[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
"My place touches his land. One of his men comes by when I was plowing my
field and warns that harm might come to my family." He paused to inspect the
hushed reaction around him and stood a little straighter, adopting a
swaggering
pose. "I told him I have rifle and I would shoot it."
A voice rose above the hum of whispers that followed. "What happened then?"
"He made more threats, then rode off." He addressed his words to the men.
"We must stick together, all of us. These ranchers think because they were
here first that they own everything. We must show them we can't be
frightened."
The phrases seemed echoes from the past. Lillian's gaze drifted downward to
the blue gumbo of wet earth around the well. It was caked on Stefan's
high-topped shoes. In the New York tenement where they had lived, she'd heard
that
kind of men-talk before--the angry grumblings to organize so they could stand
united against the robber barons. Despair always seemed to give birth to
violence.
This was a new land. It should be the place for a new beginning, where a
person could build something with the pure sweat of labor--without hostility
or fear. But this empty-looking land wasn't as serene as it appeared.
At the train depot, Webb dismounted with the other riders and tied the
horse's reins to an upright post. Stepping up to the wooden floor of the
roofed platform, he stamped the sticky mud off his boots. Restless surgings
were creating a tension inside him, putting him on edge. The other riders
shifted around him, making way for Benteen Calder as he joined them.
"Curley, check with the agent and find out when the train's due," Benteen
ordered.
"Right, boss." The rider angled toward the depot office with the typical
rolling gait of a cowboy.
Then Benteen's cool glance fell on Webb. "Give your mother and Ruth a hand
over that mud."
With a nod, Webb turned to the horse and buggy parked within a couple feet
of the platform. There was a split-second hesitation when he caught the warmth
of Ruth's gaze directed at him. A ripple of unease flowed through his muscles
as he approached the buggy, but it didn't show in his face.
"Need some help to keep your skirts out of the mud?" He smiled at the quiet,
blond-haired woman standing in the buggy with one foot resting on the outside
step.
"Please." Ruth returned his smile, but in her own reserved way.
His gloved hands gripped her slim waist and lifted her in a gentle, swinging
motion that spanned the two feet of muddy ground and deposited her on the
wooden floor of the platform. He felt the lightness of her hands on his
shoulders for balance and the slow way they were withdrawn. Then he was
turning away to help his mother out of the buggy.
"I can't recall when I've seen so many people in town," his mother declared
as she straightened the fall of
her caramel skirt.
"They're mostly drylanders," Webb stated "The rain's driven them out of the
fields into town, I imagine."
"This sun is going to dry the ground in a hurry," she said with a frown.
"They'll need a chisel instead of a plow to get back into their fields
Page 33
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
tomorrow."
Webb smiled in response to her observation. Montana mud did become
rock-solid when it dried. The rains came so seldom that he tended to forget
that.
"I pity those poor people," Ruth murmured, drawing Webb's eyes to her with
the comment.
"They seem determined to make it," he said.
But he was noticing the rose-colored dress Ruth was wearing and the
smoothness of her skin, like a white pearl. A picture flashed in his mind of
the homesteader girl, Lillian, in her cheap gingham dress and skin that was
already browning from the sun. He'd passed right over her when he'd first seen
the group of wagons around the well. This raw
land was already having its effect on her.
It was strange how he hadn't recognized her. He hadn't caught the flash of
red in her hair until the second time he looked. Something else had triggered
his recognition. Maybe it had been the coiled eagerness of her--that vitality
of body and spirit.
"It will take more than determination, I'm afraid," his mother said. Her
lips widened into a smile. "But I like seeing all these people in town, even
if a certain Mr. Calder thinks that is atraitorous remark." She boldly lifted
her gaze to the man just joining them, teasing him in a loving fashion.
If anyone else had said that, they would have received a steely glare, but
Benteen merely gave his wife an indulgent smile. "The train's a half-hour
late," he advised them. "The agent told Curly there's two cars full of
drylanders on it. I hope that makes you happy, Lorna."
She took a breath and said nothing in reply.
"Since we have to wait for the train, we might as well find a comfortable
place to sit." She looked to Ruth. "Would you like to come inside the depot
with me, or stay out here on the platform with Webb?"
"I think--" Ruth paused and looked at Webb, reluctant to voice her approval [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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"My place touches his land. One of his men comes by when I was plowing my
field and warns that harm might come to my family." He paused to inspect the
hushed reaction around him and stood a little straighter, adopting a
swaggering
pose. "I told him I have rifle and I would shoot it."
A voice rose above the hum of whispers that followed. "What happened then?"
"He made more threats, then rode off." He addressed his words to the men.
"We must stick together, all of us. These ranchers think because they were
here first that they own everything. We must show them we can't be
frightened."
The phrases seemed echoes from the past. Lillian's gaze drifted downward to
the blue gumbo of wet earth around the well. It was caked on Stefan's
high-topped shoes. In the New York tenement where they had lived, she'd heard
that
kind of men-talk before--the angry grumblings to organize so they could stand
united against the robber barons. Despair always seemed to give birth to
violence.
This was a new land. It should be the place for a new beginning, where a
person could build something with the pure sweat of labor--without hostility
or fear. But this empty-looking land wasn't as serene as it appeared.
At the train depot, Webb dismounted with the other riders and tied the
horse's reins to an upright post. Stepping up to the wooden floor of the
roofed platform, he stamped the sticky mud off his boots. Restless surgings
were creating a tension inside him, putting him on edge. The other riders
shifted around him, making way for Benteen Calder as he joined them.
"Curley, check with the agent and find out when the train's due," Benteen
ordered.
"Right, boss." The rider angled toward the depot office with the typical
rolling gait of a cowboy.
Then Benteen's cool glance fell on Webb. "Give your mother and Ruth a hand
over that mud."
With a nod, Webb turned to the horse and buggy parked within a couple feet
of the platform. There was a split-second hesitation when he caught the warmth
of Ruth's gaze directed at him. A ripple of unease flowed through his muscles
as he approached the buggy, but it didn't show in his face.
"Need some help to keep your skirts out of the mud?" He smiled at the quiet,
blond-haired woman standing in the buggy with one foot resting on the outside
step.
"Please." Ruth returned his smile, but in her own reserved way.
His gloved hands gripped her slim waist and lifted her in a gentle, swinging
motion that spanned the two feet of muddy ground and deposited her on the
wooden floor of the platform. He felt the lightness of her hands on his
shoulders for balance and the slow way they were withdrawn. Then he was
turning away to help his mother out of the buggy.
"I can't recall when I've seen so many people in town," his mother declared
as she straightened the fall of
her caramel skirt.
"They're mostly drylanders," Webb stated "The rain's driven them out of the
fields into town, I imagine."
"This sun is going to dry the ground in a hurry," she said with a frown.
"They'll need a chisel instead of a plow to get back into their fields
Page 33
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
tomorrow."
Webb smiled in response to her observation. Montana mud did become
rock-solid when it dried. The rains came so seldom that he tended to forget
that.
"I pity those poor people," Ruth murmured, drawing Webb's eyes to her with
the comment.
"They seem determined to make it," he said.
But he was noticing the rose-colored dress Ruth was wearing and the
smoothness of her skin, like a white pearl. A picture flashed in his mind of
the homesteader girl, Lillian, in her cheap gingham dress and skin that was
already browning from the sun. He'd passed right over her when he'd first seen
the group of wagons around the well. This raw
land was already having its effect on her.
It was strange how he hadn't recognized her. He hadn't caught the flash of
red in her hair until the second time he looked. Something else had triggered
his recognition. Maybe it had been the coiled eagerness of her--that vitality
of body and spirit.
"It will take more than determination, I'm afraid," his mother said. Her
lips widened into a smile. "But I like seeing all these people in town, even
if a certain Mr. Calder thinks that is atraitorous remark." She boldly lifted
her gaze to the man just joining them, teasing him in a loving fashion.
If anyone else had said that, they would have received a steely glare, but
Benteen merely gave his wife an indulgent smile. "The train's a half-hour
late," he advised them. "The agent told Curly there's two cars full of
drylanders on it. I hope that makes you happy, Lorna."
She took a breath and said nothing in reply.
"Since we have to wait for the train, we might as well find a comfortable
place to sit." She looked to Ruth. "Would you like to come inside the depot
with me, or stay out here on the platform with Webb?"
"I think--" Ruth paused and looked at Webb, reluctant to voice her approval [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]