Nine

Over the summer, Trey was gone more than he was home, and Nell was forced to adjust to life on the ranch without him. Following Javier’s funeral, her husband took on Javier’s role as foreman and rode with the hired hands as they prepared to take their stock to market and all that entailed. In addition, newborns needed to be branded and counted, strays rounded up, and the Porterfield stock moved to higher, cooler pastures with the rest. Trey and his men had managed to round up a couple hundred sheep that had survived the stampede, but that was not enough to assure Lottie’s ranch would survive.

Amanda and Seth had returned to Tucson, and while Addie continued to stop by as she made her rounds, she rarely stayed to visit with Nell as she had before. Javier’s parents were cordial, but Nell understood. Every time they looked at her, she reminded them of their son’s death. She spent much of her day with Joshua in the library and evenings alone in the room she shared with Trey.

Increased patrols from the fort and the arrest of two cowhands who had been caught rustling sheep from a herder’s flock—men who worked for Peter Collins—kept incidents of vandalism and harassment to a minimum. By early October, an uneasy truce had settled over the region. In addition to his work with the herd, Trey had begun visiting his neighbors. This time, he did not call on them to tell them what he thought. Rather, he went to listen while each rancher laid out his reasons for believing a truce between herders and cattlemen was unlikely. Nell could always tell how a particular meeting had gone by Trey’s posture as he unsaddled his horse and walked to the house. More often than not, his step was slow and his body hunched with exhaustion. And yet once he saw her and Juanita waiting for him, he always grinned and teased them about having better things to do than keep a lookout for him. He would kiss each of them on the cheek and announce he was hungry enough to eat a horse. Nell understood that he was still trying to earn Juanita’s forgiveness. Not only did he blame himself for Javier’s death, but he was convinced that the housekeeper would never fully absolve him.

But when he and Nell were alone, standing at Javier’s graveside as was Trey’s nightly habit, she saw the weariness that bordered on defeat as he told her about his meeting and worried that he was failing at giving Javier’s death some meaning. Later when he peeled off his shirt and sat on the bed to pull off his boots, she would kneel behind him and massage his bare back and shoulders. Finally, the knots of tension she felt under his skin would unravel, and in time, he would lie back on the pillows and pull her into his arms.

“Ah, Nellie, it’s so hard to make a man who thinks he’s in the right see another possibility.” He was frustrated by the way the same old arguments spooled out every time. “I just can’t seem to break through that.”

She would let him talk until his exhaustion overcame him and he fell asleep. After that, she would lie next to him, wide awake, wondering what she might do to help.

Night after night, this became their routine. In the predawn hours, usually just after she had returned from checking on Joshua, Trey would hold out his arms to her, and she would snuggle against him. They kissed, and the kisses grew in passion. They would find release from the troubles that stalked them during the day in the tenderness they lavished on each other in the night. In his embrace, Nell felt safe and cherished. With each passing day, and in spite of everything that had happened, Nell refused to believe that marrying Trey had been a mistake. The timing perhaps, but not the union.

And in that certainty, she found renewed strength and self-confidence, so much so that one morning early in October as she dressed after Trey had left for the day, Nell came to a decision. There were two sides in this fight. There would be no point, even if Trey convinced the other cattle ranchers to see things his way, unless the herders came to the same conclusion. But no one was visiting them or listening to them. And the truth was, with Henry gone, she couldn’t think of anyone among them who would take on that task.

“Well, I am still a landowner,” she muttered as she dressed. “And so is Lottie. What if the women…”

But was she? What proof did she have? And what about Lottie? Were there documents to prove her ownership—or Lottie’s? The last time she and her sister-in-law had been together, the parting had been anything but cordial, at least on Lottie’s part. Of course, they would have to prove they held ownership, and that might be difficult given that the lawyer who had drawn up the deed had closed his office in Whitman Falls and moved farther west.

“Ma?”

Joshua stood at the open door to her bedroom. He was dressed in canvas trousers, a chambray shirt, a vest Trey had given him, and the narrow-brimmed straw hat his father had always worn.

“Don’t you look a picture?” she said as she hugged him.

“Could we go out today? I’m really doing good and—”

“You’re doing well,” she corrected. “That’s true, but—”

“Ah, Ma, please don’t say I need to watch myself. I’m tired of always being cooped up here. Please can we just go someplace else today?”

And suddenly, Nell knew how she would approach Lottie. Her sister-in-law’s hard feelings had not extended to Joshua, and it had been a challenge explaining to her son why he never saw his aunt or cousins these days.

“How would you like to go visit Aunt Lottie?”

His smile told her everything she needed to know. In spite of feelings they might harbor toward Nell, Trey’s family had treated her son with kindness, but Joshua missed the family he’d grown up with. In better times, he had idolized Ira and Spud, trailing after them like a puppy whenever he was allowed to visit. And for their part, the boys had made sure he was included in whatever they were doing, taking great care to see he didn’t overdo.

Her brother’s family had accused her of choosing sides, and she understood that. But while she loved Trey and found his family as warm and welcoming as could be expected given the circumstances, she could not simply forget the history and times she had shared with Calvin’s family and hers. No, she would not choose. Where Trey saw bringing the two sides together as the only possible solution for ending the range war, Nell’s purpose was far more personal. For Nell, reconciling the two sides was all about building a future for her son—one where he would not need to choose.

“Ma, can we go right after breakfast?”

“We can,” she agreed.

Joshua beamed. “I’ll go tell Nita,” he announced, already halfway to the kitchen.

Nell had tried without success to have Joshua address Juanita and Eduardo more formally, but Trey had insisted that giving them titles like Mr. and Mrs. Mendez would make them uncomfortable. When Nell had raised the topic with Juanita, she had agreed with Trey.

“I have always been Nita to the children in this house. There’s no reason for that to change.”

“But—”

“If it’s a lack of respect you see in that, stop your worrying. Joshua will not need to use a fancy title for me to know when he’s crossed a line. Isn’t that right, Trey?”

Trey’s cheeks had flared an embarrassed red, and he’d laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”

So Nita and Eduardo it was, and by the time Nell finished straightening the covers on Joshua’s bed and reached the kitchen, Juanita was already instructing her husband to go hitch up a buggy while she made a picnic lunch for the journey.

“The soldiers have been vigilant, and things are certainly quieter with everybody busy getting ready to take the stock to market, so you should be all right, but be sure you start back well before sundown. No reason to court trouble,” she instructed Nell.

“We’ll be fine,” Nell assured her, mostly because Joshua was listening closely to the conversation, and his expression told her he had questions. “Finish up, Joshua, and let’s get going.”

Juanita handed her the picnic basket and surprised Nell by leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Take care, mi’ja,” she said softly. “When Trey gets back, I’ll send him to meet you.”

Nell wasn’t sure that was the best idea. But she was fairly certain that Trey would not be back for hours, so the chances were that if he came to meet them, they would be well on their way back by then. “Thank you, Nita—for everything.”

Along the way, Joshua kept up a constant stream of chatter about all the things he was planning to tell Ira and Spud about life on Trey’s ranch. He was fascinated by the cowboys and the way their work differed from that of the herders. Trey had given him a pinto pony of his own, and the hired hands had taken turns teaching Joshua how to handle it. At first, Nell had been afraid to allow the cowhands to have much interaction with her son. After all, how did she know one or more of these men weren’t responsible for the raids that had terrified them or the burning of their home? But so far, not one of them had given her cause to be concerned.

“Ma, is Ira going to jail again?”

Nell hesitated. “He has to stand before the judge first, and then the judge will decide his punishment.” A date for Ira’s trial had not been set—something about the circuit judge being too ill to travel. It had been months, and Trey saw that as a good sign.

“I been thinkin’,” Joshua said. “It seems to me like some of the ways the cowboys work might just work for herdin’ sheep. I mean to talk to Ira and Spud about that. If Ira has to go away for a while, Spud’s gonna have a lot to do all on his own. Maybe I could help.”

“You’ll want to temper any ideas like that with the understanding that you’ve seen those ways, Joshua. Your cousins have not, and for them, the way their father handled the flock is right. Go easy. Nobody likes to be told they’re doing something wrong.”

Joshua laughed. “I know that. The other day, I told Uncle Jess he ought to let Isaac help Rico over at the livery like he’s been wantin’ to. I said Isaac would make a fine blacksmith.”

“And what did your Uncle Jess say to that?”

“He got all red in the face the way he does sometimes when Aunt Addie fusses at him. ‘Boy, you need to mind your own business,’ he said in that way he talks when he’s being the marshal.”

“And what did you say to that?”

“I said ‘yessir’ just like you taught me.”

Nell smiled and hugged him to her. “Your pa would be so proud of you,” she said softly.

They were nearing the fork in the trail that would either take them on to Lottie’s or to their former home. “We’ve made good time,” Nell said. “How about we make a stop at our old place before going on to see Lottie and the boys?”

“Really?” His eyes told her he’d wanted to do just that but had been afraid to ask.

“Let’s go,” she said as she snapped the reins and took the trail to the right.

* * *

Trey had avoided calling on Pete Collins for as long as he could, hoping pressure from the other ranchers would bring him around. Earlier that spring, Colonel Ashwood had questioned Pete about the differences between his version of that day at Deadman’s Point and the testimony of the dead man’s son. Jess had told the family how Collins had hemmed and hawed about maybe being farther away than he’d first thought and how things could look different from a distance. In the end, he had retracted his accusations against Trey and apologized profusely to the colonel.

He had yet to apologize to Trey.

But Trey wasn’t after an apology. What he wanted was to assure himself that Pete intended to observe the uneasy peace. There had not been a single incident since the militia had stepped up patrols, and Trey wanted to keep things that way.

When he rode under the arches announcing the Collins spread, he saw the rancher talking to two of his hired hands. The three of them were so intent on their conversation, Trey was nearly upon them before they noticed. “Gentlemen,” he said, tipping his fingers to the brim of his hat before dismounting.

“Trey Porterfield, you’re a ways from home.” Pete stepped forward, his hand extended. The two cowboys nodded in Trey’s direction before returning to the bunkhouse.

Trey accepted the handshake. As he’d met with the other ranchers, he had become aware that the only rancher who had suffered loss of livestock or damage to property was Pete Collins. That seemed odd to Trey. “I was hoping we might talk, Pete.”

“Well, sure. I reckon that’s overdue, come to think of it. Guess we’ve both been busy. I mean, I’m hoping there’s no hard feelings between us, Trey. Your family and mine? Why, your brother and me were best friends once upon a time.”

His voice was too loud and his manner too overtly friendly. Trey decided to come to the point. “I’ve called on every cattle man in these parts, Pete, and most have come around to at least agreeing that we need to be of one mind in this business.”

Collins spit a stream of chewing tobacco on the ground and squinted at Trey. “I guess I don’t rightly catch your meaning.”

“Pete, we have got to find a compromise to living side by side with herders. They aren’t going away, and neither are we, so let’s work this out once and for all.”

Collins’s smile was at odds with the pure hatred Trey saw in the man’s eyes. “Look, everybody appreciates that you kind of inherited this job of managing the ranch once your sister and her husband took off for California. Truth is, our hearts went out to you. Like throwing you in the water and expecting you to swim.”

Trey returned the man’s tight smile. “Well now, I reckon I learned to swim almost before I could walk. That was something my pa made sure of. And if I understand what you’re trying to say under that pretty wrapping paper, most people around these parts are well aware that I’ve been herdin’ and roundin’ up cows since I was fourteen.”

“No doubt, my boy. But working a ranch and managing a business are different, and—”

Trey slapped Pete on the shoulder to take the edge off his reply. “Who you callin’ ‘boy’? You can’t be but maybe a year older than Jess, which makes neither one of you old enough to be my pa. Although I’ll grant you, Jess does try from time to time.”

All trace of a smile or hint of camaraderie vanished. Pete scowled at him. “What is it you want, Porterfield?”

“I already told you. I want you to sit down with me and the other ranchers and agree to get this thing worked out.”

“And what of the herders? What happens when they slaughter our cattle, cut our fences, poison our wells?”

“Then we deal with that—when it happens.”

“It already has. I lost half a dozen—”

“See now, Pete, that’s the thing. I was talking to the other ranchers, and they haven’t lost a single calf or steer. For that matter, neither have I. Only you. How come?”

“Ask your wife,” Pete said and sneered.

Every muscle in Trey’s body stiffened, and he clenched his fists so tight, they felt like rocks. “My wife is not part of this discussion, Collins,” he said quietly.

“The hell she isn’t. Don’t get me wrong. I get why you chased after her. She’s a real looker with a body that would give any man ideas. But if you’d used your noggin to do your thinkin’ instead of your—”

He didn’t finish his thought, because Trey smashed his fist into the man’s leering face. The two cowboys came running and grabbed Trey as he stood over Collins.

“Let him go, boys,” Pete said as he staggered to his feet and wiped the blood running from his nose with the back of one hand. He stepped forward so close that Trey could smell the onions he’d eaten earlier. “Now you listen to me, Porterfield. Your pa ran this territory like he owned it all, but that’s changed. I’m the one running things now, and I say the herders have to go. You got that?”

“Or what? You and your boys here will burn them out?”

“It’s worked before. Now git off my land.” He stepped back and accepted a bandana from one of his men, pressing it against his swollen nose. The man wasn’t even trying to deny his role in burning down Nell’s house.

Trey paused before climbing into the saddle. “You know, that house and land once belonged to a friend of yours.”

“Yeah, and George Johnson must be rollin’ over in his grave knowin’ his wife sold out to a bunch of herders. They was the ones defiled the place, not…whoever set it on fire.”

Trey started to ride away.

“Hey, Porterfield,” one of the hired hands shouted when he had almost reached the arched gate that marked Collins’s land. “Watch yourself out there. It’s comin’ on dark, and you never know about snipers and such.”

He heard the other hand howl with laughter as he rode on.

Pete and his men were so sure of themselves, they had just pretty much owned up to committing most of the damage done, up to and including taking shots at him and burning down Nell’s house. Trey was also more certain than ever that Pete had ordered some of his own stock slaughtered and fences cut to make it look like the work of sheep ranchers. This was no widespread range war. This was a war between Pete Collins and anyone who dared oppose his will.

* * *

Instead of pulling the buggy under the shade of a cluster of trees on the rise overlooking her property, Nell drove all the way down to where, if the house were there, guests would have stopped outside the fenced yard. The gate was half off its hinges and hung lopsided and open.

“Come on,” she said quietly as she climbed down and slowly walked up the path to the pile of rubble she and Joshua had once called home.

The fire had long ago gone out, but the stench of it clung to the charred furnishings. The fireplace and chimney stood exposed, their clay casings black with smoke. A layer of soot covered everything. Pieces of broken crockery that had fallen when the roof caved in crunched underfoot as Nell picked her way through the wreckage. She rescued a silver framed photo of Calvin and clutched it to her chest as she continued surveying her property. Her property, she thought. Hers to do with as she pleased. She had signed no papers before Henry’s untimely death, so this land belonged to her and to Joshua.

But if someone challenged her right to the property, she would have to prove it. Remembering an iron box Calvin always kept under their bed, she quickened her step. She should not have waited so long to return, but her focus had been on her new life—the one she was building with Trey.

“Stay there,” she instructed as Joshua started to follow her over fallen beams and past charred walls. She saw evidence others had been there ahead of her, scavenging for whatever they might salvage. She hoped they had not taken the small metal box. When she reached the bedroom, she saw the iron frame of the bed had partially melted in the heat of the fire and collapsed so that it rested on the floor.

Setting aside the photograph of Calvin, she tried pushing on the headboard. The bed moved an inch but no more. She put all her weight into pushing it again, and this time, she saw a corner of the box. It was still there. She stood back and assessed the situation. If she could pull the charred remainder of the mattress free, she could reach through the opening and retrieve the box.

“Ma? Somebody’s up there watching us.”

Joshua pointed to a mesa where she saw a man on horseback scanning the land through a spyglass—a spyglass that seemed to settle on Nell and Joshua. She recognized neither horse nor rider. “Joshua, go get in the buggy. I’ll be right there.”

She wrestled the mattress, the batting made heavier by being soaked in the rain. The box was stuck under the weight of the frame. She tugged and jimmied the box until finally it came free.

“Ma? He’s coming.”

The lock was broken, and her heart sank. But when she lifted the lid, she found what she was looking for—the deed to her property. It was charred at the edges, but it was there. She clutched the box to her chest, then picked up the silver frame and went to meet the man riding toward her son.

“Can I help you?” she called out as she worked her way over broken furniture and remnants of draperies.

“Ma’am.” The man tipped his fingers to his hat, and she saw that it was Pete Collins. “What are you doing here?”

“This is my property,” she replied, having reached the buggy. “I might ask you the same question, sir.”

“Just passing by, Miz Stokes. Being a good neighbor and keeping an eye on things.”

She noticed he had failed to introduce himself. “It’s Mrs. Porterfield now, and I appreciate your concern, Mr. Collins, but I’m sure my husband keeps a check on the place.”

“Still can’t be too careful in these times, a woman and boy out alone.” He was smiling, but his words signaled a threat.

“We’re on our way to see my Aunt Lottie,” Joshua announced.

“Is that right?” He kept his eyes on Nell. “Well, you give Miz Galway my deepest sympathies, won’t you? A real shame what happened.”

Nell got into the buggy and picked up the reins. “Yes, this whole business is a horror, one my husband is trying hard to remedy.”

Pete Collins chuckled. “Your husband is a bit of an optimist, ma’am. He has little idea of how things go in this business, and he’s playing with people’s livelihood.”

Nell handed Joshua the picture of his father. “Better than playing with people lives,” she muttered as she clicked her tongue and urged the horse forward. “Good day, Mr. Collins.”

To her relief, Collins made no attempt to follow them. After a few minutes, Joshua looked back and reported, “He’s leavin’. Is that man a friend of Trey’s?”

“He and Trey are both in the cattle business,” she replied carefully.

“I don’t care for him,” Joshua said after taking a moment to digest Nell’s explanation.

She laughed. “Neither do I.”

Lottie was sitting on the wide covered porch when Nell and Joshua rolled up to the hitching post.

“Aunt Lottie!” Joshua jumped down from the buggy almost before it came to a full stop and ran to the porch. “We brought a picnic. We stopped at our ranch just to look around, and we were gonna eat there, but this man showed up, so Mama said we should come on here, and maybe you’d like to eat with us.”

Lottie hugged Joshua while Nell tied up the horse and retrieved the picnic basket.

“Hello, Lottie. I hope it’s all right we stopped by,” Nell said, gauging her sister-in-law’s mood as she approached the porch.

Lottie kept her focus on Joshua. “A picnic, you say. Well now, that does sound fine. We can have it right here on the porch.” She led the way to a table and took the basket from Nell. “Let’s just see what we have here,” she said. She still had not once looked at Nell.

“There’s even a jug of lemonade,” Joshua announced as he and Lottie began removing things from the basket. “Nita thinks of everything.”

Nell saw Lottie stiffen at that, but then she looked sideways at Nell and asked, “How are Mr. and Mrs. Mendez doing?”

Given this opening, Nell joined her son and Lottie in setting up the picnic. “They’re grieving, like you,” she said softly.

“It don’t get any easier,” Lottie replied. “That business about time healing all wounds? It’s a lie, at least for me and my boys.” After a moment, she added, “I expect it’s no different for the Mendez family. The days and weeks and months come and go, but…” Her eyes welled with tears, and she wiped them away and cleared her throat. “You seem to be doing all right.”

The way her sister-in-law looked at her, Nell knew the underlying message was that while Lottie was still mourning Henry, Nell seemed to have totally recovered from Calvin’s death. “Cal’s been gone for nearly a year. The wounds do heal, Lottie. The scars never will.”

The two women ate in silence, occasionally acknowledging Joshua’s monologue with a nod or smile. When he saw his cousins coming in from tending the sheep, he hurried off to meet them. Nell watched, mostly to make sure her son was warmly received by Ira and Spud in spite of their feelings for her. She was not disappointed. Ira wrapped his arm around Joshua’s shoulders and led him off to a pen where several lambs were being held. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to Lottie. She cast about for a safe topic of conversation.

“I see Ernest separated those lambs from their mothers. I wonder—”

“They have no mothers,” Lottie interrupted, bitterness dripping from each word. “Their mothers were slaughtered, as were any number of yours. If you cared. But then, why should you? You’ve set yourself and Joshua up with that rancher. What’s it to you if everything Calvin ever did for you gets destroyed?”

“That’s unfair, Lottie. Trey is trying to—”

“Trey this and Trey that.” Lottie spat the words. “If I never hear that man’s name again, I just might be able to mourn in peace.”

Nell was at a loss. Anything she might say, it seemed, would be met with the venom of Lottie’s anger. She understood some of what Lottie must be feeling. After all, the woman refused to believe Trey hadn’t caused Henry’s death. For several long uncomfortable minutes, they sat side by side looking out over the land, watching their boys play marbles in a circle they’d scraped out in the dirt. When Lottie stood and began gathering the remains of their picnic, Nell started to help.

“Leave it,” Lottie snarled.

Nell sat down again. She shifted her gaze to the buggy where she’d left the precious documents that were her security—with or without Trey.

“Lottie? Earlier when Joshua and I stopped by the old house, I was able to retrieve the deed and other important papers. I should have done that months ago, but I didn’t think of it. It would have been the first thing Henry would have thought to do.” She paused and saw that Lottie was listening. “Do you have papers to show ownership of this property?”

Her sister-in-law looked up from clearing the picnic, her eyes wide with panic. “Papers? I don’t know. I mean Henry handled all of that and—” She glanced toward the windows that led to the front parlor. “I never thought to have to prove anything. This is our place. We own it. Well, us and the bank, I guess.”

“And have you thought about how you might keep going? I mean, the boys are a big help, I’m sure, but maybe Ernest will want to return to Nebraska. After all, he stayed to watch over me and Joshua. He’s Calvin’s kin, not mine and Henry’s.”

She was surprised to see Lottie blush scarlet.

“Well now, Nell, the thing is, Ernest has been… Ernest has offered…” Lottie bit her lower lip. “Ernest is pressing me about getting married. It’s like Henry tried to tell you—a woman out here alone, even without all the trouble the cattle ranchers are causing… Well, it’s the best idea, don’t you think?”

Nell chose her words with care. “What do you think, Lottie? Keeping this place going carries a lot of responsibility, that’s true. But if you married Ernest, then—”

“Oh, I see where you’re headed with this. Well, be sure this ranch belongs to those boys and nobody else.”

“And do you have papers to that effect?”

“I know what Henry would want.”

“Still, maybe you and I should both see a lawyer just to make sure everything is in order.”

Lottie laughed. “Look at you. Madam High and Mighty married to a Porterfield can afford a lawyer. Some of us aren’t married to money, Nell. Some of us decided to stay true to our own kind rather than cross over—for any reason.”

Nell was so tired of being accused of marrying Trey for security. “Maybe that was a piece of it—at first. But I love him, Lottie. Love him so much that he could be penniless for all I care, and I believe he loves me in return. I know he cares deeply for me—and for Joshua.”

Lottie stared at her for a long moment, tears welling in her eyes. “Do you know how blessed you are, Nell? To have not one but two men care for you so much in a single lifetime? I only had Henry, and I’ll never have that again.”

“You can’t know that, Lottie. Don’t settle just because you’re frightened. I’m here, and so is Trey—if you’ll let him. He’s been calling on all the cattle ranchers and tells me at least some of them are starting coming around to accepting that we have to learn to live together and—”

“What about that Collins fella? I seen him in town a few days ago, strutting around like he owned everything and everybody.”

“He recanted his accusations against Trey, and they didn’t have the evidence they needed to hold him for other things,” Nell admitted, “but—”

“But nothing. They can find the evidence they need to accuse my boy of cold-blooded murder for accidentally stabbing that Mexican boy, but they can’t seem to find anything allowing them to lock up a rich white cattleman.”

Nell was not going to debate Ira’s crime with her sister-in-law. “Come inside, Lottie, and let’s look for your deed and any other documents you may want to put in a safe place. Hopefully Henry left a will?”

With obvious reluctance, Lottie led the way inside where she sat down at her late husband’s desk and began opening drawers. “I don’t know what it is I’m looking for,” she grumbled, pulling out scraps of paper, a ledger, and finally an iron box not unlike the one Calvin had used to store important papers.

“That might be it.”

Lottie set the box on top of the desk and sat back. “You open it,” she said softly.

When they couldn’t find a key, with Lottie’s permission, Nell used a letter opener to pry the lid open. Inside were several legal-looking papers. “This is the deed,” she said, handing that to Lottie. “And this looks like a will.”

“Read it,” Lottie whispered.

“It’s a lot of legal talk,” Nell replied as she quickly scanned the document, seeking the information she hoped was there. “Here,” she said, pointing excitedly to a section where Lottie’s name and those of her two sons were listed.

Lottie’s lips moved as she read the section. “What does it mean?”

“It means the same as what Calvin wrote in his will—the land and livestock are left to your boys, but until they are of age, you, as their guardian and surviving parent, are in control. And whatever the boys decide once they are of age, you are always to be provided with a home—this house or some other bought for you if they sell the land. It’s almost identical to what was in Calvin’s will, Lottie. My guess is Henry and Calvin had these drawn up at the same time by the same lawyer.” She turned back to the document’s cover and found the name of the attorney. “See? It’s the same man as on Cal’s will.”

Lottie ran her fingers over the paper as if it were a fine piece of fabric, precious and cherished. “Henry was always thinking of me and the boys,” she said softly. “We used to argue about it, the way he was always so serious about putting things in order just in case. I used to tell him he was the only man I’d ever met who was always thinking about dying.”

“He was just making sure you and the boys would be provided for, Lottie. He loved you so much.”

Lottie refolded the will and placed it with the deed back inside the metal box. After closing the lid, she laid her hand on the box and stared out the window.

Nell heard the boys playing in the yard and the clock on the mantel ticking off the seconds. “Lottie, can we not join forces and work together to secure a future for our sons?”

After what seemed like a very long time, Lottie handed the box to Nell. “You keep this for me, Nell. Just in case.” Her lower lip quivered as she pressed the box into Nell’s hands.

“Oh, Lottie, if that means you trust me to do what’s right for you and the boys, I’d be honored.”

Swiping at tears, Lottie stood and cleared her throat. “Well, the way I see it, you and me are now in charge of the two biggest sheep farms in the territory, at least when it comes to how much land we own.”

“We can rebuild the flock, Lottie. It will take time, but—”

“Perhaps.”

“And we can talk to the others—our neighbors and fellow herders. We can work together.”

“Oh sure. We should be right up there in front at the next herders’ cooperative meeting. I expect that would set them back on their heels a bit.”

And for the first time since Henry’s death, Nell saw her sister-in-law smile.

Nell covered a smile of her own as she imagined Lottie standing her ground with a bunch of male herders. Her sister-in-law was a little like Juanita in the way she could make others see things her way—if she felt comfortable speaking out. Of course, when Lottie felt threatened, she withdrew, became fearful and wary, and kept her thoughts to herself, looking to others to take charge. Finding the papers had given her a new sense of confidence.

The boys had finished their game and were climbing the front porch steps, helping themselves to lemonade. Through the open window, Nell heard Joshua telling his cousins about how Trey had promised to teach him how to pitch and hit better when it came to baseball.

“Is he any good?” Spud asked at the same time as Ira said, “Maybe he would let us play.”

“Sure. Trey likes everybody, and he’s really good—hits the ball a mile most every time. Rico says he’s a lot better than his brother, even if Jess is the marshal.”

Nell realized Lottie was hearing this same conversation. Did she dare suggest perhaps Trey could stop by to work with the boys? “Maybe next time we come for a visit, Trey could—” she began, but Lottie cut her off.

“Probably better if the boys come to you. Not sure how Ernest would take it if—”

“Lottie, about Ernest.”

“I expect Ernest will be heading back home after all once I tell him about the papers I gave you for safekeeping. No reason for him to marry me when there’s nothing to be gained now, is there?”

“And you?”

“We’ll see what happens with Ira, but Nell, with the greater part of both our flocks slaughtered, I’d have to rebuild. Not sure I’m up to that.”

“You wouldn’t have to do it alone, Lottie. I may have married a cattleman, but I was raised by herders, and that’s part of who I am—and it’s what I want for Joshua.”

The two women walked out to the porch. Nell held the metal box, so Lottie picked up the picnic basket and carried it to the buggy. Joshua continued chattering away to his cousins as he climbed onto the seat. Nell hugged Lottie, a hug her sister-in-law returned with the whispered words, “Thanks for coming, Nell. I’ve missed you.”

“You bring the boys and come visit any time,” Nell replied. “Trey is a good businessman, and he can advise you on how best to rebuild—if that’s what you decide.”

As she drove away, Nell saw Ernest standing in the shadow of the barn, watching her go.