rabbit-skin knapsack and slung it over his shoulder. “A woman likes a sturdy man, Isi.”
He lifted his brow. “Oh? And which woman are you fattening me up for?”
Melatha chose not to answer. Instead, she took his arm and walked him outside to the porch. Best to let him wait and see for himself.
With disgruntled squawks and a flurry of beating wings, her chickens announced an approaching visitor. John Rawson rounded the bunkhouse and rode straight for them, scattering the frantic fowl in ten directions. He came so close to the steps before reining his horse, Melatha feared the big Appaloosa might stumble and throw him, obliging her to catch the overgrown man in her apron.
His urgent arrival stirred no fear in her heart. The man always scurried about in a frenzy. Though she feared for his health, she greatly admired his vigor.
Isi crossed to lay his hand on the animal’s trembling shoulder. “Morning, sir. Care for a bite of breakfast?”
Mr. Rawson patted his bulging middle. “Thank you kindly, but Rosita and the girls fixed me up real good this morning.” He nodded at Melatha. “Don’t reckon it compares in flavor to your spread, ma’am, but it got the job done.”
Isi winked at her. “See? I told you. Your cooking is legendary.”
Melatha’s face warmed. “Oh, you...” Uncomfortable with the attention, she nodded at his boss. “I’m certain Mr. Rawson didn’t ride out here to listen to fables.”
Mr. Rawson nodded. “Your mother’s half right, son. While I’m certain your boasts about her skillet are true, I’ve come to entrust you with an errand. A very important task.”
Isi bowed slightly. “I’m at your disposal. Whatever you need, sir.”
A few more straggling chickens scurried past, running from Cuddy, who trotted toward them from the side yard. Stopping at the rail, he rested the sole of one dusty boot on the edge of the porch and brushed the soil and stickers from his bull-hide chaps.
Isi nodded and smiled at him.
Cuddy returned the gestures then tipped his hat at Melatha. “Mornin’, ma’am.”
“Morning, Cuddy. Would you like some eggs and tortillas? Isi finished the frijoles, but I have a roasted hen warming.”
He grimaced. “Sounds right nice, but I believe I’ll pass.” He swiped his forehead with the sleeve of his white cotton shirt. “Working in this heat takes a man’s appetite.”
Melatha couldn’t help wondering if his recent hankering for hard liquor was the real reason. Concerned, Isi had mentioned it and asked her to pray.
“Not every man.” She laughed and pointed at Isi and Mr. Rawson. “Those two pushed away from the table with full bellies.”
Cuddy cut around the porch and came to stand beside Isi. Watching Mr. Rawson pay no heed to his son’s presence, Melatha’s insides squirmed. She released her breath when at last he dipped his head at young Cuddy.
“Our guests are arriving tomorrow. I want you boys to meet them at the station in Uvalde and bring them here. Cuddy, rig up the two-seater. Diego will follow with your horses. After they join you, Mr. Dane can take over the reins and drive his family to the ranch. You’ll be their escorts.”
He leaned to rest his arm on the saddle horn then regarded them each in turn, his heavy brows flattened over squinty eyes. “You two make sure that family has a safe, uneventful trip. I’ll expect to see them pull up in good spirits and in good condition.”
Isi squared his shoulders. “You can count on us, sir.”
If the warning on Mr. Rawson’s face rattled Isi, he hid it well. Melatha’s chest swelled with pride.
Casting a pointed look in her direction, the big man lowered his voice, though she heard every word. “Take your rifles. I don’t expect any trouble from
banditos,
but Pancho Villa yet rides free. If you ran across him, I doubt he’d wait to hear where your loyalties lie.”
Always mindful of her feelings, Isi shot a worried glance over his shoulder before speaking, his voice
He lifted his brow. “Oh? And which woman are you fattening me up for?”
Melatha chose not to answer. Instead, she took his arm and walked him outside to the porch. Best to let him wait and see for himself.
With disgruntled squawks and a flurry of beating wings, her chickens announced an approaching visitor. John Rawson rounded the bunkhouse and rode straight for them, scattering the frantic fowl in ten directions. He came so close to the steps before reining his horse, Melatha feared the big Appaloosa might stumble and throw him, obliging her to catch the overgrown man in her apron.
His urgent arrival stirred no fear in her heart. The man always scurried about in a frenzy. Though she feared for his health, she greatly admired his vigor.
Isi crossed to lay his hand on the animal’s trembling shoulder. “Morning, sir. Care for a bite of breakfast?”
Mr. Rawson patted his bulging middle. “Thank you kindly, but Rosita and the girls fixed me up real good this morning.” He nodded at Melatha. “Don’t reckon it compares in flavor to your spread, ma’am, but it got the job done.”
Isi winked at her. “See? I told you. Your cooking is legendary.”
Melatha’s face warmed. “Oh, you...” Uncomfortable with the attention, she nodded at his boss. “I’m certain Mr. Rawson didn’t ride out here to listen to fables.”
Mr. Rawson nodded. “Your mother’s half right, son. While I’m certain your boasts about her skillet are true, I’ve come to entrust you with an errand. A very important task.”
Isi bowed slightly. “I’m at your disposal. Whatever you need, sir.”
A few more straggling chickens scurried past, running from Cuddy, who trotted toward them from the side yard. Stopping at the rail, he rested the sole of one dusty boot on the edge of the porch and brushed the soil and stickers from his bull-hide chaps.
Isi nodded and smiled at him.
Cuddy returned the gestures then tipped his hat at Melatha. “Mornin’, ma’am.”
“Morning, Cuddy. Would you like some eggs and tortillas? Isi finished the frijoles, but I have a roasted hen warming.”
He grimaced. “Sounds right nice, but I believe I’ll pass.” He swiped his forehead with the sleeve of his white cotton shirt. “Working in this heat takes a man’s appetite.”
Melatha couldn’t help wondering if his recent hankering for hard liquor was the real reason. Concerned, Isi had mentioned it and asked her to pray.
“Not every man.” She laughed and pointed at Isi and Mr. Rawson. “Those two pushed away from the table with full bellies.”
Cuddy cut around the porch and came to stand beside Isi. Watching Mr. Rawson pay no heed to his son’s presence, Melatha’s insides squirmed. She released her breath when at last he dipped his head at young Cuddy.
“Our guests are arriving tomorrow. I want you boys to meet them at the station in Uvalde and bring them here. Cuddy, rig up the two-seater. Diego will follow with your horses. After they join you, Mr. Dane can take over the reins and drive his family to the ranch. You’ll be their escorts.”
He leaned to rest his arm on the saddle horn then regarded them each in turn, his heavy brows flattened over squinty eyes. “You two make sure that family has a safe, uneventful trip. I’ll expect to see them pull up in good spirits and in good condition.”
Isi squared his shoulders. “You can count on us, sir.”
If the warning on Mr. Rawson’s face rattled Isi, he hid it well. Melatha’s chest swelled with pride.
Casting a pointed look in her direction, the big man lowered his voice, though she heard every word. “Take your rifles. I don’t expect any trouble from
banditos,
but Pancho Villa yet rides free. If you ran across him, I doubt he’d wait to hear where your loyalties lie.”
Always mindful of her feelings, Isi shot a worried glance over his shoulder before speaking, his voice
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