The Fire in Ember Page 3

  “Give him time.” Mama threw a frown John’s way. “He’s just a boy.”

  Bert winced when Mama touched a wet cloth to his face.

  “Easy. You’re safe here. My name’s Leah Timmons, and I need to clean you up so I can see how badly you’re hurt.” She stiffened. “The nerve of Leon punching you like that.” She flashed her anger at John. “I hope you gave him a taste of your tongue.”

  “I did, but I sure thought about laying a fist alongside his jaw. Guess it was enough to save this one’s scrawny hide. Doesn’t matter. Once he’s feeling better, he’s working off the hundred dollars it cost me.”

  Startled, Mama straightened, wet cloth in hand. “What hundred dollars?”

  “Oberlander wanted compensation for being without his mare. Claimed three hundred dollars as his price, but we settled on one hundred and breeding the mare to Racer. I had the choice of either paying him or leaving the boy there for Leon to put to work.”

  Mama tilted her head. “You did the right thing, John. I’m sure Bert knows he owes you his life.”

  “More like I had too much sun and was touched in the head.” John fought the urge to say a few more things but swallowed his ire. He still had to find a way to purchase Oberlander’s land before Evan’s birthday.

  “I think the good Lord had you right where He needed you.” Mama returned to wiping the grime from Bert’s face.

  John heard the chuckles behind him and leveled a seething look at his brothers. “You’ll think it’s funny when you’re teaching him how to mend a fence.”

  “How about mucking stalls? Doesn’t take a smart person to do that.” Mark glanced at Bert. “I’ll show him how to hold a shovel.”

  “Mark, since you have all the answers, you can brew a cup of ginger tea,” Mama said. “It’ll make this tiny fellow feel better.”

  John stuffed his hands into his jean pockets. The day had been a waste, and it was barely noon. “Why don’t one of you boys fetch Davis and you get to eating? We need to finish the fence.”

  They shuffled out without further comment. No doubt the entertainment had worn thin in view of their stomachs. Mama continued to clean Bert up and apply witch hazel to the cuts and swollen areas. John could tell by the way she moved her mouth that she was mentally forming her words for what would come next.

  “What haven’t you told me about this boy?”

  Looking at Bert, cut and bruised, John felt sorry for him. “I wish I had more to tell. Leaving him at the mercy of Oberlander’s ranch hands was akin to murder.”

  “I agree.”

  He glanced down at Bert, wondering what filled the boy’s thoughts. “I plan to talk to Marshal Culpepper about him. Other than finding an orphanage, not much else I can do.”

  “Except have him work off his debt.”

  “Right.”

  “John, if he didn’t steal the horse and he’s alone, then he needs taking care of. If he did steal, then he needs to learn there are consequences to breaking the law.”

  John marveled at how he could predict her words. “I did learn from the best.”

  She wiggled her nose at him. “Mamas do have other uses besides feeding and clothing their babies.”

  “You’re right, and I love you for it.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “Shall I fix him a plate of food?” John’s stomach growled at the smell of ham and fresh peas.

  “I think so. Not too much. As thin as he is, I don’t want to make him sick.”

  “Mama, can we have the berry cobbler on the windowsill?” Mark said from the kitchen.

  “No sir. It’s for supper. If you’re needing something sweet, grab another piece of cornbread and ladle some honey on it.”

  John headed for the door to get a plate of food for Bert and then himself. “What are you going to do when you don’t have all of us to feed?”

  “Rest. Read. And rock my grandbabies on the porch.”

  “That’s a long time off.”

  She smiled down at Bert, then up at him. “You’re old enough to be married, John. All we need to do is add another room onto the house or help you build your own home. I suppose the latter would suit you the most.”

  When would he have time for a wife? He didn’t even have time to look for one. “There isn’t a girl around who has my heart like you do.”

  She frowned and wagged a finger at him. “Then you haven’t been looking at all the girls trying to catch your eye.”

  “The only females snatching up my attention are heifers and mares.” Only to himself would he dream about a different life. But dreaming was all it would amount to.

  CHAPTER 5

  John stole a look toward the back of the barn where Bert had dumped another load of manure right where he’d instructed. The pile was growing, and the stalls were getting cleaned. The kid worked hard, and John hadn’t heard any whining, even when Aaron and Mark teased him, which they were very good at.

  Five days had passed since John brought Bert home. The notion of why the kid refused to give his full name or why he’d run away from home remained a mystery. Too much left unsaid meant a mountain of trouble. Marshal Culpepper hadn’t turned up a thing, which worried John even more. He considered wiring his Uncle Parker, who represented this area of Colorado in the Denver legislature. Maybe an advertisement in the Rocky Mountain News might turn up something, especially if a family was looking for Bert.

  John wiped the sweat from his brow and watched the boy tote the wheelbarrow back to the barn. From the kid’s condition, he’d been on his own for a long while. Surprisingly, he’d survived. He ate poorly for a growing boy and looked peaked and frail. Maybe John shouldn’t give him so much to do. Ease up and let him get stronger. Poor kid. He must have had a tough life.

  You have too much to worry about without frettin’ over a kid. But God said to look after strangers. The kid looked tired and hot. John made his way over to where Bert maneuvered the wheelbarrow back into the barn. “Here, let me give you a hand.”

  “I can do it.” Bert heaved with the empty wheelbarrow.

  John took over pushing it back to a far stall. “I know, but I don’t want you fainting in a pile of manure.”

  “Hadn’t thought about that.”

  John chuckled. “I did. And I don’t like the idea of lifting you out of it.”

  John helped him load up two more times before the boy asked to finish the job by himself. For a skinny kid, he was strong and didn’t complain about the work.

  What would happen to the boy once he worked off his debt? He needed a home, a place where folks would love him and teach him how to be a man.

  But not at the Timmons ranch. John had enough responsibilities without another mouth to feed and another future to consider.

  Bert picked up another shovelful of horse manure and dumped it onto the pile in the wheelbarrow. At this rate, she might finish today. John had had her start at sunrise before breakfast, and now at mid-afternoon, she could see real progress. Her shoulders ached, but she’d not complain. Each time she lifted the shovel and toted the wheelbarrow to the edge of the barn, she saw more of her debt paid.

  She’d never eaten this good or slept so hard. No cursing or fighting, and lots of lovin’ among the Timmons family. If things had been different at home … If Pa hadn’t let Simon take over … If she’d had a plot of ground to grow vegetables … Oh, what was the use? The past couldn’t be changed, but she could sure do something about tomorrow and the next day.

  Five days had gone by since John had saved her from the hanging, and he still couldn’t look at her without scowling. Oh, he had his gentle moments, but most of the time she attempted to stay clear of him. At least he hadn’t blackened her other eye. She shouldn’t mind he thought ill of her. Couldn’t blame him either. Despite his constant frown when he came near her, she liked him … in an odd sort of way. She admired how he cared for his family, but he needed to laugh more. So did she.

  His brothers teased her about being skinny and slow, except Davis. He was
a sweet boy. And Evan really didn’t pick on her as much as Aaron and Mark. So far she’d hidden her identity and had slept on a pallet in the room Davis, Mark, and Aaron shared, being careful to wait until they were in bed before she stepped in. Even then, she slept fitfully, and what if the nightmares returned? How long would she be able to conceal her identity?

  What would she do when her womanly time arrived? Sometimes she skipped her monthly visitor, especially if she hadn’t eaten much. One anxious thought after another made her think about running again. If she believed in the God the Timmonses spoke about at mealtimes and evening Bible readings, she’d ask Him to help her out.

  A breeze swirled around her bringing the odor of what she shoveled up inside her nostrils. She smelled just as bad.

  Late afternoon, Bert stood back and surveyed her work. Warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with summer’s temperatures but everything to do with satisfaction of a job nearly completed. She could live like this forever.

  Footsteps swished through the grass behind her. Instinctively, she panicked and swung around, certain it was Simon. Evan stood in the afternoon shadows. He must look like his pa, because he didn’t share the same traits as Leah or John.

  He eyed her curiously. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Wanted to let you know we take a bath on Saturday night. After supper, we fill up the watering trough or head to the creek.”

  Apprehension raced up her spine. How could she manage a bath without one of the Timmonses learning the truth? “I don’t need a bath.”

  Evan laughed, and his light blue eyes held a sparkle of mischief. “Take a long sniff at yourself. It’s bad, just like the rest of us. No point refusing. It’ll only get you tossed in with your clothes on.” He anchored his thumbs on his jeans. “You’re doing a fine job, Bert. We all tease you ‘cause we like you. That’s the way it is with the Timmons boys.”

  She nodded as he walked away. Bullfrogs and black crows. She’d gotten herself into a fine mess. She’d learned from Leah that Evan was seventeen too. This was not good. Not good at all. She turned her attention back to the job at hand while misery swirled inside her. They’d all find out this evening if she didn’t come up with a plan before then. She figured John would thrash her for sure and take her back to Oberlander for Leon to teach her another lesson.

  Bert ached more in her heart than in her body. Lies and more lies. She’d become as low and ugly as her brothers. One shovel after another filled the wheelbarrow until she headed out again to the manure pile. Rowdy came bounding across the pasture, his tail wagging, and a happy greeting in his step. Aaron had told her the dog was an Australian shepherd, a big help with the cattle. She patted his head and then leaned on the shovel.

  “Rowdy, do you have any idea what kind of trouble I’m in?” With a sigh, she emptied the wheelbarrow onto the huge mound. “You’re pretty lucky. You don’t have to explain anything to folks or conjure up lies.”

  She massaged her back and peered up at the mountains. So beautiful, like a promise no one broke. She stared at the varying shades of silver gray rock mixed with green and snow-frosted peaks that seemed to hold up the sky. They whispered strength and a means of freedom from the old familiar fears that stalked her like a bad fever.

  Her gaze swept to the fields of wildflowers, their colors prettier than anything a human could paint. Maybe someday she’d have a dress with some of those same pinks, yellows, and blues. The songbirds serenaded all around her … comforting, peaceful. In the distance a herd of elk grazed on Timmons land. The branchlike antlers of the males gave them a noble look. The herd reminded her of small towns where everyone had a job to do. To the east of the elk, a few deer stood like statues, silhouetted against the mountains. These graceful animals held her attention the most. Perhaps their ability to take flight when startled reminded her too much of herself.

  Every day brought Simon closer to finding her, and she couldn’t ever stop looking over her shoulder. In the meantime, she owed John Timmons four months of hard work for what he’d done.

  But what about the bath tonight?

  An idea landed right smack in her brain. She’d take her bath while the others were eating their supper. She’d say she wasn’t hungry. Miss Leah had already told her about a clean set of clothes. Problem solved, at least for today. Bert grinned at Rowdy, who’d turned his head sideways as if trying to figure her out. A song popped into her head.

  I know a dog named Rowdy

  As fine as he could be.

  When he walked up, wagged his tail,

  I knew he was a friend to me.

  Leah straightened from removing dried clothes from the line. She stretched her back and followed Bert’s lone figure pushing the wheelbarrow back to the barn. She’d walked to the garden near the manure pile to ask Bert if he wanted some water and heard every word from the boy’s mouth. Bert’s confession to Rowdy settled on Leah’s shoulders like the threat of a summer storm. How could one so young be in trouble or have to tell lies to cover up the truth?

  She decided not to ask about the water and simply take it to him once she finished pulling the clothes from the line. Still she fretted and worried about Bert as if he were one of her own. She turned her head to bathe her face with the coolness of a north wind, then swung her attention back to Bert. The longer she watched the boy, the more suspicious she became. Taking a deep breath, she reached up to remove John’s shirt from the clothesline and shake it soundly before folding it. Surely her inclination had come from a part of her mind where logic had taken flight. What a far-fetched notion. Unless it was true.

  Sure would make John’s mood more understandable, if her poor son had any clue whatsoever about his emotions. She startled. Oh my, Evan too, and Aaron. What a kettle of burnt beans whipped across her motherly instincts. None of the boys had mentioned Bert’s way of staying to himself. It could all be very explainable: the boy had spent a rough young life; he was afraid; he didn’t trust anyone.

  All very true, but … Nonsense. Leah knew the truth about her suspicions as well as she knew her own name, and tonight was bath night. Goodness, what a dilemma, and she needed time to think. For now, she had wash to gather off the line, peas to shell, and a simmering roast to check on for supper.

  Tonight could be very interesting.

  CHAPTER 6

  John listened to the conversation around the supper table. Someday his brothers would all be grown men, and when it happened, he hoped they remembered the lively discussions when they gathered for a meal. This is where the brothers forgot about branding time, mucking stalls, riding fence and repairing them, chasing down strays, repairing tools, curing skins and tanning hides, shoeing horses, and the countless other never-ending jobs.

  “Mama, I’ll never get married until I find a cook as good as you.” Mark, who had dipped from the roast platter three times, rubbed his stomach.

  “I thought you said cows were better company than women,” Evan said.

  “I did.” Mark grinned. “I’ll need a quiet woman who cooks like Mama.”

  “Impossible.” John swallowed a generous bite of biscuit dripping in apple butter. “All women talk a lot and want you to tell them they’re pretty.”

  “How would you know?” Evan reached for the honey. “I haven’t ever seen you talking to any girls.”

  “You haven’t been paying attention.” John peeked at his pocket watch to see how long before Mama gave them a lecture on the virtues of a fine woman. He washed down the biscuit with a long drink of buttermilk. “You see, I’m smart. I’m observing them all so when the right time comes, I’ll know who to ask.”

  “Whom,” Mama said. “What about courting and praying for God to put the right woman in your path?”

  “Oh, I’ll do that.” John eyed the custard pie, his favorite. “When I’m ready to settle down.”

  “At age one hundred,” Evan said. “When your teeth are gone and you need someone to spoon food in your mouth. You’re married to this ranch.”

  “D
on’t get any backtalk from cows.”

  “I agree,” Mark said. “Me and John will run this ranch with women who don’t talk, just cook.”

  “Mercy.” Mama rose from the table. “You boys would drive a preacher to drink. A woman is not a cook or a ranch hand or a matter of a joke. She’s a gift from God to help make your life’s journey easier.”

  John hid his grin. “Yes ma’am. We’ll remember that. Won’t we, boys?”

  His brothers echoed a “yes ma’am,” even Davis. John took a passing look at Bert. No emotion on that boy’s face. Didn’t he know how to laugh? Bert hadn’t wanted supper, but Mama insisted. She said if he still felt poorly by bedtime, she’d give him a dose of castor oil.

  After supper, when the brothers were all swimming and soapin’ up in the creek, the boy might relax and enjoy himself. The water rushing over the rocks always comforted John, and he hoped it would loosen up Bert too. Davis compared the air-churned bubbles to the amount of soap Mama expected them to use.

  “Let’s help Mama clean up and then we’ll head to the creek,” Evan said.

  “Aaron and I tested out the new rope. We hung it over the cottonwood. Maybe this one won’t break.”

  “Not me,” Davis said. “I’ll help Mama if you want to go on.”

  Davis didn’t like heights, and he liked rope swings even less. When he was four, outlaws kidnapped him and John rode after them. Now John realized what a dumb move that had been. Uncle Parker and his wife, Sage, came to the rescue by helping to lower both boys down from a cliff. Davis needed to rid himself of the fear of heights and dangling ropes, but not tonight.

  “What do you say, Bert?” Aaron said, who looked like Evan and their father. “Besides needin’ a bath, you could show us how good you can swim.”

  “The word is ‘well’ not ‘good',” Mama said. “You boys need to pay more attention to your grammar.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Laughter rose from all of them — including Mama.