The Wishing Tree

  The Wishing Tree

  By Catherine Snodgrass

  ISBN ISBN 1-55316-113-0

  Published by LTDBooks

  www.ltdbooks.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The Wishing Tree by Catherine Snodgrass

  ISBN 1-55316-113-0

  Published by LTDBooks

  www.ltdbooks.com

  Copyright © 2003 Catherine Snodgrass

  Artwork copyright © 2002 Trace Edward Zaber

  Previously published by RFI West.

  Published in Canada by LTDBooks, 200 North Service Road West, Unit 1, Suite 301, Oakville, ON L6M 2Y1

  All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law.

  National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Snodgrass, Catherine, 1953-

  The wishing tree [electronic resource] / Catherine Snodgrass

  Also available in print format.

  ISBN 1-55316-113-0

  I. Title.

  PS3569.N62W58 2003 813'.6 C2003-904987-6

  Chapter One

  Texas, 1878

  Grace Marshall thought she was alone. Her brothers and sisters had left for school hours before. Her mother had taken the wagon to town for supplies. And Pa? He was somewhere on the far side of the empty cornfield knee-deep in muck.

  A hot breeze tickled the damp curls sticking to her neck. It wasn't enough to dry the sweat. It never was. Swelter in the summer; freeze in the winter. Work and toil. Everyday. All day. The circle of life...or death. Like a hangman's noose.

  She bent to haul yet another piece of laundry from the basket. Lord, how her back ached! Barely kissing twenty and her body was failing her. She tossed the long johns over the line and stabbed them in place with the wooden pin.

  There it is again. That feeling that she wasn't alone.

  Shielding her eyes against the afternoon sun, she scanned the horizon. She didn't have to look far.

  A lone rider watched her from the knoll. Broad, dusty, bedraggled. His black horse looked in better shape than he.

  Despite the distance, she felt their gazes lock. It was then he moved, urging his mount forward. He was coming her way, stepping into her world, and somehow Grace sensed her life would never be the same again.

  This time the creak of leather reached her. His saddle, the holster strapped to his thigh, those dusty cowboy boots in the stirrups. The stubble of a beard darkened his sun-tanned face. A bedroll was perched on the horse's rear. This man looked like he'd been on the road for a while.

  Closer still, other details hit her. The red kerchief tied around his neck. The Colt .45 glinting from his well-used holster, the hilt of a bowie knife in a scabbard behind that, and the butt of a Winchester rifle rocking along with the stride of the horse.

  Grace's heart quickened. What if he were a bank robber or a gunslinger? He had come to their home to steal what little they had. To take advantage of the womenfolk. Why, just the thought of being ravished was enough to make her scream, even if she wasn't quite sure what that meant. All she knew was that it was different than what normally happened between a man and his wife. It was horrible to be ravished. Ma said so. And this man looked like he could crush her with one of those big, powerful hands. He'd haul her to the nearest pile of hay, lift her dress, and...and...

  She fanned the heat from her cheeks and reined her thoughts to a standstill. Ma was right. Grace spent too much time reading those blasted dime novels Pa brought home. A waste of precious time and money, Ma said. But Grace had caught Ma devouring the contents on more than one occasion.

  Nearly to her, the man tipped the brim of his gray cowboy hat in greeting. "Ma'am. I'm looking for Damon Marshall."

  Grace looked up. Eyes a shade darker than the sky studied her. Rider and horse guarded her from the sun. "That'd be my pa."

  "Name's Jake Tanner. Mind telling me where I can find him?"

  Her gaze fell to the gun in his holster.

  "I've been on the road for two days, Miz Marshall. A smart man doesn't travel unarmed. I've just come to collect on a note he gave my brother."

  She narrowed her eyes. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Tanner, but you look a little worse for wear for having been on the road only two days."

  A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He scratched at his whiskers to cover it. "Sorry, ma'am. I was out with the herd before heading this way. Didn't think to clean up first."

  "You look more like a gunman than a cowboy."

  He glanced around the Marshalls's dilapidated farm then crossed his forearms over the saddle horn and leaned forward. "And what kind of notorious act could your farmer father have done to bring a gunman to this place?"

  Point taken, even if his tone mocked her. Grace pointed to the sprawling field beyond the house. "You'll find him on the far side of the field."

  He flicked the brim of his hat once more and nudged his horse in that direction.

  Grace pulled a bed sheet from the basket and draped it over the line. Peeking around the edge, she watched Jake move away. He looked as good leaving as he did coming.

  The breeze caught the line of clothes and tangled the sheet around her. Grace slapped it down and shoved a pin over the line. The sheet curled around her again. Grace grabbed a fistful and tugged. The line snapped. A full morning's work lay on the grass. Now she'd have to start all over again.

  She glanced around. Still alone. No one would know the difference. It was grass, for crying out loud, and she had a lot more work to do.

  She plucked the heavy cording from the ground. Weighed down with wet wash, it took two hands to haul it over her shoulder. Stretching on tiptoe, Grace tried to thread the end into the hole on the wooden brace. It might as well have been a needle. The line was too heavy. She was wasting as much time trying to tie the dagblasted thing than she would if she'd taken the wash down in the first place.

  A pair of hands covered hers. Dark, long-fingered, callused. Startled, she jumped, then craned her neck backward. Jake Tanner. He tied the cord off with nary a blink, standing so close Grace could count the whiskers in his growing beard.

  "Ma'am." He tugged the brim of his hat her way, and swung back into the saddle.

  He was almost out of hearing range when Grace finally remembered her manners and hollered a thank you. Without turning, he raised his hand in response.

  Grace allowed herself a smile. He was just about the best thing she'd seen in Sleepy Eye...ever. She'd be thinking about him for a long time to come. Oh, yes...a long time.

  * * *

  Jake didn't know what made him turn around. The young woman wasn't that much to look at. Of course, it was hard to tell as work-worn as she was right now. She wasn't short or tall- just average. The same could be said of her shape, except that her bosom was lost in that faded gray dress she had on. Patches of it were damp from the wash and clung to her. Even that did nothing to bring out a hint of a figure. Her brown hair defied a thousand pins, strands of it drifting down her neck, around her face, into her eyes. And those eyes, again nothing special-big, round, brown, just like every single head of cattle on his ranch.

  So why turn around for another peek?

  It didn't matter. Doing so called him back to her side to help her with the broken clothesline.

  Thinking about it made Jake smile. She had pluck. He'd give her that. And more co
mmon sense than any other woman he'd ever met. Most would have tossed all the laundry back in the tub to wash. A waste of time as far as he was concerned. It was only grass, not a hog wallow. The laundry was on the ground for a total of five seconds. Still clean by his standards. Finally, he'd found a woman who agreed.

  He twisted around on the saddle to check again. Yep, there she was hanging clothes as if nothing had happened. She looked like a half-drowned puppy. The laundry fought her in the fast building breeze. She sidestepped it and tripped over her own tub. Jake bit back a laugh as she tumbled to the ground. She glared up at the line of wash, then dusted herself off and went back to it.

  Yep, pluck...and determination. From the look of this farm, she needed both. The barn was a little bigger than the clapboard house, but not by much. Both looked like they were held together by will rather than by nails. Jake didn't know how in the world the place held... How many young'uns had A.J. said the Marshalls had? Seven? Plus two adults?

  He shook his head. His brother was right. This was a wasted trip. But a debt was a debt and a man had to make good on it. If Jake let Damon Marshall get off without paying, how many others would start to take advantage? As it stood, he'd had plenty of time to pay for the cow. The damn thing had been with the Marshalls for a year. A.J. should never have let it get this far. But then, they'd had other problems to deal with.

  Jake skirted the horse around the field down a narrow road. It was the only place not mired in mud. The field itself, though newly plowed, looked hopeless. Just row upon row of goo and dirt clods. He didn't know how these people were going to carve out a life in this mess. But that's what the weather did to people. A blessing and a curse. Jake knew that all too well.

  The land took a gentle slope downward. A line of trees nearby hid the river. This was where Marshall had made his mistake. He'd planted on a flood plain. No man could be that stupid. Jake could only guess that Marshall hoped to take advantage of the water in the dry season by using it to irrigate. But one good downpour even miles upriver could wash it all away.

  He and Marshall saw each other at the same time. They both raised their arms in greeting. Marshall dropped the plow harness from his shoulders and started Jake's way.

  Jake waited by his horse. He could do little else. There was no place to tie the reins and he wasn't about to destroy Marshall's hard work by tromping the horse over the field.

  He watched the man's progress. Every other step sucked his feet into the sludge. In a week, maybe two, the mosquitoes in this place would be eating him alive.

  "Hello there, neighbor. What can I do for you?"

  "I'm Jake Tanner. My brother, A.J., sold you a cow about a year ago. I've come to collect on the note."

  Marshall slowed, his head bent to the task of getting through what remained of the field. The gesture was clear. Marshall didn't have the money. Jake's spirits dipped lower.

  Marshall took the last step onto the road, swept his hat off, and mopped the sweat from his forehead with a threadbare piece of gray calico. The same color as the daughter's dress...the same material and in just about the same condition.

  "About that...you see..."

  Here it comes. Jake didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to put the man through an awkward explanation. A.J. was right. He should have stayed home and let the matter go. True, they needed the money, but not near as much as the Marshalls.

  "We've had some rough times this last year. I kinda hoped to get her with calf then sell it to pay the note, but..." He let the excuse die. "I suppose you'll be wanting the cow back. She's a good one. Puts out the sweetest milk."

  The last thing Jake needed was another cow. No matter how sweet the milk.

  Marshall scuffed the road with his boot. "We really need her for the milk. If I could have a little more time." Forcing a smile, he waved his hand over the field. "I doubled my area. I'm hoping to have a good crop this year."

  Jake scanned the rows of clods. Only a miracle would turn this place around. Still, a man had his pride, and Jake wanted this done. "Do you have something to trade for the cow?"

  Marshall scratched his head, then smoothed his hair back in place and hid it under a hat so full of holes Jake doubted its effectiveness. "Got a couple of good layin' hens, but my wife would skin me alive if I gave you one. She sells the extra eggs to the general store. Kept us from starving a time or two."

  Awkward. Real awkward. Jake stared down the road in the direction of the cabin. There was a thought. "What about one of your children working off the debt?"

  The man gave a nervous laugh. "Out of seven young'uns, I got two boys. One's just about at the age to start helping me. The other one's the baby."

  "I wasn't thinking about one of the boys. I've got plenty of ranch hands. What we are shy on are womenfolk. My brother lost his wife last year. The woman we hired to help us is heavy with child and leaving soon." He pointed in the direction of the house. "I was thinking about your daughter."

  Marshall's forehead wrinkled. He slapped his hat on. "Grace?"

  Grace? Her name was Grace? The image of her falling over the washtub hit Jake. It was all he could do to keep from laughing. "Yes. She looks plenty sturdy."

  "She is that. Girl's got a strong back." Marshall mopped his neck. "Real good with the young'uns. A fair cook. A big help to her ma."

  "That's what we need. Since you've had the cow a year, she can work a year to pay the debt. If she's willing."

  "Oh, she'll do what she's told. Once the year's up?"

  Jake thought he heard a different question. Did he have to bring her back? No matter how much help she might be, she was just another mouth to feed. There were other daughters in the house to help out.

  "After a year, we'll offer her pay to stay on."

  A smile broke the man's weatherworn face. He stuck out his hand. "You got yourself a deal. You'll stay to supper. We'll tell the women afterward and you can head out by first light."

  They shook hands to seal the bargain.

  Jake smiled. It was a good deal after all. A.J. could eat his words. "Now, Mr. Marshall, if you'll show me a place to tie up my horse, I'll help you with the plowing."

  It was hard work to be sure; even Marshall's older boy came out to help after school. By the time they made their way back to the cabin, Jake was ready to call it a day. His mouth watered as he, Marshall, and the boy slipped behind the barn to wash up for supper. Whatever was cooking was heaven-sent. He was hot, dirty, and starved.

  "Smells good."

  Standing at the rain barrel, Marshall stripped to his waist and poured a ladle of water over his head. The second ladle went down his throat. "Grace makes the evening meal. Girl's a good cook."

  "She makes the best biscuits this side of the Mississippi," the boy added. "I could eat a pan all by myself."

  Jake could too this evening. He was covered in mud up to his knees. At least he had an extra set of clothes in his bedroll. The boots? Looked like he'd spend as much time cleaning them up as he had plowing. As they were, he'd have to leave them outside the front door and go to supper in his stocking feet. Marshall and the boy did the same thing. Then they crowded around the table to eat.

  Fried chicken, corn, biscuits and gravy were piled in the center. Jake caught a whiff of apple pie. His mouth watered in response. Sure beat anything he cooked up.

  Grace couldn't help staring at the man across the table from her. He had more manners and patience than anyone she'd ever met. He needed them since her mother sat him between her next younger sisters. They ogled him. Asked him one stupid question after another. Then giggled like the schoolgirls they were. Through it all Jake was a gentleman. He ate the meal Grace cooked like it was the best thing that had ever passed his lips. She was glad she managed to get it on the table without a mishap. Stepping over children-that was a miracle.

  "So, Mr. Tanner," Ma began, "what brings you to these parts?"

  Before he got the chance to answer, Pa broke in. "I bought that cow from his brother last year."
/>
  Oh, he was one of those Tanners. They had more money than anyone could count. At least that's what Grace had heard.

  Ma set her fork aside while Pa sopped up the last of his gravy with a biscuit. She looked sick or like she was going to cry. Grace couldn't tell for sure since she'd never seen her mother do either of those things...unless she was expecting.

  Grace glanced around the table. Another baby? That was just what they didn't need.

  "Relax, Mother. Everything's taken care of." Her father tilted his chair back on two legs and hooked his thumbs on his suspenders.

  He looked mighty proud of himself. But Ma wasn't buying it. She gave him a look that asked what in the world he had done now. Company kept her from demanding to know.

  "Grace will be going to work with the Tanners until the debt is paid. They're in need of a woman to run the house and care for the children."

  Grace's jaw dropped. She was going to live with the Tanners? Glory be! Fresh cotton sheets every night. Beds so soft you sank into them-alone. She wouldn't have to share with her two sisters anymore. And a house so big you needed a map to get from one room to the next. She couldn't believe her good fortune. Finally, finally, she was out of this godforsaken place.

  "Absolutely not," her mother said.

  Grace's hopes fell with her chin. Her heart squeezed so hard, it was all she could do not to cry. She stared at her tin plate and prayed she wouldn't start blubbering like a baby.

  "Leave it to a man to come up with an addle-pated plan like that." Apparently, company manners were no longer important. "Whose idea was this?" Ma's gaze nailed Pa. "Yours?"

  He fidgeted in his chair. "Well, no."

  Her head whipped around to Jake. "Yours?"

  Not as easily blustered-he obviously didn't know her mother-Jake looked her straight on. "Yes, ma'am, it was. You see-"

  "Do you have a daughter, Mr. Tanner?"

  "No, I-"

  "Do you honestly think I would allow my daughter to live with a bunch of cowboys for a year all alone, much less travel with you unchaperoned for...how many days to your ranch?"

  "Two, ma'am."