to argue. “How long they staying?”
Gabe shrugged again. “Don’t know. Overnight for sure.”
“Your father must be smiling today,” Dusty said. “Knowing there’s a new generation of Callaways on the Triple C. That was his only regret.”
Despite the heat, a shiver had the hairs on Gabe’s arms standing up. Dusty was right. Ruby was the next generation of Callaways. Whether he wanted to inherit anything or not, he had. And the Triple C is where Ruby belonged.
“Well, I better head back out.” Dusty walked around the wagon. “Looks like Jake’s coming up the road with another wagonload. Suspect they’ll be ready to load me up again as soon as I arrive. Having two mowers keeps everyone busy.”
Gabe considered mentioning the poison ivy, but there was no reason to. The hands knew to cut around it whenever possible, and none of them had ever been affected by the plant one way or the other.
No one had broken out from poison ivy since Max left. Until now.
“You need more men out there?” Gabe asked.
“No.” Dusty wrapped the reins around his hands. “Just stating a fact.”
“Good enough, then,” Gabe said as Dusty drove off. The other wagon was still a distance away, no more than a cloud of dust on the road. Huffing out a breath, Gabe turned to glance toward the house as his mind went back to his company. So this was the sister. The one Anna had talked about. There had been plenty of time for him to think about Anna over the years. She’d been young and impulsive and...lively. So full of life he’d stumbled over his own feet the first time he’d heard her laugh. That had never happened before or since. Nor would it ever happen again.
Anna had been pretty, too, and appealing. A circle of men had gathered around her in the passenger car. Men Gabe didn’t think a girl as young and innocent as she’d appeared to be should be associating with. That’s why he’d stepped in, and later, she’d thanked him for that.
Still gazing up at the house, Gabe let out another sigh. Marriage, as well as the idea of having a wife and family, hadn’t appealed to him for a long time. Still didn’t, but now, thanks to Max, the reason he might have to eventually marry was no longer relevant. Because of Ruby there was now another generation of Callaways to continue on the Triple C.
His father had started the Callaway Cattle Company when Kansas had been a violent battleground. On the east border, the fighting was over Kansas being a free or slave state; on the west, the battles were caused by the removal of Indian tribes. Always his own man, his father hadn’t entered any of the battles. Instead, he started a cattle company that fed the army, the abolitionists and vigilantes and the proslavery and anti-Indian government heads who traveled the state, urging citizens to side with them. Long before the cattle drives brought herds to Kansas to ship eastward, Triple C beef had been feeding folks in Kansas, Nebraska, Colorado, even the Missourians who had hated them so badly. Triple C beef still did and would for decades to come.
It had taken hard work to make the Triple C into a profitable ranch, a lot of that work had been his, and it would take just as much to keep it that way. It was nice, though, to know he didn’t need to worry about producing future generations. Max had taken care of that. If Max had been around, he might have thanked him. Maybe even thanked him for running off with Anna.
Marrying and producing an heir had weighed heavily on his shoulders for a time. Put there by his father on his deathbed. That had been when he’d gone to Wichita. On the outside the trip had been to meet with eastern slaughterhouses, but on the inside he’d set his mind upon finding a bride, knowing his father had wanted that as much as he’d wanted the new contracts. Wichita had been full of women, there had been a few he’d considered as possible options, but none of them had made him ready to pounce. Until the train ride home, when he’d met Anna.
She’d been young and vibrant, but it hadn’t been until she’d said that she was on her way to Denver to start a new life that he’d become more interested. She’d claimed she’d always wanted to go west, to see the frontier that everyone held in such high regard. When he’d told her about the ranch, her eyes had twinkled with excitement and she’d begged for him to tell her more. He had, and he’d also started to wonder if she just might be the one woman who could make getting married worth the troubles and headaches of having a wife.
When the train had stopped in Hays, she’d sent a wire to Denver, stating her arrival would be delayed. Bringing her back to the ranch had shocked some people, just as he’d known it would.
A sickening bolt stabbed him dead center, and, needing to rid himself of thoughts that could haunt him if he’d let them, Gabe took off toward the barn. There was plenty of work to be done. Always was. Work that made him forget. Just as it had for the past five years.
He’d been at the house when Janette and Ruby had arrived because he’d been responding to correspondence concerning the purchase of cattle from a buyer in Denver. The letter was now written, ready to be delivered to the next westbound train, and that meant he needed to cull the cattle that would be driven to the train station next week.
Work, what needed to be done, is what he focused on every day. Today was no different. Once he had a horse saddled, he rode north, to where half a dozen hands were already separating the young stock.
* * *
After Janette had scrubbed herself with the strong-smelling soap, Rosalie had entered the room and dumped water over her head until the tub was about to overflow. Then the woman covered Janette’s neck in baking soda and made her sit in the cooling water for a full five minutes. That part wasn’t so bad. It was what came next that had almost made her jump out of the tub. The vinegar Rosalie used to rinse away the baking soda had smarted so badly tears had formed in Janette’s eyes.
However, by the time all the snarls had been brushed out of her hair, the initial stinging had eased, and her neck felt near normal. It didn’t look normal, still covered in a blotchy red rash, but the swelling in her lips and earlobes had gone down considerably.
Thank heavens. The rash was enough to contend with.
Not knowing if any stray strands of hay might have entered her traveling bag, Rosalie insisted Janette put on a borrowed dress. The older woman was about the same height, but much rounder and bustier. Janette couldn’t remember wearing something so ill fitting. Probably because she never had. She’d inherited her seamstress abilities from her mother, who had always made sure both of her daughters were well dressed. Luckily, Rosalie had a sewing kit, so with little more than a few stitches, Janette had the dress looking much more presentable, not to mention wearable.
Rosalie also insisted that Janette not touch Ruby, stating some of the oils from the poison ivy could be on Ruby’s clothes. Janette made herself useful by hauling buckets of water into the washroom from the cistern pump in the kitchen and from the four kettles on the stove. While Rosalie scrubbed Ruby, Janette cut apart a cotton gown Rosalie had given her in order to stitch it into a simple dress for Ruby to wear while their clothes were washed and dried.
“Thank you for being so accommodating,” Janette said while sitting in the chair by the washroom door. “Both Ruby and I appreciate it.”
“A little bit of excitement is just what is needed around here.” Rosalie grimaced slightly as she squeezed the water out of the ends of Ruby’s hair with both hands. “Not that I’d wish poison ivy on anyone.”
“I wouldn’t either,” Janette answered, telling herself her neck
