CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Look at this place,” Belle called to her sisters as her horse jogged toward the parked buggy, the large saddle feeling slippery under her denim. The pants were incredibly comfortable, and the baggy shirt over her loosened corset felt daring. Mr. Buns, the friendly fellow at the clothing store, had assured her all the women loosened their stays while riding so as not to faint. Blake had insisted she buy a hat as well, to protect her face from the sun. Even though the temperatures were mild now, she was glad he’d pressed the point. “Isn’t the place a sight? And the journey was exhilarating. I can’t wait for the ride back to Eden.”
Her sister’s astonished faces almost made her laugh. A warm Colorado breeze played with the bright-blue scarf she’d tied around her neck at the last minute, thinking of the cowboys she’d seen walking around town. She’d never thought of herself as a tomboy before, but perhaps she was.
“I’m amazed at the vastness,” Emma gushed. Her strawberry hair was a mess from the buggy, but she didn’t seem to mind. “I envy you the ride, Belle. You left without giving us a chance to tag along.” She glanced about. “Are there more horses like the one you’re on?”
“Plenty. You’ll all have a horse of your own, if that’s what you want.” Blake kept his gaze far away from Belle and the biting tongue she’d shown. His anger didn’t dissipate quickly. “We have several horses that would suit. Dusty comes to mind. As well as Sugar. And Gem. We don’t have any sidesaddles. You’ll have to ride Western and purchase clothing like your sister’s. Our horses are used to guns and lassoes but not flapping material or silly hats. We don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
Lavinia reached up and readjusted the droopy brim she’d added to her hat that very morning with a few well-placed stitches.
Trevor set the brake and stepped down.
Henry chuckled, looking as comfortable in the saddle as he had behind his large desk. He wouldn’t let anything go wrong with the transition in ownership of the ranch, Belle was sure.
“These comfy garments take no time at all to get used to.”
Intent on showing off, she threw her leg over the back of the large saddle and began to dismount. Gunner was much taller than the Hackneys she was used to riding. Her foot kept descending farther and farther, until one of her hands slipped from the cantle. Gasping, she grasped for the long leather ties on the back of the saddle, catching herself just in time before she hit the ground.
Suddenly Blake was at her side. “You’ll get the hang of it,” he said curtly.
When did he dismount?
“Go more slowly next time, until you’re used to his size.”
Embarrassed, she ran her hand up and down Gunner’s sleek neck. “I’ve fallen hard for this smart cow horse. He took care of me as if he knew I was inexperienced. Is that possible?”
“Sure.” Trevor spoke up just as Blake opened his mouth to answer. The cowboy was handing down her sisters one by one from the black-upholstered buggy seat. “He ain’t no dummy.”
Belle kissed the horse’s soft muzzle. “I believe it, Trevor. He was so calm and collected. I never felt frightened at all. Not once.”
Blake glanced at Henry and then at Belle. “All we did was walk and jog.”
“Still. Feels like I’ve been riding him all my life. You were worried, Blake—I noticed it in your eyes. Then you saw how well the two of us were getting along.” She gave him a genuine smile, and he actually smiled back. She reminded herself that Blake had meant a lot to her father and had asked her to be patient. She’d try harder.
Trevor hooked a thumb over his back, pointing to the bunkhouse. Several men politely waited to be introduced. “Looks like we’ve attracted attention.”
Blake glanced over. Tank and KT stood expectantly on the bunkhouse porch. At least those men are loyal. The fall roundup will be no picnic without the deserters. Just as he was about to wave the men over, Belle grasped his arm.
“Wait. Let me tell my sisters what’s happened. Especially since we’re the reason.”
Mavis’s brow fell, as did Emma’s at Belle’s serious tone.
“What?” Katie whispered. “It’s rude if we don’t acknowledge the men now that we’ve seen them.” Her gaze slid surreptitiously back toward the bunkhouse, but she kept her head cocked just so, and her lashes lowered.
Blake was sure the other men had no idea they were being watched. He almost chuckled and wondered how she did that.
“You’re right, Katie,” Belle replied. “But you should know before meeting the men that three ranch hands walked out this morning, and may even be a menace to the ranch, to Blake, or even to us. They refuse to work for a woman, and especially not more than one. It’s important we don’t scare the rest away. Every hand is needed for the roundup this week.”
Their eyes widened. Lavinia glanced at Mavis and then Emma. “What’s a roundup?” Emma whispered. Blake shook his head and caught Henry’s amused expression. Belle had established herself as the leader, having been privy to inside information.
“Are we ready?” He looked Belle in the eyes for the first time since her comment about the speculators. He wasn’t sure of her intentions—yet—but he wondered if she’d only been trying to get his goat. “Can I call them over?”
“You have my permission.”
Ignoring the innuendo, he waved his arm. The two men stepped off the porch and strode over to the group.
“Boys,” Blake said loudly, “I’d like you to meet John’s daughters.” He nodded to Mavis and noticed the girls had arranged themselves in a line from oldest to youngest.
Do they remember their father used to have them do the same thing before supper each night to see if they’d washed their hands—or at least the three oldest? He hid his smile as a warm, homey feeling squeezed his chest.
“The girls,” Blake said with a swish of his arm. “The boys.” Another swish.
Belle rolled her eyes.
Chuckling, he dipped his chin. “This is Mrs. Mavis Applebee. Miss Belle Brinkman. Miss Emma Brinkman. Miss Lavinia Brinkman, and Miss Katie Brinkman. They’ll be staying in Eden for six months—maybe longer—and are equal partners in the Five Sisters. I expect you to treat them accordingly.”
Blake pointed to Tank first. “This is Tank Bellus. He’s been at the ranch approximately a year. Signed on this time last year for the roundup when one of our men got hurt. He’s not our cook but rustles up most of the meals around here.”
Tank smiled and nodded his head.
“And that’s KT Brackston. He’s been here longer.” He looked questioningly at KT.
“Over three years now,” the hand mumbled, more shyly than Blake had ever seen him act. KT nodded at Trevor, who stood behind him, and then at Henry.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” KT added, and Tank nodded his agreement. “You can count on us. We were loyal to your father and will be just as loyal to you . . .” He looked at each of them. “Five. Don’t be afraid to ask.”
“Are there more men?” Mavis asked, glancing about with her gaze landing on the barn.
Blake nodded. “Yes. Two others. Moses and Garrett. They’re out mending fence. You’ll know Garrett by the black-and-white paint he rides.”
A shout brought them all around.
At the far gate behind the homestead, Garrett came at a gallop, a limp body slumped across the front of his saddle. Moses’s horse followed behind, running free.
Blake bolted in their direction.
When Garrett reined up, Blake eased down the body of his friend. Moses’s face had been badly beaten. With Moses cradled in his arms, Blake started for the house. Behind, he could hear the others following, and Trevor telling the girls who he was. They arrived at the house just as Trevor had begun the story about Moses finding a wounded Blake on the battlefield when he’d gone searching for his brother. Blake owed Moses his life—and John his future.
Henry hurried up the porch stairs and opened the front door.
Blake went straight to John’s room, turning Moses’s large body to angle him through the narrow bedroom doorway. He laid him down, and the others filed quietly inside. Blake positioned the pillow and began unbuttoning Moses’s shirt.
“What happened?” he asked as he worked.
“Ambushed by Praig. That snake never gave Moses a chance to fight back. Being a ways down the fence line, I saw some of what happened, but not all.”
Blake glanced up at the girls. They were lined up at the foot of the bed, their faces drawn down in concern. Should I ask them to leave? Besides Mavis, have any of them even seen a man unclothed? It’s none of my business. They’ll leave if they want or stay if they want. What’s important now is seeing to Moses.
“Praig and Moses have been at each other’s throats since you gave Moses more authority around the ranch,” Trevor said softly in the quiet of the room.
Blake’s hands stilled. “He’s been here the longest and is oldest, even countin’ me. Makes sense.”
“Not to Praig. You know how he feels about . . .”
When Trevor’s words faded away, Blake glanced over his shoulder. The cowhand was gazing at Moses’s still body lying on the bed. “Moses didn’t like him speaking against you and John either,” he went on. “None of us do, but Praig liked to rile him most because he’s colored. Needled him night and day.”
Blake looked up. “I didn’t know it had gotten that bad.”
“Just since John’s death,” Trevor said. “Moses didn’t want nothin’ mentioned. You had plenty on your plate already.”
Blake kept working. When he finished with the buttons, Henry leaned over and lifted Moses so Blake could slip off the shirt and undershirt, revealing his bruised and bloodied chest. He chanced a quick glance to the foot of the bed and caught Belle’s gaze.
“How can I help?” she asked, her voice unsteady. He was relieved not to see any of the distaste some women might show toward a colored man. He didn’t know what he’d do if she had demanded they remove Moses from her father’s bed.
“Heat water and fetch towels from the closet,” he replied. “We need to wash off the blood to determine the extent of his injuries. I think I feel at least one broken rib.”
She turned, and her sisters followed.
“I’ll get the medicine box from the bunkhouse,” KT said. “Anything else you can think of?”
Blake shook his head. His blinding anger was making it difficult to think.
“Tank,” Henry said, “ride into Eden and get Doc Dodge. Also tell Clint to be on the lookout for Praig.”
With Tank and Trevor gone, the room felt larger. Belle returned carrying a pot and towels draped over one arm. She went to the other side of the bed, next to Henry. “It’s not that hot yet,” she said, placing it on the nightstand. “But we have more heating.” She looked at Moses, her eyes blinking in rapid succession. “He looks quite weak.” Across the bed, her solemn gaze found Blake’s eyes. “Will he live?”
“Depends on what’s happening inside. Won’t know until the doctor looks him over.”
The other sisters stood just inside the door.
“His eyes fluttered,” Belle said as she dipped a cloth into the pot, wrung out the excess water, and began gently washing his face. “I think he’s coming around.”
Blake picked up one of Moses’s hands. “Moses, can you hear me?” he asked softly, fear and anger warring inside. He couldn’t lose Moses after losing John. It may be a selfish thought, but still, he just couldn’t.
“Blake?”
The ranch hand struggled to open his cut and bloodstained eyes, already swollen twice their usual size. Blake placed his palm on Moses’s forehead, and his friend calmed down immediately.
“I’m a stupid fool to let Praig get the jump on me.”
“Shh,” Blake said. “Don’t try to talk. Just rest.” He watched Belle as she carefully cleansed away the blood and dirt. “You’re gonna be all right. Tank’s gettin’ the doctor.”
“Don’t need no doc. Just help me up and I’ll get back to work.”
“Nothin’ doin’.”
Moses struggled to look around, his puffed-up eyes obviously painful. When he realized he was in John’s bedroom, he fought harder, but let loose a moan and cringe of pain. Finally, Blake convinced him to settle.
“Clint better lock Praig up for his own protection,” Blake murmured. He was talking to himself, but in the quiet room, everyone heard his words. This beating hadn’t just been on a lark. Based on the severity of Moses’s injuries, Praig had been aiming to kill.
Belle, finished washing, began drying Moses with a soft towel, going slow and gentle. Blake stood, glanced at her four watching sisters. Mavis’s blue eyes held concern. Emma’s emerald, fear. Lavinia’s cocoa, anger. And in Katie’s cobalt, an innocence he hoped wouldn’t be squashed flat her first week in Eden.
But when Belle stood, her sky-blue eyes, more unsettled than any storm front, held him transfixed. They were deep, filled with stories, memories, regret, and . . . guilt? He felt powerless to look away and instinctually knew she felt exactly the way he did inside.
Praig was out there somewhere, carrying a festering chip of hate on his shoulder. He was unhinged enough to do this to Moses just because he didn’t like the color of his skin. Blake wouldn’t let him touch any one of John’s daughters. If Praig Horn could do this, he could do anything.