unusual, Lavena knew their hearts were involved.
And indeed, Lavena was right. Travis and Rebecca did care deeply for each other. In fact, they were both to the point of needing to reach out to the other. Travis came off the range early to Find Rebecca and talk to her, but Biscuit, who was now Travis' responsibility, had a gripe. The crotchety old man was waiting for him in the barn.
"I'm not gonna put up with it," he spat.
Travis sighed but kept his expression open. "What's the problem. Biscuit?"
The old man spat again. "There ain't no respect 'round here. No one tells me anything. I cook for six, but only four show up. Why, I—" and on he went.
Travis wanted to tell him he sounded like a fussy old woman but refrained. What did it matter how much food he fixed, especially in winter when things would keep? Biscuit often served the leftovers the next night anyhow, and the men never raised much of a fuss.
"I can see you won't be any help. You just care about the money."
He had Travis' full attention now.
"What is that supposed to mean?" His voice was cold.
"You know very well."
Travis saw a bitterness in the man's eyes that he had never noticed before.
"At least she's pretty," Biscuit added contemptuously, "which makes it a little easier, I'd say."
Travis was angry enough to plow his fist into the man's face but only gritted out, "I think you'd better shut your mouth, Biscuit."
"Can't stand to hear the truth, boy? Is that your problem?"
Travis didn't answer him but turned and walked out, never once seeing his wife in the shadows of a stall. She had so needed to be near him that she'd come to the barn to await his arrival. Not wanting to talk to the cook, she had remained hidden. Now she wished she had run away and not heard a thing.
Rebecca made her way slowly back to the house, but didn't search out her husband or
Lavena. She came to the supper table, but Travis did not. He did not seek his own meal for many hours, so busy was he in the office, making plans for the ranch, in order to prove Biscuit wrong and make Rebecca the proudest woman in the Colorado Territory.
Had he made an appearance, Rebecca might have reconsidered, but by the time she crawled into bed and lay looking at the ceiling for most of the night, her mind was made up.
11
Lavena paced the floor like a caged animal waiting for Travis to come home. Her mouth was dry, as it had been all afternoon, and she thought that if he didn't hurry she'd be tempted to mount a horse and go find him. Her stomach churned.
After her husband drank himself to death eight years ago, she had walked out to the Double Star Ranch and told Andrew Wagner that he needed her. He had been ready to send her packing, but she had come prepared.
From seemingly nowhere, she had produced a pie. It had been in her bag, and the sight of the confection alone had halted Andrew in midsentence. It had taken her all afternoon to get to the ranch, and if he'd turned her away she was going to sneak into the barn and sleep before returning to town. But suddenly she was invited in. He never did tell her that she had the job, but while he devoured over half the pie, she started on the mound of dirty dishes in the kitchen. There had never been any talk of her leaving. She was now as much a part of the Double Star as the earth itself.
However, she was too old for this. She was too old for the heartache of seeing people in pain. She wasn't even 60, but days like this, days when her stomach churned and she had no answers, she felt like 100. All day she had paced between the living room windows, which gave her a view of the road, and the window in the kitchen, which gave her eyes a clear shot of the barn. She was in the living room when she heard Travis come in the back. With a hand to her heart she went to him. One look at her pale features and he knew something was wrong.
"What is it?"
"Rebecca went to town right after you left this morning. She said she wanted to be on her own for a
And indeed, Lavena was right. Travis and Rebecca did care deeply for each other. In fact, they were both to the point of needing to reach out to the other. Travis came off the range early to Find Rebecca and talk to her, but Biscuit, who was now Travis' responsibility, had a gripe. The crotchety old man was waiting for him in the barn.
"I'm not gonna put up with it," he spat.
Travis sighed but kept his expression open. "What's the problem. Biscuit?"
The old man spat again. "There ain't no respect 'round here. No one tells me anything. I cook for six, but only four show up. Why, I—" and on he went.
Travis wanted to tell him he sounded like a fussy old woman but refrained. What did it matter how much food he fixed, especially in winter when things would keep? Biscuit often served the leftovers the next night anyhow, and the men never raised much of a fuss.
"I can see you won't be any help. You just care about the money."
He had Travis' full attention now.
"What is that supposed to mean?" His voice was cold.
"You know very well."
Travis saw a bitterness in the man's eyes that he had never noticed before.
"At least she's pretty," Biscuit added contemptuously, "which makes it a little easier, I'd say."
Travis was angry enough to plow his fist into the man's face but only gritted out, "I think you'd better shut your mouth, Biscuit."
"Can't stand to hear the truth, boy? Is that your problem?"
Travis didn't answer him but turned and walked out, never once seeing his wife in the shadows of a stall. She had so needed to be near him that she'd come to the barn to await his arrival. Not wanting to talk to the cook, she had remained hidden. Now she wished she had run away and not heard a thing.
Rebecca made her way slowly back to the house, but didn't search out her husband or
Lavena. She came to the supper table, but Travis did not. He did not seek his own meal for many hours, so busy was he in the office, making plans for the ranch, in order to prove Biscuit wrong and make Rebecca the proudest woman in the Colorado Territory.
Had he made an appearance, Rebecca might have reconsidered, but by the time she crawled into bed and lay looking at the ceiling for most of the night, her mind was made up.
11
Lavena paced the floor like a caged animal waiting for Travis to come home. Her mouth was dry, as it had been all afternoon, and she thought that if he didn't hurry she'd be tempted to mount a horse and go find him. Her stomach churned.
After her husband drank himself to death eight years ago, she had walked out to the Double Star Ranch and told Andrew Wagner that he needed her. He had been ready to send her packing, but she had come prepared.
From seemingly nowhere, she had produced a pie. It had been in her bag, and the sight of the confection alone had halted Andrew in midsentence. It had taken her all afternoon to get to the ranch, and if he'd turned her away she was going to sneak into the barn and sleep before returning to town. But suddenly she was invited in. He never did tell her that she had the job, but while he devoured over half the pie, she started on the mound of dirty dishes in the kitchen. There had never been any talk of her leaving. She was now as much a part of the Double Star as the earth itself.
However, she was too old for this. She was too old for the heartache of seeing people in pain. She wasn't even 60, but days like this, days when her stomach churned and she had no answers, she felt like 100. All day she had paced between the living room windows, which gave her a view of the road, and the window in the kitchen, which gave her eyes a clear shot of the barn. She was in the living room when she heard Travis come in the back. With a hand to her heart she went to him. One look at her pale features and he knew something was wrong.
"What is it?"
"Rebecca went to town right after you left this morning. She said she wanted to be on her own for a
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