you tiring yourself out.”

  She gathered strength from deep within, but declined all their offers and commands and pushed the horse blankets into the water, then watched the men's progress from the trough. They had given up on the barn and only sought to stop the fire’s spread to the dry grass around it. Bert worked with a shovel, but the others whipped at the flames. As fast as they beat out a finger of fire, another stretched elsewhere. She prayed they'd be careful and not let the blaze surround one of them.

  Smoke and flames ballooned high and wide. The men had pulled bandanas across their mouths and noses, but how much longer could they stand the fire’s heat and smoke? Already her throat and eyes stung. Heat scorched her skin. How could the men bear to be closer?

  Plumes of sparks drifted to start new fires. She sought to calm the horses hitched to the rig and thanked God the other animals had made it out of the barn.

  Feeling helpless, she attempted to lift a horse blanket. The wet wool’s weight defeated her. She couldn’t carry it, much less beat at the fire with it. Glancing around, she thought surely she could do something to help.

  She reached under her and pulled the back hem of her skirt up between her legs and tucked it into her front waistband the way she'd seen some of the servant girls work on washday. With her yellow silk skirts up to her knees, she stood at the edge of the blaze and stamped out sparks before they caught the grass on fire. Her shoes weren't made for hard wear, but it was all she could think to do.

  Soon she saw cowboys riding in to join the fight. She recognized her own men but there were others on whom she had never laid eyes. Everyone who saw the smoke would come to help. Fire could sweep across the dry range, endangering other ranches and cattle.

  Water in the trough was used up and the well emptied. Men continued with their own dry blankets. They beat the sparks and set small backfires to halt the flames' spread. A few joined Bert and used shovels in the battle.

  Crashes shook the ground as the barn’s roof caved. It seemed they worked hours before only charred wood, smoke, and ash remained of the large barn, with occasional bursts of flame in the smoldering interior. Blackened grass in a huge circle smoked, but only the central area harbored flames.

  At long last, everyone stopped. Micah went from man to man thanking each one personally. Her cowboys tipped their hats to her and waited together while her foreman, Chip Wooster, rode over.

  The stocky man wore his customary leather vest even in this heat. He rolled down his sleeves as he approached her. “You all right, Miss Montoya?” She understood the question in his eyes. She must look terrible and here she was on the Stone ranch with no explanation.

  “Until the fire started, I was fine. Micah Stone and I were married yesterday. We stopped here before going home. Thank you for your help. I will be fine now that the fire is out.”

  If he was surprised, he gave no sign, not even a twitch of his ginger colored mustache. “Then I’d best get back to work.” He turned to go.

  She called him back, “Oh, Mr. Wooster? Mr. Stone’s men will be cutting the fence and moving his cattle to the river.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He tipped his hat and rode away.

  Other cowboys from who knew where simply got on their horses and rode back from wherever they'd come.

  Hope collapsed onto a front step, too exhausted even to make it onto the porch or into the cabin. She peered at what remained of her ruined shoes then smoothed her dress. Black streaked the yellow silk where it hadn’t been folded, creating an odd pattern of clean and soiled fabric.

  She hated to think what her face and hair resembled, but she straightened her spine as she’d been taught. At least she’d only been at the edge of the fire. She couldn't imagine how tired and disheartened these men must be. Her throat still ached from the smoke and her mouth was so dry she wasn’t sure she could speak, but she was proud of herself for the little help she’d provided.

  Micah dropped beside her, his body covered in soot. He slouched in fatigue. He stared at the remains of the barn that had looked new when they arrived only hours earlier. The other four men slumped beside him. Their appearance matched his. No one said a word.

  Finally Bert raised himself up. Tears pooled in his eyes and made trails down his smudged cheeks. "Cap’n, I swear I put out the cook fire. Didn't want to waste the water, so I covered it with dirt real good. Plenty of dirt, honest I did." He shook his head in disbelief as he stared at the barn. “I can’t figure how this happened.”

  Micah didn't move. He looked too weary. "I know you put out the cooking fire, Bert. You're always careful. Did any of you smell kerosene when we first got to the barn?"

  Joel said, “Sure smelled like it to me.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Zach agreed. “Strongest on the back corner away from us.”

  Micah glanced first at her, then at each of his brothers. "Some lowdown polecat sneaked in and set that fire while we ate. What kind of protectors does that make us?"

  Relief spread across Bert’s face. “You mean that fire weren’t my fault?” His temporary consolation instantly turned to anger. “Who’d do such a terrible thing a purpose?”

  Slim shook his head. “Dry as everything is, the whole county could of burned up.”

  Micah stared at what had been his new barn. “That’s right. More to the point, each of us might have.” He looked at his brothers. “You see what we’re up against.”

  “Your barn, your poor, lovely barn.” Hope touched his arm. “I am sorry, so very sorry. When I asked for your help, I thought all the threats would be against me. You warned me you might be attacked, yet I had no idea anything like this might happen.”

  He covered her hand with his and gave a gentle squeeze. “I did. Whoever wants you out of the way has stepped up the plan. That’s why we need Zach and Joel helping at your place, why we need our aunts to cook.”

  “Don’t worry, little sister.” Joel smiled through the soot covering most of his face. “You’ll be safe now.”

  She looked at what remained of the barn and then at Joel, Zach, and Micah. How could these men protect her when they couldn’t save Micah’s barn?

  Zach rubbed at his jaw. “After what happened you may not believe us, Hope, but we plan to make sure you’re safe while we catch whoever’s doing this.”

  “I hope you can.” She shrugged her shoulders in defeat. “I have no other plan to save myself.” She l
ooked at Micah. “You are not backing out then?”

  Micah took her hand in his and rubbed a finger over the gold band he’d given her last night. How could she ask that question? “We’re married until you say different. You’re a Stone now, and we stick together through whatever comes.”

  He stood and pulled her up. “Why don’t you go in and rest. We’ll get things cleaned up enough to leave Bert and Slim here without making a hardship on them.”

  She examined her hands and looked down at her skirts. “I could not possibly touch anything inside until I have washed.”

  Bert shook his head. “Sorry, Miz Stone, but there ain’t no water left for a spell.”

  Micah scooped her up and carried her inside. “You rest on my bed.” He flipped the pillow to the unused side then lowered her to the bed.

  “Move that lovely quilt so we do not get black on it.” She sank against the narrow mattress. “I told my foreman we are wed and your men would be cutting the fence and moving cattle to the river. No one will stop you.”

  “That’s good to know. I saw you talking with him. Now your ranch hands know we’re wed, Bert and Slim will go to the river and bring some water for washing.” Micah unfastened her shoes and slid them from her feet.

  She closed her eyes and sighed, as if relieved to be lying down.

  “We’ll let the cattle start drifting to the water. It’ll save most of them.”

  “This side of the bank has a nice sloping beach, so they’ll be all right on their own today.” She wriggled, as if trying to burrow into the thin mattress and pillow.

  Need for her erupted inside him, a desire so strong he could barely restrain himself from taking her in his arms. He slid the sheet over her soiled dress then strode to the door, not daring to linger for fear he’d reveal his feelings and make a damn fool of himself.

  Hand on the latch, he stopped and called over his shoulder. “I’ll be right outside. Call if you need anything.”

  The other four men were already at work stowing gear and tools they’d salvaged in the shed and lean-to they’d used before they’d built the barn. He motioned for them to join him beneath a stand of trees twenty feet from the house. “Looks like we have a tough row to hoe. We’d best talk over our plans.”