Montana Dawn Page 5

  Faith lay in her blankets inside the wagon. She could hear the men now. They were eating and carrying on by the campfire.

  She closed her eyes, enjoying the semiquiet. She hoped Colton had made it through the night without being frightened. She’d half expected to wake up and find him back in the wagon with her.

  Dawn. She said the name again to herself, smiling and thinking about the man who’d named her daughter. She knew she was being silly, fostering these daydreams about Luke. Against her better judgment she found herself yearning for him, waiting to hear his voice. It’s natural to feel this, she told herself. He delivered Dawn. We’re connected because of that.

  As if such thoughts could wake her, the child stirred. She began rooting around in her cradle, and soon let out a cry that would curl toes.

  “Oh my poor baby, you’re soaking.” Faith rose, picked Dawn up and laid her on her blanket. She was ill prepared for motherhood. She didn’t have near enough swaddling blankets and only a handful of diapering cloths, the majority of which had been used last night. She’d have to wash first thing this morning or else run out.

  “Shhh, sweet thing,” she said as she changed the baby, then held her to her breast. She winced and breathed deeply as her daughter took hold. Oh, she was sore. Did all mothers experience this? After the first few painful seconds, feeding time turned pleasant. Until then, it was pure misery, like shards of glass slicing to and fro across her swollen nipple.

  Pulling a corner of the canvas aside, Faith peeked out at the camp. All the cowboys were eating or saddling up. “My, my, they all look so nice,” she noted to the suckling infant. Minutes ticked by and the tautness of her breast reduced, bringing relief. She switched the baby to her other breast and continued her perusal of the camp.

  Colton came running in. He’d been somewhere outside the camp. Faith said, “There’s your brother. He thinks he’s all grown up now.” She blew gently at the baby’s silky soft hair, watching it shimmer.

  Luke followed Colton. He looked tired and grumpy. Still, he stood out. Faith liked his fluid, catlike walk and his quiet assurance. It was hard for her to tear her gaze away.

  Lucky said something to some of the men, and in unison they turned and looked in her direction. Quick as lightning Faith dropped the canvas and held her hand to her racing heart. They’d been talking about her. Had they seen her watching them?

  She straightened. “Well, just let them.” Dredging up her newfound courage, she pulled open the canvas. “I’m a widow now. Doesn’t hurt to look. Or be looked at.”

  The words were meant to strengthen her, to bolster her flagging confidence, and actually it seemed like it might just be working. Regardless of if she still felt anxious as she had three months ago, she was going to hold her head high. She hoped if she talked big enough, maybe she could fool herself into belief.

  After changing Dawn’s bedding, she placed the sleepy infant back in her bed and covered her with a blanket. Fretting about the washing, Faith climbed out the back of the wagon.

  The youth named Francis squatted by her cold campfire, building up the flame. He blushed when he saw her. “I was sent with food, ma’am,” he said, pointing to a plate covered with a red-checkered cloth. He looked painfully shy, red splotches burning his cheeks.

  “Thank you,” she said, imagining what wonderful delicacies Lucky had sent over.

  “I’m to hitch your wagon, too.”

  Panic filled her. “When will we be leaving?”

  “Right soon, ma’am.”

  She had to wash. The baby couldn’t go without wrappings, even in this warm August weather. Would they let her stay behind and then catch up? But, what about Ward? She didn’t want to be left behind where her brother-in-law might find her.

  Francis hitched the team and left. Faith put water on to boil and set upon her food like a tiger.

  Oh, it was good! Huge, fluffy flapjacks smothered in fresh butter and maple syrup tickled her tongue. A mound of spicy potatoes nestled beside crisp, juicy bacon. And to top it off, coffee laced with sweet milk and sugar. Why, these men ate better than anyone she’d ever known. If she were a man, she’d take a job with this outfit just for the food.

  Faith avoided taking her plate back to camp as long as possible, but the baby’s things were now soaking in the bucket of water John had provided yesterday and she’d freshened herself up. There was no delaying any longer. Walking into camp, she tipped her chin up and plastered a smile on her face. She knew the men couldn’t see her heart beating wild like a bird’s.

  “Mornin’, missy,” Lucky called as he watched her approach. “How was the flapjacks?”

  “So delicious, Lucky, I ate every morsel. How soon will Mr. McCutcheon want to leave?” she asked.

  “Almost anytime, I’d reckon. It’s near six now. Most the men are gettin’ ready ta pull out.”

  Faith sat gingerly on the bench to wait. She was deep in thought when Luke approached.

  “Problem?”

  Faith stood quickly, stars bursting before her eyes. She swayed.

  “Easy now.” He steadied her with his hand.

  “I…um.” She didn’t want to ask for another favor. It seemed to her that was all she ever did. But she couldn’t leave just yet. The baby had to have clean things.

  Luke waited patiently. His face, strong with angles and rough from not shaving, looked down into her own. What would it feel like if she were bold enough to reach up and touch it? She tried with all her might to stop the smile she felt forming at the ridiculous thought.

  His eyes, dark with question, took on a hint of softness. “Out with it.”

  “Well, uh, I need to do some wash. Almost everything of the baby’s was soiled and if I don’t do it this morning they won’t be dry when I need them.”

  Luke turned. “Francis, you stay with Mrs. Brown’s wagon. You, too, Lucky. When she’s ready the two wagons can travel together and help her catch up.” He looked back. “How long will you need?”

  “Just an hour or two, I think. I’ll hang the things in the wagon to dry as we go.” She was relieved. He didn’t seem angry at all.

  Earl, close in proximity, grumbled into his cup. “I knew that woman would hold us up. Females are always whinin’ about somethin’.” He paused for a moment, then added slyly, “Did ya whip the boy good, boss?”

  Luke’s brows drew together in an angry frown. His jaw clenched several times before he looked at Faith. He said nothing.

  “Whip him? The boy? What did he mean?” she asked, her tone rising two octaves. Anxiously she searched the camp. She felt her face heat from a mixture of hot anger and fear. “Where is Colton?”

  “Get out on the trail,” Luke commanded Earl, his voice low and dangerous. The man smirked, giving Faith one last look as he threw the remainder of his coffee into the fire, and stalked away.

  She turned on Luke with the same ferocity she’d felt whenever Samuel was set upon, in his own words, teaching the boy a lesson.

  “Easy now, Faith. Just settle down,” Luke said, raising his hands, palms forward.

  “Where is Colton?” she demanded. She looked around wildly. “Is he hurt?”

  Luke stepped back, giving Faith some breathing space. He said her name calmly, trying to appeal to her senses. He didn’t want to add to her hysteria, but dang, she was exasperating in an overprotective way.

  “He was sassing me this morning. We had a little meeting—man to man. Someone’s got to teach the boy some manners. You don’t seem to want to do it.”

  Faith’s flinching as if she’d been slapped was his first indication that he might have said too much. Over her head he saw Lucky’s eyes go wide, and the cook retreated for cover.

  “I promise, I didn’t lay a finger on him,” Luke added, trying to keep his voice level.

  “Where is he, then?” She’d recovered from his accusation, and had come up fighting. She planted her hands on her hips and tried to face him eye to eye, despite the vast difference in their heights. Her
eyes were challenging. Beautiful. He was tempted to pull her into his arms and kiss her and see just how mad she could really get.

  “He’s with Smokey,” he replied coolly, trying to hide the smile brought by the image his mind was creating.

  She stared at him in doubt, all the while tapping the toe of her boot. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Smokey’s taken a liking to Colton. Asked if he could ride behind him today. I said yes. Colton seemed only too happy to go.”

  “What?” she cried. “He’s only a boy. Eight years old. He could get hurt. Or killed! I never imagined you could be so thick. What were you thinking?”

  That stung. It was way too early in the morning to be called a name. “There’s always a small possibility he could fall and get trampled by the cattle, but I don’t think Smokey will let anything happen. He’s a good hand.” Luke knew mishaps like that rarely occurred, and Colton was almost as safe on the back of Smokey’s horse as riding in the wagon, but he felt like teasing her a little for not trusting his judgment.

  Faith’s expression transformed from anger to something else. Her eyes clouded over, extinguishing that beautiful flashing light. They went cold. Dead. She looked beaten, and she turned so fast he didn’t have a chance to catch her. In disbelief he watched her run all the way back to her wagon, dress flying. She showed a glimpse of her slender ankle, then disappeared inside.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE baby slept, blissfully unaware of the commotion around her. Francis had turned out to be a huge help, washing and rinsing the baby’s clothing and blankets. He was especially good at wringing them near dry. Faith did all the diapers, knowing that chore would be just too much to ask of the youth.

  “That’s the last of it,” she said, forcing her voice to sound happy. She’d been thinking about her encounter with Luke. She’d made a fool of herself. Called him a name. Acted like she didn’t have the brains of a gnat. And after all he’d done for her and Colton. And Dawn. Especially Dawn.

  While they’d worked, Francis had told her what had happened that morning at breakfast. She’d had to drag it out of him, but he finally admitted that Colton had acted disrespectfully. Luke had been forced to act or lose respect in front of his men. It sounded like he’d handled the matter with restraint…though she wasn’t sure she liked what he said afterward.

  “I’ll dump the water,” Francis said, tipping the bathtub she’d used last night, and spilling the water out to create a puddle. The scent of wet earth pervaded the air. “And if there’s no more to do, I’ll go check with Lucky. By now he’ll be itchin’ to pull out.”

  Faith stood slowly and wiped her brow with her apron. She stretched the sore muscles of her back and sighed. “Thank you for all your help, Francis.”

  “My pleasure, ma’am.” He smiled that charmingly shy smile. “Now, why don’t you just rest a while. I’ll be back to drive your wagon to catch up with the herd.”

  She did as the young man suggested and collapsed onto her mat next to Dawn. It felt wonderful to close her eyes.

  Sometime later a constant lowing passed through her fatigue, pulling her gently from her dreams. Faith rolled onto her other side, trying to block out the sound. A fly, buzzing around her head, annoyingly landed on her cheek for the fiftieth time. Refusing to open her eyes just yet, she reached up to brush it off. That’s when she wondered why that animal was crying so much.

  Halfheartedly she opened her eyes and blinked. Where was she? Then she heard it again. Not one cow lowing, but hundreds. And more! She remembered. And they weren’t cows, she mentally corrected herself. Chance—a tall, rangy cowhand—had humbly enlightened her at dinner last night. “They’re called steers and heifers, ma’am.”

  The gentle rocking of the wagon bed and the deep rumble of its steel-lined wheels told her that they were on their way. Faith pulled back the covering and carefully climbed out next to Francis on the wagon bench.

  “Well, how do,” he said when he saw her. “Ya feeling better?”

  “Oh yes, much.” Faith gasped. “Lands, we’re right in the middle of all the cattle!” she said, looking around and grabbing hold of the side of her seat. She didn’t want to fall into that throng of living cowhides and horns. “Are we supposed to be?”

  Francis laughed. He was relaxing around her, and was a very nice companion to have. “For today it is.” He pointed ahead some twenty feet at the chuck wagon in front. “We’re following Lucky in the chuck wagon. He’s going through the herd because the ground is too rocky along the side. He don’t want to be fixing any axles today.”

  Turning his head, he spat a stream of tobacco juice alongside the wagon. It landed in a splat on the head of a steer. When the beast didn’t do anything, Francis shrugged and smiled. “He don’t mind.” Faith hid her expression behind her hand, not wanting to offend. Her stomach lurched.

  Flipping the long reins up, he slapped them down across the horses’ backs, urging them on. “Now, normally,” he continued, seeming to like having a captive audience now that they were better acquainted, “we’d pull out early, with the cattle, so we wouldn’t have ta be eating all this.” He gestured to the dust and dirt. “We’d be way up near the front, along one side. Sort of three-quarter front and following the trail boss.”

  “That’s Luke?” Faith said.

  “On this drive. But it could be any of the three oldest McCutcheon brothers. We never know till we start. It’s the first time Luke’s been running the show. That’s why it was sort of amusing he showed up with you.” Faith hadn’t thought about how her presence might affect Luke. She’d been totally self-absorbed.

  “Three older? There’re more?”

  “One more boy. Jonathan McCutcheon. But he’s away at un-ee-versity, studyin’ to be a doctor.” Francis paused. “There’s Charity, too. She’s the baby, only fifteen.” At the mention of her, the youth’s face turned crimson.

  “That’s quite a family,” Faith exclaimed.

  “You’re right about that. Mrs. Mac, that’s what the ranch hands call Mrs. McCutcheon, runs it like the United States Calvary,” he chuckled. “All business and boom, even though she don’t come up to my shoulder. Flood—that’s Mr. McCutcheon—thinks he’s in charge, but everyone knows it’s really his wife holding the reins.” He eyed Faith nervously. “But don’t say I said so.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  The youth gave a sigh of relief.

  “The father’s name is Flood? Flood McCutcheon?” Faith asked, surprised. “That’s an unusual name.”

  “Undoubtedly there’s a story behind it, but I ain’t knowing it.”

  Three hours passed peacefully and Faith realized she was enjoying it very much. She felt safe, and cared for. She rejoiced at the thought of Ward losing their trail and giving up, frustrated. Two riders loped their horses from the side of the herd to the front as they began slowing the progress of the steers.

  “It’s nooning time,” Francis remarked. “We’ll just make a brief stop so the cattle won’t feel rushed. Not good for the beef if the steers get nervous.” He took off his hat and brushed sweat from his brow with his shirtsleeve. “Hungry?”

  “Yes, I guess I am,” Faith admitted. “It seems to be the only thing I am lately—hungry or sleepy.”

  “Understandable.”

  Faith shaded her eyes with her hand. Relief coursed through her. “Look, here comes Colton!”

  Smokey jogged up on his horse and stopped next to the wagon. His cheek bulged with chew, and sweat trickled down the sides of his face. Colton sat directly behind his saddle, on the horse’s sweaty back. Faith gasped when she saw him. Dirt, weeds and cow dung clung from every inch.

  “Whooo-eee,” Francis cried. “What happened to you?”

  Colton beamed. “Had a small dilemma, that’s all. Nothin’ to get flop-eared about.”

  “Colton, come here. Let me have a look at you,” Faith demanded.

  “Ma, I’m fine,” Colton said, masterfully dismissing her.

 
Smokey leaned his forearms onto his saddle horn and relaxed. Pulling a packet from his pocket, he stuck two fingers in and grabbed a big brown wad of tobacco. Sticking it between his lip and teeth, he added to the already existing clump.

  “I’m real sorry, ma’am. We come upon a nest of rattlers and I had a heck of a time with my pony.” He spit to the side and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. “Colton here got pitched off.”

  Nest of rattlesnakes? Faith felt a little dizzy. “Are you sure he wasn’t bitten?”

  “Nah, he’s jist bruised up a bit. He’ll be right as rain tomorrow.” Smokey shook his head and laughed. “Little bugger sure can run. Should have seen him churnin’ up the dust.”

  Colton reached under his leg into the saddlebag and pulled out a headless rattlesnake. Blood, red as cherry juice, dripped down the four-foot-long corpse and onto the dusty ground, making little puffs of dust. Smokey’s horse tossed his head and danced around anxiously. Faith couldn’t say she felt much better.

  “Look, Ma,” Colton said excitedly, shaking the rattler’s beaded brown tail, making the horse snort and paw the ground. “Smokey said I could eat it for supper!”

  Chapter Twelve

  RIDING toward Faith’s wagon at a lope, Luke saw the growing commotion. He plunged into the herd, shouting at the cattle, trying to get through.

  Faith had taken one look at the snake Colton was swinging around and collapsed onto Francis, draped across his lap like a worn rag doll. Startled, the youth fumbled to remove her, not knowing where he should or shouldn’t put his hands. She moaned. As she rolled facedown into the youth’s lap, he wriggled from under her like a scalded cat.

  Trying to sit up, she brushed the hair from her face and looked around groggily. “What ha…?” Her gaze found the snake Colton still held high in the air, and she promptly crumpled back to the seat.

  “Put that thing away!” Luke shouted as he arrived. He climbed straight from Chiquita onto the wagon seat. ScoopingFaith into his arms, he carried her into the back of the conveyance and laid her down.