Dorothy Garlock - [Tucker Family] (6 page)

Hannah sighed, turned on her heel, and left him to his work.

Carter Herrick drew hard on his cigarette, savoring the burn of the tobacco deep within his lungs before blowing it out in
a plume. The milky smoke pushed insistently against the closed window, swirling and dissipating upward. Soon the cigarette
was little more than a nub beneath his gnarled fingers.

The room of his dead son was as dark as a tomb. Though two weeks had passed since Walter had slipped away, days from his fifteenth
birthday, Carter couldn’t bring himself to look upon the boy’s belongings. No matter how many times his manservant lit the
oil lamp on top of the dresser, Carter extinguished it. The blackness felt right, appropriate to match the melancholy that
had settled upon his heart.

“And I can’t imagine it will ever change,” he muttered into the evening.

Oddly, his wife’s death two years earlier, the result of a fall down the enormous staircase of their home, had been much easier
to bear. In his own strange way, Carter supposed that he had loved Emma, his spouse of over thirty years, but her passing
hadn’t affected him any more than the changing of the seasons, something to be expected rather than marveled over. She had
done what all good wives were expected to do: she had borne him a son.

But the loss of the boy was different…

When Walter had first fallen ill, Carter had regarded it as temporary. But the disease, something the old quack in town thought
might come from the boy’s brain, did not pass. What started as fatigue and dizziness became something far worse. For days
on end, Walter was unable to get out of bed. No matter what was prepared for him, he was unable to keep down his food. And
worst of all were the eye-splitting headaches ravaging him day and night.

Through it all, there was nothing for Carter to do but watch. His professional life had been spent amassing a substantial
wealth, but no amount of money, no number of doctors brought in from Tulsa or Kansas City, nothing, could stop the fate that
awaited Walter. When the boy died in the hours just before dawn, something of Carter went with him.

And that was why nothing mattered anymore…

Carter Herrick walked out of his dead son’s room and down the long hallway of the second floor to his own office. Without
turning on any lights, he opened a cupboard beside his oak desk, poured himself a stiff whiskey, and swallowed it hurriedly,
before pouring another.

The hardest thing for him to accept about Walter’s death was that it demonstrated how hollow his life had become. For days
this bitterness gnawed at him.
My son isn’t even cold in the ground and not one goddamn person has bothered to offer condolences!
At the boy’s funeral, faces passed by one by one, but Carter was sure that everyone who was there
came only because of the standing his ranch afforded him. It was then that he’d had a revelation.

He had discovered that he had power… and little else.

All his life, Carter felt as if he had been a step behind, not quite in a position for fortune to smile upon him. Certainly
the deaths of both his wife and son were evidence of such hardship, but it was more than that. His ranch wasn’t successful
in the ways of others. His position in Sawyer was based on respect for his power rather than his person. And even when it
came to love, he had failed to get what he had wanted.

And it was all because of one man…

“John Grant, you son of a bitch,” Carter snarled.

C
HARLOTTE STEPPED OUT
of the ranch house and into glorious morning sunlight streaming down from a cloudless sky. She’d always been an early riser,
awakening shortly after dawn, but she was surprised to see how many others on the ranch shared her habit: cowboys scurried
about working on chores; women were already hanging clothes on the wash line. There was activity everywhere despite the early
hour.

Inside the house had been every bit as hectic; even as she washed herself from her basin and dressed, she heard the sounds
of scraping chairs, clinking glasses and silverware, and male voices. Though she had been prepared to fix her own breakfast,
she readily accepted the plate Amelia offered her, heaped high with fried potatoes, ham, and eggs. Even the coffee had been
delicious!

This is the beginning of something wonderful
, she thought.

Charlotte finished her meal, carried her dishes to the kitchen, and went out the back door.

She heard a burst of whistling, clapping, and hollering. It rose above the competing regular sounds. She followed the noise
around to the front of the house. Hale stood next to the corral shouting encouragement to a couple of men as they herded a
pair of horses into the enclosure. Once they had been brought safely inside the fence, he hurled the gate shut behind them,
securing it with a sliding pole he used as a bolt. When he finished, he yanked off his hat and wiped his brow.

“There’s no rest for the wicked, is there?” she teased him as she neared.

“I suppose not.” He chuckled. “But then I suppose that explains why you’re up and about so early.”

Charlotte smiled at the easy way she and Hale kidded with each other. Though they had only met the night before, she felt
as if she had known him for years; it was as if he were the brother she’d never had. She felt certain that the warmth and
friendliness in his heart easily matched his bulk, maybe even exceeded it.

“Did you manage to sleep last night?” he asked, dropping his playful manner, if only for a moment, “what with it bein’ your
first night and all?”

“Yes, I slept very well; thank you.”

“Most evenin’s round here are very pleasant, once you get used to the sound of about a hundred horses roamin’ ever’ darn way,”
Hale explained. “As for myself, I’m usually
so tired after a day’s hard workin’ that I don’t know if I’d wake up even if a tornado pulled the roof off over my head!”

“Well, let’s hope that it never comes to that.”

“You can’t ever tell about Oklahoma weather.”

Before Charlotte could ask Hale what he was doing with the horses he had brought into the corral, she was interrupted by the
loud, fevered sound of dogs barking. From around the corner of the nearest barn, dust rising in clouds from the striking of
their paws against the ground, came a pair of mutts. One was much larger than the other, a fluffy white beast with slightly
upraised ears. His companion was much smaller, black as the night sky, hurrying to keep up on legs a third shorter.

The white dog raced up to Charlotte and began to run awkward circles around her, playfully barking, his tongue lolling out,
and his eyes never leaving her. Once the black dog managed to keep up, he stayed out of the way near Hale; Charlotte wasn’t
sure if it was because the mutt was wary of her or wise enough to avoid being trampled by his partner.

“Salt, you big dummy!” Hale shouted. “Don’t you know that ain’t no way to greet a lady?”

At the sound of Hale’s booming voice, the white dog instantly broke away from his circling around Charlotte and leaped up
on his hind legs, placing his paws squarely in the enormous ranch hand’s midsection. With his tail
wagging furiously, the dog clearly enjoyed the scratching he was receiving behind the ears.

“This here is Salt,” Hale said in introduction, “on account of his color and that we figure he’s got nothin’ but rocks between
his ears.”

Salt gave a merry bark, as if he agreed with Hale’s assessment.

“And this little fella down here is old Salt’s constant companion,” he explained, nodding to the little black dog who, upon
being mentioned, inched back behind Hale’s leg until he was nearly out of sight, giving a low growl for good measure. “He
goes by—”

“Let me guess,” Charlotte offered. “His name is Pepper.”

Hale laughed heartily. “I suppose it were to be expected, weren’t it!”

Charlotte bent down, straightening her skirt on the dusty ground, and carefully reached out her hand to Pepper. Skittish,
the little dog leaped back, offering a hint of his teeth to go with his earlier warning. Patiently, Charlotte waited. Slowly,
Pepper’s fear and trepidation began to wane as his curiosity grew. His tiny black nose twitching this way and that, he eventually
made his way to Charlotte’s hand, allowing her to pet his small body and lifting his head as if in triumph.

“Looks like you’re the sort who gets along well with dogs,” Hale remarked.

“I had a special one when I was younger.”

“Can’t say that you’ve lost your touch, then.”

“I suppose it’s not something that ever really goes away.” Charlotte smiled.

“I reckon not.”

Now that Pepper was getting special attention, Salt became jealous and decided that he wasn’t about to lose out, even to a
friend. He jumped away from Hale and pushed his canine companion completely out of the way, before finally sitting down in
front of Charlotte, waiting for the surely inevitable petting that was to come.

After a few moments of showering the two gluttons with affection, scratches and petting, Hale finally asked, “So what are
you doin’ out so early?”

Charlotte smiled playfully. “Hannah offered to have her brother take us both into town this morning. She thought I might benefit
from being shown around a little before I was expected to start teaching.”

“Ha… Hannah… asked you… to go?” he stammered.

Rising to her feet, Charlotte fixed Hale with a curious look. He stared at her for only a moment before turning away, color
rising in his cheeks and his foot kicking nervously at the dirt.

“You’re sweet on Hannah, aren’t you?” she ventured.

“No… no… I—I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ’bout,” he answered.

“Tell me the truth, Hale,” Charlotte insisted.

The man’s mouth opened wide, as if he wanted to argue the point a bit further, but when his eyes met hers, it was
clear that he could see the uselessness of lying. “I reckon that fact’s ’bout as easy to see as that sun in the sky, ain’t
it?” he asked rhetorically. “It ain’t too easy to bear knowin’ that everyone on the ranch figured it out but her.”

“I’m sure she knows.” Charlotte smiled, despite her desire not to.

“Awww, now that’s just great to know,” Hale despaired, throwing his hat into the dust with a thud.

“But that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t think you’re… nice,” Charlotte offered as a salve to his wounded pride. “For all you
know, she might have the same feelings for you.”

“Then why hasn’t she said somethin’?”

“Maybe it’s because she’s waiting for you to tell her exactly where you stand,” Charlotte explained. “I’m sure it doesn’t
help that every time you are in the same room as her, you can’t seem to say anything without mumbling like you’ve got your
mouth full of mush.”

“It’s not that bad,” Hale said defensively.

“I’d only just met you, but as soon as Hannah came through the door, I could hardly recognize you,” Charlotte argued. “If
I could notice it, then there is no doubting that she did.”

“I just get so darn flummoxed!”

“Women want a man who’s confident, someone who’s not afraid to let them know how he feels.”

“But I don’t know how to do that!”

“You need to learn, then.”

Hale’s eyes suddenly lit up; it looked as if a light switch had been thrown. With his enormous hands, he reached out and grabbed
her by the arms, momentarily startling her. “You can teach me!” he exclaimed.

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

“It makes total sense,” Hale kept on, his enthusiasm so great that he lifted her up and off the ground as if she were a bag
of feathers. “You can tell me everythin’ that I’ve been doin’ wrong, what with you bein’ a woman and all! Hell, I ain’t the
least bit tongue-tied round you, which means that I must not feel the slightest ’ttraction to you!”

“Thanks a lot, Hale,” she said sarcastically.

“Aw, you know what I mean.” He chuckled, finally hopeful.

“Hale McCoy, what do you think you’re doing with her!”

Both Charlotte and Hale turned to see Hannah striding toward them, consternation written across her face. As if what he was
holding were ablaze with fire, Hale quickly set Charlotte down and stepped awkwardly back, looking for a moment as if he were
considering running away.

“Why did he have you up in the air like that?” Hannah asked Charlotte once she had reached her side.

“He… he was…” Charlotte said, now the one to be tongue-tied.

“I was just showin’ her how strong I am,” Hale jumped in, the words tumbling from his mouth.

“Anyone with one working eye would know that,”
Hannah said with a chuckle. “You should practice with the horses instead.”

Relief washed over Charlotte at Hale’s quick thinking, although she was just as surprised that he’d been able to form a complete
sentence while in Hannah’s presence.

“Well… then I suppose… I should probably get goin’… what with all the chores to do… and all,” Hale flailed, reverting to his
bumbling ways.

“Bye, Hale.” Hannah smiled.

“We’ll talk when I get back,” Charlotte added.

As he walked away, Salt and Pepper trailing happily at his heels, it was Hale who looked like a dog slinking off with his
tail tucked between his legs.

Just as she had when she had first arrived, Charlotte took in all the strange sights and sounds of the ranch as the truck
drove down the dusty drive and out onto the road to Sawyer.

Her bare arm rested on the open window, soaking up the warm sunlight; even with a gentle breeze rustling the tree leaves,
the day was growing hot. Scissor-tailed flycatchers dipped and dived beside the gurgling stream, the birds’ beaks open as
they tried to catch insects before retreating to what shade could be found in the summer afternoon. Only the wildflowers seemed
unaffected by the heat, still standing tall under the glare of the sun.

Owen was driving, his left hand lazily steering the wheel; he didn’t seem particularly concerned about his
driving, making no attempt to avoid the depressions and deep holes that pocked the road. Hannah sat sourly between them, a
hand raised above her head to ensure the truck’s roof remained a safe distance away.