When Rachel became a widow for the second time, she couldn't help wondering if God had something against her being married. Losing a husband was a terrible thing to go through and now she had lost two of them. Why make her endure it unless His plan called for her to remain alone? There was no common thread between her husbands; they were as different as night from day. Henry Dunne had been bold - brash even - with the lilt of Ireland in his voice. He'd come to America with nothing more than a hunger for land and a determination to build a better life. Joshua Brewster, in contrast, was from an old New England family that could trace its roots to the Mayflower. He was college educated and a little bookish, although - in his own way - no less determined than Henry. She had loved both of them fiercely.
Rachel was young when she lost her first husband, still in her twenties. She and Henry were homesteading in the untamed territory of Wyoming, one of many penniless couples anxious to claim a piece of the country as theirs. She'd considered herself worldly in those days. She'd been on her own since she was sixteen; drifting, eventually making a living at the card table. After her marriage she'd become a pioneer, taking care of a house and a husband, with the nearest neighbor more than ten miles away. It was only later, when Henry was dead and she was working at the Pony Express station, that she realized how naive she had been.
She had believed that because she and Henry were good people who left others alone, others would leave them alone as well. She hadn't considered the men in those untamed territories; men, very different from her husband, who thought a gun was the answer to everything. A disagreement with the wrong man, a stubborn refusal on her part to yield, and Henry was gone - shot in his own front yard. She had seen justice done eventually, but it had cost her dearly.
When she became a widow for the second time she was in her early forties; no longer so young and certainly not naive. She and Joshua were living in his home state of Massachusetts, a land that had been tamed more than a century earlier. There were neat, two story houses painted in soft pastel colors, with clusters of primroses by the front steps. There were colleges like Harvard and Williams, and writers like Ralph Waldo Emerson and Louisa May Alcott. Men didn't strap gun belts around their hips. They wore grey wool suits and worked in banks, schools and post offices. The roughest it got was pushing a plow or working at the docks in Boston Harbor.
Joshua was a newspaper writer, not a lawman or even a farmer. He and Rachel had met in Virginia when she was nursing soldiers in the Civil War and he was writing about the conflict for the Boston Herald. He'd been fascinated by the notion of a woman on her own, surviving without the support of family or a husband. Late in the evenings, when she could get away from her patients for a few hours, Joshua and Rachel played cards. Neither one of them truly cared about gambling. They were seeking company and the chance to escape the war for a few hours. Still, Rachel figured she took at least seventy-five dollars off of him before he confessed to being in love with her. It didn't take much longer for her to return his feelings. They married the last year of the war and when it ended, moved to a home on the outskirts of Boston.
The morning of his death, Joshua had risen, eaten breakfast, and left the house to walk the three miles to the paper, the way he did most mornings. He never made it. A lawyer traveling a similar route found him by the side of the road, his eyes closed as if in sleep. Only he wasn't sleeping.
His heart had given out, the doctor said, which Rachel found hard to believe. She knew Joshua's heart to be both strong and generous; he had loved her without reserve. And he was only forty-three; not a young man, but not an old man either. Teaspoon Hunter had been a dozen years older than Joshua when he'd served as marshal of Rock Creek, galloping on horseback and staring down gunmen. It was hard to believe that a newspaper reporter could be killed by a three mile walk. A defect, the doctor had insisted. There must have been some type of defect in his heart. The reason Joshua had lived as long as he had was because he wasn't a laborer.
Rachel had wanted to argue with the doctor but then realized it was pointless. Either way, Joshua was gone and she had to continue with her life. Their lives, she corrected herself. She and Joshua had a daughter, Grace; named at her husband's request for his beloved grandmother. Rachel would have preferred to call the girl Louise, but it meant so much to Joshua that she had acceded to his wishes, planning to petition for Louise if their next child was a girl. They didn't have another girl — in fact, they didn't have another baby, although not for lack of trying. Grace was an only child, lavished with love by both parents and perhaps, Rachel could admit, a little spoiled because of it.
Joshua had left them a small nest egg. It wasn't huge, but it was enough that Rachel could take time to figure out what she wanted to do. Joshua's parents, still going strong in their mid-sixties, also offered to help. They suggested that Rachel and Grace move in with them, a proposal Rachel was reluctant to accept. She knew Mother Brewster had never really taken to her, wishing that Joshua had married a woman from a good New England family instead. Rachel didn't think she could swallow the subtle insults about her southern accent and lack of formal education - not for long, anyway. She had supported herself once; she could do it again.
However, she soon found that jobs for women were not so easy to come by in New England, especially for widows in their forties. Rachel was a decent but uninspired seamstress. She could mend tears and sew on buttons but she couldn't create a fancy new gown. And becoming someone else's housekeeper was depressing, especially when she'd been taking care of her own home for over a dozen years. A friend of Joshua's at the Herald recommended that she try the Boston Public Library. The library offered her a job cataloging books and re-stacking the shelves. She would have to pinch pennies, but the pay would be enough to allow her and Grace to remain on their own. And Rachel had always loved books.
Still, she couldn't help thinking about the letter she'd received a month after Joshua's death.
Dear Rachel,
I was so sorry to read your letter about Joshua. I never met him but from everything you wrote I know he was a fine man. I am sure the pain is bad. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to Kid.
Why don't you and your girl think about coming out here to stay? We got plenty of room and your girl might like helping the boys care for the animals. We got quite the farm now. Horses, cows, goats, chickens. You never said if she rides but if she doesn't, the boys will be happy to teach her. And it would be nice for me to have another woman for company. I know you have other family to consider but I hope you'll think about it.
Other than being sorry for your loss, we are fine. Buck is away on a cattle drive but we see Jimmy real regular now. He is a fine sheriff and has done a good job bringing peace and quiet to the town.
Please think about coming out.
Love,
Lou
When she first read the letter, Rachel hadn't considered the offer very seriously. She'd been in New England for more than a decade and she'd become used to life with certain conveniences; to having an indoor water closet, a doctor who didn't double as a barber, and green grass instead of swirling brown dust that permeated every corner of the house. Grace didn't know that any other kind of life even existed. Maybe there was something to a name, because the girl was growing up to be nothing like Louise. She favored dresses with ruffles, asked Rachel to put curls in her hair, and never went near a horse except to ride behind one in a buggy. She was smart, though. Rachel was proud of that. Grace did well in school, and at twelve years old, had read Little Women and The Last of the Mohicans. She was learning some complex form of mathematics called algebra that Rachel could no longer help her with. To uproot her and take her away from her grandparents and the only lifestyle she knew seemed unfair.
On the other hand, Rachel had to admit that the girl had little practical knowledge. By the time she was twelve, Rachel had been able to cook, clean and manage livestock. She could play poker; not the most admirable talent, perhaps, but one that enabled her to pocket a few dollars when she needed them. Grace was nowhere near self-sufficient. If something happened to Rachel, the girl had no one except Joshua's ageing parents. With a sense of panic, Rachel realized Grace needed to develop a few basic survival skills. For her own peace of mind, she decided she needed to make life a little tougher - a little more real - for her daughter.
And so she wrote Louise to tell her they would be coming out to visit.
"I have a headache," Grace said.
To her credit, Rachel thought, the girl wasn't whining. She was stating a fact, the same way she might say, it's raining or the bread costs five cents.
"That's because you're trying to read on the train," Rachel replied, in the same unemotional tone of voice. "Put the book down and look out the window for a little while. It'll ease the ache."
Grace frowned. "But it's boring looking out the window."
"You're seeing a part of the country you've never seen before. How can that be boring?"
"It just is. It's flat. There's nothing to see."
Rachel sighed. It was their second day on the train and they were in the western half of Ohio, headed toward Indiana. It was true the rolling hills of Pennsylvania and even more pronounced peaks of Massachusetts were behind them, but they had yet to enter the Great Plain states. Unlike her daughter, Rachel found the evolving landscape fascinating. When she had come east from Rock Creek fifteen years ago, she had taken a circuitous route to Virginia, traveling largely by wagon or horseback. At such a slow pace, the changes in topography had been gradual and hard to spot. The train, on the other hand, sped everything up. She could almost see the lines of demarcation; see the Appalachian mountains turn into foothills, and then into plains. It made her wish she had read a book on geography.
But she wasn't going to try to share her enthusiasm with her daughter. It would be a wasted effort. So instead she shrugged. "It's your decision," she said. "You can read and have a headache or you can look out the window."
Grace wrinkled her small, straight nose. "I don't understand why we're traveling west at all."
"I told you. I have family in Serenity Springs."
"Papa never mentioned them."
"That's because they're my family, not your papa's. He never met them."
Grace shook her head. "They can't be much of a family if they never came to visit you, and Papa never met them."
Rachel smiled. "On the contrary, that's the beauty of real family. You can go years without seeing each other, but when you need them, they're there for you. Louise and Kid have invited us to stay and that's what we're going to do - at least for a little while."
"Hmmm." Grace picked her book back up, but after a minute closed it and turned toward the window.
Rachel made no comment on Grace's decision to abandon reading. She joined her daughter in studying the scenery and noted that the fields they were passing looked cultivated - farmland and pasture, not wild land. That would change soon, she figured. Another day and a half should get them to Council Bluffs, near the Nebraska border. After that, they would leave the train for a stagecoach.
As if she could read Rachel's mind, Grace asked, "How much further do we have to go?"
"A ways yet. Another day on the train. Then we'll catch a stagecoach."
"And how long then?"
Rachel pursed her lips. "I'm not sure. A couple of days, anyway."
The girl's brow furrowed. "Another three days of sitting? "
Now that was beginning to sound like whining. Rachel shrugged once more. "Builds character," she said shortly.
Grace didn't reply. She knew better than to say anything, not when her mother used that voice.
In the end, it took them another four days to reach Serenity Springs.
Rachel stepped out of the stagecoach and smiled. Serenity Springs might not be Rock Creek or Sweetwater, but it felt similar. The dusty main street down the middle of the town, the weathered, wooden buildings, the smell of horse droppings - it was surprisingly comforting. She knew where the saloon and general store were located without even looking for them. She wouldn't have been surprised to see Tompkins sweeping the stairs in front of his shop. The people going about their business were her kind of people, she realized. Efficient, plainly dressed, busy. She hadn't appreciated how much she'd missed them and this kind of town until now.
Grace didn't smile as she exited the coach. She stared down one end of the main street, turned to stare down the other, and scowled. Rachel could almost guess her thoughts. On either end of town there was nothing but prairie. No library, no millinery, no candy shop. What do people do around here?
"We need to find the sheriff's office," Rachel said, ignoring Grace's expression. "Jimmy will know where Lou and Kid live."
"The sheriff's office," Grace repeated. "Well, it shouldn't take long to find it. There can't be more than two dozen buildings in the entire town."
"It's over there." Rachel pointed to the sign that said Sheriff in bold, black letters. "You can leave our trunks here," she added to the coach driver, gesturing to the side of the road. "We'll be back soon. We're not staying in the hotel."
"Yes ma'am."
"C'mon." Rachel took Grace's elbow and began steering her towards the sheriff's office. She caught a glimpse of their reflection as they passed a window and wondered if Jimmy would recognize her. It had been a long time, after all. Her waist was a little thicker, her hips a little rounder. And her traveling dress was definitely from New England, not at all what she used to wear in her Pony Express days. The skirt hung in heavy layers, the longer underskirt peeping out below the outer skirt, and the bustle making everything protrude over her behind.
But her hair hadn't changed. It was still a sandy, sun-streaked blond, curly and unruly in the prairie wind. And she liked to think that her face hadn't changed all that much either. A little more of a chin, some creases at the corners of her eyes and a few lines that gave it character, but it was largely still smooth.
She pushed open the door to the sheriff's office and stepped inside. Grace followed on her heels.
And there he was, Jimmy Hickok. For a second, he didn't look up. He was reading a paper, his mouth curved in a slight frown, giving Rachel the chance to study him before he could study her. His face was leaner - a man's face now, no longer a boy's, the cheekbones high and prominent. But his dark hair still hung down to his shoulders and his face was clean-shaven. He looked good, she thought, but a little careworn, as if time and duty weighed heavily upon him. She was six or seven years older than he was, but they might have been the same age.
"Jimmy?"
He looked up and stared at her for a few seconds. Then his face broke out into a grin and instantly, Rachel was taken back fifteen years. It was as if she was greeting him with his favorite stew after a long ride.
"Rachel." He rose from his chair, stepped around his desk and pulled her into a hug. "Lou said to expect you any day."
She hugged him back. He smelled of gun oil and shaving soap. "It's so good to see you, Jimmy, especially looking so well. I can't tell you how much I've missed all of you."
"I was sorry to hear about your husband."
"Thank you." Rachel bowed her head briefly. Enough time had passed that Joshua's death was no longer fresh; the condolences were easier to accept. "This is my daughter," she continued, putting her arm around Grace's shoulders and pulling her alongside. "Grace Brewster."
Jimmy looked into Grace's eyes, then took her hand and bent over it as if she were an adult. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Brewster."
Grace giggled. It was the first happy sound Rachel had heard her make since their journey west had begun.
"I hope you had an easy trip out here," Jimmy added.
Rachel shrugged. "Five days of sitting. Easy on the legs. Not so easy on the backside."
He laughed. "Lou's got a wagon at the livery. If your backside can stand an hour or two more, I'll hitch my horse behind it and take you to her place right away."
"Thank you." Rachel said again, her voice warm. "I couldn't imagine how we were going to find Lou and Kid, otherwise."
"Their ranch isn't hard to find. You'd have figured it out. But I'm happy to make the trip. I always like seeing what she and the boys are up to."
She and the boys. The words reminded Rachel of their days in Rock Creek, and before that, Sweetwater. It had always been Lou and the boys.
"How is she?" Rachel asked, curious to hear what Jimmy would say. She thought he'd held a bit of torch for Lou when they were living in Rock Creek. For some reason, though, he hadn't acted on it. He'd sat back and let Kid take the lead.
"She's..." Jimmy hesitated, his grin returning. "She's Lou. Working as hard as she ever did, taking care of livestock, raising her sons. She still can't cook worth a lick. Kid'll be pleased to see you, especially if you don't mind spending time in the kitchen."
Rachel smiled. "And how is Kid?"
"He's happy," Jimmy said. "I think he has what he's always wanted. Horses, a place of his own, and Lou. Kid's not a real complicated man."
Rachel pressed her lips together but didn't argue. She remembered Kid as having his own demons to wrestle. He'd just gone about it differently than Jimmy.
"Grace and I have a couple of trunks," she said. "I left them up where the stagecoach stops."
Jimmy nodded. "I figured you would. Let's get the wagon and then we can hoist them up into the back."
Fifteen minutes later he was staring at the trunks. It had taken all three of them to load them into the buckboard.
"What the hell do you have in those things, Rachel? Bricks?"
She chuckled. "No. Just clothes and shoes. Maybe a few books."
"Books? We got a library here in town."
Grace's face lit up. "You do? Where? I didn't see it."
Jimmy turned to her. "It's in the back of the general store. There's a whole wall stacked with books. Folks can sign them out for three weeks at a time."
"One wall?" Grace's voice dwindled. Rachel imagined her daughter was recalling the Boston library. It was the size of half a city block.
"Yes," Jimmy continued proudly, unaware of Grace's reaction. "I've read a few of them myself."
"You?" Rachel cocked an eyebrow.
"Yes, don't look at me like that, Rachel. I do read. There's one about hunting a whale that's real interesting. I've read it a couple of times."
"Moby Dick," Rachel said. "You read Moby Dick."
"Yup. That's the one. It's a fine story."
"It is," she agreed. She glanced at her daughter. "I don't think Grace has read it yet. It will be something for her to look forward to."
Grace frowned and didn't acknowledge the suggestion. She was staring at the gun on Jimmy's hip as if noticing it for the first time. Jimmy caught her expression and gave Rachel an inquiring look.
She shrugged. "Her father didn't carry a gun. Not many Colts back in Boston."
He nodded. "I see. I ain't been east of the Mississippi since the war ended, and I never been to Boston. Not much has changed since we were in Rock Creek, Rachel. Still plenty of Colts in these parts, and Smith & Wessons are real popular too."
She shook her head. "The most dangerous thing I'm near these days is a knitting needle."
Jimmy grinned. "If I have my way, that's all anyone here needs to have around. I aim to keep this a peaceful town."
"Lou said you were doing a fine job of it."
"Did she?" He sounded pleased. "Then we should get moving and see if she says the same thing to my face."
He climbed into the buckboard and extended a hand to Rachel.
She took it, and settled onto the flat, wooden bench. Then she watched as he did the same for Grace. Grace allowed him to assist her up, but paused when she saw the seat. Rachel knew what her daughter was thinking. She was thinking that the seat looked dusty...and Grace didn't like dirt in any form.
But she had the manners not to say so. She sat and adjusted her skirts as if she'd just climbed into a velvet-cushioned buggy. Rachel let out a quiet breath, pleased that her lessons in courtesy seemed to have stuck. For whatever reason, she didn't want Jimmy to think that her daughter was rude.
Jimmy picked up the reins and shook them, urging Dusty down the street. The horse moved at a walk, and then picked up a grudging trot. Sitting next to him, Rachel felt the years melt away. They could be returning to the station after running errands in town. One particular memory returned, and with it, a small shock of pain.
She folded her hands so tightly that her knuckles whitened. "Jimmy, there's something I have to ask you."
He didn't look at her. "It's about Jesse, isn't it?"
"Yes. In one of her letters, Lou wrote that there's a reward out for him - dead or alive. Is that true?"
He grimaced. "There isn't a reward, Rachel. There's a whole bunch of rewards. The Pinkerton's, the governor of Missouri, just about every railroad that he's ever robbed - I've seen some as high as twenty-five thousand. He ain't real popular, not with the railroads and the banks."
She closed her eyes. "So he followed Frank in the end. What we did, what we tried to teach him - it didn't matter."
"I don't think you can blame this all on his brother." Jimmy's voice was harsh. "From everything I hear now, Jesse's leading the gang. He's the one in charge, not Frank."
"He's just a boy."
"Not anymore, Rachel. He's a grown man. He'll be thirty in a couple of years. And he's the one responsible for choosing his path. Not us."
She felt the tears pooling in her eyes. It was hard to think of Jesse as anything other than the gangly kid who was curious about everything. "Has Lou heard from him?" she asked.
Jimmy frowned. "Why would you think Lou has heard from him?"
"He was sweet on her, back when we were in Rock Creek - he had a schoolboy crush. I remember him giving her flowers. If there were any of us he would want to see now, it would be Lou. Or maybe Teaspoon," she added. "Teaspoon was like a father to him."
"Rock Creek was a long time ago, Rachel. Jesse married his cousin...or at least that's what they say. He probably doesn't remember that Lou exists."
"Maybe." Rachel wasn't quite so convinced. She could remember the first boy she'd been sweet on, and that was close to thirty years ago.
"Anyway," Jimmy continued, "whatever Jesse's up to, he's a long way from Serenity Springs. We shouldn't be wasting our worry on him."
"I suppose," she said, although she wondered if he was right. In her experience, people in your life stayed with you, no matter where they were located on the map. But she let the subject of Jesse drop.
"Tell me about Lou and Kid's boys," she said to Jimmy.
He grinned and started talking.
After an hour and a half on the road, Jimmy guided Dusty to a set of tracks that headed into a small valley. Rachel spotted three dots, one white and two brown, that gradually grew into a house and two barns, surrounded by fenced-in fields. Lou wasn't lying when she'd written that she and Kid had a farm. Rachel could see a few cows mingling with goats in a paddock, and as many horses as they used to keep at the Pony Express station. A number of the grazing animals raised their heads to stare at the wagon as it drove by.
Jimmy bypassed the house and continued toward one of the barns. As they neared the door he called out, "Lou...Kid!"
And before Rachel could prepare herself, there they were, both of them. She felt her heart skip a beat.
Lou was dressed as she used to be when she rode for the Express, in a soft cotton shirt and brown trousers. She looked as slender and agile as ever, as if more than a decade hadn't gone by, as if she hadn't given birth to three children. Only her hair was different. It was long now, gathered into a single, thick braid down her back, the chestnut brown color brightened with sun-bleached streaks. Ever since she'd left Massachusetts, Rachel had tried - and failed - to imagine Lou as more matronly. After all, the girl had been a wife and mother for years. She should be wearing a skirt over well-rounded hips. But Rachel saw that all of that imagining had been unnecessary...and inaccurate. Apart from the hair and a few lines around the eyes, Lou was still Lou.
"Rachel!" she yelled and ran toward the wagon. Behind her, Kid stopped and grinned.
Rachel climbed down and found herself engulfed in a tight hug. "I'm so glad you came," Lou said, her arms encircling Rachel's neck. "I was afraid you were going to change your mind." She clung a moment longer, then released Rachel and looked up into the wagon. "And you must be Grace."
Grace said nothing, her mouth opened into a small, rounded oh. Rachel knew she should remind her daughter of her manners, but realized the sight of a woman wearing trousers was a probably a shock to her girlish sensibilities. So, she smiled and said, "Yes, this is Grace. You'll have to excuse both of us if we're not chatty. It's been a long journey."
"Oh, of course," Lou said solicitously. "You must be real tired. Come on down, Grace, and come to the house. You can wash up and have a glass of lemonade."
"Lemonade?" Jimmy's eyes brightened.
Lou nodded. "The General Store got lemons about a week ago. We bought a couple dozen and the boys squeezed them to make lemonade yesterday."
Jimmy jumped out of the wagon. "So, that means there's enough for me, too. I'm invited, right?"
Lou rolled her eyes. "When have you ever needed an invitation, Jimmy? There should be plenty, as long as you don't drink a gallon."
"Good." He held a hand up toward Grace. "Come on, Miss Brewster, let's get us some lemonade."
Grace took Jimmy's hand a little shyly, as if she hadn't just spent two hours with him in the buckboard. Rachel suspected the trip out west was catching up with her. A week ago, Grace had been picnicking on the green grass of the Boston Common with her friends. Now she was stepping down from a wagon onto a five hundred acre spread in Nebraska. Whatever she had hoped or expected to see at her final destination was being replaced by reality.
Lou watched Grace with a thoughtful expression, then exchanged glances with the Kid. It was one of those silent communications that married couples share - where entire paragraphs are spoken without uttering a word. It warmed Rachel's heart to see the two of them, because it told her that their marriage was good. She had had similar communications herself, with Joshua.
Kid gave Lou a small nod and called out, "Jimmy!"
Rachel wondered why he was yelling when Hickok was standing right there. But then Kid called again, "James Ike. Please come out here," and a boy walked out of the barn.
Rachel recognized him immediately as the Kid's son. He had his father's blue eyes, wavy hair and inquisitive expression. His build was slender, though, like his mother's; and he moved a little awkwardly, as if he was in the middle of a growth spurt and hadn't adjusted to his body. In fact, he reminded Rachel a little of Jesse back in Rock Creek; the boy was mostly arms and legs.
He said, "Yes, Pa?" and looked at Kid expectantly.
"Can you please take our guests to the house and get them some lemonade?"
"Guests?" The boy looked confused. "But Uncle Jimmy isn't a-"
And then he saw Grace and his jaw dropped. He stared for a moment, his cheeks turning pink. "Yes, Pa," he said again. He swallowed and approached her. "Would you like some lemonade?" he asked. "It's real good."
And to Rachel's surprise, Grace also blushed. "Yes," she replied.
"Okay."
The two of them starting walking toward the house, side by side, but a respectable distance apart. They were eyeing each other cautiously, as if looking at a foreign species.
"I thought she might feel better with someone closer to her own age," Lou explained to Rachel. "This is probably a lot for her to take in - a new place and so many strangers." Then she grinned. "It's good for James Ike, too. It'll remind him to mind his manners. It's been a while since I've seen him look so... flummoxed. The boy usually reminds me of Cody - he's got the gift of gab. But then I don't believe he's seen a girl quite as pretty as Grace before."
Rachel raised her eyebrows. "Surely, there are girls in school."
Kid shook her head, his grin mimicking Lou's. "Not like your daughter, Rachel. Those blue eyes and blond curls..."
"And he's fourteen," Lou added, "At his age, a lot of families have taken their girls out of school to help at home. So, he really doesn't get the chance to talk to many." She laughed. "I still remember back in Sweetwater - when the boys first learned that I was girl. It took them all a while to figure out how to treat me. Even you," she added to Kid, with an affectionate glance. "You were pretty tongue tied. Maybe we can prepare our boys a little better."
Rachel chuckled, although Lou's comment about the school worried her. In coming out west, she had wanted to give Grace the practical ability to take care of herself. She hadn't intended on sacrificing the girl's education. With her intelligence, Grace deserved as much schooling as she could get. In fact, Rachel and Joshua had talked about their daughter someday attending Mount Holyoke, one of the few women's colleges in the country. She hoped the trip hadn't been a mistake.
"How good is the school teacher?" she asked.
Kid shrugged. "He's smart. Went to some fancy school in the east but then came out west for the dry air. He's got asthma - or some such problem with his lungs. He says he feels better out here."
"We like him," Lou added. "Some of the families aren't happy because he's a city fellow and doesn't know much about farming, but he's got the boys all reading good...um well, even Little Buck. And James Ike is quick with his figures."
So the teacher was well educated. Rachel felt a little better. "Where are your other two boys?" she asked.
Lou shrugged. "I think Little Buck is feeding the chickens. That's his chore, along with collecting the eggs. Our middle one, Will..." Her voice trailed off and she smiled ruefully. "Well, God only knows. He's supposed to be cleaning out the stalls in the other barn, but there's a good chance he's climbed into the hayloft and is taking a nap." She sounded both amused and a little exasperated.
"They'll be along soon enough," Kid added. "They'll see Jimmy's horse and guess that we've gone inside for lemonade."
Lou took Rachel's arm, and with Jimmy and Kid on either side of them, began guiding Rachel toward the house. Ahead, Grace and James Ike were climbing the steps to the porch.
"You look good, Rachel," Lou said. "You haven't changed."
"Me?" Rachel shook her head. "I've gotten soft. It's an easier life in Boston. You're the one who hasn't changed, Louise. You look like you could still ride your route. How the hell did you manage that, after giving birth to three boys?"
"I spend half the day chasing after 'em," Lou replied dryly. "And I help Kid train the horses, so I still get plenty of time in the saddle."
"Not to mention that she has to eat her own cooking," Jimmy added with a teasing grin. "It's tough to get fat when the biscuits are too hard to chew."
There was an awkward pause. Then Kid said slowly, "You're a brave man, Jimmy Hickok. You know you'll pay for that one."
But Lou only sighed. "Not really," she admitted. "I can't pretend that it ain't the truth."
"Maybe I can help," Rachel offered.
Lou shook her head. "I invited you out here because I wanted to see you. I didn't intend for you to be our cook. This isn't Rock Creek."
"No, it's not," Rachel agreed. "But I've got to do something with my time. And Grace is old enough to help me. She needs to learn how to manage a house. I hate to say it, because she's my daughter and I raised her, but she's not real handy. It'll be good for her to have some responsibility."
Lou opened her mouth, but before she could protest again Kid reached over and squeezed her arm. "Just say yes, Lou. You know you want to."
Lou sighed again, "Fine. We can certainly use the help, Rachel. Thank you."
Three weeks later, Rachel was sitting on the porch, watching her daughter in one of the paddocks with Lou and Kid's boys. Kid's horse, Katy, was saddled, and the four children were clustered around her as the boys pointed our various aspects of the animal and her tack to Grace. The girl looked apprehensive, but was listening and nodding her head. It was progress, Rachel thought. For the first week, Grace wouldn't even go in the barns. Then she had noticed the boys leading some of the foals, and the allure of the baby horses became too much to resist. She'd gradually worked her way to petting the foals, then their mothers, and now could confidently curry and brush any horse in the barn. She hadn't ridden yet, though. She'd watched everyone, including Rachel, take a turn in the saddle, but had declined offers to try it for herself.
Rachel hadn't pushed her. Grace was adjusting to a new life, both in the barns and in the house. Despite her discomfort, she was making an effort to be helpful (with only a modicum of complaining) which truly delighted Rachel. Horseback riding, if it came, would be gravy.
It was the boys who eventually talked her into trying. Rachel suspected the sight of eight-year-old Buck loping bareback on a paint gelding had a lot to do with it. Grace was twelve, after all. She couldn't be shown up by a mere eight-year-old.
Rachel heard the creak of the door and looked up to see Lou coming out of the house. Her hair was down, a couple of inches shorter after the trimming Rachel had given it, and her feet were bare under her faded gingham dress. She settled on the other end of the porch swing.
"She gonna give it try?" Lou asked, nodding toward the paddock.
"I think so," Rachel said. "Your boys are being real patient with her."
"Glad to hear it. It's fun for them, having someone to teach. And she can't go wrong with Katy. A stick of dynamite could go off next that horse and she'd only yawn."
Rachel chuckled. "That's good, because Grace is nervous. Thank you for lending her your skirt. That should help."
Lou and Grace had discovered that they were about the same size, so Lou had offered Grace one of her split skirts, saying it would make sitting astride easier. Grace wasn't willing to wear a pair of Lou's trousers - that was a little too daring for her taste. Still, she no longer looked askance at Lou. The girl had noticed the easy way Lou alternated between work clothes and more feminine attire, and was beginning to appreciate that a wardrobe didn't define a woman. The fact that Kid looked at Lou with the same light in his eyes no matter what she was wearing only served to emphasize that point.
"So, what do you think?" Lou asked. "Are you happy you came out here? We're sure as hell happy to have you with us. It's always good when family can be together."
"I'm contented," Rachel replied truthfully. "Grace is settling in better than I thought she would, and I feel at home. I met the schoolteacher last week. He's familiar with the curriculum back east and agreed to give Grace lessons so that she doesn't fall behind."
"That's good, Rachel. She's a smart girl. She should pay attention to her schooling."
Rachel nodded. "I just want her to be able to take care of herself if something happens to me. You know how hard it is for a woman on her own. You and me - we've both been there - and neither one of us had an easy road. I want her to have better choices than we did."
"And she'll have 'em. You're doing her a good turn, Rachel."
They fell silent and watched Grace step into Will's interlocked hands, then allow herself to be boosted onto Katy's back. After she was settled in the saddle, Will began leading Katy around the paddock. James Ike walked beside the horse, his head tilted up as he spoke to Grace.
After a moment, Lou said, "We may not have had the best choices, Rachel, but I like to think that we ended up in a good place all the same. I don't know that I would change anything. Meeting the boys...you...Teaspoon, it led me here. And this is good."
Rachel watched Will break into a jog, forcing Katy to pick up a slow trot. Grace gave a small shriek and clutched the saddle horn, but James Ike said something to her and she smiled. They returned to a walk after one circuit around the paddock. Rachel saw that her daughter was still smiling.
Yes, she thought, this is good.
