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3
1873, Spring
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"I like that cowboy," Mike Williams declared casually, as he forked up a good mouthful of the big salmon he and Andy had caught. A growing eight-year-old boy was always hungry. "He said I shouldn't worry about you deciding you didn't want me to be family. 'Cos once a Sherman gives a promise, it's for life."
Three pairs of eyes stared at him. Then Slim, Andy and Jonesy looked at each other. They were still getting used to the unexpectedness of this eight-year-old's reactions.
"What cowboy?" Slim asked equally casually.
"The one in the barn. He brings in the bay horse with a white star – Traveller, isn't it? - and puts him in the stall next to Alamo sometimes." Mike snagged another slice of bread, smiling innocently when Jonesy frowned at his manners. "Sorry! Great bread, Jonesy."
"Great appetite," the old man commented. He was thinking of another boy – or at any rate, a boy in his eyes – another stray with an equally big appetite. Just for a moment he thought he caught a sharp whiff of … oregano. He looked over to the rocking chair. Slim and Andy's attention was riveted on Mike.
"I like him, because -" Mike continued simply. "- he says this is a good home."
"I'm glad," Slim smiled.
"It is a good home. For you and me both!" Andy assured the other boy. He had soon discovered what fun it was to have another youngster on the ranch, even though he himself was away at his schooling for a good part of the year. Andy was delighted Slim would have some lively company to keep him on his toes!
Whether Slim would have put it in quite that way was another matter. Since Mike had been left at the ranch, a disheveled, distraught orphan with nothing more than the clothes he stood up in, and those seriously tattered, Slim's parenting skills had been challenged in numerous ways. Not least, he'd had to cope with Mike's recurrent nightmares about the massacre in which he had lost his parents. Slim had been both compassionate and patient, comforting the boy night after night and overcoming his own lack of sleep as he tackled the heavy workload of each following day. The occasional hands who helped him out were not a patch on what Jess would have been. Yet Slim felt a constant flow of strength and encouragement as he continued to confide in his friend nearly every evening. Naturally he had shared his concerns for the happiness of the newest member of the family. And Mike's nightmares had eased off recently, for which Slim was grateful on both their accounts. Could it be that …?
"He understood," Mike told them seriously. He thought a little and added: "He lost his whole family in a fire."
"He did?"
"Yeah. He couldn't hardly remember a time when he hadn't been on his own," Mike said absently, for most of his full attention was on the cheese reposing temptingly in the middle of the table rather than on the conversation.
Andy heaved in a breath and half-whispered to Slim and Jonesy. "That's what Jess said to me, the first day. He said you get used to it."
"Well, Mike won't have to get used to being alone," Slim assured them all. "This is his home and we're his family and we're the ones who'll look after him. Have some cheese, Mike."
Mike grinned and happily cut himself a good hunk. Something about the conversation he'd had with the dark-haired, blue-eyed cowboy had reinforced utterly the knowledge that the Sherman ranch was his home. Despite the poignant loss he would continue to feel for a woman's touch, he knew Slim's wisdom, like that of his own father, and the care of Jonesy and Andy's loyalty would never let him down.
# # # # #
" 'Bout time you brought a woman home t' take care of this place!" Jonesy grumbled as he lowered himself stiffly into a chair on the porch. He wasn't getting any younger and Mike could run you ragged just trying to keep up with his appetite, never mind the scrapes, bruises and torn clothes which frequently adorned an adventurous boy.
"It's not for want of trying, Jonesy," Slim pointed out. He was approaching thirty and well aware that being unmarried was unusual. Heck, most people were raising families of their own, rather than looking after the ones they had been gifted with. He would never swap being family with Andy and Mike for anything, it was just that …
"D'you notice a whole bunch of single ladies beating a path to my door?" he asked somewhat resentfully.
"No. You gotta go gittem!" Jonesy told him roundly.
Slim sighed. Running the ranch and relay station single-handed, with only what casual help he could hire when needed, occupied most of his time. Even when he did have time for leisure and the pursuit of his own social life, as like as not he was too darn' tired!
On the occasions when he had ridden into town for a night in the saloon or one of the infrequent dances, he found he was missing Jess Harper alongside him. He just knew Jess would challenge him to put down his burdens for a while, would be ready to laugh and relax, to beat the locals at poker and probably get Slim himself roaring drunk. So strong was this feeling of companionship that Slim actually found, once or twice, he had bought two beers or whiskeys instead of one! Freddie had given him a very odd look and of course Slim had had to drink them both. As for dances, you only needed to have seen Jess's lithe grace to know he was a great dancer and with his unruly good looks and untamed wildness, he would give Slim serious competition for partners – as if there wasn't already a queue of men vying for that hand of any eligible woman!
"And there are so many single women just looking for a husband around here and of course no competition!" Slim added sarcastically, following his own train of thought.
"Go gittem," Jonesy mumbled again from behind the newspaper. "Y' ain't that bad a catch."
Modest though he was, Slim knew this was true. He was healthy, well-mannered, honest, kind - and not bad-looking, even in his own estimate which he kept determinedly realistic. The life of the ranch was hard and often precarious, but no more so than many other spreads and businesses in the territory. Maybe women just didn't want to take on a small boy and a teenager as well? Or maybe he just had bad luck? It seemed that way.
It wasn't as if he hadn't tried!
But his efforts to establish a permanent relationship with a woman often ended in disaster of one kind or another. There was the sister of the local minster – it was most unfortunate that Andy and Mike happened to be streaking from the shower to the house, stark naked, just as she arrived for an afternoon of pleasantly sampling their hospitality in the form Jonesy's latest cake-making. Then the very attractive daughter of the corn merchant turned her nose up when she found Slim hanging out the washing and, in any case, proved to be incapable of even making toast – such was her superior education in the east. The widowed schoolmistress, who was still young enough to be considered, declined any further association after she had had to walk a mile back to Laramie when the horse drawing the buggy, from which she and Slim had just alighted for a romantic moment in the moonlight, bolted for home. Then there were several lively and pretty girls working in the saloon – not many of them would have been suitable, but Slim did see signs of domestic refinement and a desire to settle down in Julie. Julie! She was exquisitely beautiful in mind as well as in body – or at least so Slim thought until his hat unexpectedly blew off outside the window of Miss Ellie, the dressmaker. As he bent down to pick it up, he was treated to Julie giving one of the other girls a very explicit account of the life she intended to lead with her previous admirers, once she had the security of a position as Slim's wife. Even his most recent, most promising courtship had ended in catastrophe. He'd really been hopeful when Miss Susie Turnbull had invited him to supper pour deux while her parents were away in Cheyenne. All would have gone well if, just as he was riding up to the house, Alamo had not shied violently, slipped sideways and tipped Slim into the duck-pond. Even this disaster could have proved a romantic event if Susie had been prepared to dry off his clothes and wrap him in a cozy blanket. She did nothing of the kind, instead shrieking and barring the door to a soaking Slim covered liberally with pond-weed.
It was very odd! After all, even if Andy and Mike had decided to shower in the middle of the afternoon, why hadn't they got towels? Slim had fallen over the basket of wet washing he was sure had been on the sink waiting for Jonesy to hang it out when he last saw it and he was certain Jonesy never left the bread and the toasting fork by the fire. And there was nothing whatsoever to scare the buggy horse nor any wind to blow his hat off … These were all conundrums which, for some reason, he hadn't brought to his evening consultation with his friend, not least because Jess would probably have laughed his own hat off at the pond incident – and would certainly have had as much to say as Jonesy about Slim's taste in women. Oh, well …!
Slim recalled himself to the immediate conversation with his old friend and ally. "You want me to get a mail-order bride? Have her delivered in a neat parcel on the next stage coach?" he demanded.
True words are often spoken in jest.
# # # # #
It was two days after the conversation on the porch that a stage pulled into the yard on the last leg of its journey from Cheyenne to Laramie in the middle of a sudden spring storm. Mose and Frankie – who for some unknown reason was riding shotgun that day - both jumped down, looking mighty concerned.
"Got a sick passenger, Slim. Don't want to take him any further unless we have to. Can we bring him in?"
"Sure!" Slim hastened into the house, to call for Jonesy and open up the little back bedroom they kept for overnight guests. Frankie followed right on his heels, carrying a slender body, hardly more than a boy, in his arms. He deposited the passenger on the bed and Slim dropped a blanket over the shivering form.
"Rain's drivin' straight into the windows," Frankie explained as Jonesy joined them. "Looks like he'd got a high fever already and gettin' soaked don't seem like a good idea. Besides," he grinned, "we know Jonesy's as good as any doc."
"We're runnin' behind time too," Mose contributed. "Durn'd weather's gonna slow us down and there's urgent mail on board for Sheriff Cory. Road's so bad the joltin' ain't gonna do a sick boy any favors either."
"We'll get the team changed and you can be on your way," Slim told them. "Don't worry. We'll take good care of him."
"If it's just fever, I got herbs'll help bring it down," Jonesy reassured them. "But if y' can ask Doc to drop by, I'd like to make sure there ain't something else causin' the fever."
"Will do. Thanks, Jonesy!"
Andy and Mike already having changed the team, the stage departed in a flurry of mud, rain and lightning. The four of them went inside to tend to their visitor.
"Just Slim and me," Jonesy told the boys. "Don't want too many people crowdin' round a sick man."
Their first task was to divest the stranger of his outer clothing and as soon as they did so they discovered their mistake. When Slim removed their guest's hat they could see at once that they were dealing not with a young man, but a young woman. Her build was so slender it was easy to see how, in male clothing, she had passed for a boy. Her hair was drawn up tight against her head and her skin was pinched and sharp with pain and fever. Concealed by the shadow of the hat her face had given no hint of femininity, but she was undoubtedly female.
Slim stepped back in surprise and a very worried look transformed his face. "What now?"
Jonesy gave a slight shake of his head and said, "We get on like we normally would."
"But what about her modesty?" Slim was more than a little disconcerted at the situation they found themselves in.
"Ain't nothin' modest about bein' dead!" Jonesy told him firmly. "Go get a bucket of cool water an' some towels. I'll see to the clothin'."
This command began four long days in which one of them was constantly with the young woman, sponging her down, helping her to sip water and administering regular doses of Jonesy's patent brew for fever. It might have been the medicine itself, but there often seemed to be a soothing aroma of herbs about the room. At first, despite the treatment, the fever raged unabated. The girl was restless and agitated, calling out often for her family and telling them they should run, run, run far away! On the third night, there came a crisis in the still hour before dawn, when Slim was sitting faithfully at her bedside, his troubled eyes never leaving her pale, anguished face.
Suddenly a hoarse whisper, excruciatingly harsh in one so fragile, forced itself from her throat. "Take my hand! Don't let me go! I can't find you!"
Her thin hands lifted from the quilt and she seemed to be trying to grasp something or someone. The pain radiating from her was too much for Slim. He seized her hands and held them in a gentle but inescapable grip.
"You're OK. You're safe. Don't be afraid. Stay with us. Please!"
He did not know what made him beg so hard, but her hands responded, giving his own the slightest squeeze before she sighed deeply and relapsed into a more peaceful sleep than any he had seen before.
From then on, the fever cooled and she became calmer and more rational, a quiet patient who was thankful for everything done for her. Doc had arrived and made his examination, but there was little he could do to augment Jonesy's treatment. The medicine, plenty to drink, keeping cool but not cold, and resting were the right remedy and after a week the girl able to get up for short periods and join them for meals. She appeared to have no luggage and for want of any other clothing which would fit, they had to lend her some pants and shirts of Andy's.
"I can't thank you all enough," she told them quietly. Her voice was naturally low and she seemed to have an underlying Mexican accent. She could easily be of Spanish descent with her black hair and olive skin, but the blue eyes set under sharply drawn black brows argued a mixed heritage. She was not pretty, for she was too thin and drawn. The planes of her face were fine-boned rather than soft and she kept her hair severely drawn back into a single plait, wound into a coil at the base of her neck. But there was something in her quiet resilience and courtesy which was very attractive.
"You're very welcome," Slim told her as he introduced the members of the family.
"I am Margarita," she offered on learning their names.
"Just Margarita?"
A shadow of pain flickered across her face. "I have no name, really. The people who found me called me Margarita because I was playing in a big patch of daisies."
"Found you?"
"Yes. I was alone in the middle of the prairie, far from any trail or dwelling. I was perhaps five years old."
Mike's head went back sharply. He jumped to his feet, ran round the table and enveloped Margarita in a tight hug. "You were littler'n me and you were all on your own!"
"You lost your parents too?"
When Mike gave a shaky nod, the girl tightened her arms round him, returning the hug. It was the beginning of a special bond between the two – only none of them realized it just then. Presently the orphans released each other and Margarita asked, "This is your home now?"
"Yeah!" Mike affirmed vigorously. "It's a good home. The cowboy said so!"
Everyone laughed, but as yet no-one explained this cryptic utterance and Margarita did not ask about it. Instead she asked that they give her some simple jobs to do, so that she could earn her keep and repay their care until she was fit enough to fend for herself.
Jonesy was only too glad to have another competent pair of hands to deal with cooking, washing, ironing, mending and the general domestic chores. But he was careful not to overburden the girl, or to assume that all she could do was keep house. In this he was right. As her strength increased, she showed herself to be an enthusiastic gardener, a good hand with the poultry, goats and milking cow, and a competent rider. Given a rifle, she also proved to be an accurate, if cautious, shot. All these skills, she told them, she had had to learn from her adopted family, with whom she had traveled through the south, finally crossing the border into Mexico.
"Why did you never use their family name?" Mike was not afraid to ask questions which the adults hesitated to broach.
"You are still Mike Williams," she countered. "You don't call yourself Sherman."
"I don't need to!" Mike stated. "I'm family, but I've already got my pa's name. You didn't have any name at all." Then, seeing the subject was a sensitive one for Margarita, he rushed over and gave her another of their big hugs.
"It's OK, Mike," she assured him. "I don't mind. I guess I just wanted to have something which was mine, like you kept your family name. When I need to, I use Renacer as my surname."
"That's a funny name!"
"But important. It means 'to be reborn'. I was born into a new life when I was rescued and I'll always be grateful for that."
"I guess so." Mike thought for a minute and added with a happy grin, "You could always use Sherman though, if you want to. I'm sure Slim 'n Andy wouldn't mind."
Slim's heart leaped into his throat at this. The girl was a guest. And she was much too young.
Andy saw the flush tinge his brother's cheeks and kindly came to the rescue, saying what he thought Slim would like to say. "We'd both be honored."
Margarita smiled at him, but did not look at Slim. "The honor would be mine. But you have given me so much already. I should be moving on now."
"Moving where?" Andy asked quickly. "You never did tell us where you were headed on that stage."
Margarita threw back her head and laughed loudly. "California!" she told them.
"California?" four very surprised voices chorused.
"It's so silly," she admitted. "In my fever I wasn't thinking straight. I got the names of the places on the route completely confused. So I got on the wrong coach – twice!"
"We're glad you did," Mike told her.
"But why California?" Slim asked. It was a long way away. There could be no meaningful contact once she moved on.
"You'll think me even more foolish," she replied and blushed.
"Never – no - we won't – you aren't silly!" came the supportive chorus again.
"It was like this," Margarita's blush deepened, but she went on valiantly: "I always secretly hoped someone of my family survived and was living happily somewhere. One day a prospector came to our town – there were big claims opening up – I think he hoped to make his fortune, as men do." She shook her head at the thought of the labor and the folly of chasing gold in the hard earth. "He'd come from California and he lodged with my rescuers. After a while, he began to pay court to me. He said he'd seen …" she hesitated and forced herself to continue, "he'd seen the most beautiful woman in Sacramento and she looked exactly like me. He wanted to propose to her, but she was already married with two small children. He proposed to me instead."
"And you turned him down?" Slim ventured softly.
"I only wanted to find my true family!" Margarita's eyes shone with love. "So I set out for California – on the word of a stranger and with nothing but hope. It was a crazy thing to do. I wasn't even sure how to get there! But I did take the precaution of travelling as a young man, not a girl."
"I've been meaning to ask you about clothes," Slim said gently. "Do you like dressing that way?"
Margarita laughed again. "I'd give anything for a pretty dress! I've never had one."
"Good!" Slim laughed too. "Come on, we're going to town!"
# # # # #
A small pile of clothes later and the conversation in the General Store went something along the lines of:
"I can't pay for these, Slim."
"I'm paying."
"But I can't pay you back."
"You can go on working them off, like you've been doing."
"So you want to work the shirt off my back?"
Slim blushed. "Nothing was further from my mind! I want your work to keep the shirt on your back."
"In that case, I accept."
After which Slim dragged Margarita along to the small shop of Miss Ellie, the dressmaker. The little old lady was only too ready to help the girl choose fabrics and styles which would enhance her slender figure and striking looks - rest, good food and, above all, loving company had turned Margarita from a scrawny youth into a radiant young woman.
The commissioning of the dresses was not without further argument, however.
"These dresses are a present."
"I can't take presents from you, Slim. It isn't … appropriate."
"Have you had a birthday present recently?"
"I don't know when my birthday is."
"So the whole family at the Sherman ranch are going to make sure you have one every year from now on, starting today!"
"If you're sure?"
"Sure, I'm sure!"
"So it's going to take till next year for me to work off this debt?"
"You know that's not what I meant!"
In the background, Miss Eli smiled to herself. She was an incurable romantic at heart and liked to see a nice young man and a pretty girl united in exploring their feelings for each other. And if there was a faint scent of herbs in the air, it only added to the pure joy of the moment.
# # # # #
To his delighted surprise, Slim found in himself the capacity to be joyful.
This was entirely due to Margarita's presence at the ranch. She already belonged as if she had been there all along. Jonesy approved of her, Andy respected her and Mike adored her. She took up those tasks for which she was most skilled and worked willingly and tirelessly to make her contribution to the success of the ranch. And it was evident from the happy, relaxed way in which she did so that she had come to feel the place was 'home'.
For one who had sought a family for so long, with such resilient hope, this was naturally a great joy, which infected everyone around her.
Not only did she bring joy, but she also had a sense of fun equal to that of the boys. Almost inexplicably, it seemed to Slim, he found himself relaxing, joking, taking time to act the fool and fool around with the youngsters. There were straw fights in the barn, water fights in the yard, blind man's buff and apple-bobbing – a whole host of lighthearted activities which he had never had the chance to indulge in when he himself was younger. In his innermost heart, he felt Jess might very well have encouraged him to a similar relaxation and he was grateful to be given a second chance at it. He was just unsure if he dared take this chance fully.
The question of age weighed heavily upon Slim and he confessed his uncertainty to Jess in his quiet evening moments with his friend. Margarita was so much younger than he was, hardly older than Andy ... or at least, so it seemed. Could he possibly consider … but no! He valued her too highly to risk misinterpreting what might just be the natural high-spirits of youth.
It was Mike, as usual, who had no qualms about tackling the delicate subject full on and with no hesitation. "D'you reckon y' ever gonna catch up with all your birthdays?" he asked one evening, when they had been teasing Margarita about having another celebration for her without waiting a year. "How many more d'y' have to make up?"
Her smile of enjoyment disappeared for a minute, while she calculated the answer to Mike's question. "I was about five when I was found and I can recall clearly at least twelve years some time after that. But I didn't really start counting the years until I was seven, so I guess that makes me around twenty now."
"Great!" Mike grinned. "We've got plenty of parties to go, then!"
Slim heaved a mental sigh of relief. Margarita might look young, but this was at least partly due to the fact that she was still exploring who she truly was. She was finding a happiness which, despite being of a positive and resilient disposition, had eluded her most of her younger life. Moreover she was happiest in Slim's company and he in hers. They spent many hours quietly working together on tasks around the ranch house and yard. When Slim was out working on the fence lines, Margarita would often ride out at noon, bringing a meal to share with him, and they would sit in companionable silence, just appreciating the beauty of the land all around them and the pleasure of each other's company.
One beautiful summer evening, when she had been with them about four months, Slim was surprised to see her urging the little sorrel mare he had bought for her up the steep slope to where he was finishing a final repair to the fencing.
"It's too beautiful to stay down below," she told him. "I wanted to feel the breeze and see the evening light from up here in the hills."
She dismounted and let the mare graze alongside Alamo. Slim finished securing his tools and then came to sit beside her on the edge of the ridge. The ground fell away quite steeply below them, thickly turfed with lush grass and dipping down into a little hollow full of flowering plants. The deep peace of evening wrapped them round.
Presently Slim said quietly, "I feel different."
She looked at him, not questioning, but waiting for him to explain in his own time. The shadows were beginning to stretch away towards the east, but the falling rays of the sun glinted on his hair and touched his face with a brightness which seemed to be echoed from within as well.
"I've been up here many times," Slim mused and then chuckled. "It's one of those places where you know you're always going to find fence breaks! But I feel as if it's all new. As if I'm truly seeing it for the first time, like when my family came here and claimed it. As if I've been given a new chance, an opportunity to find something I thought I'd lost."
Again, she waited.
"I guess I've been trying to model myself on my pa for so long, I forgot what it's like to be young. Now I feel as if I've been reborn."
At this, she chuckled too. "Maybe you need to prove to yourself how young and foolish you can be?"
"I do?"
"If it will help you believe you aren't too old …"
The unspoken question hung in the air between them, but Slim did not ask it. Instead he asked hopefully, "What would prove that?"
"Hmm …," Margarita looked around them and then grinned. "When did you last roll over and over down a hill?"
Slim looked seriously alarmed. "Never?" he ventured.
"Mr. Sherman, you haven't lived!" he was told severely. "Come on!"
Seconds later, two bodies were whirling their way down the slope to land in a cloud of laughter and aromatic scents from the bed of plants at the bottom of the hollow. When they had recovered their breath, they scrambled to a sitting position, entirely surrounded by flowering grasses and herbs. Margarita shook out her hair, which had come loose from its plait and fell in a cascade of black curls.
"I love the smell of herbs," she said softly. "It's one of the only memories I have from before I was found." She paused and looked intently as Slim before confiding, "The house often smells sweet with them. I thought Jonesy must keep dried herbs about the place somewhere, but he only uses the fresh ones from the garden."
Slim nodded and silently reached out to brush the seeds and petals clinging to her hair.
"It makes the house a home," she said.
Slim finally found his voice for the unspoken question. "Your home, if you'll have it?" He moved so he was kneeling close to her. He took her hand. "Margarita Renacer, would you be willing to change your family name to Sherman?"
A happy laugh greeted this question. "I would love to so much! But on one condition …"
# # # # #
"Holly Margarita, I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."
Pastor Nicholson was not entirely sure that baptizing an adult was in order under the circumstances, but the young woman had made a very good case for not having been baptized as a child – or at any rate, not with a name anyone knew. And besides, the couple had insisted on it as a condition of getting married at all – and he could not countenance any further cohabitation, even with an elderly employee as chaperone.
The elderly chaperone was standing by, looking smug. The language of plants had triumphed once again because, when his bride-to-be had asked that Slim choose her new name, he had come to Jonesy, seeking a name with a special meaning. The search for something with deep significance had naturally led them to the symbolism of plants and flowers. Slim had explained the name he had chosen: "Holly represents hope and hope is something which you have kept all your life, no matter how challenging it has been. And just as holly makes the house bright in the darkness of winter, so you will always be the brightness of my home and my life."
As Holly received her new name and these thoughts passed through Slim's mind, he looked down at the little bouquet Andy and Mike had put together for her – the deep blue of violets like the color of her eyes, the soft green of sage and rosemary, the fragile silver flowers of thyme and oregano, tied with a blue ribbon – and he smiled to himself. How fortunate that he had been so conveniently saved from all those other women! He sent out a deep, warm surge of gratitude which was both heart-felt and amused at the same time. Thank you, Jess my friend!
Then the minister's voice recalled him to the joy of the present.
"Will you, Matthew John, take Holly Margarita …"
