Head in the Clouds (10 page)

Adelaide suppressed a shudder. She knew the animal was not being carried away to a calamitous fate, but somehow the scene made her uneasy anyway. Hoping she would feel better once she witnessed what actually went on inside the shed, she led Isabella toward the busy building.

Over a dozen men were bustling around in the shed, most of them strangers to her. Wariness tinged her curiosity, and her footsteps slowed. Isabella grabbed hold of Adelaide’s skirt but gamely leaned forward to observe the goings-on. The scene before her resembled a bawdy tavern more than a workshop. Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring a young girl out here. The men laughed and bantered with one another, trading insults that she understood more by their facial expressions than by her rudimentary grasp of their language. Some of the more colorful words she managed to make out over the incessant clicking of the shears brought heat to her face and left her grateful for Isabella’s ignorance.

The girl tugged on her dress, and Adelaide looked down, afraid of what she might see in her charge’s eyes. However, a glittering smile engulfed Isabella’s face as she pointed toward the opposite side of the platform. Adelaide followed her gaze.

Gideon stood talking to one of the shearers, the leader of the crew by the looks of him. Relief poured through her. With Gideon in the building, she need not worry about the men.

Taking Isabella by the hand, she skirted the edge of the platform. The boisterous conversation waned, and Adelaide felt uncomfortably conspicuous. She lifted her head and smiled politely at the men on the platform. Most nodded their heads in a mannerly fashion before returning to their work, but one fellow on the end held her gaze and smiled back in a way that caused her to discreetly check her bodice to make sure her buttons were done up.

Gideon caught sight of them and rushed forward. “Miss Proctor. What are you doing here?”

She couldn’t decide if there was censure in his voice or not. Perhaps it was just her own regret echoing in her ears. Regardless, the smile he turned on his daughter was genuine. He lifted Isabella into his arms and ushered both females to the far side of the building while she explained.

“Since neither Isabella nor I have experienced a shearing before, I thought this a good opportunity to expand our education on the matter. I hope our presence isn’t too disruptive.”

Gideon’s brow wrinkled a bit. “Well, the two of you probably shouldn’t linger overlong in the shed, but I don’t think it would hurt anything for you to watch for a while.”

“Thank you, Mr. Westcott.” Adelaide easily agreed with his assessment. She was accustomed to being around working men, having grown up the only female on her father’s ranch, but the atmosphere in this room full of strangers was different. She didn’t have the security of her father’s protection. Here she was just an employee. And while certain that Gideon would not allow any harm to befall her in his presence, she worried about what could happen if he wasn’t around. Borrowing trouble never accomplished anything more than giving her a headache, though, so Adelaide pushed her anxiety aside and resumed her role of educator.

“Would you explain the process to us?”

Pride glowed in Gideon’s eyes. “Certainly.”

Adelaide could still feel the stare of the impertinent shearer on her. She turned her back to the platform and stepped closer to Gideon. His familiar accent soothed her as she listened, and soon her quest for knowledge obliterated all other thoughts from her mind.

“The shearers work on the platform in order to keep the fleeces as clean as possible,” he was saying.

Adelaide wrinkled her nose as she looked at the sheep that had just been brought in from the pen. The man she had seen outside knelt with a knee on his ewe’s hindquarters and held her head up with one hand as he worked the shears with the other. She had always thought of sheep as white, fluffy creatures, but after being on the range for months at a time, they more closely resembled dark gray storm clouds than the cheerful white ones dotting the sky on a sunny summer day.

“Why does cleanliness matter when they are so greasy and dirty already?”

Gideon winked at her. “It’s not the top we care about but the underside.”

He pointed to the second man on the line. A mass of snowy fibers hung down from his sheep like an elegant coat the lady was allowing him to remove.

“When he’s finished, he’ll fold the fleece white side out and hand it off to the
lanero
, the boy whose job it is to carry the fleeces to the bag.” Gideon tipped his head away from the platform, and Adelaide twisted her neck to look behind her. She expected to see a pile of bags the size of large flour sacks, but the giant tube that hung suspended from a tall wooden frame several feet away dwarfed every man in the room.

“My word …” Adelaide moved closer, angling her chin up as she went. “Izzy, look at this. You’d have to stand on your papa’s shoulders to reach the top.” She placed her back against the canvas to measure herself against it, but something poked her. She squealed and hurried back to Gideon’s side.

He chuckled.

Feeling foolish, she glanced back at the bag. It stood perfectly still. Then all at once it undulated and a sharp angle protruded.

“Mr. Westcott! I think an animal has somehow fallen into your wool sack.”

Laughter rang throughout the shed, and Adelaide realized she had spoken much too loudly.

“No, Miss Proctor.” Gideon shook his head, his lips twitching. “That’s the packer. It’s his responsibility to tramp down the fleeces so that each bag holds the maximum amount of wool.”

“There’s a man in there?”

“Yes.” His eyes danced with mirth.

She strove to cover her embarrassment by babbling on. “It must get dreadfully hot in there by the end of the day.”

Gideon just grinned.

“
Tecolero
!”

One of the shearers shouted out the word, causing Adelaide’s heart to jump. A young boy rushed to the platform with a can containing a black tarlike substance and began to carefully daub it on each little cut on the now scrawny, naked sheep. Her father used to do the same for their horses and cattle when they acquired open wounds from barbed wire or other sharp objects.

“That’s to keep out the blowflies, right?”

Gideon nodded. “It is, indeed. We don’t want any worms causing trouble later for our little ladies.”

Isabella shivered and made a face. She wiggled her forefinger in the air and curled her lip in disgust.

“I agree.” Adelaide screwed her features into a similar expression. “I don’t like worms, either. Let’s get rid of this one, too, shall we?” She grabbed hold of Isabella’s finger and pretended to pull it off. She threw the imaginary appendage to the floor and ground it into the earth with her boot. Isabella giggled, and Gideon gave Adelaide one of those smiles that sent tingles through her.

The boy finished with the tar, and pushed the ewe through a chute that Adelaide assumed led to another corral. The man she had seen talking to Gideon when she first came in approached the platform and handed the shearer a small metal disc.

“What is that he’s giving him?” she asked.

“It’s like currency,” Gideon explained. “Every fleece shorn earns a disc that can be traded in for cash when the job is done. They make about five cents a fleece, so the men work as fast as possible. Most of the top men can shear about a hundred sheep a day.”

“Impressive.”

As if he thought she had cued him, the rude shearer on the end stood up, drawing Adelaide’s unwilling attention. He waved the medicine boy over and jangled the discs in his trouser pocket, gazing at Adelaide all the while. She tried to ignore him, but he pulled out a red bandanna to wipe his forehead, and the bright color danced in her line of vision, taunting her. Then, without a scrap of modesty, he cooled himself further by stripping out of his loose cotton shirt. A small gasp escaped her, and Gideon immediately stepped between them to shield her from the sight.

“Let me show you the branding station,” Gideon said, his voice tight with disapproval. She didn’t dare look up, but she hoped her employer was glaring the miscreant into submission.

Chapter 11

The warmth of Gideon’s hand pressing into the small of her back eased some of Adelaide’s tension as he escorted her out of the shed and into the sunshine. Taking a deep breath, she gathered her wits while Gideon set Isabella on her feet and led her a short distance away to where Miguel and another herder waited for the next sheep to amble down the chute. Gideon called for her to follow, but the branding iron in the foreman’s hand made her reluctant.

She had never cared for branding. It seemed cruel to burn an animal just to prove a person’s ownership. Bad enough for a toughhided steer, but a delicate ewe without even her wool for protection? Adelaide wasn’t sure she could stomach such an act.

A sheep came through the chute just then, looking somewhat traumatized from her recent ordeal. Her hooves thudded into the ground sporadically as her uneven, hopping gait led her toward her next travail. Her dull-witted, teary eyes seemed to plead for help as she tripped past Adelaide. Unable to offer rescue, Adelaide watched helplessly as the herder deftly caught the ewe at the end of the chute and held her still while Miguel pressed the red iron to her flesh.

Adelaide squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the scream of pain and the smell of singed skin, but neither came. When she found the courage to peek, she found Miguel dipping the iron into a bucket at his feet while Gideon held the sheep’s head so Isabella could run her fingers over the shorn wool. That’s when Adelaide finally noticed the lack of a fire. No hot coals to heat the iron. Curious, she sidled up to Miguel and peered into the bucket.

“Paint.”

“Sí, señorita. We use a red circle
W
.” Miguel lifted up the iron for her to inspect. Red paint dripped off the brand.

Consoled by the gentler process, Adelaide’s interest burgeoned. “Won’t it be hard to see once the wool grows out?”

“Sometimes it gets obscured,” Gideon confirmed from where he knelt with his daughter, “but the other ranchers in the area use blue or green for their flocks, so even if you can’t see the
W
, you can tell it’s one of ours by the color.”

Another ewe headed down the chute, sparking an impulse.

“May I try?” Adelaide asked.

Miguel handed her the iron and helped her press it flat against the animal’s hip. In an instant, Isabella was at her side demanding a turn, as well. By the time the next sheep came along, she wielded the heavy iron with two hands, and with Miguel’s aid, produced a beautiful, lopsided
W
that had her beaming with pride.

Adelaide met Gideon’s eye after he closed the corral gate behind the last sheep.

“I had hoped we would find a way to help today,” she said. “With your permission, Isabella and I would like to stay here a while and assist with the branding.”

Isabella ran over to her father and nodded vigorously.

Gideon rubbed his chin for a moment, then shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Miguel.”

His daughter didn’t hesitate. She scurried over to the foreman and pleaded with the biggest, dewiest blue eyes she could muster. Miguel didn’t stand a chance.

The vaquero held his hands up in surrender. “Sí, sí. You can help. But you must listen to Miguel, eh?”

The child nodded, and everything was settled. Adelaide and Isabella worked with Miguel most of the day, taking breaks at noon and several times in the afternoon as weariness set in. By suppertime, exhaustion finally demanded they stop. Nevertheless, Miguel’s praise sent them to the house with smiles on their faces and satisfaction in their hearts.

Dirty as they were, Adelaide decided it best for them to eat in the kitchen before heading up to bed. Mrs. Chalmers set them each a place and dished up bowls of chicken stew with dumplings. The food was delicious, but Adelaide had trouble summoning the strength to eat it. Isabella fared even worse. After she had dozed off, spoon in hand, for the third time, Adelaide decided getting the child into bed was more pressing than getting her to finish her meal.

“The poor dear is tuckered out,” Mrs. Chalmers said from the doorway.

“She worked hard today.” Adelaide pushed slowly to her feet, her muscles aching with each movement. “I think I’ll take her up to her room.”

The housekeeper laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’re too tired to carry anything heavier than a candlestick up those stairs. I’ll see to her.” She pushed forward and gathered Isabella into her arms. The girl’s head immediately flopped onto the woman’s shoulder.

“I really should be the one to—”

“Pish, posh.” Mrs. Chalmers breezed past. “I’ll brook no argument, miss. You take care of your own needs tonight.”

Adelaide hesitated for only a moment before accepting the offer. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Chalmers gave her a brief nod and headed for the staircase.

Wanting to return the kindness in some small way, Adelaide cleared the table and washed the cups and bowls in the tub of lukewarm dishwater sitting on the cabinet by the stove. She dried them and put them away in the hutch. As she closed the glass door on the cupboard, something orange peeked out at her from under the bottom shelf. A carrot. It must have fallen while Mrs. Garrett prepared supper. Adelaide bent to retrieve it and dusted it off on one of the few clean spots she could find on her skirt.

Sheba had been cooped up in the stables all day since they had forgone their usual morning ride. Gideon’s men would have seen to her food and water, but Adelaide felt guilty about neglecting her dear friend. Perhaps a tasty carrot would make up for her lack of attention.

Clutching her peace offering, Adelaide exited the house through the kitchen door and headed for the stable. Daylight was fading, so she forced her sore muscles to a quick pace. The yard looked deserted, but raucous noise drifted to her from the shearers’ camp on the far side of the corrals. Gideon had warned her not to venture in that direction in the evenings since the men usually spent the night drinking and gambling with their hard-earned discs. She’d just pay a quick visit to Sheba and be back in the house before full darkness set in.

Enough light drifted in through the wide stable door to allow her to see without a lantern. Shadows lurked in the back by Sheba’s stall, but that didn’t bother her. She knew exactly where she was going. Sheba nickered a greeting, and Adelaide patted her cheek.

“Did you miss me today, girl?”

Sheba nuzzled her neck.

“I brought you a treat.” She held out the carrot and smiled as Sheba greedily chomped it to bits. “I thought you’d like that.”

All at once, Sheba yanked her head away from Adelaide and pricked her ears. She neighed and stomped nervously in her stall.

“What is it?” Adelaide stroked her horse’s neck in an effort to calm her. “Do you smell an animal or something?”

“Hola, señorita
.”

Adelaide gasped and spun around, her heart pounding. The lecherous shearer stood as bold as brass in the stable alley, his shirt hanging open to expose his chest to her view. He leaned insolently against the neighboring stall door and winked at her.

“I knew you’d come to me,
bonita
. After teasing me in the shed today, you want to finish what you started.”

The dumplings she had eaten such a short time ago turned to rocks in her stomach, and her legs threatened to buckle under her. Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t even voice the denial her mind was screaming.

Sheba kicked at the stall, and a memory jarred. “
You’re too small to overpower a man who wants to hurt you, sunshine,”
her father had said. “
You’ve got to outthink him
.” Outthink him. Buy herself time to find a weapon or summon help.

Adelaide inhaled a tremulous breath and tried to stem the terror that spiraled through her like a cyclone. His cocksure manner didn’t bode well. He probably wouldn’t accept a simple refusal. She’d have to try to keep him talking long enough to come up with a plan.

“I’m sorry, señor.” She forced her lips into a polite smile, praying he couldn’t smell her fear. “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding. I came out here to see to my horse, not to meet anyone.”

Her eyes desperately scanned the barn for something she could use to defend herself. A pitchfork stood against the far wall a couple yards away. If she could just take a few steps past him …

He pushed away from the stall he’d been leaning on and moved closer. Adelaide pressed her back into the wood of Sheba’s door. The man clicked his tongue at her and wagged his head.

“Ah, señorita. You should not lie to José. I know what you want.” He licked his lips and his gaze raked over her from head to toe. As his eyes slowly worked their way back up her form, they lingered at the line of her breasts. Adelaide twisted her head to the side and leaned away from him, feeling sullied by his visual caress.

The wood support behind her began to shake. She floundered for a moment but then realized Sheba was kicking at the door again.
Sheba.
Her ally. As surreptitiously as possible, Adelaide slid her hand along the edge of the door.

“No, señor.” She mustered all the bravado she could manage, hoping to distract him from her purpose. “I am a respectable woman, a teacher. I do not participate in clandestine meetings with men I hardly know.” Her fingers brushed the edge of the latch. “I must insist that you return to your camp. Mr. Westcott would not want you snooping around in his stables or pestering his staff.”

His frown grew deeper as she spoke. Did he not understand her? Perhaps “clandestine meetings” had not been the best choice of words.

“You need to go. Now.” She pointed toward the entrance as her hidden hand closed over the sliding bar that held the lock in place.

His scowl darkened, and all hints of charm disappeared. He lashed out and gripped her chin with biting force. She fumbled to hold onto the latch while he forced her face up.

“So, you are just like all the other
gringas
who swish their skirts at us like it’s some kind of game. You make us hungry for you then send us away. You cannot steal a man’s pride like that and not pay.”

His eyes glowed with fury. Fury borne from pain.

“What was her name?”

The shearer jerked her neck around, his fingers digging even harder into her jaw. He bent his head over her and placed his face so close to hers that she could smell the whiskey on his breath. Her stomach roiled, but she fought down the urge to gag.

“The woman who hurt you,” she gritted out. “What was her name?” If she could get him to focus his anger on someone else, maybe he would release her.

José smiled with an unholy delight, and all hope of release died.

“It does not matter, bonita, for today you
are
her.”

His lips crushed hers in a bruising kiss designed to punish. She squirmed in protest, but he held her fast. Praying for strength, Adelaide threw the latch on the stall door and stomped José’s foot with the heel of her boot. He loosened his grip for just a second, and she took full advantage. She brought both arms down hard where he held her chin and tore free. Dashing around the edge of the stall door, she slammed it forward into her attacker with all her might. He stumbled back.

Sheba bucked, nervous from all the commotion. Adelaide grabbed her mane and dragged her out. She wanted nothing more than to jump onto the mare and gallop away with her, but she’d never be able to mount bareback without her split skirt. Remembering the pitchfork, Adelaide opted for a distraction instead. She slapped Sheba’s rump and yelled, causing the already skittish mare to rear up. While José dodged Sheba’s flailing hooves, Adelaide ran for the weapon.

It didn’t take long for José to get past her horse. Adelaide faced him, brandishing the pitchfork in front of her. Sheba’s fleeing hoofbeats echoed dishearteningly through the stable.

“Put it down, bonita. You can’t hurt me.”

She feared he was right but refused to admit it. “I don’t want to, but I will if you don’t leave me alone.” She jabbed the prongs at him to accent her words, but he laughed at her efforts.

Adelaide gathered her gumption and lunged toward him, cutting off his laughter. He hopped backward and knocked the metal tines aside with his forearm. He nearly grabbed the weapon away from her, but she snatched it out of his reach at the last second. Not wanting to make that mistake again, Adelaide shifted her hold. Before he could guess her intent, she hoisted the handle up to her shoulder and with a mighty grunt, swung the pitchfork like a stickball bat. Doubting she could reach his head without his blocking her, and not wishing to kill him if he didn’t, she aimed for his knees. The handle connected with a thud, and José dropped to the ground.

Abandoning the weapon, she ran for the door. His roar of pain filled the air like a demon’s cry. Halfway to the door, she heard his pounding footsteps closing the gap behind her.

Panic surged. Her legs flew. The door drew near. Escape.

But before she could gain her freedom, he tackled her from behind. She crashed to the floor. Pain shot through her elbow and hip. She screamed and clawed for the door. He dragged her back. Her nails scraped against the wooden planks, searching for something to grasp. They found nothing.

Then he hefted her up, encircling her middle with an unforgiving arm that bent her in two. His dirty hand closed over her mouth, cutting off her screams. She kicked and hit at him with her fists, but the awkward blows had no effect. He cursed and carried her back to the depths of the stable.

“It’s time to pay, bonita.”

She fought for breath under his violent grip. He kicked open a vacant stall and threw her roughly onto a thin pile of straw. She gasped for air and found her voice.

“Let me go!”

He slapped her hard across the face.

“Not till I’m done with you.”

Her head spun from the blow, and her heart lurched at his words. She turned onto her belly and tried to crawl away from him, but there was nowhere to go. He flipped her onto her back and slapped her again, slamming her head into the floor. Tears ran down her cheeks. She begged for mercy, her pleas coming out in tiny, broken whimpers. He leered at her, grabbed the collar of her dress, and yanked. Buttons popped off and disappeared into the hay. She bucked and scratched at his face, shrieking at him to stop. But he pinned her arms to the ground and pushed his weight on top of her, once again stealing her breath.