Early the following morning, when the sun was starting to wink above the soaring, jagged peaks and paint the sky in brilliant shades of pinks, oranges, and purples, Luella lay in the grass staring at Declan, naked from the waist up while he finished shaving, his small travel mirror carefully propped in the crook of a cottonwood tree.
He'd had a rough night, tossing and turning on his bed from his aching leg and unable to drown out Wren's admission of 'You're wrong. I reckon it was the both of you I needed,' running through his mind.
It had shocked, delighted, and undoubtedly terrified him to his core because, in all his twenty-nine years, no one had ever needed him. Not the way he knew Wren meant it, he thought with a frown, wincing as he nicked himself, then jumped and lowered his razor when Mae bolted out the front door in her nightgown and vomited around the corner of the cabin.
Muttering a curse, he wiped the residual soap from his face and held the towel to his jaw, pulling it away to see a bright red smear of blood staining the fabric just as Wolstan exited the cabin barefoot, wearing only a pair of trousers and holding a glass of water.
"I have a pocket full of ginger chews and some water," he said, slowly approaching the corner of the cabin she'd disappeared behind, "you want either one?"
Her answer came by way of more vomiting.
Wolstan cast a worried glance at Declan.
Declan pressed the towel to his face again, looked at it, and grunted when it came away with a small spot of blood, then draped it on his left shoulder and settled his hands on his hips. "Want me to wake Uncle Em?"
"No need," Emerson yawned from the doorway, dressed in his calf-length sleep shirt and trousers, scratching his head. "Pretty hard to sleep through someone on a mad dash down a ladder followed by violent retching."
"You and Mama sleep all right?" Declan asked as he and Luella followed Emerson over to Wolstan.
Emerson nodded. "Bed's a little lumpy, but sheer exhaustion and having full bellies—"
"Can you please," Mae groaned, bracing herself against the cabin where she knelt on the grass, "not talk about food right now?"
"Sure thing, my dear," Emerson murmured, eyeing her with concern. Then with a pat on Wolstan's left shoulder, he stepped around him and approached Mae, "You still feeling the same as you have since leaving Independence?"
She slowly nodded, hesitating before saying, "I was hoping it would go away once we stopped traveling."
"You think it's something serious like dysentery?" Wolstan asked, his brow puckered in a frown.
Emerson studied her as he murmured, "I think we all would have shown symptoms long before now if it was that. We ate and drank the same things she did the whole way."
"What is it then?"
"I can hazard a guess... feel like you're gonna vomit again?" Emerson asked Mae with a glance at Wolstan and Declan, "Or d'you want to wash your mouth out?"
Mae groaned, sat on the grass, and leaned against the cabin as she covered her face. "I want to sit for a minute and not answer any questions if it's all right."
Declan bit back a grin at her grumpy tone and decided to let his brother and uncle handle the situation.
"Mama still sleeping?" He asked, grabbing the towel from his shoulder and beating it against his thigh.
"Nope," Emerson said with a shake of his head, briefly meeting Declan's gaze and lowering his voice when he continued, "She's in the kitchen gathering everything she'll need to show Wren and Nessie how to make her breakfast casserole she was telling them about last night."
Declan grunted, then grinned wide when Mae scowled at him from the grass. Then, lightly punching Emerson in his right shoulder, he loudly whispered, "You weren't supposed to talk about food, Uncle Em; now you've got a ferocious beast on your tail. I'd approach with caution if I were you."
Mae's scowl intensified, and she braced herself against the cabin as she slowly rose to her feet. "Wooly, go get my pistol. Your brother needs a little reminding—"
"How about I hand you your glass of water instead?" Wolstan chuckled. "Or a ginger chew to settle your stomach?"
Declan threw back his head and guffawed, then doubled over in a fit of deep, rumbling belly laughter when Wolstan stepped protectively in front of him, shook his head, held out the water in one hand, a handful of ginger chews in his other and said, "He's a jackass, love. You know this. Now drink some water, and eat a ginger chew. I'm not letting you shoot him."
"Well, then he better get where I can't see him," Mae grumbled, glaring daggers at Declan over Wolstan's right shoulder, "Or I'm gonna chuck that glass at his head—"
"After you drink the water," Wolstan murmured.
"Of course," she grunted, taking the offered cup, swishing a mouthful around and spitting it out, then taking several careful sips until she'd drained the glass dry.
Wolstan glanced over his shoulder at Declan and hissed from the corner of his mouth, "I'd leave till she's simmered down if I was you."
A lopsided grin tilted Declan's mouth as he sighed and patted Wolstan on the back, "Appreciate you, little brother.... And fair warning, I'm hiding her pistol and bullets till we know what's going on with her."
Wolstan snorted a laugh.
Declan looked at Mae, his grin widening as she unwrapped a ginger chew and popped it in her mouth, "Love you, Mae."
Mae plopped her hands on her hips and nodded, closing her eyes and sighing before she said, "See you at breakfast, Declan."
"Feel better?" Wolstan asked Mae as Declan and Luella entered the cabin and closed the door.
"Emerson, dear?" Emmaline called out.
"It's me, Mama," Declan replied, picking up his shirt from last night and sniffing it before putting it on. "You need something?"
There was a short pause, then Emmaline walked into the main room, buttoning the last two buttons of her bodice, "A little help carrying the breakfast supplies over to the big house would be nice if you could?"
Declan's stomach flipped, and his heart raced at the thought of seeing Wren again after last night, but he nodded. "Just need to get my socks and boots on."
"Thank you, honey," Emmaline smiled, pressing a kiss to his left cheek and smoothing his hair into place before returning to the kitchen, "I'm gonna make sure I haven't forgotten anything, then I'll be ready to go."
Declan grunted in reply, raking his hands through his hair and staring at his scuffed and dirty boots by his bed as though they were the devil's spawn while his stomach twisted into a thousand knots.
"Everything all right with Mae?"
"Same as usual, lately," Declan replied, glancing up to find his mama watching him. "You ready?"
She nodded. "Your leg bothering you?"
"Yep," Declan lied without a second's hesitation. "Nothing I can't work through, though."
Emmaline walked to him and cradled his face in both hands, studying him before murmuring, "There's a lot more to life than work and pain, dear."
"Maybe for some people, Mama," he grumbled, kissing her forehead and retreating to his bed to pull on his socks and boots. "But not for me."
Wren was in the kitchen at the counter, her hair coiled in a bun, wisps falling in her eyes, up to her elbows in bread dough when Declan and Emmaline passed the window, followed moments later by a knock at the back door.
"I'LL GET IT," Eldon hollered, making Wren's ears ring as he opened the door. "Mornin', Luella, Declan, Emmaline... where're the others?"
"And good morning to you," Emmaline said, tousling his hair and joining Wren at the counter. "They'll be along shortly... need any help?"
Wren turned to her and wiped a flour-covered wrist across her forehead, "Know anythin' about bread makin'? Mine always turn out dense as bricks and just about as tasty."
Wiping the flour from Wren's brow, Emmaline smiled at her and nodded, "I know a few tricks. Want me to show you?"
Wren shoved her mass of lumpy, stiff dough aside and faced her, "Yes, please. Mama's tried several times, but I fear she's given up hope."
"Well, we can't have that," Emmaline grinned as she grabbed an apron and tied it around her waist, "considering all the heartache and problems in the world, bread is nothing to lose hope over."
Wren smiled and sighed, "I'll have to remember that."
"Help me gather the ingredients, and we'll make the best loaf of bread your mama's ever tasted."
"You ain't limpin' so bad this mornin'," Eldon chirped.
"Nope."
"Eldon," Wren chided, "What'd Mama say about bein' nosey?"
"That mean your leg's feelin' better?"
"Yup," Declan chuckled.
"Whatcha got in that crate there, Declan?"
"Mama's gonna show Wren how to make her breakfast casserole," he murmured, setting it on the table.
"It any good?"
"Yup."
"Won't be if m'sister makes it."
"Hey, now," Wren grumbled, her hands shaking as she measured the first three ingredients and dumped them into the bowl. "I heard that."
Emmaline settled a comforting hand on Wren's wrist, stopping her from spilling, and murmured, "Just wait, honey; he'll change his tune once he tastes this bread you're making."
Wren glanced over her shoulder and found Luella sniffing at the large metal canister storing Biscuit's food. "She hungry?"
Declan nodded at the canister, "That where you keep the dried fish you gave her yesterday?"
"She's welcome to it," Wren smiled. "I won't eat it."
Declan grinned, making Wren's heart kick against her ribs so hard she worried it might burst through and fall on the floor.
Glancing at Emmaline, Wren cleared her throat and resumed making bread, barely remembering the steps she'd already completed, "What next?"
Emmaline gave her a knowing look and patted her on the shoulder, but instead of commenting on the apparent attraction Wren held for Declan, she said, "Whisk that together, honey, and set a towel over it to seal in the warmth for a few minutes; let the yeast work its magic."
"Maybe that's what I've been doin' wrong this whole time," Wren frowned at the covered bowl, "throwin' it all together and chuckin' it in the oven, hopin' it'll turn out right."
"Might very well be," Emmaline giggled.
Wren gnawed on her lower lip, watching Declan at the table from the corner of her eye as he fed Luella a couple of fish strips and quietly answered one of Eldon's whispered questions.
At his reply, her brother excitedly retrieved a pencil and piece of paper, slapped it on the tabletop, and held the pencil out toward Declan. "You ever feel like that happens with people?"
"What? That we're thrown together, chucked in an oven, and have to hope for the best?"
Wren nodded.
Emmaline leaned against the counter and folded her arms under her bosom, "Sometimes... I'll admit it certainly felt that way traveling west—how's the yeast mixture coming along? Any bubbles yet?"
Wren lifted the towel and peeked, then moved the bowel so Emmaline could see. "That look right?"
"We want it a little more frothy than that before adding everything else."
"Eldon," Wren said, turning to find Declan still with Eldon, scribbling on the paper. "I'm gonna need an egg; you wanna see if you can find one of Drumstick's hidin' spots since the other eggs we gathered this mornin' we'll need for the casserole?"
"Nope. We's playin' tic-tac-toe," Eldon said, shaking his head as he looked up, "and I's winnin'."
"Not if I go here," Declan murmured, his lips curling in a devilish grin as he marked the paper, then tilted it up to show Emmaline and Wren he'd drawn his winning 'x' with a triumphant line through the row outside the grid. "Looks like I'm the victor of this match, young man."
Eldon's shocked and offended gaze darted between Declan and the table before settling on Declan. "That move legal?"
"Yep."
"You sure 'bout that?"
Declan winked at Wren and nodded at her baby brother, "Yep."
Eldon grunted.
"How about we help your sister now and go on that egg hunt?" Declan said, standing and scooting his chair in.
"Can Luella come?"
Declan looked at Wren, "You want her outside? She might stir 'em up."
"As long as she stays outside the coop, she'll be fine. Walter and Miss Tender will keep her in line," Wren grinned.
Declan quirked a brow. "These are chickens, right?"
"Walter's a rooster," Eldon chirped, "he's meaner than a rattlestake, and Miss Tender's a real sour apple hen, huh, Wren?"
"Rattlesnake," she corrected with a giggle. "And yes."
"Huh?" Eldon said, his face scrunched.
She shook her head and struggled to contain her mirth as she replied, "He's meaner than a rattlesnake, not stake."
"Isn't that what I said?"
"Close."
Eldon sighed and shrugged, then turned to Declan, who quickly hid his grin. "Like I says, they're both mean, so's watch yourself, or they'll peck yer eyeballs out."
"Well, we wouldn't want that to happen," Declan muttered, flashing a crooked smile at Wren before opening the door and following Eldon and Luella outside.
Resisting the urge to watch them through the window, Wren turned to Emmaline and tried to distract herself from thinking about how much she liked it when the handsome Declan Mitchell smiled at her, "Should we start makin' the casserole while we wait?"
After breakfast, Declan filled a bucket with water, grabbed a rag and bar of saddle soap, and wandered to the barn with Luella at his side, eager to begin the chore of cleaning the harnesses.
"Declan," Duke called behind him, jogging to catch up as he reached the barn door. "What are your plans for the day?"
Declan glanced at his bucket and rag, then met Duke's gaze and nodded toward the barn with his chin, "Harness cleaning."
"Oh, good, nothin' pressin'," he grinned.
Declan scoffed. "You have something else in mind?"
Duke repositioned his hat, then settled his meaty right paw on Declan's left shoulder, "You know how to ride a horse?"
"Yup."
"Like you was born in a saddle?"
"No one's ever referred to my mama like that before," Declan murmured with a mischievous wink and a shrug, "but I suppose that's one way of putting it."
Duke stared at him, his eyes narrowed, then a sharp crack of laughter, which quickly evolved into a volley of boyish giggles, tore from his throat, and he slapped Declan on the shoulder. "You're a scallawag, just like yer daddy."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Declan said, swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat.
"How would you like to come out with me today and take a sip of ranchin' life? See, maybe if it's somethin' you'd enjoy?"
Declan sighed, his gaze sliding from Duke to his waiting bucket and rag as Duke continued, "At the very least, you'll spend a few hours seein' the prettiest countryside on God's green earth, and I'll show you one of the best views of Falcon Ridge... make you glad your mama and Uncle Emerson dragged your hide from Tennessee."
The offer was more than tempting, Declan silently admitted as he lifted his head to look at Duke. And it provided the added barrier of distance between him and Wren that would be missing if he stayed and worked in the barn.
"All right," he nodded, "just let me set these inside, so I can start working when I return."
"I'll get a horse saddled for you," Duke grinned, readjusting the sling around his left arm, "then I'll meet ya 'round front near the hitchin' rail."
Declan walked inside the barn, pausing to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim interior before continuing to the tack room, where he set the bucket, soap, and rag on the workbench beside a slingshot and a leather pouch.
Curious to see if it held marbles or stones, he glanced over his shoulder and picked it up, smiling at finding it filled with round pebbles.
Returning the bag beside the slingshot, Declan hurried from the barn, stopping at the big house to poke his head through the kitchen door, unsurprised to find his entire family still talking with Wren and Nessie at the table.
"You mind if I leave Luella here while I ride out with Duke? I don't know how she'll behave around the herd, and don't want to risk her getting hurt or causing trouble."
Emmaline glanced at Nessie, and at her quick nod, she smiled, "That's fine, honey."
"Thank you," he grinned, then turned to Luella at his side and motioned for her to enter, "Inside, girl. You're staying here."
But Luella stared at him and refused to move.
Declan nodded toward the open doorway and settled his right hand on his hip, "Come on now, Luella, go inside."
She sat and stared straight ahead, ignoring him.
"Want me to try?" Wren asked, rising from her chair.
Declan swallowed twice and nodded, ignoring his thundering heart as he said, "Might need a little manipulation, I think."
"Luella," Wren called, opening the metal canister with the dried fish strips, "you want a treat, sweet girl?"
Her ears perked up, and she placed one paw on the threshold, but when Declan hung back, she resumed her former position and stared straight ahead into the open doorway.
"Ah hell," Declan grumbled with a chuckle, glancing at Wren as she approached with a fish strip.
"What?"
"Don't laugh," he muttered. Then favoring his right leg, he lowered himself onto his left knee beside Luella, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her against his chest. "I'll only be gone a little while, girl, not forever."
Luella licked his neck as she rested her head on his shoulder. Declan turned to her, "Does this mean you forgive me and we're friends again? 'Cause I'm still leaving you here while I go with Duke."
She leaned into him and huffed, then pulled away and shuffled dejectedly into the house, taking Wren's offered fish strip as she passed.
"We'll make sure she isn't lonesome," Wren tenderly smiled, flashing the dimple in her right cheek as he stood.
"I appreciate it," he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck and wandering to the edge of the porch with a backward glance, awash with guilt for leaving Luella behind while he went riding around with Duke. "You know what, Luella's gonna be moping till I return. I should just take her to the cabin—"
"She'll be fine."
"All right," he grunted, settling his hands on his hips. "I'll see you later."
"Enjoy yourself."
"I will," he said, though it felt like a lie.
She moved to close the door as he stepped off the porch but stopped and called out, "And if Papa tells you there's Canalligators in the Bolstead Canal, he's pullin' yer leg."
Declan snorted a laugh and allowed his gaze to linger a moment longer on Wren before she closed the door, then hurried to the hitching rail by the corral where Duke waited with two saddled horses.
"Ready?" He asked with a wide grin, petting the neck of a bay mare. "You'll be riding this one. Name's Sweetface."
"You're a beauty," Declan murmured, allowing the horse to get his scent before stroking her cheek and neck, silently assuring her she'd be safe with him.
"Yup, that she is," Duke said, adjusting the belly cinch. Then patting her rump, he added, "But don't let the name fool ya; she can be mean as a two-headed snake, so be gentle on the reins, or she'll teach ya to fly, then kick ya across the yard to make sure you remember the lesson."
"Thank you," Declan muttered, suddenly rethinking his decision to join the rancher.
"Aw, don't look so worried," Duke chuckled as he removed his sling, stuffed it in his pocket, and mounted the sorrel mare beside Sweetface, "She's like a good woman. Treat her right, and she'll love ya forever."