Untamed Journey (30 page)

Smith shuffled his feet impatiently, knowing
that now was not the time to lose his temper. The old German was
not afraid of Smith, even knowing what he was capable of doing. So
the shoemaker continued to bait him with his long-winded recounting
of each and every female that had passed through the bustling Fort
for months on end. Smith knew he was being tested and his friend
would not easily give up his moment of triumph.

Even money wouldn’t sway the man. His only
wants were beer and gossip, and the cobbler met both needs with his
small shoe business. Smith knew you couldn’t bribe a man who wanted
for nothing. He would just have to let himself be toyed with for as
long as the German took his pleasure.

Nearly two hours later, Smith couldn’t keep
his seat any longer and resorted to pacing wildly back and forth
under the open sky, suddenly grateful for the freezing sleet that
cooled his burning temper.

The German’s laugh was so unexpected that
Smith stopped in his tracks, never having seen the man so much as
grin at a dirty joke. “What the hell, old man. No one laughs at
me.” Smith lunged across the table toward the smirking Franz, but
stopped dead in his tracks when two wrinkled hands tilted a shotgun
up from underneath the table.

“Tell me where she is!” Smith demanded,
knowing Masterson would torture him if he failed to deliver
Ruth.

Seeing Jasper Smith with true fear in his
eyes satisfied the aging German. It felt good to know he had not
lost all power to age. “Have a seat, my old friend,” Franz invited.
“I will tell you what you need to know.”

And much to Smith’s surprise, the man did
just that.

Franz had repaired the shoes for three of the
stable owner’s sons the day after Ruth and Sue had made their deal
with Colonel Roe. The oldest boy was smitten with Ruth and could
not stop talking about the pretty lady who had smiled at him both
times they had spoken. The youngest had teased his older brother
many times in the German’s presence, repeatedly pointing out that
the lady was already in love with Marshal Jackson and his skinny,
manure-shoveling brother didn’t have a chance.

But the Marshal’s presence in the lady’s life
and his well-earned reputation as a dangerous lawman were two
pieces of information that the German kept close to the chest. He
was high on his new found power and only let Smith know that both
ladies planned to return in two weeks’ time.

Smith didn’t question his good luck and
immediately telegraphed Masterson to meet him at the Fort.

“R
uth, can you bring
me some more sugar for the coffee?” Sue hollered from the
kitchen.

Ruth was already in Sue’s large pantry,
rummaging for enough flour for one last cake, and quickly found the
sugar. “I‘ve got it,” she called out.

Ruth filled both arms with the bags of flour
and sugar, silently amazed to see such large stores of food. She
had been rationing staples for so many years that she had almost
forgotten what bounty looked like. Ruth struggled with her
ingrained frugality but still could not stop herself from
questioning Sue. “Are you sure we really need another cake?” Ruth
asked. “I‘d hate to see it go to waste.”

“It’ll be a cold day in Hell when one of our
ranch hands allows a chocolate cake to go to waste,” Sue said.
“Don’t worry. We‘ve got enough food stored to feed every man,
woman, and child on this ranch for two winters to come. One thing
we‘ve never had to fret about here is going hungry. Jackson and I
meet with every homesteader within riding distance at least twice a
year to check our food stores. Jackson got most of the neighbors to
agree to store enough food not just for themselves, but for the
whole group. That way, if any family were to lose their winter
supply in a fire or some other disaster, any one of us could feed
them until the next harvest.”

“That’s amazing,” Ruth said. “During the
first year of the War, the neighbors would drop by every week to
help my mother, after my father and brother were killed. But as the
years passed, my mother struggled more and more to feed us. And the
neighbors had nothing extra to spare. If I never see another potato
again, I‘ll die a happy woman.”

“I was lucky to have spent the War out West
with Jackson’s brother. But Jackson saw enough looting and
starvation during the War to vow never again to see another human
being want for something to eat. We‘ve had good harvests nearly
every year we‘ve been here and Jackson not only insists on sharing,
but is smart about it and plans in advance for all of us. He’s
experimenting right now with Jeb and Michael Jones with new ways to
store food, so it‘ll last longer.”

“Who are Jeb and Michael?” Ruth
interrupted.

“They‘re two brothers that live about thirty
miles due East. You‘ll meet them tomorrow at the dance. They have
been homesteading almost as long as we have. They‘re both
unmarried, you know. Jeb’s the oldest and is a widower, no kids
though. And his younger brother can play a mean fiddle. You might
consider dancing a bit with them both.”

“What were you saying about their
experimenting?” Ruth tried to change the subject, before Sue moved
the topic onto Jackson and their supposed marriage.

“We can our vegetables and dry our own meat,
of course. But we also have extra deep root cellars that keep food
from rotting well into summer. It was Jeb’s idea to pack the cellar
with blocks of ice we cut each spring from the river. The two
brothers are always trying new things they read about or hear about
from others.”

“My father was like that – always trying new
treatments from Europe on his patients,” Ruth recalled fondly.

“My point is,” Sue continued, “Jackson’s a
builder. Some men, you‘ll find, are adventurers and wanderers – off
to the gold fields, or sailing to the Far East to seek their
fortunes. Lousy husbands, every last one of them. It’s best to meet
that type once you‘re safely tucked in widowhood,” Sue advised,
with a smile and a wink. “Some farmers and merchants do well enough
for their families, but are always envious of the adventurers. They
tend to have a wandering eye for the ladies, since they can’t get
up the gumption to risk the gold fields. It’s best to steer clear
of them too, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

Ruth couldn’t help rolling her eyes in good
humor, since Sue had not even paused for breath, much less looked
to Ruth to see if she were interested in further advice.

Sue forged ahead. “Now if you‘re lucky,
you‘ll find yourself a true builder. They‘re rare enough, I‘ll tell
you that. They‘re the type to dig deep roots, and create not just a
home and life for their own, but to inspire others around them to
do the same. That’s Jackson – a builder down to his soul.”

“Miss Sue,” Ruth interrupted. “I saw my own
home town – a prosperous, thriving place before the War – sit
stagnant for years after the fighting ended. The buildings are
still there. The fertile earth too, with sunshine and plenty of
water for farming. But the spirit of the people was burned to the
ground, sure as if Sherman himself had marched through the quiet
streets. I write to one of my old neighbors, now and again. And to
this very day, the few Southerners left are still waiting for a
builder to pass by and show them the way. So don’t think I fail to
see the qualities that you do in Jackson. There’s no quality more
dear to me.”

“Stop right there, you two.” Catherine
breezed through the kitchen door before she had barely finished her
first knock, followed by a tow-headed stampede.

“Cake, Miss Sue! Cake, please!” The squeals
of energy filled the tiny kitchen to bursting before Catherine took
charge and shooed every last one of her moaning children out the
way they had come.

“Not ‘til after your dinner,” Catherine
shouted above the din. “Now get out there and help your father and
Mister Jackson and earn your cake.”

“Now where was I?” Catherine spun around and
continued her demand, as if no interruption had occurred. “Stop
your cheating ways, that’s where I was. Miss Sue, I can tell from
the gleam in your eye that you’re trying to sway the odds in your
favor.”

“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.
We’ve just been sharing recipes like two old maiden aunts.” Sue
winked at Ruth.

“Why, I just know you’ve been shining up
Jackson’s image, and his alone, so you can win our little wager.”
Catherine spun about so she could stare Ruth squarely in the eye.
“Tell me truly, now. Have you been talking about recipes or
men?”

“Well, I –.” Ruth couldn’t explain why,
exactly, but she stammered her reply before breaking into a telling
blush.

“I knew it,” Catherine squealed, spinning
around to face Sue. “You shameless cheat! You’d have her married to
Jackson without even considering her other options.” Catherine
grabbed Ruth by the apron strings and quickly propelled her out the
kitchen door to the front parlor.

“Why waste her time, when we both know he is
the best catch by far,” Sue replied. “And don’t you forget – I like
my laundry crisp.”

Ruth found herself half way up the stairs
before she thought to ask where Catherine was taking her.

“Why to change your dress, of course,”
Catherine answered. “You can’t catch the eye of every eligible
bachelor in that old rag.”

“But I’m very grateful for the loan of this
dress,” Ruth stammered. “Sue was most generous.”

“Sue’s nearly sixty. You can’t wear that
thing to the only dance we’ll have all year long. I brought you
something much more suitable, you’ll see.”

Catherine carefully set a package on the bed,
where she began to un-wrap the plain brown paper. “Shut the door,
quick, before someone sees,” Catherine said.

Ruth complied, mostly because her curiosity
was piqued. The borrowed brown cotton dress Sue had loaned her was
just about the nicest thing she had owned since before the War.

“Here it is. Have you ever seen anything so
perfect?” Catherine asked in a hushed tone, as she pulled a full
length dress from the paper wrapping and held it up for Ruth’s
inspection.

The dress was pure cobalt blue velvet, nearly
unadorned except for the emerald green underskirt and a row of
matching buttons down the front. “Is that velvet?” Ruth whispered,
afraid she had forgotten what quality looked like.

“The real thing – Go on, feel it.” Catherine
coaxed. “Have you ever felt anything so fine in all your life?”

“Not since my mother’s wedding dress,” Ruth
replied. “It was pure silk.”

Ruth recalled fondly her ailing mother asking
Ruth to take that dress out each night and sharing her dying hopes
for her daughter’s happiness. “I had to trade her dress for a train
ticket to my aunt’s home after my mother passed.”

Catherine held up the creation for Ruth to
see against her skin. “Well, then, this is perfect. My sister made
this dress and never was able to wear it. She’d be tickled to know
it’s going to help a friend of mine catch the eye of her future
husband. She was a true romantic, my little sister.”

“Where’s your sister now?” Ruth asked and
quickly regretted the sad look that entered Catherine’s eyes.

“She died some years back, when we made the
trek out West. She drowned crossing a river when our wagon turned
over.”

“I bet you miss her dearly,” Ruth
commiserated. Death was so common in these times, some had grown
hardened to the need to mourn, but Ruth reached out anyway for
Catherine’s hands and held on tightly.

“Now stop that, or you’ll have us both in
tears and looking a mess before the first jig. My sister loved
dancing and always dreamed of designing fancy dresses for elegant
ladies. She thought she could sell her clothes to the wives and
daughters of merchants who’d grown rich during the gold rush.”

“Oh, I can’t wear this.” Ruth reluctantly
started to hand back the beautiful creation. “You save it for
yourself or sell it for your family.”

“Oh, I couldn’t have squeezed into this even
before my first child, much less now. My last boy just about did my
figure in.” Catherine shook her head fondly. “My sister would have
wanted a kind person to appreciate her work and remember where it
came from. She’d turn in her grave if I just sold it to a stranger,
since it’s now her only surviving creation.”

“Then save it for your daughters.” Ruth
insisted, not sure how she could accept such kindness from a woman
she’d barely known two weeks.

“No, my mind was made up before I came over,”
Catherine insisted. “You’re going to wear this dress and forge a
new life here in the West. It’ll be a tribute to the life my sister
almost had. You do this for me, Ruth. It’d make my sister happy to
know something of her spirit made it out west.”

Ruth couldn’t think of another good reason to
refuse so she hugged Catherine tightly. “Thank you then. I’ll be
honored to wear something so beautiful. Your sister was lucky to
have someone like you in her family.”

Ruth quickly undressed and Catherine helped
her fasten the dress in place, before turning to face her
transformed reflection in the tiny mirror the room afforded.

Catherine smiled beautifully. “Oh, I am
definitely going to win this bet. Maybe I should talk Sue into
another one – maybe over the timing of your first born.”

Ruth couldn’t stop a burst of laughter.
“Catherine!” she admonished, trying to her best to sound shocked,
but secretly imagining the look in Jackson’s eyes when he first saw
her in this dress.

“Nine months. That’s my wager. Don’t let my
sister down, now.” Catherine gave Ruth a quick hug from behind
before dashing back down the stairs, in search of Sue and new
odds.

T
he sound of a
fiddler warming up lured Ruth away from the mirror and over to the
bedroom window. Her gaze immediately found Jackson, leaning
carelessly against the split rail fence surrounding the kitchen
garden. She could hear the men’s muffled voices and smell the
earthiness of their cigars through the open window.