A Timeless Romance Anthology: Old West Collection Read online

  Slim decided none of the other hands would give him more than occasional grief and sass, except Rance Hunter. He snorted. Hunter was a difficult case, prickly as could be. He was the boss’s stepson, but there was no love lost between them.

  Slim paused to slap the horseshoe hung over the bunkhouse door before he entered to eat. He would need all the luck he could get.

  A day later, Faith gasped, tightening her fingers on the day’s newspaper. She looked toward Clarissa, her anxiety seeping away.

  “I like that bright light in your eye,” Clarissa said.

  “I have a better plan than nursing school.” Faith rose and took the Times to Clarissa.

  Her cousin looked up from her needles. Three new white bandages lay rolled beside her on the sofa.

  “Look.” Faith showed her the newspaper page. “Here’s an advertisement seeking a school teacher in the West for ten months. The school board will pay transportation costs, provide a living space, groceries, firewood, and they’ll pay a salary besides. I can teach mathematics and reading and writing and... even stitchery! Once I sell the house, the proceeds and a teaching post will provide income sufficient for us both.”

  “Hmm. Teaching will suit you better than nursing.” Clarissa resumed her knitting. “How do you win the position?”

  Faith crimped the newspaper between her hands. “I must send a telegram immediately to the president of the school board in this town of—” She looked at the advertisement again. “Bitter Springs, Arizona Territory. This will solve our difficulties.”

  “You must hurry so your answer to the advertisement arrives ahead of any others.”

  “Yes.” Faith hurried to compose a brief message with a list of her academic accomplishments and prepared to go to the telegraph office. “That should serve. Let’s pray I’m the most worthy applicant.”

  “McHenry!”

  Slim grunted. Rance Hunter sounds feisty this morning. He turned from saddling his horse to watch Hunter walk toward him. The wiry man at his side had spent the weekend in the bunkhouse with the other hands. The man wore a gun belt that had seen much use, and had pulled his hat low over his eyes.

  When the men came near, Slim nodded to them.

  “We need another man for the roundup,” Hunter said. “This here’s Nick Bray. Hire him on.”

  Surprised at the demand, Slim slipped around the horse to hide his face. He took time to adjust the length of his off stirrup, then looked back toward the men.

  He appraised Bray, who inched his hat back with one finger under the brim. The man’s inky black eyes gave Slim a moment of pause. What kind of man was this Nick Bray?

  Slim finally broke the silence. “Where’d you last work, Bray?”

  “New Mexico.” He crooked his head toward the east. “A man name of Peterson.”

  “You handle cattle for him?”

  “Steers, mostly. He was shipping.”

  “What’ve you done this summer?”

  “Rode fence, mostly.”

  Slim looked at the man for a while longer. Then he asked, “Why’d he let you go?”

  “No work.” Bray nursed tight black gloves onto his hands.

  Slim made a decision. “We can use you for a time. Ride with Hunter. He has no partner right now.” He turned to Hunter. “You two take the buckboard and load up the barbed wire from the shed. I sent a crew to fix that break on the Diamond Point fence.”

  Bray nodded assent. Slim was satisfied, seeing the man was ready to tackle the job.

  Apparently Hunter wasn’t ready. “My horse needs to be worked,” he said.

  “Not this morning. We’ve lost cattle through that break, and your—” Slim stopped short before he said father. “Mr. Ramsey wants the job done today.”

  Hunter’s face flamed, but he spun on his heel and stomped over to the wagon yard. Bray kept pace with the angry man. Slim watched for a moment before he bent to pull the cinch tight.

  As they approached the equipment shed, Bray glanced at Rance. “You got me hired on. What’s the plan?”

  Rance slowed his pace. “I want the old skinflint out of the picture. If he gets sick and dies, I’ll end up with the whole outfit and be a rich man.” He opened the shed door and grabbed a pair of leather gloves. “Put these on. They’re thicker than those you got. That blasted wire cuts your hands ragged, and I don’t want you bleeding on me.”

  Bray put the gloves on over his own.

  “Pull out about six of them rolls, and I’ll go get the buckboard,” Rance said.

  Bray turned and did as he was told while Rance hitched a team to the buckboard and led the horses to the shed. The men loaded the barbed wire rolls and various tools onto the vehicle, and then Rance grabbed the brake handle and swung himself up onto the seat. He looked down at Bray.

  “You coming?”

  Bray nodded and climbed into the buckboard. As he sat on the seat he asked, “How do you plan to get rid of your... the old man?”

  Rance took the lines. “You know the locoweed plant? I gathered some of them prickly pods and powdered the seeds. That poison will drive a cow mad and kill it. It’ll do the same to a man.”

  “You’re going to poison him?”

  Rance slapped the lines on the rumps of the team. “Hi! Get up there!” He turned to Bray, grinning. “I already am.”

  “I think shooting him is better,” Bray grunted. “It’s quick.”

  “Nah. All the fingers would point at me. Folks know we argue. Poison’s slow, but it’s sure.”

  Once they arrived at the broken section of fence, they unloaded the barbed wire rolls and tools for the cowhands who were doing the repair. Rance dropped a shovel, then ran to the front of the buckboard, climbed up, grabbed the lines, and started the team. Bray vaulted onto the back of the vehicle to avoid being left behind.

  “Hey,” he yelled. “What’s your hurry?”

  Rance muttered over his shoulder, “I don’t want them getting the idea I was sent down to mend fence.”

  Bray climbed over the back of the seat and settled himself. “You could’ve warned me.”

  “What’s it matter? You made it aboard.”

  “You’re crazy, Hunter,” Bray said. Soon they were out of sight of the work crew, and he asked, “How do you get him to take the poison?”

  “He drinks a glass of whiskey every night before bed. I put a pinch of powder in the bottle every day or so. He doesn’t know why he’s getting sick, nor does anyone else.”

  Bray gave a grudging smile. “So it’s working?”

  “Oh, yes. You’ll see how he acts. Soon I can quit selling off cows.” He clucked to the team and slapped them into a run toward the ranch headquarters.

  A week after sending the telegram to Bitter Springs, Faith stopped by the telegraph office, as she had been doing the last three days, and found a message addressed to her from Mr. Ralph Perkins, school board president. She hurried to the new apartment to show Clarissa the telegram.

  “Cousin, they’ve hired me. I’m to be a school teacher. He’s wiring money for my expenses.”

  “That’s good news, dear.”

  Faith embraced Clarissa. “Thank you for bearing with me through my financial difficulties. I couldn’t have gone on without your kind heart.”

  A week later, Faith and Clarissa stood on the stoop with a valise and trunk at Faith’s feet. Clarissa turned from gazing down the street and took both of Faith’s hands in hers. “The cab is coming, dear. I’ll worry for you, crossing the country all alone.”

  Faith squeezed her hands. “You needn’t do so, cousin. I’m sure I’ll find my way on the trains. Think of it as a great adventure, a breakthrough for womankind.” She extracted her hands and retied the ribbons holding down her hat as the cab drew up before them.

  “You will be careful?” Clarissa asked. “Don’t let strangers near your luggage. And don’t talk to anyone suspicious.”

  “I have my pistol,” Faith said, patting the pocket of her duster. “I’ll take care;
really, I shall.” Holding back tears, she patted Clarissa on the shoulder and turned to the waiting cab.

  The driver had already placed her trunk and valise in the rear storage area. He handed her up to the seat then took his position and started the horse off with a click of his tongue and a flip of the lines. Faith looked through the back window at Clarissa, who got smaller and smaller in the distance.

  At last Faith turned forward on the seat, biting her nail. Would anyone be at her destination to meet her? She’d wired Mr. Perkins the expected date of her arrival, but what if she arrived late? Or early?

  I do hope I am not making a mistake.

  Chapter Two

  Faith took the train conductor’s hand, stepped down from the passenger car, and stood at last on the platform of the rustic railroad depot in Winslow, Arizona Territory.

  Gripping her valise in one hand and a newspaper she’d purchased at the last stop in the other, she looked around, inhaling deeply to calm her nerves. She immediately choked on unfamiliar scents and the residual smoke from the steam engine. She coughed several times, embarrassed to make such an entrance. If her employer could see her now, he might change his mind at the sight. She straightened her shoulders. Being again on terra firma was a welcome change after the constant motion of the railway cars.

  Faith moved away from the train. She turned and saw— with great relief— her trunk being manhandled down the gangplank from the baggage car. She could put to rest her worry that it would remain on the train and travel to San Francisco without her. Now she directed her concern to finding who had been sent to meet her, restraining a wild impulse to clutch her duster close about her body and flee back into the familiar train car.

  Calm yourself, Faith. You have been well schooled. You are capable of teaching children, though that was never Father’s intent in educating you.

  She took a breath, a shallow one this time, and looked around. Several people stood on the platform but gradually departed as they met their relatives and friends. Soon the area was cleared of all except a large-boned man whose slouch hat was shoved to the back of his head. He stood a ways off, looking in her direction.

  That must be the person sent to meet me, she thought and took a step toward him. The big man must have arrived at the same conclusion, as he began walking toward her.

  “’Lo,” he called, snatching the hat off his head. “Are you Miss Bannister? Miss Faith Bannister?”

  “I am she,” Faith replied. What a large man! Are all Westerners of his size?

  “I’m Clint Dobbs. Mr. Perkins sent me to take you down to Bitter Springs. Let’s go.” He clapped his hat on his head and turned toward the end of the platform.

  “Excuse me,” Faith called to his back. “I have a trunk. It’s sitting over there.” As he turned around, she gestured toward her luggage.

  “Oh. Well, I guess you want me to get that.” He walked over, easily picked it up, and slung it across his shoulders, then marched off. Faith followed.

  Mr. Dobbs led the way to a two-seater buggy, where he shrugged the trunk into the rear seat beside other items covered by a piece of canvas. He took Faith’s valise and put it next to the trunk. Then he turned to Faith and picked her up by the waist. The movement surprised her; she gasped as she left the ground. He didn’t seem to notice, and set her on the front seat. He went around the buggy, got onto the seat, clucked to the horse, and they were underway at a slow trot, passing through the town in under five minutes.

  The next day, Mr. Dobbs brought them into town a half hour after noon. They stopped before a building that had to contain a store. Barrels, stacked galvanized buckets, and baskets of produce competed for space under an overhang covering a board walkway.

  Mr. Dobbs came around the buggy, lifted Faith down in his accustomed manner, and nodded toward the building. “Mr. Perkins keeps store here, miss. He’s the head of the school board.”

  “Mr. Perkins. Yes, the gentleman with whom I corresponded.”

  “He’ll be pleased to see you’re here safe.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Dobbs. You’ve been a kind companion.”

  “Let’s get you inside, miss.”

  Townspeople began to gather around the building, surely getting a glimpse of the new school teacher. Some cast suspicious eyes her way. Faith shuddered but nodded and smiled to those who wished her well and followed Mr. Dobbs into the store, her stomach roiling.

  The dark interior blinded her for a moment, but her eyes soon adjusted to the dimness. Before her stood a slight, balding man wearing an enveloping apron, and a woman whose hands fluttered about her face as though she would burst with nervous excitement.

  The man took her hand and wrung it. “Here you are at last. I’m Ralph Perkins.” He put out his hand to indicate the fidgeting woman. “Faith Bannister, I want to introduce my wife, Edith.”

  Mrs. Perkins gave a slight curtsey, bobbing her head. “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Faith. My Curtis and Joey are excited to begin school.”

  “You’ll start teaching next Monday,” Mr. Perkins said. “Now that you’ve arrived, the ladies of our fair town will arrange a dance social at the schoolhouse so everyone can make your acquaintance. Edith, will the dance be a week from Saturday night?”

  “Yes. I look forward to it,” Mrs. Perkins said.

  “How lovely,” Faith murmured. Oh my land! she thought.

  Her driver grinned and said, “The town boys are near crazed waiting to see you. Between them and the cowboys, all your dances will be taken.”

  Faith smiled back. “I’m sure the social will be a great success.” Her throat felt dry as parchment.

  “That is our hope, miss,” Mr. Dobb said then turned to Mr. Perkins. “Is your rig out back?” When the storekeeper nodded, Mr. Dobbs said to Faith, “I’ll put your things into his buggy and be off to my work.”

  “Thank you for a pleasant journey, Mr. Dobbs.”

  As the big man grinned, nodded, and left the store, Mr. Perkins dithered around, seeming to look for something. Finally, he asked, “Where’s my hat, Edith? I need to drive Miss Bannister over to the schoolhouse.”

  Mrs. Perkins fetched the article. “I’ll be over to call on you later this afternoon, Miss Faith. I’ll bring a box of groceries to start you out.”

  “You’ve very kind. Thank you.”

  Faith climbed into the buggy for the final leg of her journey. Mr. Perkins got in the driver’s seat and turned the horse onto the street.

  “We built a little house behind the school, Miss Bannister. You’ll set up housekeeping there. The townspeople will bring you wood and groceries. That’s part of the fee they pay you for schoolin’ their youngsters.”

  A short time later, Mr. Perkins put Faith’s luggage in the little house, said goodbye, and left her.

  Faith stood still, eyes closed, taking shallow breaths until she felt her nerves settling. You will do fine, she told herself. You have come this far, and you will not fail. She slowly opened her eyes, looked around, and set about exploring her world.

  Two tiny rooms made up the house, one a kitchen and sitting room, and the other the bedroom. She supposed she was to use the school’s privy for sanitary purposes. A pair of shelves hung in the living area, ready for her books. Pans and dishes filled one cupboard, while a second held food staples. The bedroom was just large enough to hold a bed and wardrobe. Faith relaxed her shoulders and began to unpack her trunk.

  Slim had kept the hands as busy as he could, hoping to stay ahead of bad weather, when a storm blustered up, full of thunder and lightning, and everyone had to stay indoors, mending tack and doing similar chores, until it blew over.

  While Slim patched a harness, he worried about the boss. Due to blurred vision and dizziness, Mr. Ramsey couldn’t ride a horse now. Worse, his manner had changed. For instance, he’d been pretty abrupt that day he’d made Slim the foreman.

  When the storm quit, Slim and the hands went outdoors to find that a big lightning-blasted cottonwood tree had fallen and sma
shed a section of corral fence. Slim assigned a few hands to cut up the tree and mend the fence, but Mr. Ramsey showed up, ranting and raving that they had to leave the tree alone.

  “Boss, we got to fix that fence, or the horses will break out and be down the country in no time,” Slim said.

  “No! Leave it be.” Mr. Ramsey raised his arm up in a jerky movement, and Slim feared his boss was set to strike him.

  “All right,” he said. “You’re the boss. We’ll deal with it another way.”

  “You see that angel settin’ on the tree?”

  Slim looked, but there wasn’t any holy vision anywhere. “I guess the light’s in my eyes, boss,” he said.

  “You just leave the angel alone, you hear?”

  “I hear.” Slim swore silently and had the crew pile brush against the break in the fence. Every day, he asked Mr. Ramsey if they could tackle the cottonwood, but every morning, the boss saw something new sitting on the tree. Slim had to go about his work, worrying even more about Ol’ Amos.

  “I am Miss Bannister,” Faith announced to the gathering of pupils early Monday morning. “Let’s get acquainted. We’ll go one by one around the room. Tell me your names and ages.”

  Eleven heads nodded. The smallest pupil needed a poke or two from an older girl seated behind her, but she finally began and said that her name was Lovinia Evans. Then she ducked her head, hid her face, and refused to say anything else, despite repeated pokes from the other girl. Lovinia shook her head until her blonde braids whipped back and forth.

  “That’s fine,” Faith said, and then to the older girl, “Your name, please?”

  The girl sat up straight and said, “I am Prudence Evans. My father is the telegraph operator. My sister is six years old. I am nine years old. My brother is thirteen—” The oldest pupil, a boy, had jerked one of Prudence’s braids. She swung around and slapped him. “Charley, leave me be. That hurts!”

  The big-boned young man rubbed his cheek. “You didn’t have to do that in front of the schoolmarm, sis.”