Blue Bonnet Page 3

  With a breathless, halting effort, the Indian spoke over his shoulder to the other braves as he staggered for the creek, carrying Hannah. The men pulled the struggling Billie to her feet and dragged her along with them.

  Hannah figured the chief meant to drown her. As the cold water whipped under her torn cotton skirt and rushed around her weak legs, she yelled, “Good bye, Billie. If ya live, tell Bat I love him.”

  The Indian kept wading until Hannah was waist deep in the swirling rapids. He put one hand on top Hannah’s head and ducked the ranting woman under the water.

  This is the end, she thought, trying to hold her breath as she struggled to free herself from the Indian's grip.

  Suddenly, Hannah realized she was being pulled upward by strong hands. She rose slowly among the air bubbles in the murky water. The brave lifted her with strong griping fingers that bit into her shoulders until her head was above water. She felt light headed when she reached the surface and inhaled air.

  Gasping to fill her lungs, she spit out a mouth full of water. With an iron grip on her upper arms, the Indian twisted her to face him. His face close to hers, Hannah stared at his swollen, discolored cheek. She was proud she had done that to him. The Indian touched his sore cheek gingerly with two fingers and uttered words softly as if he spoke for her ears only.

  With a hard shove, he sent her backward. Hannah sank under the water. Exhausted, she plummeted like a rock to the bottom. Instinctively, free from the Indian's grip and revived by the cold water, she, with what little energy she had left, gave a swift kick and sprang back to the surface.

  Coughing and sputtering, Hannah tread water, watching the skinny Indian’s back as he waded away from her. Staggering up the bank, he spoke haltingly, in between trying to catch his breath, to the other braves. He gestured toward the west.

  The Indians took their hands away from Billie. The chief turned to look at Hannah still in the creek and gave her a solemn nod. Before either woman understood they had been set free, the braves moved swiftly and melted into the timber.

  “What just happened?” Hannah said to Billie as she waded out of the water.

  “I can't believe they just let us go. Do you think they will be back when they get rested up and try to capture us again?” Billie asked, sitting hunched over.

  “I don't know, but I figure it might take them a good long time to rest up after what we did to them,” Hannah said, grinning.

  “Billie grimaced when she moved and groaned. “I figure we got as good as we gave.”

  “I don't want to stick around in the open to find out if they are going to change their minds. We better hunt the buckets we dropped in the path so we can get our water toted to the house. I'm ready to bar the door and stay put until Bat comes home. I sure need a while to rest and heal. Ya do, too. Ya look awful bad,” Hannah said bluntly.

  “You don't look so good yourself,” Billie retorted with a grin as she rubbed her swollen cheek.

  The women said they weren't sure why the Indians gave up the fight. Or, why they didn't come back. Billie always hoped their courage and Hannah’s fighting skills brought a measure of respect from the Indians. That might be what made the braves decide to spare their lives.

  Chapter Four

  After daydreaming about Hannah's story, Bat was uncertain about getting married again. It might be a unwise decision to make. As tamed down as the country around here was now, it still was a far piece from town. A woman married to him would spend an awful lot of her time alone during the day and with only him for company at night.

  Once in awhile Indians were a worry, but rustlers were what worried him most. The lazy good for nothings still cropped up ever now and then. They burnt ranchers out so they could make off with the cattle while the ranch hands were busy putting fires out.

  Bat broached the subject with his sister, Billie Sommers, over Sunday dinner. She had been a widow for about as long as he had been without Hannah. Maybe she could shed some light for him with her views on him trying a second marriage. One thing was sure. His sister never lacked for an opinion.

  Billie passed him the platter of fried chicken as she advised, “If you found the right woman, marriage is a good idea. Though if you're getting ideas about taking another wife, you don't want to wait too long to pick one. You're not getting any younger.”

  “I reckon I been thinkin' that way myself. Fifty don't make me feel like I've got one foot in the grave, either,” Bat defended. “What about ya, Billie? Ever think about hitchin' up again? You're only a couple years younger than me and right handsome and fit as a fiddle yet.”

  “Thanks for the complement. Makes me feel as if you are comparing me to one of your cows. I'd rather be considered pretty and lady like.

  Sure, I think about marriage ever once in a while. If the right man came along, I just might considered marriage real hard. I'm just not in a big hurry to find the right man,” Billie said, spooning mash potatoes on her plate and reaching for the gravy bowl.

  “Why not?” Bat asked, laying the drumstick bone on the side of his plate.

  “A woman finds it easier to take care of herself than a man does. As long as she has some money set aside for her needs and a roof over her head, she can make do,” Billie declared.

  Bat couldn't imagine that being true. Most women thought they needed a husband to provide for them, or so he had always figured. “Is that really right?”

  “Sure, we already know how to cook and keep house. That's not a skill most men possess. As for me, you know Lester left me well set with an income from the newspaper. As long as I have an editor to run the paper, I get paid for owning it. No work involved there.

  Lester had the house paid for, and no other debts when he died. We had some savings in the bank so I'm fine on my own,” Billie assured her brother. “The problem for you, with picking a woman to replace Hannah, is that no other woman will measure up to her in your mind. You're going to have to give up some expectations I'm afraid. You can't be too choosy the second time around. Comparing the women to Hannah is a no no.

  Now as far as I know, there is several wife possibilities in town that you're already acquainted with. Give each of them some thought to see if one of them is right for you.”

  Bat rubbed his chin. “Several, huh? I hadn't looked at another woman that way for a long time. Don't know which ones to check out right off.”

  “You will think about it when you run into the possibilities now that it's on your mind. What's got you thinking this way anyhow?” Billie asked.

  “Yesterday, I went out at the ranch to check on the boys. I stopped to see how the house was fairin' with no one living in it. It was fall last time I checked inside. I got to thinkin' about how much I miss livin' out there. Besides, it makes for a long day ridin' back and forth from the ranch to town,” Bat said. “I never was cut out to live in town. It just isn't in my nature, and God Bless them, but sometimes, my daughters drive me crazy.”

  “I thought as much,” Billie said knowingly as she cut the vanilla creme pie on the end of the table. She dished up two slices and handed Bat his. “So how is the house?”

  “That reminds me, there's somethin' I need to ask ya. Ya know any women in town I can pay to go out and give the house a good cleanin'? The whole place needs dustin', airin', windows washed and whatever else makes it look presentable. Between the layers of dust and a whole slew of mice and spiders, the house is in a real mess.

  Hannah thought an awful lot of her house. She'd turn over in her grave if she was to know what shape the place is in now.”

  Billie looked woefully at her brother. “I think I know how you feel. I miss Hannah, too. You have a lot of good memories from living in that house with Hannah.

  Trouble is that's competition for any other woman as sure as if Hannah was still alive. She might as well be living with you and your second wife.

  It wouldn't at all do to bring a new bride into Hannah's house with her ghost still present,” Billie said seriously. “No w
oman would stand for that, and I wouldn't blame her one bit.”

  “What ghost? I don't believe in such things, and I don't think ya do, either,” Bat scoffed.

  “Hannah staring down at a woman, who is very fond of you, from above the fireplace would be a very uncomfortable feeling,” Billie declared. “Hannah's drawers are still full of her clothes. Her personal items all over the place is another thing. Looks like Hannah is still yet living in the house and might just pop out any time.

  The drawers need to be cleaned out, and Hannah's personal things need to be gotten rid of before any other woman goes in that house,” Billie declared.

  “I reckon that is right. I couldn't bear to clean out Hannah's things so I just walked away. I left the house like it was and moved in with the girls,” Bat admitted with a tinge of sadness.

  “When you going back to the ranch?” Billie asked.

  “Tomorrow. I want to ride the north fence to repair where it needs fixin' now that winter is over,” Bat said. “The cowhands have the cows and spring calves in that area, brandin' the calves. The herd will be there all summer so I want the fence in good order.”

  “I'll tell you what. Come by here. I'll be ready to ride along with you in my buggy. I'll take cleaning supplies to straighten up the house. When you get ready to leave the ranch tomorrow afternoon, you can escort me back to town.”

  “Oh, Sis, I didn't mean for ya to take on the job. That's too much to ask of ya. Ya really don't know how dirty the house is,” Bat declared.

  “First of all, I can imagine how bad the house is after two years of neglect. Second, you didn't ask. I volunteered. Besides, it will be easier on you if it's me going through Hannah's things rather than snoopy women.

  If you don't mind, I think Ellen Withman, on the old Fry place, could use some different clothes. She's about Hannah's size.

  Heaven knows, she has a hard lot. Ellen has a mess of younguns. As hard a worker as Lim Withman, that hardscrabble ranch just barely seems to keep ahead of the bills. Lim never has any money left over.

  That poor woman has nothing decent to wear. What do you think of that idea?”

  “That would be fine. Hannah always felt sorry for people that were down and out. I think she'd approve of the notion of Mrs. Withman gettin' some good out her clothes,” Bat said. “Sis, I'm much obliged for ya helpin' me out until you're better paid.”

  “Nonsense, that is what a sister is for to help her brother when you need her,” Billie said. “Now eat that piece of pie so we can see if we have room to hold another piece. It's not often I make you a pie.”

  Bat took Billie's advice to heart. With a keen eye out for the right woman to be his second wife, he was ready to start his search. He intended to study the single women around town whenever he had a chance meeting with one.

  Monday morning, he stopped at the Mercantile to buy two pounds of staples to take to the ranch for fence fixing.

  Morgan, Daniel Johnson's daughter, waited on him. She was about twenty five years younger than Bat, with light brown hair and average height for a female. Seeing as how he'd known her forever and watched her grow up, he just never thought about her as wife material.

  She was as natural a fixture in Johnson's Mercantile as the counter she always stood behind to wait on customers. Bat couldn't hardly remember back to when she hadn't worked for her father, clerking in his store. In the beginning, she was barely tall enough to see over the counter.

  Morgan had never married, but for some reason, he'd not taken the time to notice her before in that new wife sort of way.

  “Morning, Mr. Kayhill,” Morgan said briskly as he stepped up to the counter.

  “Mornin', Ma'am,” he answered back with a polite tug on the brim of his hat.

  The buxom woman asked, “What can I do for you this fine day?”

  “I need two pounds of staples,” he answered.

  As he observed the clerk closely, Bat found himself wondering if that young woman ever smiled. Maybe she just reserve a pleasant face for certain people she liked. Customers like him must not count.

  “All right, just give me a minute to weight them out and sack them up,” Morgan said crisply.

  Efficiently fast, she picked up the metal scoop that rested on top of the wooden barrel of staples. She wiggled the scoop back and forth to get it to dig into the pile and fill up. As she spilled the staples on the scale, they clattered when metal hit metal.

  Bat smiled at her and complemented, “Well, anyone could tell you've done that a time or two.”

  All business, Morgan nodded as she sacked the staples for him in a small burlap bag. She handed the sack to Bat and asked, “Will there be anything else, Mr. Kayhill?”

  “Nope, reckon not,” Bat returned. “How much do I owe ya?”

  Morgan held her hand out. “That will be ten cents.”

  Bat reached into his jeans pocket and brought out a hand full of change. He picked out two nickels and placed them on the palm of Morgan's hand.

  “Thank you, Mr. Kayhill.” She dropped the nickels in the cash register till. “Good day, Mr. Kayhill,” she said and turned her back. She picked up a rag and dusted the can goods on the shelf behind the counter.

  Bat walked outside into the sunlight. He felt as if he'd need more than a might of warmth from the sun's rays. It might take a stiff drink to warm him so he'd get over the chill he just went through in the store.

  No wonder that young woman was a spinster. She was business like and courteous but without a warm, friendly bone in her whole body. If he had made a list of women to check out to find someone to marry, she'd be the first one he'd mark off the list.

  Bat got on his horse and rode to his sister's house. She'd already sent word to the livery stable hostler to park her buggy in front of the house. He tied his horse on the back of the buggy and headed to the house. With his head stuck in the front door, he called, “Sis, are ya ready?”

  “Sure am,” Billie said tying her bonnet.

  “I need to carry anythin,?” Bat asked.

  “Thanks anyway, but I'm way ahead of you. I've already taken a couple boxes of cleaning supplies out to the buggy.”

  “I saw that,” Bat replied.

  “I'm assuming there's still a fairly decent broom and mop at the house,” Billie said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Of course.” Bat said slowly and paused to think. He began again. “I guess there is. Well, there should be. To tell ya the truth, I've never noticed since that wasn't my department.” Bat grinned at her.

  “Wait here,” Billie said. She came back carrying a broom in one hand and mop in the other. “I'd better be safe rather than sorry. It's too far back to town to come in after these later.” She picked up a wicker basket covered with a white dish towel and held it out to Bat. “Here, make yourself useful and carry this basket of food for me. I fixed a lunch we can eat if you have time to stop at noon. If not just say so. I can always send part of what I fixed with you to eat when you get ready to take a breather.”

  “Eating lunch with ya'all sounds good to me. I won't be that far away. I might as well stop for lunch.” Bat set the wicker picnic basket in back with the boxes of supplies. He took the mop and broom and laid them behind the boxes. The handles stuck out over the wheel. “I'll ride in the buggy with ya to the ranch. That way we can talk,” Bat said, helping his sister into the buggy.

  Chapter 5

  Bat offered to drive. They had traveled the first four miles in silence when Billie finally spoke. “Why don't you spit out what is worrying you this morning. You was the one who said we were going to talk, and you haven't said two words since we started.”

  “Oh, sorry about that. I was just thinkin' about this mornin'. Ya know how ya said I should check out the single women in town. Morgan Johnson's one of them.”

  “Yes, she sure is,” Billie agreed. “Go on.”

  “Well, Miss Johnson waited on me when I bought staples at the Mercantile,” Bat said. “It occurred to me, she has been in that
store for a good part of her young life. This was the first time I ever paid any attention to her. Ya know what I mean?”

  “Yes, I think so. Well, what did you think of her?” Billie asked, watching him toy with the horse lines.

  “I reckon all the years I've done business in that store I didn't noticed how reserved that woman is. She's cool as thick ice on a branch in the winter and all business. She's not one bit friendly,” Bat declared.

  “That describes Morgan to a tee. That has always been her personality with everyone. She isn't going to change. She probably will get worse as she ages if that is possible. I take it you would scratch her off your list if you had one,” Billie said, grinning.

  “That was actually what I thought the minute I walked away from her,” Bat said emphatically.

  “Well, keep looking. There are more fish in the creek to catch or should I just say in Dead Horse?” Billie encouraged.

  The next morning before he left for the ranch, Bat entered the Mercantile and stopped at the Post Office in the corner of the store.

  Trim figured, neatly dressed Mary Wagaman peered out at him from behind the bars. She'd been the post master for some time. Funny how all he ever thought about when he came to the post office was picking up his mail. He was always in a hurry to get where he was headed. He hadn't paid a bit of attention to Mrs. Wagaman as a prospective wife before.

  Mary was a widower with two small children. Bat heard somewhere her husband died before she moved to town. No one knew how the man died. Mrs. Wagaman wasn't forth coming with information about her past.

  In fact, she didn't like to talk about herself or her husband at all. That kept the rumors flying about what kind of a man her husband might have been. Maybe he'd been hung for a horse thief or shot during a stage coach hold up.

  Bat didn't go in for rumors and gossip. All he knew was once in a while he saw the little Wagaman children, a boy and girl, playing a game of jacks on the sidewalk outside the Mercantile like that morning. They were polite, quiet younguns that nodded at him when he walked by them. Mrs. Wagaman was bringing them up right.