The Cowboy Comes Home

Linc held out his arm. “Feel.”

Robbie pressed his hand to Linc’s forearm.

“I feel real to you?”

Robbie giggled.

Carol watched the pair. “He didn’t mean real in that way. He meant do you live out on the hills, camping with cows and herding them?”

Sally almost dropped her cookie. It was the most she’d heard Carol speak at one time since she’d started caring for them a month ago. She tore her attention from Carol back to Linc, as curious over his answer as either of the children.

Linc leaned back, a faraway look in his eyes. “I spent many nights sleeping on the ground with a herd of cows bawling in my ear. Lots of fun but hard work, too. And like I said, often the food wasn’t that great.”

He might not appreciate the food, but there was no mistaking how much he liked his sort of life. A shudder crossed Sally’s shoulders. She could imagine nothing appealing about such an unsettled existence.

“You cook your own food?” Robbie asked, his eyes and mouth as round as the top of his glass.

“Depends on whether I was alone or with a crew. If I was alone, I didn’t have much choice. Either cook or starve to death. But when we had a roundup the ranch provided a cook wagon. That was great.” He sighed and patted his stomach. “Some of those old cooks worked magic with flour and water and fresh beef.”

Carol had slid forward on her chair, mesmerized by the way Linc talked. “Did you sing to the cows?” She lowered her gaze a brief moment. “I heard that cowboys sing to calm them. Our teacher taught us ‘The Old Chisholm Trail.’ She said the cowboys like to sing that song.”

“Come a ti-yi-yi-yippy-yippy-ah.” Linc half sang, half spoke the words.

Carol’s eyes glistened. “That’s it.”

Linc chuckled. “We had one old cowboy by the name of Skinner. He always brought along his fiddle and played it after supper, just as the moon cast a glow on the trees, making them look like pale white soldiers. I tell you, there’s nothing more mournful than a fiddle playing “Oh Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie.” He shivered but his face belied his words. He looked as if it was the best part of life.

Sally didn’t take her eyes off his glowing face. Without looking, she knew both children were equally as mesmerized. She blinked and forced her attention to other things. Her responsibilities. “Children, finish up. Do your chores and then you can play until suppertime.”

They downed their cookies and milk and raced away—Robbie to take away the pail of coal ashes Sally had scraped out of the stove earlier in the day. He often made a big deal of the chore, when all he had to do was carry the pail to the ash heap at the far corner of the yard and bring the empty pail back. This time he didn’t utter one word of complaint. Carol’s chore was to sweep the front step and sidewalk. She grabbed the broom and hurried outside.

Linc drained his coffee and pushed back from the table. “I thank you.” He grabbed his hat off the back of the chair and headed for the door where he paused. “You coming out again?”

Why did her heart pick up pace at his innocent question? She half convinced herself he spoke out of politeness, not out of any real desire for her to join him. With the portion of her brain that remained sensible, she brought out the right words. “I can’t. I have to make supper and …” At a loss to think what else she needed to do, she let her words trail off.

“Of course.” He pushed his hat to his head and stepped outside. “Thanks again.” He strode away, his long legs quickly creating distance.

She stared after him as he returned to the crab apple trees and gathered the branches he’d removed. His arms full, he headed for the garbage barrel by the ash pile and broke the branches to stuff them into the barrel. What did she hear? She lifted the window sash and listened.

“Oh, do you remember sweet Betsy from Pike?”

He was singing.

She listened in fascination. He didn’t have a particularly fine singing voice. In fact, it was gravelly, as if he sang past a mouthful of marbles, and he missed a few of the notes. But what he lacked in talent, he more than made up for in enjoyment. The notes fairly danced through the air and frolicked into her heart, where they skipped and whirled until they were well embedded.

The front door slammed. Carol skidded into the kitchen and stored the broom. She headed for the back door. “He’s singing.” She left again so fast, Sally didn’t even have time to close the window and pretend she hadn’t been listening as eagerly as young Carol.

Carol trotted to the garden to stand by Robbie. Shoulder to shoulder they watched and listened to Linc, who continued to break branches, oblivious to his adoring audience.

Sally studied the two children. Both were under his spell. She slammed the window shut. They were children, prone to hero worship. She, on the other hand, was a grown woman who knew better than to chase after … after what? She didn’t even know what she thought she’d been chasing. Certainly not stability or sensibility. She turned and studied the kitchen. Very modern, with an electric refrigerator Abe had shipped all the way from Toronto. A gas range stood in the corner to be used in hot weather. He’d shown her how to light the pilot and how to set the controls on the oven, but Sally had never used a gas stove and wondered if she would ever be comfortable doing so. She preferred to use the coal cookstove.

Abe was very proud of the modern fixtures, especially the stove. “It’s a Canadian invention,” he said with enough pride that Sally thought he would like to take credit for the innovation.

She shifted her gaze, itemizing the benefits of the house. Two stories. Four bedrooms and an indoor bathroom upstairs. All the bedrooms had generous closets.

Downstairs, besides the kitchen and back room, there was a formal dining room, complete with a china cabinet holding a fancy twelve-place dishware collection. Sally thought the plain white dishes with gold trim rather unnoteworthy. Her choice of pattern would have been something with a little color in the form of a flower. There were so many lovely rose patterns.

“I like to entertain here,” Abe had said, indicating the formal dining room and the array of dishes. “Dinner parties for my business associates.” He eyed the dark wood paneled room with windows covered by heavy forest-green drapes shutting out most of the light. Obviously it was his favorite room in the house.

Sally had nodded, her smile wooden. She could cook a meal for twelve with no problem. But a dinner party? Business associates? It sounded stiff and dull.

She gave herself a little shake. Of course she could do a dinner party. No need to be nervous because she didn’t know Abe’s business associates and had never given a formal dinner. How hard could it be? Cooking was cooking.

And if she didn’t get to her meal preparations this minute, she would be hard-pressed to have supper ready when Abe came through the door.

She hurried to the back room and found potatoes. As she peeled them, she enjoyed a view of the backyard. Robbie played in his fort. Carol sat cross-legged nearby, scratching in the dirt. She paused often to glance up, a dreamy look on her face. Sally didn’t need to follow the direction of her gaze to know the reason. Linc had returned to pruning the crab apple trees. From what she could see, he removed a great number of branches. The trees looked downright sparse. I hope he knows what he’s doing. Abe would be very upset if Linc killed the trees.

Linc stepped back and surveyed the damage, then hoisted the ladder to his shoulder and went to the little shed. After stowing the ladder, he headed for the house. His gaze flicked to the window and he smiled.

Sally developed a sudden interest in the task of peeling potatoes and hoped he didn’t think she’d been staring.

He knocked.

She dried her hands on a towel, smoothed her apron and walked slowly to the door just to prove she had other things holding her attention. “Yes?”

“I’m headed home to check on my pa. Tell Abe I’m done with the trees and will start working on the barn tomorrow, unless he prefers I do something else.”

“I’ll let him know.” Abe no doubt would have specific ideas of what he wanted done and in what order.

“I’m off then.” He took a step toward the back gate.

“I hope your pa is okay. Say hello to your grandmother for me.”

He touched the brim of his hat. “I’ll do that.” His mouth pulled to one side. He seemed to consider saying something more, then nodded without voicing his thought. “See you tomorrow.” And he swung away, passing the garden. He echoed a goodbye to the children before he vaulted over the fence, not bothering with the gate.

Sally stared after him until he disappeared from view behind the board fence. Even then she continued to stare. What was it about this man that pulled at her so hard? Like a promise. Of what? The man was a cowboy. By his own confession, he slept on the cold, hard ground, often with nothing but cows for company. It should have turned him into a recluse or at least a man with poor social skills. Linc might not fit into everyone’s idea of a refined gentleman, yet there was something about him. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, but she also couldn’t deny its existence, even though she wanted to.

“Is he coming back tomorrow?”

Sally’s gaze lingered one more heartbeat, her mind indulged in one more puzzled thought, then she turned to Carol who stood before her, her face a mixture of hope and fear. “Your father has hired him to do yard work. I should think he’ll have enough to keep him busy for a week or two. Perhaps even a month.” She utterly failed to keep a note of joy out of her words.

“Good.” Carol marched past her, into the house and up the stairs. The words of a song trailed after her. “Oh, do you remember sweet Betsy from Pike?”

An echo sounded from the garden in a low, monotone singsongy voice.

Sally stared. Robbie was singing? Come to think of it, he’d been pleasantly occupied all day building his fort. She watched, her eyes narrowed in concentration. In her experience, Robbie being content was foreign. The few times it happened had led to a major explosion. Maybe he’d wait until she left to shift into defiance. Except … how would Abe deal with it? He had little patience with Robbie acting out. “Losing his mother will not be tolerated as an excuse,” Abe insisted. Yes, she understood Robbie must find a better way to express his displeasure but—

Lord, these children are hurt and frightened by their loss. Help me help them. Help them find joy in life and be able to believe they can again be safe.