The Jeweled Spur (11 page)

“I’d not be so quick to blame everything on the good Lord!” Mac snapped sharply. He shook his head dolefully. “These acting fellers—they’ve got no more morals than an alley cat. You can’t go runnin’ around the country with the likes of them!”

Laurie’s eyes glowed, and she took his arms firmly. “But I’ll have a chaperon to look out for me, Mac. He’ll see that I’m all right.”

“And who might that be?” the old man asked, rubbing his tired eyes.

“You!” Laurie laughed with delight at the shocked expression on the Irishman’s face. “You’re dying of boredom here, Mac—and Mr. Cody wants you to come with the show. He needs a good man to take care of the horses, and I told him you’re the best there is! Oh, Mac, you’ve got to do it!”

Michael McGonigal was confused. He hated his job, and he loved this young woman as a man loves a daughter. Ever since the first day she had ridden up the lane at Wilson College, she had been the light of his life—and now it seemed that his sun was about to die. He thought of what it would be like to be rid of the stables and to travel with other horsemen—and to be close to Laurie.

He suddenly rubbed his eyes fiercely, muttering, “Got some sleep in me eyes, I reckon—” He turned his back and stared at the wall, then cleared his throat. Finally he faced Laurie and gave her a beautiful smile.

“Well, now, Laurie—I reckon the good Lord is about to give
both
of us the desires of our hearts! Ain’t it a wonder, now? Ain’t it grand to be a child of the great King?”

Then she fell into his arms, and the two did a happy little dance on the wooden floor. The horse in the stall outside poked his head over the wall and stared toward them wild-eyed, wondering what it all meant.

This was the beginning for Laurie—a new life such as she’d
never dreamed. Over the next few months, both Laurie and McGonigal were kept busy learning new skills. But whenever Laurie seemed to face a new challenge, her Irish friend was always there with firm support and good advice.

McGonigal’s firm conviction that the Lord always had a hand on all things slowly began to have an effect on Laurie. As she settled into her routine, the years of godly advice that had soaked into her from childhood surfaced. When trials or temptations came, she seemed almost to hear the voice of her father or her mother reading scripture, and she grew to love the Bible in a fresh way.

Laurie had always longed to hear from God in a personal way—such as she had seen in her parent’s lives—and as times passed, she spent all her spare hours reading the well-worn Bible her mother had given her that last day.

With the passing of time, a new peace and sense of the presence of God came to rule over her spirit. And it was McGonigal who noticed her new walk with God and summed it up:

“You’ve grown up in the Lord, Laurie—now we’ll see what God has in store for you!”

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Way of a Woman

The best time of the day for Hope Winslow was the early cobwebby hours of the morning—the time when the sun began to light the east, shedding the darkness of the plains. She lay in bed enjoying the coolness, knowing the heat would soon come. As the bedroom began to grow lighter, she turned her head and watched Dan sleep. He always slept on his back and was one of the few people she knew who didn’t snore in that position. Lying on her side, she traced his strong features as the light illuminated them. Cautiously she reached over and smoothed the black hair where it had fallen over his forehead, smiling as she thought how much he looked like a little boy as he slept. He always folded his hands over his chest, and she noticed that he was smiling a little, his features relaxed. She liked the way he slept, and now, as the morning dawned, she leaned over and whispered, “Wake up.”

Dan Winslow did not come awake like most people—slowly, a little at a time. At once his eyes flew open and he turned his head and looked into her eyes, saying, “Good morning.” He unfolded his hands, rolled over on his left side so that he faced her, reached over, and stroked her light brown hair. “How is it,” he murmured, a smile turning the corner of his lips up, “that every morning of your life you get more and more beautiful?”

Hope had heard this, or some form of it, practically every morning of their married life, but it never ceased to give her a sense of pleasure. She thought quickly of her first two
husbands—the first one so far back that she could barely remember him at times. He had given her Cody, for which she was grateful, but her memories of him were unpleasant ones. He had not been gentle in his lovemaking, but selfish and demanding. Her second husband she put quickly out of her mind, for she had known nothing but cruelty from him. But this man lying by her side was totally different. She had learned what true love was only with Dan Winslow. She had been amazed to find that a man could be so sensitive and so strong at the same time. Stroking his arm now she whispered, “I got a prize when I got you, Dan Winslow. Just think of how many women would like to be in my place!”

He laughed, amused at her thoughts. “What would you do if you found one in your place?”

“Scratch her eyes out!” Hope said, trying to look mean and vicious and failing miserably.

They lay there in the bed holding each other, talking about unimportant things. This early morning interlude had been a time that Dan had also learned to treasure. He had found in Hope Winslow the woman that he had always longed for, and he thanked God every day of his life that he had been blessed with such a wife.

“I guess we better get up,” Hope said reluctantly. When Dan reached out and held her, kissing her firmly, she surrendered to his caress for a moment—then she pushed him away, laughing. “Never mind all that, I’ve got work to do.”

Dan lay back, locked his fingers together, and watched her as she began to get dressed. “I think I’ll have breakfast in bed today,” he pronounced. “You know what I like best, so just bring it in here.”

“That’ll be the day!” she scoffed. “Get out of that bed, you loafer! I’ve got half a dozen things for you to do.” Dan rolled over reluctantly, got out of bed, and began to get dressed. As he walked over and poured the shaving water into the basin at the washstand and began to work up a lather, he said, “What did you think of that last letter from Tom?”

Hope straightened up from where she was making the bed and looked at him. “I was sorry to hear that they had decided not to come and go into ranching here. Do you think we should try and urge them to change their mind?”

“I don’t think so. You know how Tom is—stubborn as a mule sometimes.” He began to brush his face with a rich, creamy lather, then picked up a razor, tested it, and carefully drew it across his cheek. He had a tough beard that was hard to cut, and his eyes watered. “I wish I could swear like I used to over shaving,” he said. “It always seemed to help.” Then he turned more serious and said, “No, Tom won’t leave the army. It’s the kind of life he was made for, and I’m just grateful he’s got a good wife to share it with him. Not many women could follow a man out on those lonely, miserable army posts.”

Hope finished the bed, came over, and sat down to watch him finish shaving. She knew him better than she had thought a woman could know a man. She traced his strong, stark features, admiring the light blue eyes that all Winslow men seemed to have. Something had been bothering her, and she had learned that she could share anything with Dan, so she said, “I’m worried about Cody.”

At once, Dan turned to look at her. “I know. I’ve been worried myself.” He drew the razor down and wiped it on the towel across his shoulder, then proceeded to cut another swath. Finally, after a few more painful passes, he was finished. He washed his face, took the clean towel she handed to him, and then turned to answer her. “He’s too caught up with Susan, and she’s not the kind of girl he needs.”

“She’s a good girl, I don’t think there’s any question about that.”

“No, I don’t think there is. As many men as have been chasing her, I guess she’s done fairly well. That sort of thing is liable to turn any girl’s head.”

“I know. She’s so pretty—but I don’t think she’ll ever make a rancher’s wife, and that’s all Cody’s ever wanted to be.” She
looked at him and watched as he combed his thick, black hair, then asked, “Do you think you might talk to him about her?”

Dan finished combing his hair, picked up a handkerchief and jammed it into his pocket, then said, “I don’t know, Hope. It’s a pretty touchy situation. A young fellow like that, he’s like all the rest. Like I was.” He smiled at the thought of his own past and shook his head. “Nobody could tell me a thing when I was Cody’s age.”

Hope sighed. “Well, I’m going to fix breakfast now. We’ll just have to pray that girl will settle down, because Cody’s bound and determined he’s going to marry her.” She left the room and went to the kitchen, where she found Ozzie Og already stomping around, rattling pans, getting breakfast ready.

“You make more noise cooking than any man I’ve ever seen,” Hope smiled. She walked over, picked up a large bowl, and began mixing biscuits. “I don’t know why you don’t let me cook breakfast anyhow.”

Ozzie Og was a short stumpy man of forty-five, pessimistic as a person can be. Loyal to Dan Winslow and the Circle W, he’d come up the trail with Hope and her family and loved the young woman as if she were his own daughter. “Because I can cook a whole heap better than you can,” he stated emphatically. “You can’t cook eggs without burning them.” He began to complain and fuss, but Hope only smiled at him, and together the two of them put together a huge mountain of food that would satisfy any cowhand.

As soon as the table was readied and the food set out Og went to the bunkhouse to get the hands. They all came trooping in, and soon the large dining room was filled with cheerful talk and the laughter of the men. Hope moved around, filling coffee mugs, and thinking how fortunate she and Dan were to have such a loyal crew. However, she did notice that Cody had not come down for breakfast. It bothered her, but she said nothing.

After the crew had left, Og mentioned Cody’s absence. “Well, he got in about three hours ago. I heard him ride in.”
He looked over the huge pile of dirty dishes on the table and shrugged. “He won’t get nothing to eat here.” With an armful of dirty dishes he headed for the washbasin. Then he stopped, turned back toward Hope, and added gloomily, “That boy won’t be worth nothin’ either if he don’t stop chasing around after that Susan gal.”

“He works hard, Ozzie. You know he does,” said Hope, trying to put the best face on it.

“I know that. The trouble is he works just as hard chasing that girl as he does chasing these cow critters!”

Stomping over to where a calendar was nailed to the wall, he fished a stubby pencil out of his pocket and crossed out the date, muttering, “June 6, 1883.” He stared at the calendar as if it had some deep meaning, then turned around and came over to stand beside Hope. “I’m worried about that boy,” he admitted finally. “I know you and Dan are, too.” He stood there uncertainly, wanting to think of a good word to say, and finally shook his head. “Well,” he said, “I guess, like all young fellows, he’s gotta eat his peck of dirt, and it looks like that gal is set to provide just that kind of a diet for him.”

An hour later, after Og had left to go cut firewood, Cody entered the kitchen. His eyes were red from lack of sleep and he hadn’t shaved, but Hope paid no attention. “I saved you some bacon and eggs, Cody,” she said. “Sit down and have breakfast.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Cody sat down and ate hungrily as Hope joined him, drinking a cup of coffee. Finally, noting that he seemed surly and unhappy, she said, “Cody, you’re staying out too late. It’s not good for you, missing all that sleep, then working hard like you do all day.”

“I’m all right,” he shrugged, reaching for another piece of bacon.

“No, you’re not.” Hope took a deep breath and said firmly, “Cody, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a long time about Susan. You’re seeing too much of her, I think.”

A stubborn look came over Cody’s face. He was a
handsome, tall young man with a wide mouth, straight tawny hair that fell over his forehead, and very dark blue eyes. His build was lean and strong, as a rider had to be to do the hard work he did. But the stubbornness that was in him rose up now and his face grew slightly red. “Don’t worry about that, Mom,” he muttered.

Hope studied him, knowing instantly that any further mention of the matter would do no good. This tall son of hers had always been an independent young man. He’d ridden up the trail to the ranch doing a man’s work by the time he was fifteen, and now, at the age of twenty-one, he was as good with cattle, with a rope, or with a gun, as any rider in the entire valley. He’d grown beyond her control and was now a man, so she said merely, “Be careful, Cody. More men get into trouble over women than over any other thing.”

Cody stared at her, but as much as he loved her, this one area of his life he had blocked out. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be all right, but I’ve gotta have Susan. You know how much I love her.” He got up abruptly and left the house, and as he slammed the door unconsciously, Hope shook her head thinking,
He’s headed for trouble and there’s nothing I can do about it!