Cora cleared her throat to get his attention. He must have been staring at the plants long enough to make her wonder why they interested him so much.
“Maybe it could do with just a little taming,” he said, as if that had been his only thought.
“That’s what I said to Ma.”
They proceeded down a pathway between the two gardens. Grub, seeing the direction they headed, loped ahead of them.
“Ma and Pa have planted berry bushes of all sorts—raspberries, gooseberries, currants, chokecherries—and fruit trees. We get lots of berries, but not much fruit. Seems we always get frost too soon and the winters are too severe. Pa’s been grafting fruit trees to wild trees to see if that will work.”
The idea intrigued Wyatt. Was this a way of combining wild and free with tame? Would it work for a tree? How about a man? “Has it?”
“There is a lot of winterkill, but a couple of trees have given us sour little apples. Pa is determined to produce a decent apple. Says he’ll call it a Montana.”
They passed the bushes and reached a fence. Three cows grazed in a little pasture.
“I’m currently milking two of them.”
A flock of sheep nibbled in another fenced area of grass, and a field of green oats lay beyond.
“The sheep are Lilly’s project.”
A trail led toward the river and they followed it. When they reached the water’s edge, she stood in the shadow of the trees. They were downstream and out of sight from where Lonnie waited at the camp Wyatt had set up. He stood at her side with the sound of the water rumbling through his thoughts.
“This is one of my favorite spots.” She sighed. “I can see so far. Look.” She pointed. “The prairies roll away like giant waves.”
He followed her direction. Indeed, the prairies were like a golden ocean. They went on and on. No walls. No bars. A man could fill his lungs to capacity here.
She shifted, brushing his arm as she pointed to his right, sending a jolt through his nerves. Even an accidental touch startled him. He wondered if she noticed, and if so, what did she think? Would she put it down to unexpectedness? Of course she would. She had no way of knowing that any contact in jail had signaled violence, and before that, Pa’s touch had taught him to jerk away.
No wonder Lonnie was so anxious about even gentle touches. But Wyatt would teach him...teach them both to welcome such.
Cora spoke softly. “In that direction you see the hills with their hollows full of trees.” She turned still farther. “And the mountains in the west. ’Tis truly a beautiful land, and like Pa says, we are to be good stewards of it.”
“I never thought of being a steward of the land.”
“I take it you’re planning to have a ranch and raise horses.”
It was an obvious conclusion. “Kind of hope to.”
“Are you opposed to farmers?
He shrugged. “Not opposed to much of anything.”
She shifted and pinned him with a look. “Don’t you believe in seeking good and avoiding evil?”
Her look reached into his chest to squeeze his heart. He stiffened as pain and regret oozed out. “I hate evil.” She’d never know how much of it he’d seen.
She nodded silent approval and his heart beat smoothly again.
He heard the sound of horses’ hooves and turned to see two riders approach. Beside him, Cora stiffened, alert and cautious.
Wyatt gave his full attention to the pair. Nothing out of the ordinary as far as he could tell. Medium build, lean as cowboys usually were. Dusty, work-soiled cowboy hats pulled low to shade their eyes. They rode slowly, as if studying the surroundings, or perhaps looking for a wayward horse. But he’d seen no sign of a wandering animal.
They rode closer, seemed to be aiming at the river. One spoke to the other. He couldn’t hear their words, but mocking laughter carried across the distance. They were fifty yards away when they reined up and stared at Cora and Wyatt. He realized they were in the shadows and the pair hadn’t noticed them until then.
The bigger of the men pushed his hat back, allowing Wyatt to see a swarthy man with a deep scowl. There was something about him that sent sharp prickles up Wyatt’s spine. He’d seen the same expression many times in prison, usually on the face of a bully. Someone who used intimidation to make people obey him.
He guessed Cora felt the same because she tensed even more. Her fists curled so tight her knuckles were white.
The man turned his horse and the pair rode away. Not until they were out of sight did Cora’s shoulders sag.
“You know those two?” he asked.
She sucked in air with such force he figured she hadn’t breathed for several minutes. She coughed as her lungs filled.
Wyatt patted her back gently, as if calming a frightened animal. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I’m fine. The big cowboy is Ebner. He works for the Caldwell Ranch.” Her lip curled. “I believe he is responsible for almost all of the harm we’ve suffered.”
He nodded. Just as he thought. He’d dealt with men of that sort before and ended up with an enemy or two. Not that it bothered him. He refused to back down from any bully.
“What kind of things?” he asked her.
“He’s cut our fences, chased the milk cows until he might have killed them. He’s turned Caldwell cows into our garden and let the pigs loose.” She waved her hands as she described the events. Her voice rang with the injustice of it.
He caught her hands and stilled them. Realizing the liberty he’d taken, he dropped his arms to his sides. But not before a longing as wide as the prairie swept into his heart, making him aware of how empty and barren his life was. He wanted so much more than the right to hold her and comfort her. He longed for a home and love. He hoped to gain the first for Lonnie’s sake as well as his own. Winning Lonnie’s trust would have to satisfy his desire for love. He’d never ask or expect a woman to share the shame of being associated with a jailbird.
“Why do these men bother you? Doesn’t their boss know?”
“Mr. Caldwell likely orders them to do it. From the time we settled here, he’s been trying to drive us off.”
“Why would he care about your farm?”
She shrugged, her eyes full of anger. “I’ve asked that question many times. He told Pa it breaks up the perimeter of his ranch and blocks access to the river.” She snorted. “As if a few acres of farm are any hindrance to his animals watering at the river. But sodbusters are not welcome.”
“Isn’t there a marshal in the area? Surely he can protect your rights.”
“The Caldwells manage to stay within the law. They claim they can’t help it if the cows don’t understand fences. Only once has the sheriff been convinced the wires were purposely cut, and of course no one confessed to it, so there wasn’t anything the sheriff could do.”
“Well, you’d think the man would realize how unimportant a few acres are.” Even as he said it, he guessed it wasn’t about the acres but about the man’s pride. A rich man, likely used to getting what he wanted, and for whatever reason, he wanted the Bell farm. Or to be rid of the settlers in his midst.
“It’s