been a pretend ceremony, in the backyard of the orphanage under the same big tree she’d fallen out of—and broken her arm in the process. But she’d never felt like an orphan, never felt alone, after that make-believe ceremony.
An outsider yes. That she’d been since being taken off the train. Living with people who would never be her family.
“Hold up there!”
Frustration shattered her thoughts. Letting out a long sigh, she turned about and watched Cecil riding his big plow horse along his barbed wire fence. She squinted as he rode closer, trying to figure out what he had on his lap.
Curiosity won out, and she made her way toward the hole he’d made in the fence. A gate would have been too much work for Cecil. “What do you have?” she asked.
“You told me to get a cow,” Cecil shouted. “I did better than that! Got a calf!”
Sure enough, it was a calf. She recognized that now that he’d pointed it out. “How on earth do you expect to keep a calf alive?”
He rode past her, toward the barn that was in serious need of repair. “I ain’t gonna keep it alive. We’s gonna eat it.”
Momentarily stunned, Bridgette shook her head, questioning her hearing. It only took a moment for her to realize she’d heard right. This was Cecil, and that’s just how he’d think. “Oh, no, you’re not!” she shouted, running after him. She’d carefully packed straw around the six dozen eggs in the baskets to prevent breakage, but at this moment, she didn’t care if every egg broke.
When the horse stopped near the barn door hanging on one hinge, she set down both baskets and marched forward. “A calf’s not better. Emma Sue needs milk, cream and butter. That you would have gotten from the calf’s mother. Whom that calf needs. Where is she? Where’s this calf’s mother?”
“Back with the rest of the herd,” Cecil said. “And I am too gonna kill this here calf. That’s what that cowboy was gonna do.”
“What cowboy?” she asked, rubbing the calf’s nose. It was adorable. Red-brown with the cutest little white face and big brown eyes. The poor thing couldn’t be more than a few hours old.
“One of the cowboys with the cattle drive,” Cecil said. “The trail boss told him to shoot the calf. Lucky for me I rode up when I did.” Curling one edge of his upper lip, he chortled. “He didn’t want to shoot it. Tried, but didn’t have the guts to pull the trigger. I watched him.”
Infuriated, Bridgette slapped his leg. “Get down.”
“Let me hand you the calf.”
“No,” she snapped. “Leave the calf where it is. Just get off that horse.”
“I cain’t get off with it on my lap.”
She grabbed a handful of his pant leg and pulled. “Yes, you can. Now get down. Hurry up.”
“Why?”
Holding back a scream that tore at her neck muscles, she growled, “You either get off that horse, or I’ll leave. I’ll go to Hosford and you’ll be out here alone, taking care of Emma Sue, and the baby that’ll be born any day now.”
“You cain’t do that.”
“Oh, yes, I can.” As a second thought, she added, “And I’ll tell Emma Sue’s father you wouldn’t listen to me. That I couldn’t tolerate being in your presence any longer.”
He scooted back in the saddle and swung a leg over the horse’s rump. “You don’t gotta get snippy about it. I thought you’d be happy. I did what you said.”
As soon as he was out of the way, she gathered her skirt with one hand and stuck a foot in the stirrup. “No you didn’t,” she said once she’d swung into the saddle. “I told you to get a cow.”
“Well, whaddya call that?” Cecil frowned. “Where you going?”
Once she had her skirt positioned so she could sit comfortably, she scooted forward, easing the calf onto her lap. “To get its mother.”
“They won’t give you its mother,” Cecil said. “They wanted it dead so they could take the mother to Dodge.”
What she’d told Emma Sue had been the truth. She’d learned a lot from the other families she’d been farmed out to as a nursemaid. The things she’d learned came in useful every day. Including today. “Give me those egg baskets.”
“What for?”
Huffing out a sigh at his ignorance, she explained, “Because I’m going to trade them to the cattle drive cook for the calf’s mother.”
“Eggs for a cow.” He guffawed. “You’re addlebrained.”
“No, I’m not.” Unable to hold it back, she said, “You are. Eggs are a luxury to the men on a cattle drive.” More than once she’d seen people trade eggs and vegetables for beef when the drives came through. “Go in the house and get me that bucket of beans, and my apron.”
“What ya need the calf for if’n your trading the eggs for its momma?”
She closed her eyes in order to gather her temper. “Because there will be hundreds of cows out there. I’ll need the baby so the mother will sniff it out, and that will tell me which cow is its mother.”
Cecil frowned. “Well, what—”
“Just go get the beans and my apron, and hurry up! This calf isn’t going to live long hanging over this saddle.”
He spun around. Bridgette knew it wasn’t because of her. Emma Sue had shouted his name from the doorway. Loud enough it had startled her. She breathed easy though, seeing Emma Sue standing in the doorway with the bucket of beans and her apron.
“Go get them,” Bridgette said. “Don’t make her walk out here.”
She waited until he’d taken the items from his wife before she said, “Emma Sue, you go lie down now. We don’t want that baby coming any earlier than necessary.” For the baby’s sake. If it was up to her, the baby would have come shortly after she’d arrived so she could get out of this place and never lay eyes on Cecil again.
Emma Sue waved and stepped back inside the house.
“What are you gonna do with this stuff?” Cecil asked while handing her the bucket and apron.
“Just get me the eggs.” After hooking the bucket handle over one arm, she used the calf as a table. Laying out the apron, she folded the skirt in half, tucked the edges around each other and used the ties to form a makeshift bag. She then dumped in the beans.
Handing the bucket to Cecil, she hooked the strap around her neck and then took the egg baskets from him. One at a time set the baskets in the bag, trying not to smash the beans or jostle the eggs too much. They were now worth more than if she’d taken them to town and sold them to Haskell’s store. Once satisfied the bag would hold, she eased the apron around her side. “Help me,” she told Cecil while holding onto the neck strap that was tightening against her throat with one hand. “Place the
