Cheryl St.John - The Rancher Inherits A Family

He’d called the doctor Marlys, but looked to her with affection.

“Come meet the children who will soon be in your class.” Marlys rested her hand on his shoulder and introduced the boys, who’d been sitting on chairs in the waiting room. The four of them looked each other over.

“You’re going to stay with us tonight while Dr. Mason looks after your—after Mr. Halloway,” Sam explained. “We can get up early and have breakfast at The Cattleman.”

“They have flapjacks and sausage,” August told them.

The boys looked at Marigold for confirmation. She felt so out of her league with these children. She’d taught in stressful circumstances, with inadequate supplies, and in cold classrooms during the war, but she’d always been confident she had something to offer her students. These children needed so much more than she could give them.

But right now, they simply needed assurance that they were going to be safe and together, and she could offer them that. She kneeled in front of the trio and took Little John’s damp hand. “August and Mr. Mason are going to take good care of you tonight.” She looked from one little face to the next. “You’re all safe and you’re together. Tomorrow we’ll get you settled at Mr. Hallo—At Seth’s ranch. Your travels are over, and you’re going to be just fine.”

As she stood, Little John dug his fist into her skirt and clung to the fabric.

“Let go, Little John,” Tate told his smallest brother.

Little John’s lower lip trembled.

She thought quickly. “I’ll tell you what.” She moved to a nearby table, under which her open bag sat. Attached to her skirt, the toddler followed. She reached into the satchel and withdrew the book they’d started earlier. “You take care of the book for me, Little John. And tomorrow we’ll read more.”

After a moment’s thought, he released her skirt to grasp the book and clutched it to his chest. “Aw-wight.”

“That’s a good boy. Thank you.” She handed Sam the small valise that held their belongings and he led them out the door.

An ache opened in her chest as she watched them leave with a stranger. She’d been a stranger to them until a few days ago, and now she was their lifeline. They were vulnerable and helpless in a world of unfamiliar people.

Except for Seth Halloway, of course, she reminded herself. He was a strong capable man, willing and able to take over their care. Just as soon as he was on his feet again.

“I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping tonight,” Marlys told her. “It’s perfectly comfortable. I lived here before Sam and I married last year. I carried your pet’s cage into the room earlier.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Marlys, please.” She led the way into a long narrow room that ran the width of the building. It held a bed and bureau, a woodstove and a table with two chairs. “Feel free to make yourself a pot of tea. There’s wood in the bin. The necessary is at the end of the path out back. It’s visible in the moonlight.”

It had been six days since Marigold had dressed in her nightgown and been afforded a comfortable place to rest. Her entire body ached, and exhaustion was catching up with her. From her cage, Peony, too, was making her displeasure clear. Marigold unfastened the latch and the long-haired ginger cat stepped out, immediately inspecting the area.

Marigold had dreamed of a cup of tea, but tonight she settled for a glass of water and poured a bowlful for the cat. Marigold slipped the thick braided ribbon leash she’d made for the train ride around Peony’s neck and let her out for a few minutes, talking softly to her the whole time. Bringing Peony on the train had been challenging, but Marigold had lost so much already, she couldn’t bear to leave her pet behind. Peony symbolized home and stability—a small comfort, but a much-needed one. It would be good to get settled, so the poor dear could get used to a home again.

She changed into a delightfully unrestrictive soft cotton gown and climbed under the covers on the narrow bed. Peony leaped up and stretched along her side, her purring loud in the small room. Sweet comfort engulfed Marigold, and she stroked the animal’s soft fur. She prayed whoever took her in first was amenable to having the cat as well. “Thank You, Lord, for hearing my prayer in that railcar and sending Mr. Halloway.”

She thought of Little John’s frightened eyes, of Harper’s inquisitiveness and Tate’s brave front. Seth Halloway was going to take good care of them. He was a responsible, hardworking person. Even lying down, he probably looked like a giant to them. Fingers curled in the cat’s long silky fur, she imagined the giant tied down by the six-inch inhabitants of Lilliput in Gulliver’s Travels and smiled.

It was the last thought she had until sleep claimed her.

When she opened her eyes again, sunlight was streaming through the small window at the end of the room. She couldn’t recall falling asleep, but she remembered the strange dream. The grainy mirror over the bureau reflected a rested yet disheveled young woman with a garish purple bruise on her chin. She set her valise on the bed and found her hairbrush. Several minutes later, after dressing, gathering her clean hair into a tidy knot and feeding the cat, she put Peony back into her cage and stepped into the office.

She discovered Marlys working in an enormous cabinet filled with hanging stems and dozens of bottles and jars. The earthy aroma was strong, but not unpleasant, and unlike anything she’d ever smelled.

“I didn’t intend to sleep so long,” she said, apologizing after she greeted the doctor.

“You needed your rest. I remember what that journey was like.”

“How is Mr. Halloway this morning?”

“It’s going to be difficult keeping him still,” Marlys told her. “He’s dressed and eaten already. Aunt Mae sent food for all of us.” She pointed toward a tray on the nearby table. “There’s yours. While you eat, I’ll make you a small poultice for your chin.”

Marigold looked over the labeled jars and crocks, the bunches of hanging dried plants. “What is all this?”

Marlys explained about her practice, how she gathered most of her herbs and roots, how she’d learned healing techniques from the Cheyenne and Chinese. She was a fascinating woman, one Marigold hoped to get to know better.

“James Johnson will be here in a bit to escort all of you to the ranch,” Marlys told her. “He’s a nice young man with a baby girl named Ava. His wife, Hannah, is a skilled seamstress. Her services are in such high demand, she’s had to hire help in her shop.”

Marigold uncovered the food tray and found oatmeal, toast and cooked apple slices that smelled like cinnamon. She scooped them into her oatmeal and perched on a stool near the doctor to eat. “I’m sure there are a lot of new people to meet.”

“How did you come to teach—and to accept this position?”

“My mother was sickly and my father traveled a lot. I had a teacher who took an interest in me, and when her husband went to fight, she and I spent a lot of time together. She helped me get my teaching certificate. Her husband didn’t return from the war, so she moved to be with family. That’s when I became the schoolteacher in our small town, Athens, Ohio. My older sister and I inherited our parents’ home, so things were comfortable enough for a while.”

None of that explained why she was here. She rested her spoon on the tray. She’d come here to put all of this behind her but for some reason she related her story to the woman. “We both worked and cared for my niece. It wasn’t easy for a couple of years, but we had each other. Then Daisy got sick. I took care of her, but she got weaker and weaker until she died.”