Homespun Hearts (4 page)

C
hirping crickets
, hushed voices and the crackle of burning wood drifted over to Faith’s haven, where she was nestled beneath a grouping of ponderosa pines. A light breeze lifted her hem gently and rustled the leaves. Barely audible were the strains of a harmonica. The song being played suggested the musician was missing a sweetheart.

Pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, Faith sat gingerly on a blanket laid out on the grass, enjoying a moment of solitude. Colton was over with the men in camp and the baby dozed. The peace was heavenly.

John completed all her camp chores with a minimum of effort and a smile on his face. He unhitched the horses and took them off somewhere to be with the others, she’d presumed. Whistling cheerfully, he’d gathered armfuls of wood needed for a fire, then worked diligently until he had a nice blaze burning. He even brought her a bucket of water from the chuck wagon.

“Grub will be ready soon,” he’d told her before leaving. “Just listen for the bell.”

She might hear the bell, but she had no intention of eating with all those men, regardless of their politeness. No, she’d fix something for herself here at her own wagon. There was flour for biscuits and a little apple cake left. She’d make do.

The aroma of meat and something else—possibly gravy—drifted over on the breeze. Her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled loudly. She was starving. She’d never experienced anything like it before in her life. The baby was nursing now almost every hour on the hour. Thankfully, regardless of their scant rations of late, she seemed to have plenty of sustenance to satisfy her. For the time being.

A bell clanged hollowly in camp, the racket going on for a full minute. Men materialized out of nowhere, ambling toward the chuck wagon. Clearly still curious, one by one they glanced in her direction.

Faith set about gathering her cooking supplies, her stomach grumbling in protest all the while. Colton could eat with the men if he wanted, but she’d eat here. That was that. She’d be fine. It was for the best.

After measuring a cup of flour into her bowl, she carefully poured some water into a small well she’d formed in the center.

“Aren’t ya comin’ to dinner, ma’am?”

Faith’s hands jerked, spilling water onto her skirt.

“Sorry.” Smokey blushed sheepishly as she brushed the water off as best she could.

“No harm done.” Faith forced a smile. “I’m just fixing some supper for myself. You go on back and eat before it’s all gone.”

His look was one of sheer disbelief. “But Lucky will be awful disappointed if you don’t come and eat. He’s rustled up a fine supper with all the fixin’s just for you.”

She glanced over at the chuck wagon. All the men stared in her direction. No one was eating.

“They aren’t waiting for me, are they?” she asked in alarm. Puffs of flour landed here and there as she mixed the batter vigorously, her gaze riveted on the other camp.

“Of course they’re waiting.”

She stopped mixing and looked up into Smokey’s face. “Tell them to start.”

“Lucky won’t let ’em, ma’am.”

Like it or not, she’d have to take supper with the cowboys. And, she’d best hurry. A passel of hungry, disgruntled men wasn’t her cup of tea.

L
uke sat apart
from the rest of the men as the object of his frustration slowly made her way into camp. A braid as thick as his wrist hung down her back, swinging from side to side as she walked. A few maverick wisps of hair had pulled free from their bonds and danced freely in the breeze, caressing her pretty face. In her arms, nestled protectively against her chest, was the baby. Quiet. Sleeping. Wrapped snuggly in his shirt.

He was about to get up when Matthew went forward and met Faith and Smokey. Luke’s brother usurped Smokey’s position and escorted the woman over to the chuck wagon, where Lucky was happy to take charge.

The cook forked a thick slab of roast beef onto an enormous plate and ladled on a spoonful of potatoes. He smothered everything with thick brown gravy and then added a cob of yellow corn and wedge of red cabbage. Finally, with practiced skill Luke recognized from years of friendship, Lucky squeezed two sourdough biscuits onto the rim of her plate and a heaping dollop of freshly churned butter.

The men all waited patiently as she took the seat that was offered her.

“I’ll take the baby, missy.” Lucky handed Faith’s dinner to John and reached for the baby. “I’ve had lots of experience tendin’ to young’uns. Don’t you be worryin’ none.”

Faith looked uncertain.

“Ya can’t eat and hold her at the same time. I’ll jist sit right here till you’re done.” The cook took the infant from Faith’s arms and nodded. “And don’t stop till ya cleaned your plate. A few extra pounds will do ya good.”

When Faith picked up her fork, a deafening clamor ensued. Quiet until now, the men scooped and swallowed as if in a race and cleanup duty would fall to the loser.

“Ain’t it good, Ma?” Colton called from across the campfire. “Best I ever ate.” Without seeming to breathe, he shoveled in another enormous mouthful, confirming Luke’s suspicion it had been some time since they’d eaten anything substantial.

As the eating commenced, so did the conversation, with laughing and joking between bites. Every once in awhile, someone would glance in Faith’s direction. Luke sat off to the side. He didn’t feel much like talking, and his appetite wasn’t what it usually was.

He sipped his strong black coffee. Faith was struggling to eat slowly, but she looked like she wanted to dive headfirst into her plate. She paused, taking her gaze off her food long enough to check Lucky and the infant. She scanned the area, eyeing each and every man. When she reached Luke, their gazes locked. Her cheeks turned a deep rosy hue, obvious enough to cause Matt to seek out what had caught her attention.

“Looky here,” Lucky said, standing and making his way around, showing the baby to each man. “She ain’t no bigger than my hand. Ain’t she about the tiniest little thin’ you ever seen?”

“She sure ’nuf is,” Ike agreed over a mouthful of potatoes.

“Bring her over this way, Lucky,” Chance called from the other side of the fire.

“What’s her name?” someone else asked.

F
aith glanced
up as everyone grew quiet. They were all looking at her. What had they just asked? She’d been concentrating on the butter melting down onto her meat and hadn’t heard.

“What’s the little one’s name, ma’am?” the one named Uncle Pete said from his spot on the camp bench.

“I haven’t decided.”

“I’ve always been partial to Rose,” offered Jeb, a newcomer who’d just gotten back from riding patrol. “What do you think of that?”

Faith swallowed a bite of potatoes and gravy. “I think that’s a very pretty name, actually.”

Roady winked at Chance. “What about Francis?”

A whoop of laughter rocked the camp that instantly had the baby crying. Lucky danced around with her in his arms, trying to comfort her.

Faith didn’t get the joke. She looked from face to face until Roady got her attention. He said, “That, over there, is the youngest cowhand in our outfit. Francis, stand up and take a bow.” A boy of about fourteen shyly ducked his head and kicked the dirt.

Someone threw out, “Jane’s pretty. She looks like a Jane to me.”

Bob scoffed. “She ain’t no Jane. She has light hair, like sunshine. A Jane has to have black hair. I know, because I used to be sweet on one.”

Smokey shook his head. “I wouldn’t trust him if I were you. That’s the most I’ve heard him say in two months.”

The men all laughed again, and Faith felt a gentle sweetness warming her heart. It was impossible not to like this group, and surprisingly she found herself laughing, too—a much easier feat now that her tummy was full.

She watched as Luke stood and took his cup over to the wagon, dropping it in the wash kettle. Ambling over to where Lucky held the now-quiet newborn, he pushed close. With his finger he gently moved his shirt aside and softly stroked the child’s cheek.

A moment passed. “She fought her way into this world at dawn,” he said so softly that everyone quieted. Faith was instantly reminded of the special experience they’d so recently shared. “She’s pink and golden like the Rockies before sunup. I’d name her Dawn.”

Faith held her breath. Luke was devastatingly handsome as he looked down at her daughter. There was wildness in him that didn’t apply to his brothers. Her heart fluttered in her breast as if it had wings, and when he glanced her way, his gaze went straight to her soul.

“Dawn.” She tested the name on her lips. “That’s beautiful.”

For the first time since she’d arrived in camp, Luke looked pleased.

“Yes, I like it,” she said softly. “Dawn it is.”

The men let out a resounding cheer that sent the child into a third fit of crying. Faith stood and anxiously reached for her daughter. The baby’s eyes were large and glittered brightly with unshed tears. The lump in Faith’s throat made it difficult to speak.

She looked to Lucky to break her runaway emotions. “Can I help you clean up?” she asked as most of the cowhands dispersed to their bedrolls. It was then that Will and Earl came into camp.

“Oh, no,” the cook said. “I have help. The McCutcheon boys always make sure of it. You jist get on back to yer wagon and git some rest. You’re plum wore out.”

She was. And sore. What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath.

“Go on now.” He gave her a little nudge. “Rest up. Tomorrow comes early on the trail.”

“Ain’t no woman I know can get her lazy backside up afore noon,” Earl said, and nudged Will. He was tall and skinny and his laughter set Faith’s nerves on edge. He and Will, whose scar was vivid in the bright light from the lantern, were looking at her, trying to catch her eye.

“Hush your mouth, Earl,” Lucky ordered. “It’s a good thing Luke or another of the McCutcheons, or anyone, ain’t around to hear you talk like that in Mrs. Brown’s presence.” The cook’s admonishment only made the two laugh harder.

L
uke waited
at the edge of the main campfire to walk Faith back to her wagon.

She approached leisurely, holding her baby as she gazed at the stars. A hot, unsettling feeling sank lower into the pit of his stomach with each step she took. When she reached his side, her unassuming smile hit him like a double-barrel blast from a shotgun.

“Mr. McCutcheon,” she said in hushed tones.

“Don’t you think you could call me Luke?” He looked over her head to see who might be watching them. “We’ve another week at least together. It just seems like the logical thing to do.”

“All right then, Luke.” As she said his name, those long lashes encasing her coffee-colored eyes lowered shyly.

“I’ll walk you to your wagon, bank your fire,” he offered.

“You don’t need to bother yourself…Luke. I wouldn’t want to be
a distraction
.”

Concentrating completely on the husky way she said his name, it took a moment for her meaning to sink in. He fought embarrassment. “You’re not a distraction to
me
. It’s my men I’m worried about.”

Side by side, they fell into stride. At the wagon he went about the things he’d said he’d do, checked inside it to make her feel safe, looked underneath and all around on the ground for snakes. When he finished he hunkered down in front of the fire and looked into the flames.

“If you’d like, Lucky could heat you some water for a bath,” Luke said over his shoulder as he put another log on the fire. He stirred the coals with a stick and sparks danced into the sky. “That is, if you don’t mind using the tub Lucky has in the chuck wagon. Rest assured, it doesn’t get much use.”

“A bath.” The word came out as a caress. Faith’s eyes closed as if in ecstasy, and a little smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “Yes, that would be more than wonderful. I’d like it very much.” She smiled again, and Luke had to drag his gaze away. “Thank you.”

W
ith
her newly named daughter fed and tucked away in her makeshift cradle, Faith relaxed in the hot, steamy water. She was tender, but after the first excruciating seconds the soak eased away the hurt and pain caused by childbirth. Dawn was a beautiful name, so fitting for her perfect little girl. Even more so since it was Luke who’d thought of it. And now the bath, too. Such luxury. Samuel used to get so angry when she spent more than a little time soaking. He’d scream and get worked up and…

Faith slammed her eyes closed, blocking out the memories. What on earth drove a man to such heartlessness?

Scuffling footsteps brought her out of her thoughts. “Ma, I’m back.”

“Shh, don’t wake Dawn,” she called to Colton from behind a tarp and two blankets she and Luke had set up using one side of the wagon and a tree. She wasn’t ready to leave this blissful warmth just yet.

“What’re ya doin’ back there?” Colton’s tone was tinged with apprehension.

“I’m soaking in a nice, hot bath. Would you like to be next?”

His reply was instantaneous. “No, ma’am!”

“Why aren’t I surprised?” Faith brought her hand out of the balmy water to swat at a mosquito buzzing around her face.

“Where’d the
tub
come from?” He said the word as if it were something dirty.

“Luke had it sent over. Wasn’t that kind of him?” Faith took the clump of soap and lathered it up. Enjoying every second, she slowly worked her way up her arm and around her neck.

“Real neighborly,” Colton returned.

“And just what is that tone supposed to mean?” She repeated the washing process with her other arm and then sank into the water up to her chin.

“Just that he ain’t needin’ to be so nosy about you and the baby. Every time I look at him, he’s staring at you like he ain’t never seen a girl before.”

“Is that so?” Luke was staring at her? Butterflies fluttered around in her tummy as she thought of him. Disconcerted, she reminded herself promptly that she’d sworn off men. Luke was just another of the same. One moment they could be kind and caring, like he indeed seemed to be, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t change. Samuel’s death had been a gift. Life wasn’t long enough for a repeat of her last mistake.

“You wash up and get into bed. I’ll be in shortly.”

Colton’s reply surprised her. “I was hoping I could sleep over at the main campfire. You know, with Smokey and the other men.”

“You won’t be scared?”

“Scared? Course not. I’m not a kid no more.”

He was growing up. He was almost nine. “
Any
. Anymore,” she corrected.

“That’s what I said. Well, can I?”

Another lump formed in her throat. He’d been depending on her for the past three years, ever since Bea’s death. He’d been five and had clung to her through thick and thin. Now it seemed he was spreading his wings.

Gratitude to the men for befriending Colton threatened to overwhelm her already raw emotions. It brought another round of maternal sentiment to her heart, making her eyes sting. This was a happy group, a good group—which seemed to be just the medicine her stepson needed. It was only Luke who brought out the worst in him. But that was natural. Luke was an authority figure, like Samuel had been.

“Well?”

“I suppose it’s all right. Be polite and don’t get in anyone’s way.”

“I will. I mean, I won’t,” he called excitedly.

“Colton?”

“Yes, Ma?”

“Please don’t yell. It’ll wake your sister.”

A
round sunrise Luke
ambled in from his watch hungry, tired, and testy, with two days’ worth of beard black on his face. He took a blue-speckled cup, wrapped a towel around the coffeepot handle and poured himself some brew. The men who’d had the watch just before his were still in their bedrolls; the rest were heading out to be with the cattle. Lucky was up, the fresh coffee attested to that, but for now the cook was off doing something else.

With a sigh, Luke lowered his tired body onto the camp bench and stretched out his legs. This would prove to be a long day. Before his watch last night he’d lain in his bedroll, sleep completely eluding him. No matter how he circled it, Faith’s story didn’t add up. It sounded like a lie—or at least like she was covering up for something. Her being that far from civilization, all alone, just didn’t feel right. And her agitated reaction to his questions was surprising, being what they’d just gone through together. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was definitely something that gave him pause. Before he’d known it, Jeb was shaking his shoulder, rousing him to take watch.

Luke gulped a swallow of hot coffee and glanced around camp. Colton was there, his bedroll squished between Francis and Pedro, his scruffy hair the only thing showing.

“You look ’bout as sociable as a festering back tooth,” Lucky rasped, carrying a long side of bacon around the back of the wagon. “What’s eatin’ ya?” The cook had smashed his foot as a young man and because of it walked with a limp. He’d been preparing food for the wranglers ever since. Luke had been a boy no older than Colton at the time.

“Just tired. Didn’t get much sleep.”

“Hmm.” Lucky went about stoking the fire. Laying the bacon in it first, he placed a large cast-iron griddle atop the heat.

“Mornin’,” Roady called, making a beeline to the coffeepot.

“Goin’ somewhere?” Luke asked. His friend was shaved and shined like he were off to a Sunday church meeting.

“No. Why?”

Luke took another swallow and shook his head. “Just wondered. You look mighty gussied up.”

“Can’t a man shave without being set upon?”

Roady’s stance was defensive, so Luke knew to back off. But this was exactly what he’d worried about: the men couldn’t help but be attracted to Faith. It was natural. It wouldn’t be long before they were fighting over her. Moving cattle was a dangerous business. A wandering mind could get a man killed.

Quiet conversation sounded. Chance and Bob strode by purposefully, hair slicked back and clean-shaven for the first time this month. Luke snorted.

“Look at you boys,” Lucky guffawed as he eyed them. “I ain’t never seen such a pretty-faced lot. You look about as soft as the butt of that baby sleeping over yonder.” He took a long whiff. “Good-smelling, too.”

The men ignored the cook and went about filling their plates with slices of ham and spoonfuls of potatoes mixed with onions. They forked plentiful flapjacks from a big white plate. When they tried for the bacon that wasn’t quite done, Lucky swiped at their hands with a spatula. Safety in numbers, Luke thought.

Colton, now up, filled his plate with gusto. He struggled to find room between his potatoes, ham and flapjacks for a handful of biscuits left over from supper. Before Faith knew it, the kid would be grown and gone with the next cattle drive. Wanderlust was bright in his eyes.

“What’re you staring at?” the boy said as he passed Luke. The wranglers’ conversations quieted, and all eating stopped.

“You,” Luke said.

The boy’s impudence was incredible. “Well, knock it off. I don’t like you drilling me with them black eyes.”