Chapter 6 
Chapter 6 Cookie held open the bedroom door. “He ain’t yet good as new, but the boy dressed hisself and is standin’ all on his own.” The gruffness in Cookie’s voice belied the fondness he’d built up for Timothy doing the things only a man could do for him over the last few weeks.
He looked so handsome in one of his expensive shirts. Simple pleats showed above his waistcoat rather than ruffles. His tall, starched collar folded back into small, sharp wings decorated solely with a thin black tie—western-style. No cravat and expensive jeweled stickpin. Even better, he’d put on a few pounds since he could sit up to eat at the table, and his color had improved mightily.
“I can’t wear a coat just yet,” he apologized. “Too much pull across my shoulders. But your father loaned me a more appropriate tie. I hope I’ll draw less attention now.”
“Right fine.” Did her quick response give her away? “Besides, takin’ the waters at the hot springs is more important for your health than wearin’ a jacket in public. Not a soul will worry themselves about it. Right, Cookie?”
He shrugged. “Leastways I ain’t gotta shave him no more and the boy can put on his own swim costume. There’s a limit to my charity.”
“If we were back in Kentucky, I’d be in peril for my life.” He flicked a hand over his attire. “Or give my mother the vapors for walking out the front door improperly dressed.”
“Good thing you’re recuperatin’ here.” She patted Cookie’s arm. “You’ve been God’s hands in all this, from your cookin’ to all the rest you did.”
“Learned to take care of cowhands on the trail is all.” He answered with nonchalance, but the old cook’s chest puffed out more than usual at her praise. “Might as well use it when it’s needed. Chicken soup cures a world of problems.”
Timothy moved with painstaking slowness after three weeks stuck in bed. “She’s doing my talking for me, Cookie. I truly am indebted to you.” He held out a hand. “One day I hope to return the kindness, but I don’t think I can ever manage nearly as well.” As they shook on it, he said, “Please know I’ll try.”
“Aw, I ain’t done nothin’ but what was right. Golden Rule and all.” In his humble manner, he left without allowing another word. He turned up next weaving past them, a large picnic basket in his hands, heading out to the carriage. “Time’s a wastin’.” He disappeared out the front door, letting the screen clatter behind him.
“We’re coming.” Tara tied on a straw sunbonnet, fixing the red ribbon to the right of her chin. She wore a matching red sash circling her waist with a fluffed bow at the small of her back and her Sunday boots peeked out beneath her hem.
“You make quite a fetching vision, Tara.” His voice held a husky tone.
She flushed. How should she respond to such a romantic notion? The other cowboys doused her in compliments. But they all seemed insincere, as if an underlying selfishness hid like a tick in weeds. A body didn’t find it until the parasite had a good, long feast first. Timothy meant what he said, and he said it in a way that she believed no other girl had heard before.
“Shall we?”
She took Timothy’s proffered elbow. “That hurt?”
“No. It feels right.”
Cookie opened the door, letting them pass through to the porch. “Young’uns,” he said more to himself than to them. “Well, let’s get on the trail.” He rushed off into the kitchen for another load.
“I think this is Cookie’s favorite holiday besides Christmas. You might catch him tappin’ a toe at the bandstand. Then you’ll know he’s extra happy,” Tara mused. “Wait till you see the feast he prepares each year. Fried chicken, apple pie, cider, all sorts of goodies. I know he made gingersnaps too.”
“Gingersnaps. Your favorite?”
“Those or snickerdoodles.”
“He seems capable of anything. I’ve never known a man to be so versatile with food and able to help around the ranch. Our ser—” He stopped talking as if he needed a moment.
“Too much too fast?” She moved an arm around his waist. “Am I botherin’ any of your wounds if I help you? They were still a bit pink this mornin’.”
He dropped his arm around her shoulders.
One of the new cowhands shot a grumpy look at them. The poor fellow drew the short straw. The others would go to the picnic. Her father would spell him halfway through the day, and she would bring everyone home after a soak in the hot spring plunge and the fireworks.
“No, I’m fine. But I do like the way you’re helping me.” His lips turned up at the corners.
She enjoyed the shine in his blue eyes when he looked into hers. She didn’t care whether he really needed her help or not. “You were sayin’?”
“Where did Cookie learn to cook so well?”
“In the army.” She matched his pace as they eased down the front path. She kept talking to keep his mind off the effort of his first outing. “Pa was on a cattle drive comin’ up from Texas in sixty-six. Cookie was drivin’ the chuck wagon. Together they decided to go in on raisin’ cattle in Montana. That’s how we got this land. Pa says there ain’t no way we’da managed without him, and I know he’s right. They’re brothers bonded by the best and worst experiences.”
“So he’s been with you your whole life?”
“Well, he moved into the kitchen after my mama passed on. I was pretty small. Pa took to workin’ the ranch, and Cookie took over mannin’ the house and barn animals. He’ll go on the short cattle drives still, but he’s on in years.”
“He never had a family of his own?”
“A wife once. He lost her to typhoid before the war ended.” She glanced up at him. “He says the Lord knew she was too good for this earth.”
“He must have loved her very much to not marry again.”
Tara searched his face. Will you love me like that if I marry you? “There’s not many womenfolk around, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I’ve picked up on the amount of men around lately.” Somehow one of the new hires seemed to show up just about every spare moment. “You’re the belle of the ball.”
“I ain’t got a desire to be.”
“Most of the young ladies I know would love being the center of attention.”
“I ain’t got time for all those shenanigans. If I wanted—”
“Wait right there.” Her father called out to them from the four-seater carriage as he finished hitching up the horse by the barn. “I’ll come around.”
Thank goodness her father interrupted her thoughtless prattle. She nearly told Timothy the silly daydream that’d run through her head these last weeks.
“We’re going in style.” He reached for the gate latch.
“Pa and I thought you’d like more cushion than the last time,” she teased.
Jesse came hoofing it across the courtyard from the barn as soon as he spied them. “Miss Tara, you’re looking fine this morning.” He snatched open the picket gate right out of Timothy’s hand. “May I help you up?”
Jesse wasn’t shy about his intentions. Though Tara didn’t seem bothered by him much, and that bothered Timothy. When the hands weren’t out working, one or the other of them found a reason to be underfoot. Jesse most of all. Timothy couldn’t even open a gate for her to pass before one of them beat him to it. When he’d answered the advertisement, sent letters back and forth confirming both parties’ agreement, and come to Montana Territory, the last thing on his mind was competition. What gallant gesture would prove his worth to Tara with these three bumpkins edging him out at every turn?
The ride over to Gregson Hot Springs went well with Robert driving the carriage. Cookie rode with Tara and Timothy, keeping an eagle eye on them when he wasn’t dozing. The other men rode alongside, trailing an extra horse for Robert to ride home later and relieve the cowhand on duty. The two-story Gregson Hotel housed up to sixty guests, while the lawns and grounds could hold many more. Quilts spread out like little islands in the deep, green grass. Children squealed and played, running circles around adults picnicking or listening to music.
People came from all over, sharing food, swapping stories, and catching up on news. Another train collision caused by poor timing made headlines. Everyone wanted to know how they’d solve the safety issues plaguing the new form of transportation.
Tara stayed with Timothy as if she wanted to keep company, not simply watching out like a nurse. After changing into swimming costumes, they spent time lounging in the hot springs plunge chatting with other bathers. He had no problem visiting with anyone. Without the barrier of his title, conversation came easier. Or maybe Tara’s easy way made all the difference.
They met outside the changing rooms to walk their wet costumes and towels to the carriage boot.
Tara looked lovely with her braid spun and pinned low beneath her bonnet. “It’s nice to see so many families. I made new friends.” Her features lit up as she waved to a mother leading her dancing little girl out to the lawn where the brass band played a jaunty march.
“Sam met a new lady friend as well.” Timothy referred to one of their newer ranch hands, directing her attention to the fledgling couple. “You may have lost a suitor.”
“Good for him.” She seemed genuinely pleased. “Now, what did you think about the railroad news?”
The fact Tara wasn’t crestfallen at Sam’s new pursuit buoyed his spirits as much as the healing waters eased his body. He’d never felt as relaxed as at this moment. And, perhaps he was down to two competitors. “All the train schedules on one system would simplify travel.”
She accepted his elbow as they strolled toward the livery. “Fixin’ the tardy trains would be a good start. Nobody ever knows what time to expect one.”
“I understand.” Her fingers were on his arm, and he covered them with his own, enjoying the intimacy. “I had to decipher several schedules on the way from Kentucky to Salt Lake City, then more from there to Silver Bow in Butte. Did you know the railroads publish eighty or so? Thankfully, I didn’t have to read them all, just a handful.”
“Eighty?” she scoffed. “That’s ridiculous.”
“The news is all the railroads are sending delegates to another General Railroad Time Convention set for October in Chicago. Maybe they can finally agree. I thought the preliminary report from the April meeting sounded promising.”
“Really. What did you hear?”
“Some plans about dividing up the country on the meridians.” He remembered a quote. “Something like fifty-six time zones now could change to five, if they ever institute the idea.”
“Will it work?”
He thought for a moment. “Maybe. I changed my watch at each depot. Gets downright confusing.”
“I think the waters and walkin’ are workin’ wonders for you.” She smiled up from under the brim of her bonnet at him as he dropped their things in the wagon bed. “Should we continue our stroll?”
He didn’t care where they went since he had Tara all to himself. A horse whinnied and then a dog yelped. The poor dog’s whining worsened as they searched for it. Finally, near the livery, they found a young, skinny Collie-mix lying on her side and panting in pain.
A group of men debated what to do with the dog.
One said, “He was kicked by that horse yonder and drug himself far as he could.”
“Oh no.” Tara’s eyes welled up, and she whispered, “That’s our team. I’m so sorry.” She searched the men’s faces. “Who owns the pup?”
Several of them shrugged until another man said, “Must be a stray. Not much worth anything now.”
“Yep, better just shoot the pitiful thing,” another added.
Timothy grit his teeth. “No. I’ll check him over.”
“You gonna find what we did. That horse whacked him a good one.” The man took out a pistol. “Better take the lady aside.”
Instead, Timothy moved in next to the dog and knelt. “Go on, gentlemen, I’ll take responsibility. By the way, he’s a she.”
“Suit yerself. Coulda been a good herdin’ dog, but he ain’t gonna be no good to nobody now, no matter what it is.”
Holding his hand low and curved, Timothy offered his fingers and spoke to the dog. “I’m here to help, girl.” The dog snapped at him and then cried because of the pain from her sudden motion. She dropped her head to the ground, whining.
“I’ve got an idea. Tara, could you stand there and see if you can draw her attention toward you. Get her to look up and away from me.” Timothy pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and tied it loosely into a circlet with a sliding knot. As the dog warily watched Tara, he quickly slid the handkerchief around her muzzle and tightened it.
Now that the dog was no longer able to snap at anyone, Timothy asked for a light blanket. Tara found her towel in the carriage boot and gave it to him. He lowered it around the dog’s upper body then asked a bystander, “Can you gently place your hands here and here. I’m going to examine her. Don’t let her fight. Just hold her down with the material, especially around her neck and shoulders so she doesn’t struggle.”
“All right.”
Timothy spoke soothing words as he ran his hands over the dog’s back and legs. “A broken front leg. At least it’s not her hip or ribs.”
“What’d I tell ya?” the man with the pistol proclaimed.
Timothy looked him square in the eyes. “I can splint this leg. She’ll be fine in a few weeks.”
A small, curious crowd had formed. Sam and Jesse pushed toward the front.
Tara called them over to her. “Sam, please go get Cookie. We’re heading home. And Jesse, go ahead and hook up our team.”
Jesse looked confused. “We’re leaving early for a dog? Why don’t you just put it down?”
Before Timothy could say anything, Tara’s eyes narrowed. “I said ready the carriage. No one is killing this animal.”
Whispers skittered around the edges of the crowd. “What’s going on?”
“What did she say?”
“Are they going to put it out of its misery?”
Tara held her parasol above Timothy and the dog, shading them from the afternoon heat. “What can we do?” she asked him.
“I need some bandage strips, a thick stick about this long”—he held out his hands for the length—“and a bowl of water.” Various people passed forward the items as they arrived. Some of the crowd dispersed for more interesting entertainment while others stayed watching him work.
“He’s a horse doctor,” said the shooting advocate. “They’re all quacks.” He walked off.
Timothy breathed deeply, ignoring the barb from an ignorant soul. Wrapping the dog’s leg, taking care the splint fit, Timothy finished. He made eye contact with the man helping him. “We’re going to keep the blanket tight to her body so she doesn’t try to move while we shift it down so we can offer a little water.” The man nodded.
Tara set a small bowl near the dog’s muzzle, causing a wiggle in her overly dry nose.
Cautious of the dog’s reaction while she snuffled around the water, Timothy shifted the blanket slowly, freeing a soft, puppy fuzz-face. “There we go, girl. Be nice now.”
The dog wriggled but failed against her trappers holding the blanket tight across her ribs and rump. Her big brown eyes darted around, sad and scared. Timothy reached out and stroked behind the pooch’s ear, causing her to push her head into the kindness. She closed her eyes. “You’re going to be fine, girl. Just fine.”
Timothy kept soothing the dog. Glancing up at Tara, he saw an expression of admiration that caused his heart to lurch. Then she lowered herself, skirts bunching at her feet, to pet the dog. She didn’t seem to mind her skirt and sash dragging in the dirt one whit.
“Do you think it’s safe to take off the kerchief?” she asked, mimicking the gentle tone he used.
“Once these folks disperse. I don’t want to spook her while she’s in pain.”
Tara stood slowly, careful not to cause the injured animal alarm, as Jesse returned. “Folks, we’re goin’ to take her on home. Go enjoy the festivities, please.” Then she directed Jesse to collect some sort of crate.
“Still don’t get why we’re takin’ that peg leg instead of puttin’ her down.” He shook his head. “Women.”
To her credit, she said nothing, though her eyebrow raised disdainfully. There was an elegance to her disapproval. Though Timothy had no desire to be on that side of her again, she may have eliminated one more suitor.
“The crate’s a good idea. We can transfer her into it to keep her as comfortable as possible on the ride home.”
“Well, I remember bringing you home with no way to ease the trip on your body.”
The assisting man’s eyes went wide at them.
“I had an accident a few weeks back,” Timothy told him. “Still sore.”
“You’re doing better than this little girl,” his helper acknowledged. “But I see you know what you’re doing.”
“I’m a veterinarian.” He tipped his head in the direction the pistol-waver left. “Not everyone thinks animal medicine is valuable. I believe in stewarding God’s creatures.”
“You think she’ll survive?”
“Undoubtedly. She’ll be a working dog yet, with some healing and training.”
Tara added, “We need a good cattle dog.”
With everyone but their helper finally gone, Timothy freed the dog’s muzzle. “Easy now. That’s it, relax.” He pushed the bowl of water toward his patient again. “What are we going to call you, huh?”
Jesse returned with a crate from the livery. “Found this. I figured you’d want these here burlap sacks for padding.”
Tara broke into a grin. “How thoughtful, Jesse, thank you.”
The dog growled, voicing the silent sound in Timothy’s head. “I know how you feel, girl.” He lowered his voice and rubbed her ear.
“How old do you think she is, Timothy? She looks so hungry.” Compassion tinged Tara’s every word. “I can see all the bones in her body.”
“Maybe six months? A lot of growing up to do yet, but that means she should heal fast. If I set her leg right, this pup might be knit up in a matter of weeks.” After sniffing at the bowl, the puppy lapped sideways at the water. Timothy lifted her slightly to help her drink. Water dribbled out all over the ground, muddying the dirt beneath her.
Jesse laughed. “That mutt ain’t more than a mess. Probably gonna be more trouble than it’s worth. But since he cain’t walk, that little peg leg will be a right fine lapdog!” He chuckled at his own joke.
“Interestin’.” Tara’s brow crinkled and her eyes narrowed again. “I’ve always wanted a lapdog.”
Suddenly Jesse clapped his mouth shut. “Yes, ma’am.”
Timothy bit back a laugh, but he wanted to let it loose badly. “Pack in as much padding as you can. Then we’ll muzzle her again before we lift her with the towel into the crate.”
Cookie arrived with Sam, a quilt folded over his arm. “Heard you got yourself a situation.” He took a look at the dirty, patched-up collie, scratched his head, and said, “So we’re finally gettin’ a ranch dog, heh?”
Tara nodded and gave him an affectionate smile. “Guess so.”
“She got a name?” Cookie asked while he spread the quilt in the box, creating cushy bedding on top of the burlap.
Timothy looked at the puppy, and a grin spread across his face. “I’m leaning toward Peg.”
Tara’s giggle solidified it. “I like it.”
“Well, Peg, got some chicken for ya.” Cookie opened the picnic basket Sam held, then turned to Timothy. “What you waitin’ on? Git the dog in the crate so she can have her reward.”
Slipping his hand under the dog’s neck, Timothy rubbed under her chin until he slid the kerchief back on. Then, with Cookie’s aid, they wrapped Peg to keep her as still as they could and gently lifted her into the wooden box. Once in, Timothy let Cookie dangle the chicken in front of her nose as he released her mouth. She went for the chicken like she’d been starving.
“A little now. Too much at once and we’ll be cleaning it up.” He held out his hand to the man who’d stuck by them. “Thank you. Timothy Higgenbottom.”
“Pastor Paul Chell. We’re building a new church down the road. The Anaconda parish is overflowing.” He returned the handshake. “Let me know if she needs more than prayers. She’s God’s creature, and as you said, He’s given her into your care.” He turned to Tara and offered a handshake to her while he looked between them. “Looks to me like God’s trusted them both into your care, young lady.”
Tara blushed. “I’ll do my best, Pastor. Thank you for your help.”
“I’ll be eager to hear how she fares. We should have the new building up in a few weeks.” He continued around the group shaking hands and introducing himself to each one. “Come for services soon.”
Cookie took off his hat. “We’ll be by, Pastor. Thank you kindly for the invite.” He elbowed Jesse, who grabbed his hat off his head.
Timothy and Jesse each took a side of the crate and gently slid it onto the carriage floor.
“Your pa’s sure gonna be surprised.” Cookie climbed up and took a seat. “Hand me that chicken, Jesse. I’ll feed her a little now and then to keep her happy. Then stow that basket.”
Timothy asked Cookie, “Can you cook up a bone broth with willow bark? It’ll help to ease her pain.”
“Sure can.” Cookie fed Peg a bite of chicken, and the dog gazed up at him expectantly. “Gonna be a rough ride for the poor mite.”
“You two deserve your time off,” Tara said to Jesse and Sam. “Stay on. We’ll be fine.”
Timothy never saw more exuberant men.
“Thank you, Miss Tara,” Jesse said.
“Ma’am.” Sam nodded and hightailed it as quick as he could back toward the pretty girl by the bandstand.
“My pleasure,” she replied to Jesse. “We’ll see you back at the JBarF later.” She turned to climb into the driver’s seat.
Timothy stopped her with a hand on her elbow. “I’ll do that, Tara.”
“Oh really? You’re still tender from a fence whippin’, and Peg might need your expertise.” She gave him a look that said, Are you really that daft? then hoisted her skirts and stepped up. “I’ll go as easy as I can.”
She’d sent the men away, commented on his expertise, and cared about a small dog. Beyond her abilities to work alongside him, Timothy recognized Tara had chosen him all day above the others. She could have stayed behind and had someone bring the carriage back. But she didn’t. He leaned down to the crate, petting Peg as he whispered to her, “We have a fighting chance, girl.”
They pulled out to the strains of “My Country ’Tis of Thee” sung by the schoolchildren. He breathed in the fresh Montana air and felt at home for the first time.