A Bride For The Asking -- (on hold)

Chapter 4--She Said Yes!

The smell of burnt cow hair filled the air, as French Jack laid the brand against the rump of the last kicking and screaming calf of the spring round-up while Jim Collier held the little heifer steady.

"That’s twenty-three, Woody," Ennis hollered above the din, as he looked over Woodrow’s shoulder to the book his brother held open in his hand. "You did better than me."

"Not bad," Woodrow allowed, snapping the book closed. He removed his battered hat, and wiped his sweaty brow with his arm while sliding the slim book into his back pocket, before looking up to watch the two cow hands release the bawling calf.

With a quick yank, the knot confining the calf, came loose, and Jim Collier and French Jack did a quick two-step backwards to get out of the way of the bawling calf as it lurched to its feet. The calf took off at a run towards a concerned cow standing a ways off, ears pricked forward. As soon as the calf reached her side, the two beasts took off at a trot to join the small grazing herd on the grass-covered slope.

"Whoo-ee," said Jim, hand on hip, stretching backward to remove the kink in his back. "I’m glad that’s over."

"Mon Dieu, mes Amiees," agreed French Jack, leaning over to gather up the branding irons and set them off the fire to cool. "Me, I am, too."

"When you finish up here, come on up to the house," said Woodrow to the two cowhands.  He and Ennis had hired them to help with the round-up.  As he bent over to pick up the reins of the chestnut gelding placidly chomping grass nearby, Woodrow said,  "We’ll square...." before he was interrupted.

A wild yell echoed off the hills, and Woodrow froze. The four men all looked up the trail as a horse and hatless rider came loping over the rise. The midday sun glinted off the blonde hair of the giant who rode towards them. It was Woodrow’s long time friend, Ike Jorgenson, who, spotting the group of men, broke into an off-key bawdy rendition of My Wild Irish Rose.

"You reckon he’s drunk?" Jim Collier questioned, brushing off the seat of his pants while staring at the approaching rider.

"Good chance it’s not winter," French Jack commented. "Mon Dieu, that voice, she would cause an avalanche."

"God almighty," murmured Ennis under his breath. "Pearl’s gonna have a fit."

Woodrow glanced askance at his brother before pinning a glare on his friend, who slowed his horse to a walk as he approached the men. He alone knew what the appearance of his friend meant.

French Jack and Jim Collier went back to gathering up tools and loading them in the wagon.

"I figured as I’d find you here when there wasn’t nobody at home," grinned the big Swede, pulling the bay stallion he rode to a halt.

"We’re just finishing up, Ike," answered Woodrow warily, cocking his head at a slant to keep his eyes shaded as he looked up at the Swede. "What brings you out this way?" Woodrow’s tone of voice held a warning that all the men noticed.

"I brought that package you were expecting," answered Ike cryptically in his thick Swedish brogue, grinning stupidly from ear to ear.

"We were just headed back to my place for some dinner, Ike," added Ennis, curiosity thick in his voice. "Won’t you join us?" A creak of saddle leather preceded Ennis mounting his horse.

"Ja. I’ll do that, Ennis. And, I thank you." Ike answered Ennis, spitting a fine stream of tobacco juice out the corner of his mouth, before meeting the icy glare in Woodrow’s eye. Another grin split his jaw.

Woodrow, feeling his brother’s eyes boring into him, refused to meet Ennis's. His mouth had gone dry at Ike’s announcement. There was only one thing he’d been waiting on, and it sure wasn’t no package. Shifting his gaze instead to French Jack and Jim Collier, who had finished loading the wagon with the few tools had their ears cocked to hear what Ike was saying.