Tracie Peterson (12 page)

Chapter 16

A
few days later, Maggie was presented with a problem she’d not anticipated. Bill informed her that the regular supply trip hadn’t been made to finish stocking up for the winter.

“I know it’s late notice, Ma’am. We should’ve thought of it a lot sooner, but what with your pa so sick and all, it just slipped my mind,” Bill offered apologetically.

“I understand, Bill. I’m just not sure what we should do about it. I don’t know anything about running this ranch. My father wanted me to learn and we had great plans, but now it’s apparently not to be,” Maggie said sadly.

“We’ve been lucky so far. The snows have stayed put, and we’ve enjoyed mild weather. But I think it’s about to end. My joints have been bothering me somethin’ fierce, and that always means a change in the weather,” Bill said, rubbing his elbow.

“What should we do?” Maggie asked earnestly. Just then, Carmalita entered the room with hot mugs of coffee.

“Maria thought you’d enjoy this Mexican coffee.”

“Mexican coffee?” Maggie questioned, sniffing the contents of her mug.

“Sí, it has cinnamon in it,” Carmalita said with a smile. Carmalita smiled a great deal these days because she planned to marry Miguel shortly before Christmas.

“How interesting,” Maggie murmured and sipped the coffee. “It’s delicious.” She cast a bittersweet smile at the dark-eyed servant. Maggie longed for a wedding of her own.

“Maria’s Mexican coffee warms a fellow’s bones and treats the tongue to a feast,” Bill said with enthusiasm.

“Well, I’m afraid despite the good coffee, we still have a big problem. Bill, do you know anything about the book running of the ranch?” Maggie asked the bewildered foreman.

“Not a thing, Miss Maggie. Never had to. Your pa always left it to Garrett, that is, when he didn’t take care of it himself.”

Maggie sighed. “I wish we had Garrett with us now. I’d gladly let him take over everything.”

“I could have Miguel ride out after him,” Carmalita suggested.

“What?” Maggie’s voice clearly showed her surprise. “You know where Garrett is?”

“Sí,” Carmalita answered matter-of-factly. “Your father has kept in touch with him at the Pueblo mission.”

“That’s our answer, Miss Maggie. If we can get Garrett here, we’ll be fixed fine. He’ll be knowin’ just what to do and when,” Bill remarked, handing his mug back to Carmalita. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some ranch hands to see to.”

“Thank you, Bill. I’ll have Miguel go after Garrett immediately,” Maggie called out to the retreating figure. She turned to Carmalita. “Send Miguel right away. Have him tell Garrett everything.”

“Sí,” Carmalita replied and rushed off to locate Miguel.

Maggie went to check on her father. She could hardly contain her excitement. Garrett would be coming home. She smiled to herself. It had been over three months since Garrett had walked out of her life. Even so, Maggie remembered his promise to make her his wife. A shiver ran through her.
Garrett’s wife!

Jason Intissar slept peacefully. The morphine had made him oblivious to everything, but at least he didn’t hurt. For that Maggie was grateful.

Absentmindedly, she picked up some knitting she’d left beside her father’s bed. It was to be a blanket for Lillie’s baby. The thought of her young friend newly married and expecting her first child brought tears to Maggie’s eyes. She remembered leaving the note for Lillie before she left Topeka and promising to return in time for the wedding.

Maggie smiled at the memory of the smug, spoiled girl she had been. Spoiled. It was what Garrett had called her, and he’d been quite accurate.

Maggie worked on the blanket and thought of what their meeting would be like. Would she be sitting down to dinner when Garrett came rushing through the door? Perhaps he wouldn’t make it until morning. Maggie’s mind raced with thoughts. Would he see the change in her, or would he still believe her to be a spoiled child?

Carmalita came in to tend the fire. The late autumn days had grown chilly, and while the adobe ranch house was well insulated with its thick walls, there was an undeniable hint of winter in the air. Bill’s joints must have been right about the change in weather.

“Did you send Miguel?” Maggie asked anxiously.

“Sí, he was happy to go. He has missed Señor Lucas, but more I think he wanted to talk to Pastor Monroe. He will marry us,” Carmalita replied as she stoked the fire. The wood she added to the cherry red coals ignited immediately, warming the room.

“Are you finished with your wedding dress yet?” Maggie inquired, caught up in Carmalita’s excitement.

“Not quite,” the girl answered. She went around the room, tidying up anything that seemed out of place.

“Do you need anything else to complete it?” Maggie questioned, thinking she could go with Garrett to get supplies.

“No, I have everything. It’s just the waiting that’s hard.” Maggie nodded in heartfelt agreement with Carmalita’s words.

The day stretched into evening, and when Maggie found her legs cramped from hours of sitting, she decided to take a walk. The liquid gold sun dripped lazily between two snow-covered peaks. Golds, pinks, purples, and oranges swirled delicate fingers against the cold gray-blue of the evening sky. It was breathtaking!

Maggie wandered to the corral where Thunder stood stomping at the dirt. He wanted to run as much as Maggie wished to ride. As she approached, he whinnied softly and came to greet her. His nudging muzzle was disappointed to find Maggie’s cupped hand held no surprise of sugar or carrots.

“Sorry, Boy. Not this time.” Maggie watched the sleek gelding move away to seek out food. She loved him. She loved almost everything about Piñon Canyon Ranch. Strange that she had fought coming here. It was somewhat like coming home. No, it was more. She had come home.

As Maggie walked slowly back to the house, her thoughts again drifted to Garrett. She looked up to the mountains and wondered if he could see her now. But the mountains surrounding Piñon Canyon refused to give up any secrets.

Supper was quiet and lonely. Maggie’s slim frame was only starting to fill out again. Carmalita was always trying to get her to eat. Many times, Maria sent tempting treats from the kitchen for “Señor’s skinny daughter,” as Maria teasingly called Maggie.

Maggie picked at her meal. It wasn’t a lack of hunger that kept her pushing the food from one side of the plate to the other. It was the memory of Garrett. Everywhere she looked, she saw laughing blue eyes, and when she was least expecting it, the wind carried the sweet musky scent of his cologne.

Maggie finally gave up on the roasted chicken and went to the library. Carmalita had thoughtfully started a fire in the library’s wood stove, and the room beckoned to Maggie. She loved the library.

Maggie picked up a book she’d been trying to read since her father had fallen ill. The book still held little interest, however, and Maggie placed it back on the shelf.

She went to the huge walnut desk that commanded the attention of anyone who entered the room. Her father had ordered the desk made to fit his specifications. Solid walnut, it had been varnished slightly to bring out the dark lines of the wood’s natural grain. It was trimmed with brass handles for the four drawers which lined either side and with brass corner plates at the top edges of the desk.

Maggie sat down in the black leather chair she’d seen her father work from. It swallowed her up. Lovingly, Maggie touched the desktop and its contents. These were the papers her father had been working on before becoming ill. How she wished she understood the running of the ranch books. She’d see to it that Garrett taught her all about them. It seemed very important to know every detail of the ranch—how it was run, when they performed certain duties, and why.

Maggie reluctantly made the familiar walk down the long hall to her father’s bedroom. Bill was preparing to bed down on the small cot at the foot of the bed. Maggie glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel, surprised to see it was nearly ten o’clock.

Confident her father was sleeping soundly, Maggie found Carmalita and
informed her she was going to bed. Bill would notify them if anything need
ed their attention.

Maggie smiled when she discovered Carmalita had already prepared a fire in Maggie’s bedroom. Maggie warmed herself for a moment, then slipped into a nightgown. She was about to get into bed when she heard a knock at the door. It was Carmalita.

“Come quickly, Maggie. Señor is not good.”

Maggie threw on her robe and raced down the hall after Carmalita. Nothing could have prepared Maggie for the sight of her father writhing and crying out in agony. How could this be? Moments ago, he’d rested comfortably.

“What happened, Bill?” Maggie cried as she rushed to her father’s side.

“I don’t rightly know, Miss Maggie,” Bill began. “I was just getting to sleep when he started a thrashin’ and moanin’. I’m afeared the medicine ain’t doin’ its job.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. We gave him the regular dosage. It’s always worked before,” Maggie stated in utter confusion. How could she stop her father’s intense pain?

“Father, it’s Maggie.”

For a moment, the older man’s eyes opened. They seemed to flash recognition, then they rolled back, their heavy lids closed. Maggie’s tears burned hot on her cheeks.
Dear God, how much more can he stand? Why is he allowed to suffer like this?

Maria arrived with a larger dose of medication, and after Bill, Maggie,
and Carmalita were able to hold Jason’s thrashing body still, Maria forced the
medicine down his throat.

Maggie sat for the next two hours, waiting as her father’s pain faded into peaceful sleep. She dozed off and on, and when Bill suggested she make her way back to bed, she didn’t argue.

Gratefully, Maggie climbed once again into the warmth and comfort of her own bed. Her eyes refused to stay open, and her mind was clouded with sleep. Her last clear thought was to wonder what was keeping Garrett and Miguel.

Chapter 17

W
hen Garrett and Miguel hadn’t shown up by the end of the second day, both Carmalita and Maggie began to worry.

“They should have been here by now,” Maggie said, pulling back the curtain and searching for any sign of the two men.

“Sí,” Carmalita said softly as she cleared the breakfast dishes.

As the day warmed to an unseasonable temperature, Maggie determined to ride out on Thunder in hopes of meeting the men as they returned. Even Carmalita agreed it was a good plan.

Maggie checked in on her father first. He slept soundly, and Maria was keeping careful watch for any signs of discomfort. There was little need to worry about the addictive effects of the medication. It was clear to everyone that Jason Intissar would soon join his wife in heaven.

Maggie slipped into a dark blue riding skirt. She pulled on her long boots. They almost felt foreign to her. It had been over a week since she’d ridden. She finished dressing and tied her auburn hair at the nape of her neck with a ribbon.

Making her way to the corral, Maggie located Bill and coaxed him into saddling Thunder for her. Bill had been an absolute lifesaver, and Maggie intended to thank him properly when things settled down.

Although Maggie had never been to the mission, she’d paid careful attention to Bill’s directions and landmarks. She didn’t intend to go very far, but by midday, she’d covered quite a bit of ground. The sun was blazing overhead.

Maggie paused to take a drink from her canteen, grateful that Bill had insisted on her taking it. Thunder whinnied softly.

“It’s okay, Boy,” Maggie said, recognizing her mount’s thirst. “If Bill’s directions are right, a water hole lies just ahead.”

As Maggie neared the water hole, a hideous odor filled the air. The stench grew unbearable as Maggie approached the water. She could see strange mounds of dirt on the far side of the hole, but as she drew near, Maggie realized they weren’t mounds of dirt at all. The ground was littered with partially butchered cattle carcasses.

Maggie felt nauseated, and Thunder whinnied nervously at the sight. The bloated carcasses were not only beside the water hole, but in the water itself, hopelessly fouling the contents for human or animal use.

Maggie’s mind whirled. What could it mean? She’d heard the hands speak of rustlers in the area, and there was the ever-present worry of banditos. The renegade band of Mexicans, Indians, and mixed breeds were a constant worry to the outlying ranches. Banditos had families hidden high in the rocky hills, and they were considered a brotherhood of the utmost secrecy.

Maggie knew Maria had family among the banditos, although she never spoke of it to Maggie. Carmalita had whispered the secret to Maggie, telling
her it was one reason Piñon Canyon suffered no more loss than an occasion
al steer.

Surveying the carnage and waste, Maggie grew cold. She pulled Thunder’s reins hard and put him into a full gallop. She wanted to get back home, and she pressed Thunder to the limit of his endurance, fully aware of the white foam which spotted the gelding’s coat.

After covering half the distance to the ranch, Maggie remembered Thunder’s need for water. She reined the huge gelding to a stop and dismounted. Pouring the contents of her canteen into her hat, she placed it under Thunder’s nuzzle. Thunder greedily lapped up the water. It seemed such an inadequate offering, but Maggie had no other choice.

Silently, she surveyed the land around her. It was rocky and dry. Climbing back into her well-worn saddle, Maggie felt uncomfortable. Once again she looked around her. The mountains rose majestically, and their snow-capped peaks shown as brilliant halos against the intense blue of the sky. Nothing here should make her uneasy, but remembering the water hole, Maggie decided things weren’t as innocent as they appeared. Cautiously, she made her way back to the ranch.

The sun was starting down when Maggie rode into the corral yard. Bill was frantic.

“Where’ve ya been? I’ve been worried sick, feared that maybe those banditos got hold of ya. I should’a never let ya go,” Bill ranted as he helped Maggie dismount.

“I’m fine, Bill. Really,” Maggie said.

“Then what’s that tone of voice about?” Bill questioned as he handed Thunder’s reins to one of Maria’s sons.

“Bill,” Maggie began as soon as the boy was out of ear shot. “I found some dead steers at the first water hole.”

“What’d ya say?” Bill asked, uncertain his ears had heard right. Maggie started walking toward the house, and Bill realized she meant for him to follow.

“I don’t want anyone to overhear me,” Maggie offered as a brief explanation. She paused as they neared the house. “I found seven or eight partially butchered steers. They are all around the water hole and some were even dumped in the water itself.”

“Banditos!” Bill exclaimed.

“Do you think so?” Maggie asked, feeling sick again as she remembered the sight at the water hole.

“Has to be. Rustlers wouldn’t butcher ’em. They’d drive ’em off and sell them. Banditos can’t drive the steers up into their hideouts, so they take what they want or need and leave the carcasses.”

“If it is banditos, what will they do next?” Maggie wondered aloud.

“Probably nothing right now,” Bill answered deep in thought.

“Bill, we’ve got to get to Garrett and Miguel. Is there someone else we can send to the mission?” Maggie questioned. “I—we need him so much right now,” she added, desperation mounting.

“I’ll get Mack. If I send him in the morning, they should be back by nightfall.” Bill’s words offered little comfort, but when the older man’s large, weatherworn hand came down on Maggie’s, warmth and closeness briefly stilled her fears.

The following morning, Maggie and Bill stood in the yard watching Mack ride away. Maggie offered a silent prayer for Mack’s safety and speed. As she turned to go to the house, she noticed Bill’s hesitant steps.

“Maybe we should’a sent someone with him,” Bill muttered, and Maggie wondered if he was right. Neither one said another word. Maggie nodded slightly, and Bill touched the brim of his dirty white hat as they parted for their respective duties.

The day moved in slow motion. The only positive bit of excitement was her father. Maggie entered the sickroom to find Maria talking in low whispers to her father.

“Father, but how? Oh, Maria. I thought I’d never be able to talk to him again,” Maggie cried as she knelt beside the bed of her father. His slightly drugged gaze fell on his daughter.

“Your papa is doing much better,” Maria explained, “so I lessened his medication.”

“You aren’t hurting?” Maggie questioned, taking hold of her father’s hand and holding it to her cheek.

“No, not as much.” Jason barely whispered the words.

Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. “Father, there is so much I need to talk to you about. I need you so much.” Maggie let her tears fall unashamed against her father’s hand.

“Don’t cry,” Jason murmured and, using all his strength, he gave Maggie’s hand a slight squeeze.

“Father, I can’t lose you now. Please get well,” Maggie begged.

Jason shook his head. His eyes were nearly lifeless. Maggie could see the pallor had not changed, and every breath her father drew brought a hideous rattling sound. A death rattle, Maria had called it.

Maggie straightened her shoulders. It was enough that she could share a few more words of endearment. It was enough that she could tell her father of her love one more time. Peace settled over her, and Maggie decided against telling her father about the ranch’s needs and Miguel’s absence.

“I love you, Papa,” Maggie said, smoothing his forehead.

“I love you too,” Jason breathed weakly.

“I’m glad you made me come here. I’m thankful to God that you sent Garrett for me. I know it was right for me to put the past behind and to accept your forgiveness and God’s.” Jason said nothing, but the slight upturning of his mouth told Maggie he was pleased.

Maggie continued to talk even as Jason dozed and the shadows of afternoon fell across the room. The room chilled. Maggie placed a few pieces of kindling in the fireplace and watched with satisfaction as the wood ignited. The room grew comfortable again, and Maggie was just settling down beside her father’s bed when Carmalita came in to light the lamps. The worried look on her face reflected the torture she felt at Miguel’s absence.

“Don’t worry, Carmalita. They’ll all be back soon.” Maggie tried to offer the words as an encouragement, but Carmalita rushed out of the room sobbing. Maggie started to go after her, but her father’s weak voice stopped her.

“Who’ll be back, Maggie?”

“Oh Father, don’t worry about it. Everything is fine, really it is,” Maggie said soothingly. She didn’t want her father to worry.

“Where’s Garrett? I’d like to see him, Maggie.” Jason said, seeming to forget his concern.

“I’ve sent for him, Father. He’ll be here soon.”

“You do love him, don’t you? I wouldn’t force you to marry him. You know that, don’t you?” His words required great effort.

“I know, Father. I know,” Maggie assured her father.

“You didn’t answer me,” Jason whispered and coughed. Maggie feared the cough would return and sought to quiet her father.

“Hush now, Father. Please relax or you’ll spend all your energy.” Maggie gently stroked her father’s hand, hoping to quiet him.

“Maggie,” Jason struggled to speak. “I. . .have to. . .know.” He was gasping for breath and Maggie wondered if she should find Maria. She stood as if to go, but Jason refused to release her hand. “I have to know,” he said more firmly.

“Know what, Father?” Maggie asked, confused by her father’s sudden strength.

“I have to know if you love him. Do you love Garrett Lucas, as a woman should love a man who’ll be her husband?” Jason’s eyes were suddenly clear, and Maggie knew he was studying her intently. Perhaps he couldn’t die in peace without knowing she’d be happy.

Maggie fell to her knees beside the bed. “Yes, Father. I love Garrett very much. I think I’ve loved him since I first laid eyes on him in our parlor back in Potwin. If not then, I’m sure I fell in love with him when he caught me in his arms as I was trying to escape down the trellis.” It was the first time Maggie had admitted to herself when her love for Garrett had taken root.

Carmalita reentered the room, but Maggie continued to talk unashamed
ly of her love for Garrett. “Father, you were so wise in choosing such a man for me. I’m sorry I was such a willful and spoiled child. Garrett called me that, you know? Willful and spoiled,” Maggie remembered with a laugh. “I was
too.” A sudden thought caused Maggie to worry, and her concern was reflect
ed on her face.

“What is it, Maggie? There’s something more you aren’t telling me.” Jason’s look of alarm caused Maggie to share her fears aloud.

“It’s only that I told Garrett to stay away. I told him I wouldn’t wait for him. I wasn’t very nice, Father.”

“Is that all?” Jason sounded relieved. The sudden smile on his face confused Maggie all the more.

“Is that all? Isn’t that enough? I love him,” Maggie said, lowering her eyes. “What if he doesn’t love me anymore?”

Maggie felt firm hands on her shoulders, and Garrett’s deep voice stilled all her fears. “There’s no chance of that, Maggie Intissar. I will always love you.”

“Garrett!” Maggie jumped to her feet and lost herself in his laughing blue eyes. Regardless of what others would think, Maggie threw her arms around Garrett’s neck.

Garrett exchanged a smile over Maggie’s back with Jason. Both men silently acknowledged the transfer of Maggie’s care from Jason to Garrett.

Garrett held Maggie tightly and could hardly contain his happiness. His Maggie loved him.

Maggie pulled herself away, becoming aware for the first time of the man standing behind Garrett. She lowered her eyes and blushed at the thought of this man overhearing her words of endearment.

Garrett’s soft chuckle told Maggie he understood her sudden silence. “This is David Monroe, our local preacher.”

Maggie raised her eyes and took the hand David offered her.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Intissar.”

“Please call me Maggie. I’m pleased to meet you too. My father has nothing but the highest praise for you,” Maggie said and turned to her father. “Look who’s here, Father. It’s Garrett and Pastor Monroe.”

Jason nodded ever so slightly.

“I’ll agree to call you Maggie, but you must drop the formalities and call me David,” the blond man said, smiling broadly at her. Maggie liked him immediately and soon forgot her discomfort.

“Agreed,” she declared.

“Maggie, I’d like to speak to you,” Garrett said, taking her arm. “In private.” Maggie looked first to David, then to her father.

“Father, I need to speak with Garrett. Will you be alright?” she questioned, fearing if she left him for even a moment, something might go wrong.

“I’ll be fine. I want to talk to David anyway,” Jason assured her. Maggie nodded, wondering if David would offer her father comforting images of eternity in heaven. As she walked into the hallway with Garrett, she strained to hear their words.

“Did you hear me, Maggie?” Garrett questioned in a whispered hush.

“What?” Maggie asked, turning to see a concerned Garrett.

“There’s no easy way to tell you this, but Miguel is dead.”