Imitations of a Lady Page 6

  He pushed the legs, hoping to reposition it. But the calf wouldn’t move. It’d have to be breech.

  “Is everything alright?”

  Jesse turned at the sound of her voice and colored. “What in tarnation are you doing here, Miss Williams?”

  She clutched a book to her chest and leaned closer to the animal. “Is she about to give birth all the way out here?”

  He nodded. “I found her only moments ago. I don’t know how she got out, let alone had the energy to move to this pasture. You best leave before it gets messy.”

  Miss Williams shifted her weight, seeming to deliberate. “May I help?”

  Jesse tugged on the hooves this time instead of pushing, but the baby didn’t budge. “You could get me that other rope by the saddle.”

  She fetched the rope, nearly running to his side. “Here.”

  Looping the rope around the hooves, Jesse dug his heels into the ground and pulled. He pulled again, the second time with more force, grunting and sweating from the exertion.

  “Is the mama alright?” Miss Williams asked, stroking the animal’s back.

  “No,” Jesse said, mounting his horse. “She hasn’t been for a week, but this birth might be the end of her.” He looped the rope around the saddle horn and backed the horse.

  Ever so slowly, the hooves emerged, followed by the hind and body. Jesse watched Miss Williams, sure the slime and blood would bother her. What kind of a girl, discounting Claire, could stand the sight?

  “Oh, dear,” Miss Williams said, stroking the mama’s fur. “Just a few moments more.”

  Jesse dropped from the horse. The calf’s head emerged, but its mama was too ill to move or clean the baby. Jesse stretched the animal and pushed back the sac. The baby was a brown and white heifer. Jesse checked the heartbeat. Slow and sluggish.

  “Miss Williams, can you ride?” Jesse asked. “If you were to fetch Jude or Eric or Slim, we might be able to save the calf.”

  Absolute decision emanated from her gaze. She stood. “I can do that.” She darted to the horse and nearly flew up its side.

  Jesse loosed the rope from the horn, and fell backward as Miss Williams kicked the animal to a sprint in the direction of the barn. He’d never seen a lady, other than Claire, ride with a leg on each side.

  Chapter 13

  Cora clung to the bench beneath her legs. She wanted to propel the wagon faster, over the pasture and creek to the new calf.

  “Just past that brush,” Cora said, directing Jude.

  Claire sat atop her horse, riding parallel to the wagon. Her hair was tucked into a single braid that whipped in the wind with each gallop. Upon hearing word of the mama and baby, she’d gathered supplies for the wagon and leapt on her horse—all before Jude could gather his hat.

  Jude drove the horse faster, and the wagon bumped along in response. “I found the gap in the fence just this morning,” he said and shook his head. “I hadn’t the time to count the strays yet. I wouldn’t have thought that mama would have wandered. She’s hardly moved for weeks.”

  “So your brother said,” Cora said. “The poor creature.”

  They rode the rest of the way in silence, reaching Jesse and the cows.

  Claire dismounted before Cora had a chance to catch her breath.

  “‘bout time,” Jesse said, cradling a calf to his chest. He set it in the back of the wagon. “These calves are on their last breath.”

  “Calves?” Cora asked, looking below.

  “Twins,” Jude said, smiling. “I’ll be! And the mama?”

  Jesse shook his head.

  Another motherless creature. Tears pricked her eyes, and Cora glanced to the two calves, one of which seemed to be worse off than the other. The unfortunate souls. She moved to the back of the wagon, stroking the sickest of the two.

  “Miss Williams, your dress,” Claire said, slipping a blanket beneath the baby.

  Cora shook her head. “No matter the dress. This animal has lost its mother.”

  Claire fell back a step. “It happens all the time, Miss Williams. They’ll be alright. We’ll get another mama to nurse her.”

  It happens all the time—how right Miss Rogers was! Cora was proof of such tragedy, though her mother hadn’t the decency to die. And life had a way of reminding Cora of her depravity each day, in almost every possible way. No, the frequency of such a tragedy didn’t lessen the impact or the pain. Surely the calves would feel the loss.

  Jesse loaded the second calf and closed the hitch. “Take them to the barn. That one,” he said pointing to the one in Cora’s arms, “needs a mama quickly.”

  Claire nodded. “I’ll see to it. Don’t worry, Jesse.”

  He smiled and took some tools from the wagon. “I don’t doubt it. You’re a miracle worker, Claire.”

  Claire sat in the driver seat and clicked her tongue. The horses moved in response, back the way they’d come.

  “What about the boys?” Cora asked, watching Jude and Jesse crouch beside the mama.

  “They’ll butcher the mama for meat. She’s already dead.”

  The pain of years past surrounded Cora once more, and she cradled the head of the calf in her lap. One day there, one day gone—that was the way of the world. Even Lettie, a respectable and kind-hearted lady, would leave behind a baby before returning to Virginia.

  Tears dripped down her cheek. Lettie’s baby was more unfortunate than them all—to be motherless by no fault of its own and left by a mother who was actually kind and good and everything a child could wish for.

  Cora swallowed a sob and turned her attention back to the calf in her arms. At least she could help this little animal, one less suffering soul.

  Chapter 14

  Jesse paused at the gate of the triage, where Miss Williams bottle fed the calf. She’d named it Henrietta and had come to nurse it every morning for a week. He’d told her it was unwise to name the calf, especially when it might not recuperate.

  “There, there,” she said, stroking Henrietta’s cheek. Her laugh rung out, and she chided the calf once more. “Slow down, or you’ll choke.”

  She spoke to the baby as if it understood, and Jesse laughed, startling Miss Williams. “You don’t have to fuss so much. The calf’ll be just fine. It’s much worse if the calf were to lose its mother in a month or two. But this one—it don’t know better. It’ll take to another mama quickly.”

  Miss Williams smiled, but it was empty, lifeless. “I can’t bear to think of any creature being motherless.”

  Jesse lifted his arms and shrugged. “Then you wouldn’t survive this ranch. Mamas and babies alike die each season.”

  “I understand,” she said, dropping her gaze to the calf. “I do, Jesse.”

  His heart lifted. His name on her lips was almost as lovely as the sight before him. He unlatched the gate and crouched beside her. “Little Henrietta will be just fine, you’ll see. Before long, she’ll blend into the herd. You’ll hardly be able to tell she lost her mama. Another cow will step in, filling that hole and erasing the pain.”

  Miss Williams’s glossy eyes met his. Her lips parted as if she wished to speak, but she shook her head instead.

  Jesse’s stomach flipped, and his head grew light and fuzzy. Had she always been so tenderhearted? He took her hand, despite his better judgment. “I promise.”

  A charge emanated from her touch, tingling up Jesse’s arm and to his chest. He wanted to move closer, hold her hand in his forever. Perhaps this was what Eric spoke of when he’d told Jesse of falling in love with Christine.

  Magnetism—that’s what Eric had called it.

  Jesse had never felt more attracted to a person in his whole life, and not just her looks or her touch, but her soul and the mysteries that loomed behind her light eyes. He wanted to be close to her, to uncover the woman behind the plastered smile.

  Miss Williams took an audible breath. “I understand,” she said more forcibly, pulling from his grasp. “I am schooled in the way of animals and earth and t
he circle of life, Mr. Davis.”

  Back to Mr. Davis… Was it his touch? He stood. “I only meant that seeing animals die is different than knowing they do. And seeing Henrietta thrive in a couple weeks is different than knowing she will. I only meant to offer comfort.”

  Miss Williams nodded, and her lips curled in her characteristically mannered smile. “Thank you. I must return to your grandmother for our—”

  “Recitations,” Jesse said, finishing her sentence. Schedules were of utmost importance to Grams, almost as much as punctuality.

  She stood and smoothed out her dress. “Yes.”

  He tipped his hat. “I’m sure I’ll see you at the next meal.” He left before she could answer. Humiliation overcame him. What right had he to touch her, to hold her hand? By Miss Williams’s reaction alone—none. He climbed the ladder to the upper portion of the barn and threw himself on the hay floor. He chucked his hat clear across the loft and grunted.

  Jesse was brooding, and the realization brought a scowl to his face. He’d told Grams from the very beginning he didn’t want a lady like Miss Williams. He’d practically laughed in her face at the idea.

  And now he did—only he didn’t know the least way to go about it. Who could he ask? Surely not Eric—Jesse’s older brother would be sure to laugh him to shame. And Christine? She was too sweet. She’d think any good girl would fall for Jesse.

  “What are you doing on the floor?” Claire said, poking her head from the top of the ladder.

  Jesse shot up. “Claire,” he said, burying his face into his hands.

  “What on…?” She climbed the platform and took a seat beside him. “Are you hurt?”

  Jesse laughed. Desperation, disgust, humiliation, and hopelessness poured into it, making his laughter a frightening sound.

  Claire grasped his hand. “That bad, huh? I figured you were sweet on Miss Williams, but I hadn’t a clue it was to this degree.”

  He groaned, nodding amidst his distress. “Teach me how to catch a wife, Claire.”

  Claire laughed in response, so hard that tears met her eyes. “Oh, poor Jess. I, least of all, know how it works.” She sighed, picking hay off her dress. “But, I can tell you how to make a girl feel special. Will that do?”

  Jesse laughed again, this time at the humor of the situation. “It’ll do if it works.”

  Chapter 15

  Dear Lettie,

  I feel a fit of laughter coming on just writing the introduction. Mischievousness does a heart some good now and again. How does your new situation suit you? I smile just asking, but in all honesty, I beg you to write and tell me how you are faring. I haven’t a word from you since you left Crooked Creek, and I’m fixing to worry. I worry about you and that conscience. Nothing good can come out of telling Mrs. Davis the truth.

  Is the Davis family kind to you? Do they treat you right, protect you from the cowboy scoundrels? Speaking of scoundrels, Milton has gone hog angry. He pitched a fit when he discovered you’d skipped town. Half his customers came to hear you sing! In any case, Gary Carpenter—his highest spender—refuses to come back with his men until you’re on stage again. I told him he could forget about that. Ain’t no use hoping for something that won’t be happening.

  Miss Williams gets along nicely, though she’s still sick as a dog. I keep feeding her the best I can, hoping she’ll keep something down. She would be mighty grateful if you would write to her, as would I. She gets mighty lonely.

  As for this old bag, I can’t complain. My hips ache, and my skin sags to my feet. But I don’t mind. I just smile and thank the good Lord I still have a roof over my head and that I can do more good at my wonderous age.

  Take care of yourself,

  Mags

  Three weeks was more than enough time to send word to Maggie. Cora sighed, folding the letter and setting it beside the others. She needed to write to Maggie and Lettie. Goodness, she had enough subject matter—Cora’s newfound fascination with Shakespeare, the piano in the parlor, the calves she nursed, Mrs. Davis’s quirks, or even the quickening of her heart each time Jesse Davis came to mind…

  Yet, the only words that came to mind conjured guilt, pain, and betrayal. How long could she keep up the act? More than once, she’d considered leaving in the night and taking the first train to San Francisco. She’d money enough, reason enough.

  Cora set the ink to paper and began her first letter to Maggie, the only one she hoped to ever write under such deceptive conditions.

  Dear Maggie,

  I’m glad to hear the old bag is still intact. I worry about you and your schemes, all your many undertakings at such an age. I send you my best, in heart and hopes, and sincerely wish I was there for morning talk with breakfast hash ‘round the stove. Ain’t nobody better than you in lifting one’s spirits.

  The Davis family is kind. Mrs. Davis keeps me on my toes. I never know what she’ll say next—except that it will be blunt and straight to the point. She ain’t scared to critique my readings or my embroidery or the way I do my hair. I don’t mind. I find myself smiling at each turn. She’s a strange one alright, though she don’t hold a candle to your feistiness.

  You know me, and you must know how I struggle deceiving such kind folk. It ain’t like me to lie. It ain’t like me to pretend anything, unless it’s an end to escaping Milton. I take each day at a time, hoping this situation—set up by you, nonetheless—will come to a pleasant enough ending.

  Only one thing is for sure. I don’t regret leaving Milton. At last, I’m free of his control and anger and constant threats. I should have left long ago, though I’d been penniless and poor. I thank God that He, and Charlotte Albany, took pity on a poor saloon girl and provided another path. I won’t waste this chance, no matter my desire to fly back to Crooked Creek and rest in your arms.

  All my love,

  Cora

  P.S. I’ve enclosed a letter for Lettie.

  P.S.S. You’ll be happy to know I’ve taken up praying.

  * * *

  Dear Lettie,

  I hope this letter finds you better than the last time we met. Mrs. Davis and her family have seen to my every comfort. I understand your feeling toward such a family and such a place. Overstead is beautiful!

  I only chide you on one subject; you didn’t adequately prepare me for Mrs. Davis! A firecracker if I ever saw one!

  Take care of yourself and the baby. You both have been in my thoughts and prayers.

  Cora

  She folded the papers together and sealed them in the envelope. Cora had waited until Thursday morning—the same day and time Miss Luellan took the post to town. Miss Luellan couldn’t read, and so Cora’s letters were safe in the maid’s hands.

  Cora bounded down the stairs two steps at a time when she heard the wagon outside her window. “Miss Luellan,” she called from the open door.

  A young woman, decidedly not Miss Luellan, stepped up the porch, scanning Cora with more scrutiny than necessary. “Ah, you must be Miss Williams. My daddy told me Mrs. Davis had hired a companion.” Her lips puckered, as if she’d just sucked on a lemon wedge. “Miss Clemens,” she said, holding out her white-gloved hand.

  Cora curtsied, then shook her hand. “A pleasure, Miss Clemens.”

  “Letters to post?” the girl asked, looking to the papers in Cora’s hands.

  Cora pushed them to her skirt pocket. “I was just looking for Miss Luellan to post them for me.”

  “So I heard.”

  Cora lifted her chin and gritted her teeth. She’d had her fair share of women-wars, always about some unnamed pride or competition at stake and usually involving passive-aggressive compliments or haughty glances. Miss Clemens looked to be the commanding officer of such a war—overly confident and pretty, skilled and conniving, the type to stab a fellow soldier in the back when she wasn’t paying attention.

  “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?” Miss Clemens asked, narrowing her gaze. She swayed back and forth, the fabric of her skirts swishing loud
ly. “I’ve a basket of jams for dear Mrs. Davis.”

  Dear Mrs. Davis. Cora smiled, remembering when she’d called the old woman as much to Jesse at their first meeting. “How careless of me. Do come in, Miss Clemens. Mrs. Davis is in the parlor, and I will return promptly—after I see these letters to the safe hands of Miss Luellan.”

  Miss Clemens lifted a brow. “I suppose I’ll have to show myself into the parlor.”

  Cora stepped past her. “I suppose you must.”

  Chapter 16

  The Davis Stampede was one week away. And, being Friday afternoon, Jesse was assured Miss Williams would be alone in the house. Rainclouds loomed in the distance, a brewing storm on the horizon.

  “It’s now or never,” Claire said, winding the rope at her side. She’d spent the morning at Jesse’s side, advising him on how to speak to Miss Williams. “Go on.”

  Jesse had enough tasks to finish before the first cattle drive in three weeks. Northwind Range was the largest ranch in Colorado, home to nearly 10,000 cattle. It took two dozen cowboys and four separate trips to drive the 6,000 soggy calves to the stockyard in Denver.

  But… magnetism.

  Jesse tried to stop himself, to reason himself out of making another mistake. He’d already scared her by touching her hand. Yet, one foot led the other, again and again, until Jesse found himself back in the house, standing in front of the study.

  Miss Williams sat, looking down at the books spread across the table. History, maps, and travel logs—things Jesse knew little about. She chewed the inside of her cheek, tracing her finger across the words she read. She scribbled a note on a piece of paper, then turned the page.

  “Planning a journey sometime soon?” he asked, smiling.

  Her eyes darted to his, and her lips parted in surprise. “Jesse,” she said. Her blonde hair was pinned to the side, with curls falling down one side of her shoulder. She was prettier than he remembered.