Page 59 of Mail-Order Brides Wishes
He guided the horse between boulders and over rocky ground. Came to a rock wall and had to turn aside and head down. The view opened up. Below him was a green valley with at least a dozen cows grazing. These were his cows. He recognized the one with the black circle on her back. If’n he had to guess, he’d say those rustlers were back. The tingling in his neck gave way to tightness.
He scanned the area carefully. Didn’t see anyone watching the animals. Didn’t mean there wasn’t a guard. Or maybe they were watching his herd waiting for a cow to wander away on her own so they could bring it here without anyone seeing them.
Flint remained motionless, watching and thinking. One thing he didn’t have to think about: these men weren’t getting away with this. After a bit, he made his way down the hill, carefully and as quietly as possible.
A rock rolled away from his horse’s hooves, thundering down the hillside.
His hand on the rifle, ready to use it, Flint stopped and waited to see if the noise alerted anyone. Several seconds passedbefore he resumed the descent. Before him lay a wide swath of pastureland. He clung to the shadows watching.
Again, his horse pricked up his ears. And then two riders herded in three cows.
Flint breathed out a silent snort. One at a time wasn’t good ‘nough for em. Letting the sound of moving cows cover his movements, Flint rode closer. He lifted his rifle and waited for the cows to trot through the narrow opening. Then the click of him cocking the gun reached one of the men.
“Didcha hear that?” The fella shifted about in his saddle looking from side to side.
“Let me see yer hands.” Flint barked out the words.
The nearest one lifted his hands in front of him. The other reached for a pistol. Flint squeezed the trigger but not in time to stop the scoundrel from getting off a shot.
Chapter Fifteen
Determined to tell Flint the truth soon, Bryn had gone over one scenario after another as to how she would do it. When would be the best time? Perhaps as they lay side by side under the covers in the cloak of night. Or perhaps she should prepare a picnic and suggest they spend time away from the ranch. Maybe it would be best to do it without Susie being nearby. Bryn could ask Addie to entertain the child for a few hours.
But nothing she considered gave her the courage to say the words.
Flint was gone for the day again giving her a few more hours to find a plan she was comfortable with. Bryn went to the garden with her hoe and gloves, Susie and Kitty accompanying her. The rain had come. Plants poked through the ground and Addie had shown Bryn how to distinguish weeds from plants. Addie’s garden was much farther along but Addie assured Bryn that given enough water, Bryn’s garden would still produce food for the summer and enough to store or preserve for the winter.
Tender leaves of dark green chard promised fresh greens in another day or two. Bryn pulled out weeds between the chard plants. She hoed out tiny unwelcome plants growing in thepathways. Every day she carried her wash water to the garden and stood back, empty basin in her hand to mentally measure how much bigger the plants were than they had been the day before.
Chop, chop with her hoe. Bend and pluck out weeds. Straighten to check on Susie and to run her gaze over the green, tidy rows of plants. Peace filled her. This was the life she’d longed for since she could remember. A place where she was valued for herself. Where she had a purpose. Where she was welcome.
She saw no point in ruining what she’d found, and she gladly returned to her task.
The sun grew warm as it reached its zenith. Time to stop for lunch for herself and Susie. The task lacked the eagerness she felt when she prepared food for Flint.
After she and Susie had eaten, Bryn sat in the shade on a chair she’d moved to the side of the house. Susie and Kitty played in the cool shadow of the house as Bryn mended a tear in one of Flint’s shirts. He’d said he’d caught it on a nail. With a smile on her lips, she ran her fingers over the brown fabric, soft from many washings. She pressed the shirt to her face and inhaled Flint’s scent that mingled with the smell of soap. Mending took up most of the afternoon. She glanced at the position of the sun often, but it seemed to have stopped moving. Finally, she decided it was low enough that she could start supper. The stove would heat up the house, but she wanted to bake a pie from the stalks of rhubarb Addie had brought from her garden. There were two loaves of bread left from her last baking, but she’d learned that Flint liked fresh biscuits, so she planned to make that as well. Seeing as the stove was hot anyway, she might as well take advantage of it, and she made a pot of stew.
Two hours later, the food was cooked, and the stew simmered. She’d let the fire in the stove die down, hoping the breeze coming through the open door and windows would cool the house before bedtime.
White plates gleamed on the table. Knives and forks rested beside the plates. Everything was ready, but Flint hadn’t ridden into the yard yet.
“I’s hungry.”
Bryn stood in the open doorway watching the trail that would bring Flint back home. She turned to Susie. “Don’t you want to wait for Uncle Flint?”
“When he coming?” The way Susie rubbed her eyes, and the whiny tone of her voice were answer enough for Bryn.
“You can eat now and then get ready for bed.” She served food for the little one and took a position at the table that allowed her to see the trail and the barn.
Susie’s head drooped before she finished.
Bryn lifted her little niece, carried her to her room, and prepared her for bed. She tucked her in under the covers. Kitty curled up beside Susie. Both were asleep when Bryn tiptoed from the room.
She wrapped her arms around her middle as if she could still the anxious waiting and stared out into the darkening landscape. Flint had gone out to check on the herd several times before but had always returned before supper.
The last bit of light faded from the sky. Why was he so late? What if he was hurt? She rubbed her hand along her upper arms, surprised at how cool her skin felt. Her legs feeling like they belonged to a stranger, she left the house, moved away a few steps, and stood still, straining to catch any sound. One of the horses near the barn snuffled. A bird called his last note of the night. The breeze sighed around the corner of the house.
She stepped forward once more and then again.
