The Rancher's Wife

By the time she rode into the yard, two barking dogs came to meet her, their tails wagging. Not far behind them was a tall man with broad shoulders and chestnut-brown hair. He smiled at her. “Afternoon, ma’am. We don’t get many visitors out here.”

Elizabeth found it difficult to speak. His eyes were a warm brown and his skin tanned by the sun. Despite his size, his voice was gentle and held a hint of what she thought might be a Texas drawl. When she realized she was staring at him and hadn’t spoken, a blush rose in her cheeks. Quickly, she looked away for a moment, then said, “Hello. My name is Elizabeth Parkins. We’re neighbors.”

“We are?” He looked puzzled. “I didn’t know anyone had settled around here.”

“We live up the hills from here. On the place that used to belong to Mr. Snodgrass.”

“Snodgrass?” Understanding lit his face. “Do you mean Old Zeb’s gold mine?”

“That’s the place,” she said with a sigh.

“Come in and warm up. My wife will be pleased to meet you.” He grinned up at her. “My name, by the way, is Brice Graham.” He held the mule so she could dismount.

She couldn’t help but notice that his dark eyes were on her, not staring, not leering, but nevertheless not straying either. Breaking eye contact, she shifted the rifle from one hand to the other, not sure how she was going to gracefully get off the mule without dropping the gun. Unexpectedly, she found herself wondering why a graceful dismount was suddenly so important. The sound of her neighbor clearing his throat drew her attention, and when she looked back at him, he had extended a hand as if he might be intending to hold her at the waist to help her down. Before she allowed herself another thought, she thrust the rifle into his hand and hurried herself to the ground, almost losing her balance in the process. Feeling a bit awkward and unsettled at the direction her thoughts had been heading, she cast him a quick smile, then busied herself straightening her clothing again.

“Are you alone?”

She looked back at him and this time found his rather intent gaze unsettling in a way she didn’t dare examine. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she answered, “Yes. I was trying to shoot some game.”

“I see.” He tied the mule to the porch rail and motioned for Elizabeth to precede him up the broad front porch steps. “I believe you said ‘we’ live in Old Zeb’s place?”

“I’m married.” She almost winced at the admission. “My husband—his name is Robert Parkins—has gone to town for supplies. I’m alone at the present.” She hoped she didn’t sound too stilted. Robert was forever telling her she tried to put on airs. For some reason it was important that this man know she was married and not available. Or maybe all those thoughts were on her side alone.

As he opened the door for her, he said, “Forgive me for asking, but if your husband has gone to town, why are you having to hunt for food?”

Elizabeth stepped into the wide entrance hall and sighed with pleasure, distracted by the beauty of her neighbor’s home. Ahead of her a massive staircase curved gracefully up from the polished oak flooring of the foyer to the second floor and was flanked by wallpaper in a lovely floral design. To her right was a tastefully decorated parlor with garnet-colored upholstered furniture and small marble-topped tables. To her left was a library. A real one, like the ones in Hannibal. She automatically took a step toward it before she remembered herself.

“Ma’am?”

He had asked her a question. Elizabeth drew her dignity about her again. “Robert has been gone for weeks.”

“Glory is only a day’s ride from here.”

“I know. I’m not sure of the exact day he left. We have no calendar.” She had been recording the passage of time by making notches in a stick. Robert thought that was foolish, but she had been determined to hold on to whatever civilization she could.

Brice’s brow furrowed in concern. “Perhaps something happened to him. I’d be glad to send one of my men to look for him.”

“No, no. That won’t be necessary.” As much as Elizabeth hated being alone, she didn’t want anyone to go in search of Robert. Her husband’s temper wasn’t that even these days and he would resent her fetching him home like an errant child. Just the thought of him left her cold inside. “I imagine he’s doing business of some sort.” She supposed it could be loosely termed that if Robert was gambling. At least it was business for the saloon.

“Let me send some supplies home with you. That’s the least I can do.”

“I hate to oblige you.” It was true. Having to ask strangers for food and lamp oil was galling to her pride.

“I insist.” He smiled down at her and she felt the ice around her heart melt. “Come into the parlor and rest a bit. You must be tired. This gun isn’t light.” He stood the rifle in a corner of the foyer and showed her into the parlor.

The house had been decorated in a way Elizabeth thought would please any woman. The soft upholstery’s color was echoed in the rich draperies flanking the windows. White lace covered the glass panes, yet let sunlight stream through. The walls were light in color for a parlor but Elizabeth liked the idea of sitting among pink roses and twining vines. The parlor was separated from the dining room by portieres of gold damask with a deep fringe. “Your home is beautiful! Your wife has excellent taste. Have you been here long?”

“I was the first settler in these parts. Once I had the ranch established, I brought Celia here as my bride.” He saw a woman enter the far end of the hall. “Consuela, will you tell Celia we have company?”

The woman stared curiously at Elizabeth before hurrying away.

Elizabeth moved about the pador, trying not to behave as if she had never seen luxury before, but letting her senses drink in the rich fabrics, snowy laces and tatting, the clean smell of a room with a real floor.

She heard footsteps approaching the room and turned to smile at the woman who was entering the parlor. As Brice made the introductions, Celia’s gaze traveled over Elizabeth as if she wasn’t sure she wanted her in the best parlor. If Celia was glad to see a neighbor woman, she showed little sign of it. Elizabeth self-consciously touched her faded gingham dress.

“Do be seated,” Celia said coolly. “You’ll have to forgive my appearance. I didn’t expect company.”

“I didn’t intend to come calling,” Elizabeth said awkwardly. “I was hunting game and found your ranch by accident.”

Celia wrinkled her nose. “You hunt?”

Brice said firmly, “I knew you would be glad to meet our neighbors. You see? We aren’t as isolated as you would think.”

His wife gave him a dismissing glance. “I apologize for the state of my house. Brice had it furnished before I ever laid eyes on it, and you know what peculiar tastes men have.”

Elizabeth watched the exchange of veiled animosity and wasn’t sure how to reply. She settled for a silent smile. Eager to find a neutral subject, she said, “I see you’re expecting a child. Is this your first?”

Celia nodded vehemently. “It’s my only one. Do you have children?”

“No. We have no children.” She still felt guilty for not having borne a child after seven years of marriage. The years ahead would be so lonely without children in them.

“I’ll have Consuela gather some provisions for you,” Brice said. “You’re welcome to stay and visit for as long and as often as you like, Mrs. Parkins.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied.

When he was gone, Celia leaned forward to say, “It’s so nice to have a woman to talk with. I detest this place. It’s so lonely!”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, it is. This is nothing like I expected.”

“Nor I!” Celia looked gratified to hear someone agree with her. “Brice thinks it’s wonderful here but I would rather move back home. Wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t have much to go home to. There’s only my father, and he wouldn’t welcome me. You see, Robert and I eloped and he never forgave me.”

“He may have changed his mind and be unable to let you know. We get almost no mail in this awful place. Once this baby is delivered and I can travel again, I’ll go back home. Brice can follow or not, as he wishes.”

“I’ve often wanted to do just that! It’s amazing how alike we are.”

“I would say we have little in common. Brice thinks I’m terrible for wanting to leave. He’s keeping me here entirely against my wishes.” She glanced toward the door.

“Is he cruel to you?” Elizabeth whispered.

Celia rolled her expressive blue eyes. “I couldn’t begin to say what my life is like. I never knew a man could be so cruel. Mother was right when she warned me against him.” She sighed with dramatic misery. “How I’ve wished I could change the past and be a carefree girl again.”

“It’s as bad as that?” Elizabeth was too familiar with Robert’s rages and abuse to take such a statement lightly. “Would your father not come after you if he knew you were so unhappy?”

“Of course he would. Father is the dearest of men. But I can’t travel like this.” She opened her shawl slightly to indicate her pregnancy. “No, I can’t escape until the baby is born and I regain my strength.” She shuddered. “I tremble to think what Brice will say or do when he knows I’m leaving.” She paused dramatically.

“How terrible! To look at him, you’d never guess he’s mean tempered.”

“I know. That’s how he duped me into marrying him. I’m sadder but wiser now.”

“When will the baby arrive?”

“Soon, I hope.”

“Please send for me when it’s time. I live in Mr. Snodgrass’s hut.” Elizabeth hesitated at the look Celia gave her. She no longer appeared quite as friendly. “But I don’t know anything about birthings.”

“Consuela will do all that. I suppose I should have someone else with me when the time comes.”

“Of course. I’ll come as soon as I hear from you.” Elizabeth was determined to befriend this woman. She looked at the mantel clock. “I have to be going now. It’s later than I thought.”

“Must you?” Celia asked petulantly. “We’ve only begun to talk and I’m so lonely here.”

“I might lose my way if I wait until nightfall. I’m not too familiar with the Territory.”

“Very well. It wouldn’t do for you to lose your way.”

They stood and Elizabeth pressed Celia’s hand in friendship. She smelled of talcum and rose water. Elizabeth was again aware of her faded and patched dress. It had been so long since she had been able to dress like a lady and indulge in handwork that was pretty rather than utilitarian. It was a shame such a fine lady was trapped in an abusive marriage. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.” She left Celia behind in the parlor. It was obvious that walking or even standing was uncomfortable for her.

Brice heard Elizabeth in the hall and came to her. He held two gunnysacks tied together. “You have enough supplies here to last several days. I put in some lamp oil as well.”

“Thank you.” Elizabeth felt awkward around him now that she knew he was cruel to his wife.

“Is something wrong? Did Celia say something to upset you?”

“No, no! I mean, nothing is wrong.” He was so handsome, she thought, and his dark eyes looked so kind. One could never tell by looking that he was so terrible.

“It’s nice to know the nearest neighbor is less than an hour away,” he was saying as he walked her out the door.

“I’m that close? I mean, I’ve ridden for hours.”

“The quickest way home is to head for the rocks shaped like sheep, then turn past them and go toward the mountain with the gap in it. I only saw Old Zeb a few times, but I know the way to his hut.” He gazed thoughtfully at her. “I had no idea someone was living there now.”

“Robert won the place in a poker game. We’ve been there several months.”

“You’ve had time to improve it, then.” He laughed. “Old Zeb was content if he had rocks to scratch in for gold and a shed over his head. He was always convinced there was gold in that hill somewhere. It didn’t matter to him that no one has ever found any around here.”

He seemed so friendly, so pleasant. It would be easy for a girl such as Celia to be swept away by him. “The place was a letdown, I’ll admit. Robert believed he had found a bird’s nest on the ground.” She heard the exasperation in her voice and blushed. A wife wasn’t supposed to speak ill of her husband, certainly not to a man she had met less than an hour before. “The mine will make a good root cellar,” she added brightly. She neglected telling him that she had been unable to get even potatoes to grow in the poor, rocky soil.

“Are you certain that you don’t want me to send a man to look for your husband?”

“No, that’s not necessary. Robert is the sort to stay gone for as long as it pleases him. Not that I fault him for that,” she added quickly. “He will come back any day now. He may even be there now for all I know. I’ll pay back the provisions when he arrive.”

“No. Please. We grow most of the food ourselves and lamp oil is cheap. I want you to accept these things as a welcoming gift. I’m only sorry it’s been delayed”

Elizabeth tried not to show the reluctance she was feeling at having to leave. At least she knew now how to find Celia and the ranch. But how could she visit? Robert wouldn’t want her away from home for hours. There was always so much work to do there.

Brice put the bags over the mule’s back and balanced them so they would ride well. “You ride bareback,” he commented.

“We only have one saddle. I don’t mind, except it’s difficult to mount.” She started to lead the mule to the steps so she could get on him.

Before she knew what he was about to do, she felt Brice’s hands on her waist The next minute she was in the air and sitting astride the mule. He handed her the rifle and stepped away. There was an expression in his eyes that she didn’t fully understand. The feeling of his strong hands on her waist, even for so short a time, was indelibly impressed on her memory, and her blood raced faster because of it. No, it wouldn’t do for her to come for a visit. “Thank you,” she said, noticing her voice sounded breathless, In a steadier voice she added, “You’ve been more than generous.”

“Think nothing of it, ma’am. On the frontier we look after one another.”

She told herself she was being foolish. He was only being friendly. How could he be as bad a person as Celia had said and have such a warm smile? She gave him a shaky smile and kicked the mule into motion. She could feel his eyes on her as she rode away and her body responded in a way she couldn’t explain, given all she knew about him and the fact that she was a married woman. It took an effort not to look back.

When she reached the hut she lugged the bags off the mule’s back, surprised that they were so heavy. Brice had lifted them so easily she had thought they weighed much less. She took the mule to the pen beside the barn and turned him loose. As she went back to the hut, she dusted mule hair from her skirt. What an impression she must have made in that immaculate parlor. She only hoped she hadn’t left mule hair on the garnet cushion of Celia’s chair.

Elizabeth took the bags into the hut and put them on the table. Opening them was almost as exciting as opening gifts on Christmas morning. Brice hadn’t been stingy. There was a good-sized bag of flour and another of cornmeal, a string of peach leather and two of apple leather, a cone of sugar, several strips of venison and beef jerky and enough lamp oil to last much longer than he had indicated.

Elizabeth carefully put the provisions away. Even though she had enough basic supplies to rest easy now, she wasn’t going to be so foolish as to waste any of it. Especially the lamp oil. The nights were too long and black when a lamp couldn’t be lit. She felt almost tearful with gratitude.

For a forbidden moment she remembered how provocative his gaze was when his eyes had met hers and how his teeth were white and straight when he smiled. If she didn’t know better, she would say he smiled often—but smiles were at odds with a mean nature. She put her hands on her waist where he had touched her. He was strong yet he had seemed so gentle. She would have to be careful when she visited Celia and not let herself begin to trust Brice. He seemed to be the opposite of all Celia had confided.

She felt guilty for wondering if Celia had been truthful. Surely no woman would say her husband was abusive unless he really was. She had every reason to believe her yet all she could think of was how different he seemed to be from Robert. And how she still seemed to feel the way his hands had touched her when he put her on the mule and how her pulse had raced when their eyes met.

It was only natural, she told herself hastily. Robert had been gone for weeks, and even when he was home, making love with him was no longer pleasurable. Looking back on it, she wasn’t sure it ever had been. Not when he was usually finished before she began to warm toward him. She had tried to convince herself that it was always like that between a man and woman. Men were supposed to enjoy sex but ladies were not. She, like most women, had received that message obliquely all her life.

Elizabeth didn’t believe it.

She was a lady born and bred, but there had been times she had enjoyed having Robert touch her. Sometimes she had liked it a lot. If he were willing to go slower and wait for her to reach his fever pitch, wouldn’t she enjoy lovemaking as much as he did?

Her mind drifted back to Brice. Would it be different with a man like him, strong and gentle?

She resolutely put her mind on the mundane chores of her daily living. Thoughts along that line would only lead her to trouble.

Chapter Two

After telling Elizabeth how miserable she was, Celia was more determined than ever to hurry the birth of the baby and leave Brice. He dearly wanted this child and she smiled to think how it would hurt him to see her leave with it. It was no more than he deserved for bringing her here.

She bullied Consuela until the woman produced a concoction of mandrake, bitter apple, cotton root and squaw vine. It tasted foul and left a bitter residue in her mouth, but within an hour she felt the first contraction.

Consuela put her to bed and sent word to Brice in the pasture that the baby was coming. He arrived sooner than Celia thought possible. Between contractions she berated him for putting her in this condition. As the contractions grew stronger and she began to hemorrhage, her reproaches grew shrill with her panic. She hadn’t expected so much pain. She could tell by Consuela’s face that something was wrong. The baby should be small and easy to birth since it was a month from full term. Why was she having such pain?

When Brice had first come into the room, Celia saw Consuela hide the empty bottle in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe that blocked the doorway that connected this room with Brice’s. If something went wrong and she lost the baby, Celia intended to show the bottle to Brice and blame it all on Consuela.

But why wasn’t the baby coming?

Brice ached to see Celia’s pain. He had known she didn’t want children but he had believed she would change her mind once she had one. Besides, there was no effective means to prevent pregnancy except for abstinence. Celia hadn’t wanted him in her bed and that made her pain and misery all his fault. Since she moved to this room, he had allowed himself one lapse in respecting her wishes and this was the result of it.

Brice was a kind man and he hated knowing Celia was suffering because of him. “Do you want me to send a man after Elizabeth Parkins?” he suggested to cheer her.

“No!” Celia snapped. “You know she lives in Old Zeb’s mud hut. I don’t want white trash around me. Certainly not at a time like this. I want my mother and my aunts!”

“Elizabeth struck me as a good woman. She certainly isn’t white trash. And she’s a lot nearer than your mother and aunts.”

“Go away, Brice! Get out of my sight! I wish you were dead!” She screamed at him so hysterically a bead of spittle ran down her chin. She didn’t notice.

Brice left without a word.

Cal, his closest friend, had come in from the bunk house and was waiting downstairs in the back parlor. He was called Wandering Cal because of a cast in his right eye. Brice didn’t know his last name or where he came from, but they had been friends for years and Cal was his right-hand man on the ranch.

“She doing all right?” Cal asked. He was a man of few words.

“I don’t know. It’s too damned early for the baby to come. It’s too early!” He paced to the hearth, then to the window. “What if I lose them, Cal?”

“Probably won’t.” Cal sat by the fire and picked up a piece of kindling to whittle. He looked entirely out of place in Celia’s back parlor, even if it wasn’t as grand as the formal front one. Cal was more suited for the barn.

“I should have sent her back home when I saw she didn’t like it here. I kept thinking she would change her mind after a while. I was wrong.”

“Wives belong with their husbands.” Cal didn’t like Celia and never had. He had only come into the house to keep Brice company. Celia never allowed him, or any of the other hired hands, nearer than the back porch.

An agonized scream made Brice cross to the door, hesitate and go back to the window.

“Go to the barn,” Cal suggested. “I’ll come tell you when it’s over.”

“No, I have to stay here. If Celia can live through it, I can stand to listen.” But the next scream drained the blood from his face.

Cal looked up at the ceiling and paused in his whittling until the sound died away.

Brice started pacing again. He had to keep moving, even if he wasn’t going anywhere. Every sound from Celia’s bedroom tore at him.

The terrible wailing continued. Hours later Celia’s voice had grown hoarse. Brice went up the stairs and back into her room. She no longer looked like herself. Her skin was pasty-gray and her blond hair hung in damp strings about her face. Circles like dark bruises lay under her glassy eyes.

Consuela looked at him in fright. “The baby is not coming. It still does not show. I think it is turned sideways.”

There was no need for her to explain to Brice what this meant. He had seen enough calvings to know it couldn’t be born this way. “Can you turn it?”

Consuela shook her head. “Senora Graham will not let me try.”

Brice went closer to the bed. “We have to turn the baby, Celia.”

“No! I don’t want either of you to touch me!”

He sat beside her on the bed and held her arms gently but firmly. “You don’t have a choice in this. You’re getting too weak. Consuela, can you do it?”

“Sí,” she said reluctantly. She was clearly afraid of her mistress, but she prepared to turn the baby nonetheless.

Celia screamed as if she were dying, but Brice held her, speaking to her gently in spite of the names she was calling him.

Minutes later, Consuela went to the washbasin and washed her hands. Brice released Celia, who struck him repeatedly until he left the bed. “Well? Did it turn?”

Silently she shook her head.

“I’ll try.” He went back to Celia and tried to steel himself to her string of curses. A few minutes later he found a tiny foot, then another one. “I have him!” he said triumphantly. “Push, Celia!”

Soon the baby lay screaming on the bed, waving her fists in protest at being born. “It’s a girl, Celia!” he called out. “She’s so tiny!”

He finished tying off the cord and held her up so Celia could see her. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

“Ugly,” Celia croaked out. “She’s ugly!”

“No,” he said with a laugh as he went to sponge her clean at the washbasin. “She’s going to be a rare beauty someday! Celia?” The room was suddenly too quiet.

Consuela stopped cleaning Celia and stared at her face. Then she looked at Brice, her eyes filled with fear and dread.

“Celia?” he repeated. He wrapped the baby in the towel and went to his wife.

Celia’s eyes were fixed and growing dull. Her pale lips moved. Brice leaned closer to hear what she was saying.