Wildblossom (13 page)

Over a gigantic breakfast of oatmeal with fresh cream, raisin muffins, eggs, and ham, the group discussed the need to make up for lost time and get the fences finished. When Ben and Titus returned in a few days, it would be time for the first roundup, and Ben expected the fences to be in place. Until every animal they owned was branded, or fences were finished, their claims of ownership were fairly empty.

No one expected the snow to continue. Even Lucius, who'd lived in Wyoming all his life and had seen some serious spring blizzards, scoffed at the idea that this would amount to much.

It seemed a lark at first, bundling up and going off to work outdoors in the snow. Shelby put on longjohns and two pair of socks under the leather skirt and boots. Adding a thick knitted sweater over her blouse, she donned Titus's oilskin duster. Since he was a small man, it fit her.

To Shelby's surprise, when she came into the house's big room she discovered that Geoff had done more shopping in Cody than she'd realized. His new red longjohns were visible under a gray plaid flannel shirt. Chaps covered his dungarees, and last but not least, he unfolded a new duster and displayed it for Shelby's inspection.

"Magnificent!" she assured him. "Much nicer than this one of Titus's!"

Geoff laughed and put on the duster while she watched. It seemed that the long garment had been designed with him in mind, for the heavy white ducking complemented his tanned skin, and its loose, double-breasted cut, split up the back to facilitate horseback riding, was rakishly flattering. He added his white Stetson and drew on cowhide gloves, while Shelby followed suit.

"Did Mr. Manypenny eat his oatmeal?"

"A bit." Geoff held the front door for her and they went out into the storm.

"I must say, this would be a lot more fun if I felt more... myself." She glanced up at him, adding, "I think I may have drunk a bit more wine last night than was... prudent."

Geoff blinked once as he realized that she meant to dismiss it all, then he gave Shelby his oldest world-weary look. "Say no more. I drank so much wine myself that I barely remember what occurred."

Her burden lightened, she scampered ahead of him into the thickening curtain of snowflakes. Arriving at the corral, Shelby found that Gadabout had already been saddled and was prancing to and fro in anticipation.

For several hours the adventure held, and all five of them had fun. They'd eaten so much at breakfast, and they were so busy all day, that no one wanted to return to the house for lunch. Instead the men toiled over fences at the far reaches of the property while Shelby did what she could to help, like unrolling coils of barbed wire or holding a post still while a man pounded it into the mushy ground.

The previous day's rain made working conditions less than ideal, for though it was cold enough to snow, it wasn't so cold that the mud had hardened. Sometimes they got tired of slogging around in sloppy boots, but then Shelby would hit someone with a playfully tossed snowball, or they'd realize how close they were to finishing the fence once and for all, and decide to work on. "Just a few dozen more yards!" became an oft-heard yell.

Everybody pretended not to notice that the snow had begun to stick to the ground and was falling harder by the hour. When Lucius snapped at Cal at about three o'clock, Shelby diplomatically suggested that everyone was hungry and tired. She would go back to the house and get some food.

She was in the kitchen—packing rolls and ham into saddlebags, and heating lots of coffee—when Cal burst into the back door, accompanied by frigid gusts of snow, and more snow.

"It's a whole lot worse!" he exclaimed, red-faced and gasping for breath, Cal added, "Geoff says I should tell you to stay put right here, where you'll be safe 'n' dry. We're doin' our best to round up the cattle and bring 'em back—"

"What about the fence? Did you finish?"

"Yes'm." Snow dripped off his hat, reminding Shelby of the storm he and the others had endured the night before. Exhaustion creased his gaunt face. "I b'lieve so. The only part that wasn't done was way out to the south, beyond the grazin' land your cattle favor. We'll do our best to round 'em all up and get 'em in anyways, so they don't freeze."

She made him drink down a cup of hot coffee with cream and let him go back to join the others, though she hated to stay behind. In the meantime, Shelby warmed some stew, cut the meat and vegetables into tiny pieces, and took the dish, plus a cup of tea, into Mr. Manypenny. He was snoring mightily, his domed brow pink with fever, but Shelby managed to rouse the manservant and encourage him to eat. Then she saw to the chickens and cows they kept to provide eggs, milk, butter, and cheese for the household. After feeding and watering the animals, she brought in the snowy bales of hay that stood in the yard, and latched the barn doors against the blizzard.

Manypenny was dozing, still holding the fork in his long, pale hand, when Shelby returned. He'd eaten most of the stew, and drunk the tea laced with the Twenty-Minute Cold Cure. "Mr. Manypenny," she whispered, "will you be all right if I leave you for a bit? I think I should check on the men."

His hooded lids flickered and a smile touched his mouth. "Call me Percy, my dear. And, yes, indeed, do look for his lordship. He has no business mucking about in a snowstorm." Slowly, he looked toward the window, adding, "It is snowing, is it not? I was momentarily fearful that I might be in Heaven."

Shelby wanted to hug him, but instead patted his hand. "No, you are very much alive... Percy." She had to smile, imagining Geoff's expression if he could hear her. "I'll be back soon, with... his lordship."

"Fine, fine. Enjoy yourself." In the next instant, he was once more asleep.

Even though she was well aware that Geoff would be furious with her, Shelby couldn't bear to wait any longer. Since childhood, she'd been galled by the notion that females stayed behind whenever there was excitement. It was a scenario that she had endured all too often while growing up in Deadwood.

Buttoning the oilskin duster, wrapping knitted scarves around her neck and mouth, and tying another over her hat to hold it in place, she tugged on her gloves and left the house.

The wind had worsened, blowing so hard that it was difficult to see at all. Gadabout whinnied when her mistress came into view. The pinto pony still wore her saddle, since Shelby hadn't planned to stay inside very long, and now it was covered with snow, and the drifts reached her knees. Shelby talked to her gently as she brought her out of the corral and managed to mount her in spite of all the clothing she wore.

Heading back in the direction from which she'd ridden not long ago, she imagined that she'd reach the men shortly. They might be almost back to the corral themselves by now! It was that sense of certainty that kept Shelby in a feisty mood, in spite of the swelling winds and thickening snowflakes. At first she admired the beauty of the lacy bits of snow, then was amazed that the flakes could grow so large and sting so when they struck her face. Snow filled her vision, swirling madly in the distance.

Gadabout paused and Shelby patted her and called over the howl of the storm, "It's all right, girl! Don't be afraid!"

A tingly, hard knot of panic began in the pit of her stomach. How much time had passed? Her sense of cold was crossing the line from distress to searing pain.

What if her nose froze and had to be amputated? Shelby was on the verge of tears, and full of regret for the ordeal Gadabout was forced to endure, and then, miraculously, she glimpsed a gray shape through the dense curtain of snow. She'd found someone!

"Hello!" she screamed. "It's me! Shelby!" But when she urged Gadabout on, struggling against the force of the wind, the form melted into a mere shadow. Terror seeped into Shelby's heart. Her father had told stories of being caught in a blizzard so horrendous that he'd seen mirages, just like those that played tricks on people lost in the desert....

Her heart pumped harder, driven by fear and her own resistance to weaker emotions. Should they turn back? But which way were the ranch buildings? All her markers were gone and the world had become a roiling sea of frigid white.

And then, over the wind, Shelby heard a voice that seemed to shout her name. Gadabout turned on her own and sought aid, and together they made their way toward another shadow, which mercifully grew clearer as they neared.

The human figure on horseback turned out to be Lucius.

"You was lost, huh?" he barked, an oversized, frost-crusted neckerchief wrapped around the lower half of his face. "Shouldn't be out here, Miz Shelby. Follow us home." With that, he turned his attention toward getting the cattle back to the ranch buildings.

The suffering cattle were straggling along the fence line, two and three abreast as they followed Lucius and then Marsh. Instinctively, Shelby caught herself counting them. There had been 183 head of cattle accounted for this week, and before the roundup, they hoped to discover the other seventeen mavericks in the hills. It would make life so much easier when all the animals were branded, but at least now the fence was completed, and even if they missed a steer or two today, the animals would be confined to the Sunshine Ranch until the storm died down.

The blizzard limited Shelby's sight to only a few yards. Now she recognized Cal's red roan, its rider also disguised by layers of clothing. He was helping to herd the cattle onward, but paused to shout at Shelby, "What're you doin' out here, ma'am? Beg yer pardon, but Geoff'll tan yer hide if he finds you." He pointed back into the swirling currents of snow. "Better git outta here before—"

Shelby thought that the wind had carried his last words away. Edging Gadabout closer to the cowboy, she yelled,
"What?
I can't hear you!"

But Cal was mute now, waving her off, wheeling his roan around to continue on his way. And when Shelby decided to follow, she brought Gadabout nearer the fence line, which was the only landmark in the sea of white.

An instant later an ear-splitting crash rent the air just inches from Shelby. Her heart leaped and so did Gadabout, rearing up on her hind legs just in time to miss being crushed by an enormous dead cottonwood tree that had splintered and toppled under the weight of the snow, ice, and driving winds.

Not only had Shelby escaped by inches, but so had a pair of passing steers. Numb with shock and cold, her heart pumping as she gasped for breath and blinked back tears, she saw that the fallen tree had landed squarely on their new fence, crushing one of the posts and flattening several yards of ice-tipped barbed wire.

The approaching Herefords seemed to eye the opening in the fence with curiosity. It seemed only logical to the half-delirious Shelby to dismount and get a closer look at the damage. The snow was drifting toward her thighs and she clutched the pony's reins with one gloved hand and tried to move cottonwood branches with the other. There was a burning, pins-and-needles sensation in her extremities, and she tried not to think about the long ride back to the house...

Mentally, Shelby added up the amount of barbed wire they'd need. The wind shifted slightly, roaring into her face, and for a moment she feared she'd lose her hat. She was holding it in place with one hand when something caught her by the collar of her oilskin duster, lifting her clear out of the snow, and her general mood of fear and despair wildly escalated once more into terror.

"Oh, God! What...?
Help!"
she shrieked, hysterical. Was it a bear? The storm picking her up the way it had the tree?

"Help?"
repeated a familiar voice, still deadly calm even when shouting above the wind. "I can't imagine why I should help you, when you've clearly created this predicament for yourself—against my orders."

Dimly, Shelby was startled by Geoff's power, for he had bent over and swept her up onto Charlie's back as if she were a sack of feathers. Now, pinned there by arms that felt like steel, she was forced to look into his eyes—and it wasn't a comforting sight.

"Really, Geoff—there's no reason for this display of temper. I'm an adult, after all, and not to be locked away simply because of my sex—"

"Don't speak," he ground out harshly. He pulled down the snowy woolen scarf that had covered his mouth and glared at Shelby with hard eyes, his face wind-burned, his brows coated with ice. "There are no words to express my
rage!
First you lose your ranch, and now you're about to lose your life! You're spoiled, willful—"

Shelby's eyes flashed even as her voice wavered on a sob. "Look, this is still my ranch, too, and I have a right to protect my land and my livestock! You have no right—to tell me what to do and call me names!"

"I will not argue with you now, when we're both perilously close to freezing to death. Your face is turning blue!" His fury was driven by emotions that frightened both of them. Using Gadabout's reins, he drew the pinto pony alongside Charlie and fairly tossed Shelby onto her saddle. "Get home!"

"But the tree," she argued stubbornly, "the fence—"

Geoff wasn't listening. He slapped Gadabout on the rump and sent the pony trudging northward toward the line of cattle heading for shelter.

Chapter 7