No one understood why Matt wanted to take on the still-wet-behind the-ears kid.
“It’s roundup, Matt. Are you loco?” the captain protested when Matt showed up with his wagon to transport the young man out to his ranch. “You’ve got no time to mollycoddle a greenhorn, especially one who probably won’t be leaving his bed for the next month.”
Matt couldn’t deny that even without the beating from Red, Seth didn’t look much like a candidate for ranch work.
“More like a shopkeeper,” his foreman, Brett Owen, joked when he saw him.
Matt didn’t explain why he wanted Seth out at the Diamond S. Or that something about the lad called out for help—help he hadn’t been able to give his younger brother. So Matt brought Seth home to the Diamond S and placed him under the gentle, ministering hands of his family’s longtime housekeeper, Solita. At once the round-faced, cheerful Mexican woman clucked and fussed over Seth as if he were a long-lost chick returning to the nest. Perhaps he is, Matt mused on more than one occasion. The more he became acquainted with Seth Anderson, the more the young man reminded Matt of his younger brother, Robert.
Robbie had worshipped the ground Matt walked on. He had followed him everywhere. Five years Matt’s junior, Robbie tried to do everything his older brother did. The boy’s desire to keep up with Matt often led him into trouble. Occasionally he lit into Matt in frustration when he found himself lacking the skills necessary to do whatever his brother did. Matt prayed for patience, took it all in stride, and tried to be the big brother he should be.
Unfortunately Robbie tried to keep up once too often. Matt, at twenty, had excelled at the ranching tasks he loved. His father, William, depended on Matt to help run the growing Diamond S spread. Matt could rope, ride, and brand just about anything on four hooves. He could break a colt gently or all at once.
Fifteen-year-old Robbie wanted to prove he could do it, too. Although forbidden to work with the green colts, he took it upon himself to try to break Skye—the wildest colt on the ranch. Matt found his little brother one afternoon—broken and near death. He lived two more days before passing quietly from Matt’s arms into heaven.
Now, six years later—with his entire family either back east or in eternity—Matt saw in Seth a replica of the brother who had been snatched away from him too soon. Every day he grew closer to the plucky boy.
Fall roundup ended, and Matt devoted all his spare time to working with his newest cowhand. Seth healed rapidly and seemed anxious to please his benefactor. Although weak and shaky at times, the young man made up for his inexperience with the determination to conquer every task Matt set for him. The older and more seasoned hands watched in amusement and shouted good-natured barbs at Seth while their boss tried to teach him basic ranching skills.
“Ride ’em, cowboy!”
“Straddle that saddle, kid!”
Seth ignored the banter and raw jokes and focused every ounce of his willpower into mastering the various jobs on the Diamond S. To the astonishment of the skeptical Diamond S cowboys, Seth learned quickly. Even trail-hardened Brett Owen finally admitted—although not in Seth’s hearing—“He’s worth his salt.” High praise indeed. It summed up the growing respect for Seth’s hard work and stubborn determination.
By spring good food and steady exercise combined with the mild climate of Madera turned the stripling lad into a well-muscled and agile young cowboy. Once he proved himself adept at working with cattle and horses, haying, cutting fence posts, and the myriad of other duties a cowboy must do, Seth was welcomed into the ranks as a full-fledged cowhand, ready to pull his weight to make the Diamond S prosper. By summer he was one of the top hands.
During this time, Matt learned about his young friend’s hardships back East. Often after church on Sunday afternoons, while the rest of the cowhands took the day off to head for town to court, cockfight, gamble, or take part in some other activity Matt preferred not to know about, he and Seth rode to Matt’s favorite spot on the ranch—some distance into the Sierra foothills—and talked. The promontory that overlooked Matt’s ranch offered both privacy and beauty. The entire valley spread out before them, dotted with dark clumps of the vineyards and orchards that were quickly springing up north of the San Joaquin River. Closer to their lookout, the rolling range was sprinkled with Diamond S cattle roaming freely.
A faint lowing sound drifted up to Matt’s ears, and he sighed, perfectly content. “Must’ve been a hard thing to do, leaving your ma and sister back in St. Louis like that,” he remarked, resting his long, lean body against the trunk of an old oak tree.
Seth lay down, settled his wide-brimmed hat over his eyes, and clasped his hands behind his neck. “Worse than you can imagine. But my mother knew I had no choice. She was hoping I could save enough money to bring Sarah out West someday.” He peeked out from under his hat. “I showed you her picture, didn’t I?”
Matt leaned forward and flopped his hands over his raised knees. He smiled patiently. “Often enough.”
“Do you think she’s pretty?”
“Oh yeah. Sure, kid,” came Matt’s distracted reply. This was dangerous territory. He didn’t want to hurt Seth’s feelings, but he really wasn’t interested in thinking about whether the girl in Seth’s wrinkled photo was pretty or not. He glanced at his friend, who had sat up and was rummaging through his vest pockets.
“I know I’ve got another picture of her around here somewhere,” Seth muttered. “It’s more recent. I sent my folks a letter back in July.”
“Hmm,” Matt answered, not really paying attention. Watching Chase graze, he thought how dry and unappetizing the late October grass must taste—even to a horse.
“I sent a picture of the two of us,” Seth prattled on, “you know, when that fancy Eastern photographer, who set up shop next to Judge Barry’s office, was offering a special during the Fourth of July celebration. It turned out real fine, and I sent it to my mother and Sarah—so they’d see I’m doing okay.”
Matt didn’t answer, but Seth persisted. “I got a letter yesterday from Sarah—and she sent another photograph. You want to see it?”
Matt yawned. “The picture or the letter?”
Seth gave Matt a disgusted look and passed him the photograph.
Matt sat up and glanced at the picture. Against his will his eyes widened. His pulse quickened. This young woman couldn’t be the same girl he’d seen in the photograph he’d dug out of Seth’s saddlebags the year before! She was more than pretty—she was striking. Her clear gaze—no doubt the same color blue as Seth’s—riveted Matt. She seemed to be smiling just for him.
Stop it! he berated himself. It’s not like you to get moonstruck over a picture! He swallowed and quickly handed it back to Seth. “Real nice, kid,” he managed. “I sure hope you can get her out here, like your ma wants. From what you’ve told me, your sister’s life sounds pretty rotten.” If Matt ever saw that low-down sidewinder of a stepfather, he’d have a thing or two to say to him about the way a man should treat his wife and children!
Seth sighed. “I don’t know if Sarah will ever come out now.” He held up a well-handled piece of paper. “This letter says that my mother is in the family way. Guess I’ll be getting a new little brother or sister sometime next spring.” He shrugged. “No matter. I’ll probably never see the baby—or Sarah, for that matter.” He stuffed the picture and letter into his vest pocket and stared out across the valley, quiet all of a sudden.
Matt straightened up, suddenly ashamed for treating the photograph of Seth’s sister lightly. He’d “adopted” Seth so completely that he occasionally forgot the young man had a mother and a sister whom he must love dearly—just as Matt loved Dori. “Hey Seth,” he apologized gruffly, “I’m sorry. Real sorry about the hard times with your family. As soon as your mother is settled with the new little one, no doubt Sarah will be able to come out to the Golden State.” He smiled and punched his young friend lightly on the shoulder.
Seth didn’t smile. “Sarah wrote that Mama will need her more than ever once the baby comes. She’s fixed her mind on staying.” He looked at Matt. Misery showed on his tanned face. “My stepfather will work her to death, most likely, or marry her off to one of his disreputable acquaintances.” Seth clenched his fists and drove them into the ground. “And I’m helpless. Helpless to do anything but watch it happen. I almost dread another letter.”
Seth received no more letters. The following spring a telegram came to Seth, in care of the Diamond S Ranch, Madera, California. His sister had been born. But his mother and the baby had died.
Matt’s heart ached with pity and the pain of remembering his own losses. Now the boy who had carved out a special place in Matt’s heart would need his friendship more than ever.
“He will have it,” Matt vowed one afternoon while returning from town. “For as long as he wants to stay, the Diamond S will be Seth Anderson’s home.” Comfortably slumped in the saddle, Matt gave Chase free rein and let his thoughts drift like a tumbleweed skipping along with the slight breeze. Feelings that had been growing ever since the telegram came surfaced then burst into full-fledged determination. They spilled into a prayer that hovered in the quiet air.
“God, if there’s any possible way to get Sarah Joy Anderson out of her stepfather’s clutches, please show me what it is. For Seth’s sake,” he hastily added.
Only for Seth’s sake? a little voice whispered inside him. Matt tried to ignore it, but the face in Seth’s photograph shimmered in the quiet air until Matt whacked Chase with the reins. The unaccustomed blow, light as it was, sent the startled buckskin into a gallop guaranteed to banish the mirage and bring any once-bitten, twice-shy rancher back to his senses.