A Ranch To Call Home. Carol Arens

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СКАЧАТЬ that a bargain was only a bargain as long as one could afford it, Laura Lee nipped her bottom lip, silently watching the horses eating hay. As large as they were, there would be some expense in feeding them.

      Still, the ranch had three hundred and twenty acres that would need tending, not the acre or two that she had envisioned.

      “I wonder, Mr. Rawlings...does the town have a market day?”

      “Oh, yes, it’s quite an event. Every other Friday, farmers come from all over to sell what they have. In the winter, the ladies gather in the library to sell their jarred goods.”

      Farmers worked hard, built up strong appetites. Pastries and coffee would be welcome while they sold goods on market day, she imagined.

      She could set up her own little booth. In her mind’s eye, she watched her business flourish. All over town, folks were eating her muffins and pies, happily sipping her freshly brewed coffee. In time, perhaps, people would seek her out to provide pastries for parties and festivals.

      If she could satisfy the appetites of circus performers, surely she could do the same for the folks of Forget-Me-Not.

      “This Friday or next?” The idea sent a shiver of excitement through her. She would earn a bit of money doing something she loved and the enterprise would keep her busy until Johnny returned.

      “This. Only five days from now.”

      “I’ll take the large wagon and the team, Mr. Rawlings. As long as you include their tack and load the wagon with a week’s worth of feed.”

      She extended her hand to shake on the deal, hoping he would accept her conditions. If she had to buy the feed and the tack, she would not be able to purchase the other things she needed to begin life in her own sweet home. Especially now that she would need to invest a bit of her precious funds in her new business venture.

      The liveryman stood with his hands in his pockets for a long moment, rocking back on the heels of his boots.

      When she thought she might faint in anticipation of his answer, he reached out and accepted her hand.

      The deal was made.

      At this point, it would have broken her heart to be forced to purchase the smaller wagon. Once she’d made up her mind on a course, nothing else would do.

      Just like when she’d realized she was in love with Johnny, she’d decided that they should be married and no other man would do.

      With a skip in her step, she approached the horses. She stroked Bride’s brown nose, then Whittle’s black one. Because she had spent much of her life on the Lucky Clover Ranch, she felt comfortable around the large beasts.

      Of course, the acres Johnny had given her were dwarfed by the vastness of the ranch she had grown to womanhood on. She carried deep attachments for those countless acres and for everyone who’d worked along with her to keep them running. For many people, living out their lives on the Lucky Clover where they had grown and raised their families was their dream.

      That was not the case for Laura Lee. She needed a place to call her own. To know that come what may, it was her own spot on the earth to just...be.

      When she was small, her father had a need to wander and was never happy to settle in one spot overlong. About the time Laura Lee would make a friend or feel secure in a new bed, she was dragged off on another “adventure.”

      All she’d ever wanted was a place to call home.

      Her toes were nearly dancing inside her boots because very soon she would be sitting in four snug walls that were her own. She would rise with the sun and plant a garden...and a peach tree so she could sit under its shade on a hot afternoon.

      As much as she would miss the Lucky Clover, would even bring her children to visit one day, she now had a home of her own and her heart was bursting with the joy of it.

      “You ready, Bride?” she asked, gazing into a large, gently blinking brown eye. “Time to go home.”

      * * *

      With Saffron tied to the back of the wagon, Laura Lee sat tall on the wood bench, her gloved hands gripping the team’s reins. As advertised, the horses got along well and were easy to handle.

      Seeing a movement beside the wagon, she glanced down. The dog that Mr. Rawlings had chased from the barn trotted beside the wagon wheel. It glanced up, woofed quietly in greeting and wagged its long, fanlike tail.

      She pulled the team up short.

      “Go on back home.” She pointed toward the livery with her finger.

      The dog plopped its hairy rump on the dirt, stirring up dust with its tail.

      “Mr. Rawlings!” she called over her shoulder. Luckily the man was standing in the livery yard. “Your dog is following.”

      He crossed the road, grinning. “I reckon I ought to have mentioned.” He clapped his palm on the wagon wheel. “The dog comes with the horses.”

      “But I don’t need a dog.”

      “Oh, he’s useful enough. With his size, coyotes and wolves won’t bother you much.”

      “I’ve never been over bothered by the beasts as it is.”

      “Haven’t heard of the great wolf migration three years this past February then, I reckon?”

      To her knowledge, wolves did not migrate. She shook her head. What she wanted was for the dog to migrate back to the livery.

      “The story goes that a fellow named Biggers, a newspaperman, was riding out on the frontier one day when he spotted thousands of animals on the lope. He was a curious fellow, given his occupation, and he went to investigate. Turned out to be wolves. Now, no one knows quite why they did it, mass exodus like that, but Biggers wasn’t the only one to report it. Supposedly it’s the truth.”

      Supposedly might be a long stretch from the truth. He wanted to be rid of the dog was what she thought.

      “Truth or not, I didn’t agree to purchase your dog.”

      “The thing is, he’s not my dog. When I bought the horses, he came along. Followed me just like he’s following you.” Bartholomew Rawlings petted the dog between his ears. “I doubt you’ll be rid of him. But he’s a good boy for all he’s a hairy giant.”

      “Go home,” she said to the dog since she was having no success getting the livery owner to keep him. “I can’t feed you.”

      “Don’t trouble yourself over that, miss. He’s a hunter. It’s fair to say you won’t see a rat in your barn or a rabbit in your garden once he moves in.” Apparently Bartholomew considered the matter finished because he tipped his hat and walked away.

      “What’s his name? How old is he?” If the animal really was not going to leave the horses, she ought to know that little bit about him.

      “I believe he’s two, same as the team. Don’t know the name he started with since I was a mile from the auction when I noticed he was coming along. He’s been answering to ‘Hey, dog!’ СКАЧАТЬ