The Milch Bride (20 page)

The answer was true, she knew it was true, but she’d always
felt she belonged, taking care of the Stoddard ranch.

He sat up beside her, his back braced against the headboard.
His voice broke on the question, “Don’t you like living in this house with J.D.
and me?”

She turned and stared at him, her heart in her eyes. She
reached out to touch his face, then leaned in to kiss him softly. “I love it.
It’s a wonderful house; and you and Jackie, you mean everything in the world to
me. I just know Dad would have wanted me to take care of our ranch.”

Jackson knew it was probably the time to tell her about the
taxes and the deed he had to her ranch, but he held back. He didn’t want to
risk the trust and intimacy of the moment. Sitting naked in bed with this
beautiful woman who was scooting down into him, he wasn’t about to reveal
secrets that would raise walls between them.

That Sunday, Hattie wore another blouse and skirt from the
cupboard. This time she chose a pale blue blouse and matching skirt, mainly
because there was a matching bonnet. It was Jackie who first noticed the
blue-birds, one on the shoulder of the blouse, the other on the cap of the bonnet.
She changed his gown to the one with the blue-bird and its matching bonnet.

Jackson smiled at them, and then surprised her by changing
from his white shirt to a matching blue one. When he stood behind them and they
all stared at their reflection in the mirror, J.D. crowed with delight.

They ended up eating at the table, then hurrying to load
onto the buckboard. James wheeled past the corral and Hattie pointed to the red
filly just to hear Jackie squeal at the sight of her.

The week had been an exhausting one, even with James at hand
to help with the cooking and chores. She had made a second batch of pickles,
and also had crocks working, one with sour cucumbers and the other with
shredded cabbage. They had moved everything down into the cool of the root cellar.
J.D. sat on her lap, his little cowboy in one hand, the red pony in the other.
At least the little cowboy was properly dressed, even if he looked more like he
was going out on a Saturday night in his bright shirt and yellow kerchief then
to church services.

Jackson had volunteered to tool the leather. Using a few
nails he heated in a small fire and wearing a leather glove, he used one after
the other to make a chain design down the front of the leather vest and a
matching design up the sides and along the top of each boot. Even though they
were pretty simply made, the dark burned design on the leather made them look
like the real thing at first glance.

Not to be outdone, James had whittled and blackened a pair
of small guns and cut and made a belt with holsters. J.D. knew his cowboy was
special because the cowhands all kept asking to play with him so they could
inspect the work on the ten gallon hat, boots, and the little gun belt. But
when J.D. almost swallowed one of the toy guns and Hattie had to pick the hat
up for the twentieth time in an hour, the holsters and hat had gone to rest on
the mantle shelf where the outlaw finger still resided in its little jar of
alcohol inside the large match box.

At church, they were early enough to enter before the Dawsons
and most of the congregation arrived. J.D. was fussy but Jackson let him teethe
on his fingers, careful to avoid the sharp little tooth that was already
through. Hattie helped by rattling the pony’s bells when he grew irritated and
giving him something to grab for. She had even brought the lamb and the little
red rattle and Jackson sat him on the bench between them with all his toys
around him where they kept turns distracting him.

Irene and Charles stopped and admired him, but didn’t insist
on taking him this time. Hattie wondered if they were still embarrassed by his
antics the Sunday before.

When the sermon ended, the Dawsons exited quickly, once
again giving Hattie a scowl when they noticed she again wore Donna’s clothes.
Hattie gathered toys while Jackson wrangled the baby. Everyone seemed to be
waiting to smile at them and admire J.D.

Finally, Rubye White stood in front of them and J.D. nearly
bounced out of Hattie’s arms in excitement. Rubye cried and took him as Hattie
released him. She leaned her cheek against the baby’s, tears in her eyes.
Jackson reached out and patted her shoulder. Hattie blinked, surprised at the
tears in her own eyes. When Rubye started to speak and couldn’t and tried to
hand J.D. back, Hattie stepped forward and opened her arms to both of them.

Rubye swiped at her eyes. “I hope you can forgive me …the
tooth. I’m so sorry for all I said, for telling the preacher.

“Hush,” Jackson said.

Hattie stared at her. “We owe you so much. If you hadn’t
said it all, jumped to the wrong conclusion, and forced the issue…”

“We wouldn’t be married.” Jackson finished. “I will always
be grateful for being pushed to do what I secretly wanted to do all along.”

Hattie stared up at him, surprised to hear her thoughts
coming out of Jackson’s mouth.

“Does that mean, you’ll let me come home?”

Jackson smiled. “James is ready to quit if you don’t.”

Hattie looked up at Jackson, “Can we go by and get her
things and take her home now.”

He left an arm around Hattie and reached for J.D. – then
passed him to Hattie. “Nothing makes more sense.”

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In front of the Dawson’s house, they waited while an elated
Rubye raced upstairs, James behind her. While they waited, it became clear that
Charles and Irene were not going to emerge to talk to their son-in-law. Hattie
had to wonder again what Donna would have wanted them to do. They were her
parents, the grandparents to her son. Would she have understood their reaction
or expected them to rise above their own feelings to make sure that J.D.
received their love?

Jackson looked grim as he sat beside her, then he looked
down at the sleepy baby in her arms. J.D. was growing every day, his sturdy
little body felt heavier. How must he feel to Hattie? Carefully he took the
baby, hoisting his sleepy body upright against his chest until he heard a loud
burp. He and Hattie exchanged smiles and he reached down to pat her hand.

For the second time this morning, she knew he had been
sharing her thoughts. Rubye and James emerged minutes later with two carpet
bags full of belongings and a small memory chest.

Soon Rubye had been helped into the back of the buckboard,
seated so her back was to James Boyd, a fact that somehow seemed significant to
Hattie as she stared from one smiling face to the other, before they were off
on their way home.

James snapped the horses into a trot, and Tony jogged his
pony close beside them. “Figured to stay in town, boss, maybe have dinner with
Maria.”

Jackson nodded, shouting, “Keep your eyes and ears open.”

Hattie was busy talking with Rubye behind her about what to
get together for supper and Jackson was talking to Cliff who was riding beside
him about possible Sunday chores for the men. Since real work wasn’t to be
done, Sunday chores were mending harness, sharpening tools, small tasks to
while away the afternoon.

Hank who was riding a little ahead was the first to see the
vultures as they approached the house. Hank pointed, hollered, and then set off
at a gallop. James snapped the reins and guided the buckboard toward the house.
But even as they wheeled into sight of the house, Hattie’s heart stopped. In
the front yard, a vulture floated away from the body of a big yellow dog. She
recognized Sam who had been such a help in watching and keeping J.D. safe.

When he pulled to a stop, Hattie grabbed the baby closer as
Jackson bounded down. The gate at the top step had been knocked loose and the
fence around the porch that Jackson had so carefully nailed in place had been
kicked and broken in several places. For a moment she was afraid to get down.
It was like the day she had arrived home and found her father beaten and
unconscious in the barn. Her heart began to beat in panic and she realized she
was gripping the baby too tightly as he started to cry. Rubye climbed over the
seat and wrapped an arm around her and got her to loosen her hold.

Panicked, she wanted to climb down, desperate to find
Jackson. When she looked away from the house, she saw vultures being chased
away by the mounted cowboys. Behind them she saw two pink mounds in the
paddock. The roan mare and her pretty filly were dead. What manner of men would
kill them? She knew and her knees felt like jelly.

Minutes later, Jackson appeared on the porch, his revolvers
strapped on. “James, get the women and J.D. inside, help them restore some
order. I can’t tell if someone was searching for something or if they just
wanted to make our lives difficult, but they sure have done the latter.”

He stared up at Hattie and heard her small gasp as she
stared toward the paddock. When he realized what she was looking at and the
horror in her face he rushed forward, turning the baby over to Rubye as he
swept his terrified wife from the seat and into his arms. Jackson held her for
a minute, trying to get her attention, but she kept moaning, “No, no, no,” in
his arms and he quickly hurried into the house and the bedroom, closely
followed by James.

The bedroom was bedlam, covers and mattress pulled off,
mattress ripped and some of the cotton stuffing pulled out and scattered.
Clothes had been torn from hangers and the dresser contents dumped haphazardly
about in a snow of linen. Hattie’s dark clothes had been shredded, but even
Jackson could see it was only hers that had been destroyed. His own were
scattered as were Donna’s, but none was torn, stomped on or had waste dumped on
them like Hattie’s. The baby’s clothes still rested snuggly in the dresser
drawers.

He trembled to think that the demons who did this hated her
so much. He held Hattie while James straightened the mattress, poking stuffing
back into the slit down the center. Jackson nodded at the sheets and James
shook one and they watched it float down onto the ripped mattress that had just
been returned to the bed.

Rubye stood in the door, the baby held snugly, while she
shook her head. “Well, I never.”

Jackson scowled at her. “Rubye, see what you can put up, and
carry out the soiled stuff and these torn garments.”

Rubye stood, rocking the baby in her arms. “Of course, maybe
some of it can be mended or used for patterns to make new garments.”

The crib stood untouched, except for the cloud of clothes
scattered over it. In minutes it was emptied and J.D. was settled in his bed.
Together Rubye and James set about restoring order. She gathered up a simple
quilt made of bright squares and as Jackson laid Hattie in the bed, Rubye
spread it over her. Then she turned to open one of the bedroom windows.

Tuning out everything and everyone but Hattie, Jackson sat
on the edge of the bed, an arm around her, alarmed to see her shivering and
curled into a ball of fear. Outside, he could hear his men shouting to one
another as they gathered their weapons and traded the wagon for saddled horses.
He leaned down to brush her cheek with his own. “I know its hard Hattie, but
you need to be strong. I have to go after these men. I need to know you’re okay
and that you will take care of and protect J.D. while I’m gone.”

He heard the deep ragged breath, then saw her force the terror
down and turn toward him.

“Where are my guns?”

Jackson leaned forward and kissed her forehead. He turned to
the closet behind them. He pushed aside the clothes that Rubye and James had
hastily hung up. He thumped the back panel and it almost opened, blocked by the
clothes. He lifted out a thick batch and laid them, hangers and all across the
foot of the bed. This time the door swung open. The leather bag of coins Hattie
had asked him to hide was gone, along with Donna’s jewelry.

Suddenly he was back in the new bedroom, one of the rooms he
had added with Dawson’s help to accommodate his daughter. His own bed and
dresser had been moved into what would become the maid, Rubye White’s room.
This room, Donna’s bedroom with its “cross-ventilation” was furnished by
Charles Dawson. Donna had picked out and ordered the furniture and it and the
room had been part of her “dowry” as she called it.

He remembered Charles Dawson tapping the back of this
wardrobe and saying with pride. “It has a banker’s panel, here at the back.
Donna, where’s your jewelry.”

When his blushing bride had handed her father the velvet bag
Jackson had watched in fascination as Charles hooked it at the back of the
narrow space, then smoothed it flat before tapping the panel back into place.
“If you didn’t know it was there, you couldn’t see or find it. Even the
cleverest burglar would miss it,” he’d bragged.

Jackson felt around the narrow space but the heavy velvet
bag and the small leather pouch holding Hattie’s meager coins were both gone.
Sinking, he felt around the bottom of the wardrobe, moving around Donna’s
numerous shoes until he found the guns.

“The money’s gone, but here are your guns, let’s check that
they’re loaded.”  Before doing that, he took the time to tap the panel back in
place and rehang the expensive clothes. Sitting beside her, he broke the gun,
spun the barrel with her, and then snapped it shut when she nodded. He held it,
then slid it under the pillow.

She sniffed, trying to resist the urge to grab the gun back
out.

Next, he repeated the steps of checking the rifle with her,
and then stood the loaded rifle to rest against the headboard. “James will be
here. He has his handguns and rifle and Rubye has her scattergun loaded and
ready. We’ll ride hard and get back as soon as we can.”

She reached out a hand to his cheek, surprising them both
that it was still shaking. “I love you. Go, we’ll be fine, I’m good now.”

He sat there, unable to move. He wanted to pull her into his
arms again until the words she said were true. Instead, he kissed her forehead,
held her for a moment and then left.

Outside in the yard, Jackson stared at the armed men, each
looking as grim as he felt.

“It looks like four riders, boss. I catch them
sons-of-bitches, I’m going to make ‘em wish they’d stayed low,” Cliff barked.

“We’re going to ride out in four directions again, maybe we
can catch some of the neighbors on their way back from church,” Jackson said.

“Did you see what they did to that pretty baby and momma.
Shot full of holes like every one of those snakes had to shoot them,” one of
the young hands added.

“They wrecked our coop, too.” Hank added, pulling on the
reins to turn his horse in a tight circle to stop its nervous side-stepping.
“Pulled one wall down, the sorry S.O.B.’s.”