Montana Dawn by Caroline Fyffe Page A

unaware of the commotion around her. Francis had turned out to be a huge help, washing and rinsing the baby’s clothing and blankets. He was especially good at wringing them near dry. Faith did all the diapers, knowing that chore would be just too much to ask of the youth.
    “That’s the last of it,” she said, forcing her voice to sound happy. She’d been thinking about her encounter with Luke. She’d made a fool of herself. Called him a name. Acted like she didn’t have the brains of a gnat. And after all he’d done for her and Colton. And Dawn. Especially Dawn.
    While they’d worked, Francis had told her what had happened that morning at breakfast. She’d had to drag it out of him, but he finally admitted that Colton had acted disrespectfully. Luke had been forced to act or lose respect in front of his men. It sounded like he’d handled the matter with restraint…though she wasn’t sure she liked what he said afterward.
    “I’ll dump the water,” Francis said, tipping the bathtub she’d used last night, and spilling the water out to create a puddle. The scent of wet earth pervaded the air. “And if there’s no more to do, I’ll go check with Lucky. By now he’ll be itchin’ to pull out.”
    Faith stood slowly and wiped her brow with her apron. She stretched the sore muscles of her back and sighed. “Thank you for all your help, Francis.”
    “My pleasure, ma’am.” He smiled that charmingly shy smile. “Now, why don’t you just rest a while. I’ll be back to drive your wagon to catch up with the herd.”
    She did as the young man suggested and collapsed onto her mat next to Dawn. It felt wonderful to close her eyes.
    Sometime later a constant lowing passed through her fatigue, pulling her gently from her dreams. Faith rolled onto her other side, trying to block out the sound. A fly, buzzing around her head, annoyingly landed on her cheek for the fiftieth time. Refusing to open her eyes just yet, she reached up to brush it off. That’s when she wondered why that animal was crying so much.
    Halfheartedly she opened her eyes and blinked. Where was she? Then she heard it again. Not one cow lowing, but hundreds. And more! She remembered. And they weren’t cows, she mentally corrected herself. Chance—a tall, rangy cowhand—had humbly enlightened her at dinner last night. “They’re called steers and heifers, ma’am.”
    The gentle rocking of the wagon bed and the deep rumble of its steel-lined wheels told her that they were on their way. Faith pulled back the covering and carefully climbed out next to Francis on the wagon bench.
    “Well, how do,” he said when he saw her. “Ya feeling better?”
    “Oh yes, much.” Faith gasped. “Lands, we’re right in the middle of all the cattle!” she said, looking around and grabbing hold of the side of her seat. She didn’t want to fall into that throng of living cowhides and horns. “Are we supposed to be?”
    Francis laughed. He was relaxing around her, and was a very nice companion to have. “For today it is.” He pointed ahead some twenty feet at the chuck wagon in front. “We’re following Lucky in the chuck wagon. He’s going through the herd because the ground is too rocky along the side. He don’t want to be fixing any axles today.”
    Turning his head, he spat a stream of tobacco juice alongside the wagon. It landed in a splat on the head of a steer. When the beast didn’t do anything, Francis shrugged andsmiled. “He don’t mind.” Faith hid her expression behind her hand, not wanting to offend. Her stomach lurched.
    Flipping the long reins up, he slapped them down across the horses’ backs, urging them on. “Now, normally,” he continued, seeming to like having a captive audience now that they were better acquainted, “we’d pull out early, with the cattle, so we wouldn’t have ta be eating all this.” He gestured to the dust and dirt. “We’d be way up near the front, along one side. Sort of three-quarter front and