Chapter Twenty-six

Branding was not for the faint of heart, Phoebe decided, so when Fiona arrived at the site where the calves were penned so they could be dropped, heeled, sometimes castrated, and finally branded, it was not merely a surprise; it was shocking. That Fiona was wearing jeans tucked into a pair of embossed leather boots, a pale yellow cotton shirt, a tan leather vest, and a flat-crowned black hat, caused mouths to gape as she alighted from the buckboard. The only person who did not gape was Thaddeus, and Phoebe suspected that was because he had had a private showing of this very outfit.

“Close your mouth, Les,” Thaddeus called out above the bawling of the cattle. “Unless you like the taste of cow shit.”

Les Brownlee spit. “Developing a taste, sure enough.” But he closed his mouth.

Thaddeus passed the hot branding iron he was holding to Ralph Neighbors and hopped the pen to get to Fiona. He removed his gloves and took her hand. “You certain about this?”

“I must be. I’m here.”

He turned her hands over to examine her palms. “Where are your gloves?”

“I put them on the kitchen table while I was packing the baskets, and then I forgot them.”

Thaddeus looked past her shoulder to where five hampers rested in the bed of the buckboard. “You packed them?”

“It’s insulting that you’re asking,” she said, although there was no scold in her tone. “I’ve spent a lifetime packing trunks.”

Phoebe was close enough now to hear Fiona. She tried to recall the last time Fiona had packed her own trunks. She couldn’t. Still, she did not offer a contradiction. If she took the long view, then she counted it as a very good thing that Fiona wanted to impress Thaddeus.

“Fiona! You look striking.” Phoebe meant it. Her smile split the lower half of her face. “Come. I’ll help you with the baskets. The men put together a table for the spread.” She pointed to the rough planks supported by sawhorses thirty yards from the pen. “We’ll set things out like a grand buffet and they can eat as they’re able.”

Fiona looked over the setting doubtfully. “There is no place for them to sit.”

Thaddeus chuckled. “Do you think any of these men are going to object to the ground? They’ve been wrestling calves, Fiona. They’ll be grateful just because they don’t have to wrestle their supper.”

Phoebe waved him away and took Fiona by the elbow to lead her to the rear of the wagon. “Where’s Ellie?” she asked. “You didn’t murder her, did you?”

Fiona pursed her lips disapprovingly. “You should not say things like that.” Then she qualified her disapproval. “Where people might hear.”

“I can barely hear myself,” Phoebe said, gesturing toward the pen where men were shouting, calves were bawling, and the cows, separated from their unweaned babies, were crying as if it were all happening to them. “But I take your point.”

“She was still in the kitchen when I left,” said Fiona. “She’s bringing jugs of beer and fresh water.”

“The men will appreciate that.” She slid one of the baskets toward her and thrust it at Fiona. She lifted another and hugged it to her. “Heavy.”

Fiona nodded and stepped aside to let Phoebe lead the way. “What is that stench?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Burnt hair and flesh. You understand what branding is, don’t you?”

“Thaddeus told me. He failed to mention the stink.”

Phoebe set down her basket. “I have a couple of scented handkerchiefs. I haven’t pulled one out yet. I didn’t want the men to snicker. Would you like one?”

“And have them snicker at me? I don’t think so. How did you know to bring a scented handkerchief?”

“Remington suggested it.”

“Mm. Thoughtful, but it appears he neglected to account for your pride.”

Phoebe grinned. “Let’s finish this and go and watch. You’ve never seen anything like it.”

Fiona was sure that was true.

In addition to the men who worked for Twin Star, there were a dozen volunteers from neighboring ranches and a few young men from town who wanted to try their hand at roping and wrestling. The experienced hands enjoyed ribbing the greenhorns, but it was all good-natured jibing since every one of them had started out barely knowing a head from a hoof.

No one was immune to the stench, but some bore it better than others. Young Johnny Sutton excused himself twice from the gathering to go off alone to puke. The stink got him once, but watching a calf lose its balls to a Bowie knife took him out the second time. A couple of men burned themselves wielding the hot iron and a couple more got kicked by understandably disgruntled two-hundred-pound calves, but no one complained. The shared sentiment was grin and bear it and don’t get careless again.

Pairs of men grabbed a calf, one by the head, the other by a rear leg or tail, and if they knew what they were doing, they could drop the calf in seconds. Once the animal was pinned, the red-hot Twin Star branding iron was applied for three seconds to the calf’s left shoulder. If the calf was male, Thaddeus performed the castration. Johnny Sutton, once his stomach settled, was charged with collecting the testicles.

The greenhorns chased the calves, whooping and hollering, tiring themselves out before they mostly scared one into submission. The seasoned ranch hands knew how to conserve their energy, but when they broke for supper, Phoebe watched them stretch, bend, shake out their joints, and check themselves somewhat surreptitiously for injuries.

Ellie’s arrival was greeted enthusiastically because she was well liked but mostly because she brought the beer. Phoebe expected her to claim the territory around the long tables as her own, but she allowed Fiona to help without any noticeable balking.

Women and girls and children arrived from ranches and town soon after, bringing more food, more beer, and more in the way of that good-natured ribbing. Phoebe had not understood until then what a social event this was, one that would be repeated in the days ahead as the branding chores moved from one ranch to another until all the calves were sent to graze in open pastures. It was like an after-opening-night theater party without the trepidation of critical reviews.

Phoebe shared this perspective with Remington when he joined her at the buckboard. She made room for him to sit with her on the bed of the wagon and eyed his heaping plate of food with appreciation for the hard work he’d been doing.

“I saw one of the calves kick you,” she said. “I don’t know how you’re walking without a limp.”

“And draw more attention to my carelessness? No. Anyway, it’s not so bad. I’ve been kicked worse.” He used a thumb to point over his shoulder in the direction of the table. “Did you know Fiona was going to show up dressed like that?”

Phoebe turned her head and saw Fiona was passing one of the town boys a plate of food. He thanked her, she beamed, and Phoebe thought the boy actually staggered backward. Another conquest. Phoebe was helpless to do anything but smile and shake her head. “I had no idea,” she told Remington. “But then she’s always known how to make an entrance.” She stole a cold medallion of roast beef from Remington’s plate before he could slap her hand away. “That’s not fair to her,” she said, reconsidering. “I think your father has already seen her in those clothes, so if there was a grand entrance, it was also a private one.”

“The same occurred to me.”

“Something’s different between them. Have you noticed, or is it wishful thinking?”

“I’ve noticed, and it’s not because I’ve had any wishful thinking about it.”

“What does that mean? Don’t you want them to get along?”

Remington forked a small boiled potato. “I shouldn’t have said that.” He opened his mouth and closed it around the potato.

Phoebe watched him. “You did say it, and you can’t shovel food in your mouth forever to keep from explaining yourself.”

Remington chewed, swallowed. “All right. The truth is I don’t trust her, Phoebe. I can’t see far enough into the future to a time when that will be different.”

Phoebe pressed her lips together, nodded. It was not an unexpected response, but she had needed to hear it from him. “I asked her, you know, what she did to make you dislike her so much.”

“Did you? I didn’t know. What did she say?” He stopped her from answering by raising his fork hand and waggling the utensil. “No. Let me guess. I figure she threw it back at you, probably with some self-righteous irritation to deflect your question. She’d wonder how you could ask her. She would be hurt.”

Phoebe’s eyes dropped to her hands.

“Am I close?” asked Remington.

Phoebe thought she might know what it felt like to be kicked by a two-hundred-pound calf. “Dead center,” she whispered.

“Then I’m sorry. For your sake, I wish I’d been wrong.”

She nodded because she believed him. “So what did she do?”

“Do you really want to know? Here? Now? That doesn’t sound like a good idea to me.”

Behind them someone hollered as if he were the one losing his balls to a Bowie knife. They both turned to make certain no one was dead on the ground, but it was only one of the greenhorns being dragged by a calf he was too stubborn to release.

“That’s one way to do it,” said Remington, unconcerned. He renewed his interest in his food.

“Maybe now isn’t the right time,” said Phoebe. “But I still want to know. And I still want to—” She stopped because she saw a familiar figure approaching. “Isn’t that Blue Armstrong?”

Remington looked up. “Sure is.”

“Is he here to help?”

“Unlikely. Maybe he’s come for the food.” He passed his plate to Phoebe and hopped off the buckboard. “I’ll be right back after I see what he wants. Hey, Blue!” He waved once and hurried away to head him off.

Blue veered sideways, following Remington’s diagonal path until they met. “I saw her,” Blue said, pulling up his horse. “I wasn’t going to say anything in front of her.”

“Didn’t think you would, Blue, but business first. All right? Then you can socialize and eat your fill. I hope you’ll do that.”

“Sure. I had to arm-wrestle Jackson for the right to come out here. He likes Ellie’s apple pie.”

“Whereas you like Ellie.”

Blue scratched behind a red-tipped ear. “Now, ‘whereas.’ That’d be a smart-ass lawyer word, wouldn’t it?”

“Damn right. Tell me what you know.”

“Miss Carolina finally has a day to herself. That’d be this Sunday. Two days from now. We are going to take the train to Liberty Junction and talk to Junior about what I’m pretty sure is going to turn out to be his mama’s ring. Like I told you when you came ’round the office, I don’t know if his mama is still visiting or if she’s gone back to Saint Louis, but Liberty Junction is a mite easier place to start.”

“I don’t disagree. So why are telling me now?”

“Besides coming out for the food and the company, the sheriff and I figured you might want to tag along. Miss Apple, too, if she’s of a like mind and you think there’s no harm in it. If Mrs. Tyler’s still there, we thought she’d like to reacquaint herself.”

“And she’s also familiar with the ring,” Remington said flatly. “I’m sure you and the sheriff thought of that, too.”

“Crossed our minds. Doesn’t hurt to get a second confirmation, and I can’t exactly bring Miss Carolina out here to show off the ring. She trusts me, but I can see that she runs to suspicion when she thinks too hard or too long.”

“I’ll go, but I want to think about Phoebe.”

“Fine. Now about that tagging along . . . it’s better if you get there ahead of us. Miss Carolina is in Collier, so that’s where we will be boarding the train. If you’re already in Liberty Junction, there’s no chance she’ll spy you getting on at Frost Falls and wonder why you’re going to a gaming establishment in the Junction. You know folks from here don’t do that.”

“I understand, and I appreciate your caution and the invitation. I’ll be there.” He gestured toward the table. “Looks like Ellie’s free at the moment.”

“I see her.” He dismounted, gave Remington the reins, and headed for Ellie Madison, the feast laid out on the table, and a slice of cinnamon apple pie the size of his hand.

Remington tethered Blue’s horse with the other animals and then returned to Phoebe. She gave him back his plate, but she looked as if she wanted to stab him with the fork. She laid it down carefully, deliberately, in his open palm, which merely felt as if she’d stabbed him. “Business,” he said, sitting hipshot on the wagon bed.

“Hmm.”

“May I eat first? I’m going to tell you.” When she nodded, he tucked in before she changed her mind and made him reverse the order. He set the plate and fork aside when he was done and repeated what Blue had told him.

“Mrs. Tyler’s ring?” she said, puzzled. “I thought it was a seed pearl collar that had been found.”

“You did? Where did you hear that?” But he knew, and he was not happy about it.

“Ben mentioned it. For some reason, he thought you had asked me about the collar. The only conversation I could recall was the one we had about your fiancée’s wedding dress, but I thought I said it was lace, not seed pearls.”

“So what did you tell him?”

“What you’d expect. That a dog collar like that shows off a woman’s neck, but it’s the kind of accessory a woman wears in the evening for a special occasion, not for traveling.”

“That’s what I told him you said.”

“But I hadn’t said it. Not to you.”

“I know.” He didn’t explain. “Can you leave it for now? Trust me?”

“I don’t like leaving it, but I trust you.”

“Thank you.” He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Do you want to go to Liberty Junction?”

“Is that truly a question in your mind?”

He chuckled. “All right. I’ll make the arrangements. You know what you’ll say to Fiona?”

“Yes. I’ll tell her I want to see Mrs. Tyler before she returns to Saint Louis. It’s true. I will be disappointed if I learn that she’s already gone. I suppose you’re acting as my escort.”

“That’s the reason I’m giving for going there. It’s the only one that will stand scrutiny.”

“You’re not going to tell Thaddeus the truth?”

“No. Not yet. He doesn’t want to know.”

Phoebe smiled a little at that. “Not so different than Fiona, then.”

“Not so different,” he agreed. He might have said more, but someone shouted for him. He picked up his plate and fork and shoved away from the wagon. “Sounds as if the calf wrestling has come back around to me.”

Phoebe watched him go and then went to see if Ellie was in want of rescuing from Blue Armstrong or pleased with the deputy’s attentions.