good to avoid any new infection…but he’ll be fine.”
“All righty then,” Ransom mumbled. He inhaled a deep breath of resolve. Then he put a hand on Gentry’s good shoulder. “I know you’ve been plannin’ on ridin’ up to Denver to collect your wages when you’re well enough, son,” he began, “but I’d like to know if you’d be willin’ to winter over at our place…help me out with the upcomin’ pumpkin harvest and such. It’s a heap of hard work, but I figure you oughta be mended up well enough when the time comes.”
“Well, thank you for the offer, Mr. Lake…but I really think I oughta—” Gentry began.
“I think it’s time you rested up somewhere outside of town,” Ransom interrupted, however. “And I’d like to do somethin’ to thank you for watchin’ out for my girl. We could use the help this year. My sons all got their own lives to tend…and this is my biggest crop of pumpkins yet. It’ll take me, Vaden, Autumn, and then some to get ’em all hauled in and on the train. I’d really appreciate the help…if you’re willin’. And I’ll pay you well.”
“I’m afraid this altercation is gonna set you back a piece, Mr. James,” Doctor Sullivan said. “I think your ribs are bruised now as well, and I don’t think you’re gonna be ready to ride all the way to Denver any time soon. And by the time you are…the weather ’tween here and there will be pretty precarious.”
“I ain’t offerin’ it out of any feelin’ of obligation,” Ransom assured the young cowboy, for he could see his pride was bruised as well as his ribs. “I was gonna have to hire me some local boys to help out anyhow. And believe me, I’d rather have a man of good character workin’ for me than any of the idiots I’ve seen today.”
Autumn noticed the townsfolk were returning to their own business. Her Aunt Myra and Uncle Dan were still there, of course. Tawny Johnson and several other girls were standing off to one side, looking Gentry James up and down as if he were a prize stallion. But otherwise, everyone had returned to whatever they’d been doing before the ruckus—and Autumn was glad.
She was trying not to hope too hard that Gentry would agree to help her father through the winter—but how could she not hope for it? She’d been so torn between the bliss of being in Gentry’s company and the agony of knowing he would soon leave—never to be heard from again. And now—now her father was unknowingly attempting to make her dreams come true, at least through the winter.
Autumn held her breath as Gentry glanced to her for a moment—his eyes narrowing. Then, turning back to her father, he said, “I appreciate the offer, Ransom…but I ain’t no charity case. I can make my own way, with or without my wages from the cattle drive.”
Autumn’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach with a thud. He wouldn’t stay. His pride was too wounded—more wounded than his body, it seemed.
“Oh, I know that, son,” Ransom said, however. “But I really need the help. And I think you could use some healin’ up.”
Autumn saw her Uncle Dan lean in toward Gentry then. “Ransom Lake don’t give a compliment he don’t mean, young feller,” he said quietly. “And I can tell you, without his sons to help out this year…well, I can give a hand, but I ain’t as young as I once was.” Uncle Dan paused, glanced to Autumn, and winked. “And you wouldn’t want to see poor little Autumn here, aluggin’ those big ol’ pumpkins to the wagons and boxcars all by her lonesome, now would ya? Or her mama? Harvestin’ pumpkins is hard work, you know.”
“I’m not just bein’ charitable, Gentry,” Ransom said. “I need the help. Come spring you can go off cowboyin’ at whatever ranch will have you. But I’d sure appreciate the help ’til then.”
“Well,” Gentry mumbled. Autumn bit her lip—held her breath—praying he would accept her father’s offer and stay on through the winter.
“All righty then,” Ransom mumbled. He inhaled a deep breath of resolve. Then he put a hand on Gentry’s good shoulder. “I know you’ve been plannin’ on ridin’ up to Denver to collect your wages when you’re well enough, son,” he began, “but I’d like to know if you’d be willin’ to winter over at our place…help me out with the upcomin’ pumpkin harvest and such. It’s a heap of hard work, but I figure you oughta be mended up well enough when the time comes.”
“Well, thank you for the offer, Mr. Lake…but I really think I oughta—” Gentry began.
“I think it’s time you rested up somewhere outside of town,” Ransom interrupted, however. “And I’d like to do somethin’ to thank you for watchin’ out for my girl. We could use the help this year. My sons all got their own lives to tend…and this is my biggest crop of pumpkins yet. It’ll take me, Vaden, Autumn, and then some to get ’em all hauled in and on the train. I’d really appreciate the help…if you’re willin’. And I’ll pay you well.”
“I’m afraid this altercation is gonna set you back a piece, Mr. James,” Doctor Sullivan said. “I think your ribs are bruised now as well, and I don’t think you’re gonna be ready to ride all the way to Denver any time soon. And by the time you are…the weather ’tween here and there will be pretty precarious.”
“I ain’t offerin’ it out of any feelin’ of obligation,” Ransom assured the young cowboy, for he could see his pride was bruised as well as his ribs. “I was gonna have to hire me some local boys to help out anyhow. And believe me, I’d rather have a man of good character workin’ for me than any of the idiots I’ve seen today.”
Autumn noticed the townsfolk were returning to their own business. Her Aunt Myra and Uncle Dan were still there, of course. Tawny Johnson and several other girls were standing off to one side, looking Gentry James up and down as if he were a prize stallion. But otherwise, everyone had returned to whatever they’d been doing before the ruckus—and Autumn was glad.
She was trying not to hope too hard that Gentry would agree to help her father through the winter—but how could she not hope for it? She’d been so torn between the bliss of being in Gentry’s company and the agony of knowing he would soon leave—never to be heard from again. And now—now her father was unknowingly attempting to make her dreams come true, at least through the winter.
Autumn held her breath as Gentry glanced to her for a moment—his eyes narrowing. Then, turning back to her father, he said, “I appreciate the offer, Ransom…but I ain’t no charity case. I can make my own way, with or without my wages from the cattle drive.”
Autumn’s heart sank to the pit of her stomach with a thud. He wouldn’t stay. His pride was too wounded—more wounded than his body, it seemed.
“Oh, I know that, son,” Ransom said, however. “But I really need the help. And I think you could use some healin’ up.”
Autumn saw her Uncle Dan lean in toward Gentry then. “Ransom Lake don’t give a compliment he don’t mean, young feller,” he said quietly. “And I can tell you, without his sons to help out this year…well, I can give a hand, but I ain’t as young as I once was.” Uncle Dan paused, glanced to Autumn, and winked. “And you wouldn’t want to see poor little Autumn here, aluggin’ those big ol’ pumpkins to the wagons and boxcars all by her lonesome, now would ya? Or her mama? Harvestin’ pumpkins is hard work, you know.”
“I’m not just bein’ charitable, Gentry,” Ransom said. “I need the help. Come spring you can go off cowboyin’ at whatever ranch will have you. But I’d sure appreciate the help ’til then.”
“Well,” Gentry mumbled. Autumn bit her lip—held her breath—praying he would accept her father’s offer and stay on through the winter.
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