A Cattle Drive to Mend Two Hearts (Preview)

Prologue

Wyoming Territory, March 1874

A chilly spring wind was moving through the range grass toward the small cemetery on top of a rise. There, a few dozen mourners stood gathered, most dressed in black, quiet and solemn as a Methodist preacher read verses from the Bible. 

Though the wind blew steady and raw on Addie Prescott’s face as she stood at the grave of her father, it didn’t stop the tears streaming from her eyes.

Addie hated to cry in public, but the grief of the occasion had finally overcome her as the men lowered the casket into the hole then pulled up the ropes and stepped back to wait for the conclusion of the service. 

She looked down into the freshly dug grave, her father’s casket far down at the bottom, out of reach, shadowed from the morning sun. A groan of grief welled up in her throat. Pearl, her long-time confidant, put an arm around Addie’s shoulder.

She tore her eyes away from the casket and looked at her mother’s headstone standing next to her Pa’s. She had never known the woman—Emma Prescott died after giving birth to her only child. 

Pearl squeezed her shoulder as another groan of grief rumbled up in Addie’s throat. At least they’re both together again now, she thought, the taste of tears salty in her mouth.

“Jesus said: ‘I am the resurrection and the life,’” the preacher intoned, dressed in a black suit and white clerical collar. “The Lord said, ‘Whosoever believes in me will live… even though he shall die.’”

I believe you’re with Ma now, Pa. I do.

“And so, as we commit the mortal remains of David Prescott to the earth, we take comfort that his spirit has gone to be with his Savior. Dust returns to dust, ashes to ashes, but the spirit goes on. Amen.”

The preacher finished the service with a prayer, closed his Bible, and put a final amen on the occasion.

“Amen,” Addie echoed. She took a deep breath and put her head on Pearl’s shoulder as the gathering slowly began to disperse. Some came over to Addie, offered their condolences.

She shook their hands, said her thank you in a kind of daze, numbed by grief and the weight of the occasion. 

“Shall we get you back to the house?” Pearl asked gently when the crowd had thinned.

Before she could reply, Addie saw a tall, well-built man making his way toward them, hat in hand. Her chest tightened in surprise and recognition, followed by a flare of unbidden anger. Why is Cole here? Does he think Pa left him something?

 Then he was standing before them, intense brown eyes looking into hers. “Miss Prescott,” Cole said with a solemn nod.

“Hello, Cole.”

He glanced at Pearl, gave her a nod before turning back to Addie. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” she replied simply. The anger had faded, numbness returned.

“Johnson County has lost a good man. One of the best,” said Cole, his eyebrows lifting in emotion.

Addie took a deep breath, put on a brave face. “Yes.”

He nodded again, dark, tousled hair blowing in the cold breeze, skin pale, bringing out the dull red scar on his temple. Cole turned and walked away, putting on his hat as he went.

She watched him go for another moment. “Let’s go back to the house now, Pearl.”

The ranch house was still wonderfully warm when they returned in the buggy. Virgil, Pearl’s husband, had built up the fire before they left for the cemetery, and it was burning brightly in the stone fireplace.

Addie took off her bonnet, threw it on the couch, and took a seat before the blaze to warm her hands. The fireplace was built of different colored stones gathered from around the area, which warmed after the fire had been on awhile, giving off a wonderful, ambient heat. The spacious house was built of large, peeled pine-logs, which also held the heat, making it a comfortable abode during the cold Wyoming winters. 

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Virgil said to his wife, giving her a peck on the cheek before leaving to put the buggy away and set the horses out to pasture. 

As the old ranch hand closed the door behind him, Pearl, the family cook ever since Addie could remember, began filling the kettle with water. “Care for a cup of chamomile tea?”

“Yes, please,” Addie said with tired smile.

She knows what a comfort a sip of chamomile is when I’m feeling anxious or upset, Addie thought in appreciation. 

Like today… 

On top of everything else, she was a bit rattled from seeing Cole Hargrove at the funeral. She’d had no idea that he would be there.

“Pearl?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Did you know Mr. Hargrove was coming today?” 

The older woman smiled gently, bringing out the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. “Yes. He and your father were so close. I thought he should know that David had passed on, so I wrote to Cole to let him know when the funeral was.”

“I see.” Addie didn’t know if she liked that or not.

Pearl put the teapot on a serving tray, along with a couple of clay mugs. “He respected your father so much, Addie.”

She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Oh, and he gave us his mailing address—in case we ever need him here at the ranch.”

Addie wanted to laugh scornfully, but stifled the impulse. 

Need Cole Hargrove at the Bar A? Not likely. He was a bounty hunter now. She turned back to the fire, irritated, holding out her hands toward the flame.

When Pearl brought the tray over and put it down on the coffee table, there was an envelope sitting next to the tea mugs. She picked it up and held it out toward her. “Here’s his address. Just in case.”

Addie didn’t reply but grabbed the envelope, stood up, and tucked it away in the bookshelf. 

“Out of sight, out of mind?” Pearl teased gently.

“Yes.” Pouring herself a cup of the steaming brew, Addie sat down again and took a slow sip. “Ahhh,” she exhaled afterward. “Thank you for the chamomile.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

Leaning back in the armchair’s comfortable embrace, Addie began to relax. 

She loved Pearl. The woman had been her caregiver as well as the ranch-house cook since shortly after her birth; had been her closest confidant next to her father. It was the nearest relationship to a mother figure she would probably ever know. 

She treasured Pearl for that; loved her and Virgil and their son like family.

Sitting there before the warm fireplace, the two women began talking of lighter, more hopeful things. Recent occurrences, large and small, in the business of running the ranch.

This felt more comforting than the tea for Addie. At twenty-one years old, it was a reminder of the daily routines that had shaped her life, and her Pa’s too. A comforting reminder that most of those routines would continue. 

For a while, the grief of his passing receded into the background.

 When the tea was gone, her eyes were getting heavy. Virgil came back in through the kitchen door, Addie’s dog following him inside. “Here, Scout!” she called.

The dog bounded over to her chair, put its paws up on the lap of her skirt, and she gave him a hug. “How are you doing today, boy?” She scratched behind his ears and Scout smiled, his tongue lolling in enjoyment. “It’s good to see you.”

He was a highly intelligent six-year-old, shepherd-collie cross, trained to be a watchdog for both her and the ranch; a constant, faithful companion.

“I think it’s nappy time for us, Scout. It’s been a real tough morning and I’m feeling tired.” She glanced at Pearl. “I’m going upstairs to catch some winks.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later, Adelaide.”

After giving Virgil a few instructions to relay to the ranch hands about the day’s work, Addie made her way toward her bedroom, climbing slowly up the stairs with Scout close behind.

The dog lay down at the foot of the bed as she got under the covers. When Addie lay her head on the pillow her body was relaxed, but the sorrow slowly began to come to the fore again, until her eyes welled up and spilled over with tears.

“Oh, Papa,” she whispered. “I love and miss you so much. I wish you were still here.” She licked her lips, tasted salty tears again. “But I understand. Life must go on. I’ll do my best to keep the ranch running just like you taught me.” 

 Chapter 1

April 1874

A month after her father’s funeral, Addie was still coming to grips with the fact she was the new boss of the Bar A ranch. 

As David’s only child, his Last Will and Testament had stipulated that she was the sole heir of the business and all his property. He had also left her a surprise in the form of a sealed letter to be opened after his death. In it, with heartfelt confidence, he assured Addie of his belief in her abilities as a business owner and a strong woman; encouraging her to trust those who had always been close to the Prescott family. 

This letter made her even more grateful for the support of Pearl, Virgil, and their son, Chester.

Yet she was finding out it was one thing to be the daughter of the boss and quite another to step into his shoes. People deferred to her authority now, but Addie knew she needed to prove herself worthy of their trust in order for the ranch to continue to be a success.

 

One morning in early April, she rode over to the corral where Chester ‘Ches’ Whitaker was breaking in a new horse. A few of the hands were gathered outside the corral fence, some leaning casually against the rails watching the action, others standing on a bottom split-rail to yell out their support for the rider.

Addie rode up to join them and dismounted to watch.

Chester was like the big brother she’d never had. Four years older than her, tall and wiry, with a bright shock of blonde hair flying in the air as the horse bucked and jumped. His hat lay on the ground inside the corral, splotched by spring mud, crumpled nearly flat by the horse’s hooves.

“Go, Chester!” one of the hands called out. “Hang in there, boy!”

As if on cue, the bucking animal gave a mighty heave and Chester sailed from the saddle, landing with watery thump in the mud.

“Oh, dear,” Addie murmured under her breath.

 But the mud had provided a softer-than-usual landing. Chester got up quickly and brushed off a few sticky brown clumps from his chaps with a grin.

When he spotted Addie outside the corral, his smile widened. “I’m gonna take a little break, fellas. Alright?”

“No problem, Ches,” an older hand said. “You’ll bust that bronc yet.”

“Dang right I will!” he replied with bravado, picking up his crushed hat and hitting it on his knee a couple times, then punching out the top until it regained a semblance of its usual shape. 

“G’mornin’, Addie,” he said, strolling toward her.

“Good morning! How’re you doin’, Ches?”

“Any better and I couldn’t stand it, boss,” he said good-humoredly, “though my hat is havin’ a rough time of it.”

Addie chuckled and glanced at the battered Stetson. “So I see.”

“Did you come over just to watch me tame this horse, or is there something more important on your mind?” 

They enjoyed bantering with one another. Everyone knew they’d been friends since childhood. Since Addie had become the owner of the ranch, their close relationship had continued; just as it had when Pa appointed Chester trail boss for the annual cattle drive.

The only difference now was that Chester seemed to get a sarcastic yet amiable delight in calling her ‘boss’. But Addie didn’t mind; his humor lightened the pressure of her new responsibilities. 

Beneath the brash exterior, he was a humble man. She loved how he’d continued to break new horses after becoming a boss himself. Chester had no obligation to do that. But he was a cowboy’s cowboy, loved the life, and led by example. 

“I’d like to talk with you about the drive today, Ches, when you have a minute.”

“Sure thing.” He glanced over at the other hands, who were drifting away toward the cookhouse for coffee. “Now seems good a time as any.”

She nodded. “Since the ranch’s herd is looking like it’ll be substantially bigger this year, you think maybe we should leave for Cheyenne a few days early on the drive?”

Chester tossed his hat casually onto the top of a fence post, ran a hand through unkempt straw blonde hair. “I was thinkin’ that myself, Addie. Good idea.” He paused. “Wait a minute… did you say ‘we’?”

“Yes, why?”

“We, as in …” He pointed at her then back at himself. “You figure on comin’ along too?”

Addie was taken aback. “Of course. Pa always went with our cattle drives.”

His blonde eyebrows lifted. “Sure… but you’ve never been on a drive before. It’s a tough go; not really a good place for a woman out there.”

She crossed her arms across her chest. “Not even if that woman is your boss?”

His face flushing a bit, Chester glanced down at his boots and chuckled. “Well, you’ve got me there, Addie. I can’t rightly tell you not to come along.”

“I want to get a look at everything; the business is my responsibility now. But don’t worry. Pa taught me all about the drives. I know what I’m getting into, even if I’ve never been on one.” 

“It’s your decision to make. I get it. Me and the boys will watch your back out there.”

“Good. Thanks, Ches.”

“Last week of April should give us enough of a head start; weather permitting,” he offered.

“That sounds good. I’ll start arranging the details with Virgil.”

Chester brightened. “Hey, speaking of decisions, you hear about me and Flora yet?”

As soon as he said it, Addie knew what it was and a smile came to her face. “You didn’t?”

“I surely did,” he replied with a grin. “We’re set to be married.”

 Flora Maddox was the daughter of the couple who owned the bakery in Redstone Bluff; a bright, demure young woman whom he’d been courting for almost a year.

“That’s great, Ches! Congratulations.” She put a hand on his forearm. “You’ll make a wonderful couple.”

“Thanks. Yeah, we’re real excited about it.” A look of concern crossed his face. “I hope it’s not too soon after your pa’s passing and all.”

“No, no. I love it. This is good news.” She gave him a hug—something she’d never do with any other employees except Chester’s mom and dad. But the rest of the hands understood how it was. “I’m happy for you two.”

“Thanks, Addie.”

“Have you set a date yet?”

“Not yet, but we’re thinkin’ it’ll be a month or so after the drive… somewhere around the beginning of June. Besides, I wouldn’t miss your first trail drive for anything.” He winked mischievously.

“Oh, you rascal,” she teased, shaking her head. “I just hope you’re not going to make too much fun of me while I’m learning the ropes.”

Chester scratched his head with a comical, puzzled expression. “I thought you said you knew all the ropes?”

Addie laughed. “You better go join the boys for coffee—they might think you’re sweet on me or something.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied crisply with a mock salute. 

Turning away with a grin, Chester snatched up his mud-stained hat from the fence post and strode toward the cookhouse.

 

In the early afternoon, Addie was in the ranch office conferring with Virgil about cattle-drive plans, when the door burst open and one of the cowhands stuck his head inside.

“What is it?” Virgil asked.

“Ches got thrown and hurt his leg bad.”

Virgil stood up. “How bad is it?”

“His knee hit the fence, twisted it up. We carried him over to the bunkhouse.”

“Can he ride?” Addie asked.

“I don’t believe so, ma’am.” 

“Then send a rider for the doctor in Redstone Bluff.”

“We already did.”

“Thank you, Ron. Why didn’t you bring Ches here to the house?”

“Well… we were gonna but he insisted—said he wanted to go to the bunkhouse with the boys instead,” Ron said with a shrug. 

Virgil grabbed for his hat. “I’m gonna go see how’s he’s doin’.”

Addie got to her feet too. “Okay. I’ll let Pearl know what happened.” 

Virgil gave her a nod before he and Ron hurried out the door.

That’s just like Ches, Addie thought. He wanted to stay with his men. I hope he’s going to be alright.

When she made her way over to the ranch house and broke the news to Pearl, her friend was understandably distraught. A severe injury to a cowhand’s leg—even a trail boss—could end their career, or at least their working career on the trail. 

Chester had been boss on just a few drives, but he’d flourished in the role. There was a promising career there ahead of him… if he could continue with it.

 Pearl’s face seemed to convey that concern also as the two women sat together across the kitchen table, arms stretched toward each other, holding hands.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. He’s a young man, Pearl. Ches will bounce back from this,” Addie said, squeezing her hand.

“I hope so,” she replied somberly. “He did so well as trail boss. Ches loved it; he was in his element.”

“I know.” Addie said gently. “He’s got the knack. And all the men look up to him.”

Pearl sighed. “If only he wasn’t such a show-off sometimes. I know he’s good at breaking horses… he was always so proud of that. Maybe he took it a little too far this time?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” Addie replied. “I saw him working in the corral this morning, covered in dirt, doing a great job with a tough horse. The hands were cheering him on.”

“I wish he didn’t have to keep on with the horses like that,” Pearl lamented. “I don’t why he kept insisting on it.”

Addie patted her hand. “It’s like you said. Ches loves it. And the men respect the way he pitches in like that.”

“Yes. I suppose so.”

To help ease Pearl’s worry, Addie suggested they make coffee. So, the women bustled about the kitchen together then sat down to drink a cup. 

Her own worry was starting to get to her. 

What if Ches couldn’t lead the drive? 

There was no one else on staff qualified to do it.

Addie put her mug down on the table and said, “I think I’ll take a walk over to the bunkhouse and see how he’s doing.” 

 “I’ll wait here,” Pearl said. “I don’t want to see him until Doc Hamilton looks at his leg. It might be too upsetting for me to see him now. You go on ahead, Adelaide.”

Addie put her coat on and kissed her friend on the cheek. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be okay, Pearl.”

The older woman nodded somberly.

Grabbing her hat, Addie stepped out onto the porch. The early-April afternoon was chilly though more snow had melted in the yard and out on the range. If the weather continued that way, they could begin roundup soon and be ready for an early drive—provided they had a trail boss.

As she walked across the property toward the bunkhouse, Addie realized if Chester wasn’t able to lead the drive that year, she wouldn’t be the one to do it, either. She didn’t have on-the-ground experience leading a drive. Sure, she had listened to her father talk about it in detail many times; she’d asked questions, pictured it in her mind.

But, just like being a ranch owner wasn’t the same as picturing it in one’s mind, she was practical enough to know that being a trail boss would not be the same as she imagined it to be. Even with all Pa’s teaching, she had never actually done the job.

If Chester couldn’t lead the drive, they would have to find someone else.

The bunkhouse hitching rail was crowded with horses. 

Looks like most of the hands are here with him. She saw Virgil’s horse tied at the rail also.

One of the men was standing outside, rolling a cigarette. It was Ron. “Hi, Miss Prescott.”

“Hello, Ron. How is Ches doing?”

The beefy cowhand pursed his lips. “Hurting somethin’ fierce. But he’s taking it well, ma’am. We offered him a shot of whiskey and Ches refused, says he wants to keep his mind clear for when the doc gets here.”

The injury sounded bad indeed. But she was glad to hear her friend was bearing up. “That sounds like him, alright. He’s a good man.”

“He surely is,” Ron said, putting the rollie to his lips and fishing in a pocket for a match. “Ches wanted us to stick around, keep his morale up till the doc gets here, and Virge said it’s okay. He’s in the first bunk, ma’am, closest to the stove to help keep him warm. Marcus gave his bunk up for him.”

Addie loved the caring code of the men and their camaraderie. It was inspiring.

“Thank you, Ron,” she said then stepped inside.

The bunkhouse was warm; the stove well stocked and nearly glowing in the dim interior. She saw Virgil sitting on a chair next to the bunk where his son lay beneath a blanket covering the lower half of his body. 

The other men were scattered about the long room; some reclining on their beds, reading, or talking to their neighbor. Others sat at the table, sipping coffee and talking quietly. 

A few of them—minding their manners when they saw a woman enter—stood up immediately. Addie waved them off. “It’s okay. Please… sit.” 

She stepped over to where Virgil was slumped on the chair.

Chester was awake and clear-eyed, looking pale but determined. His eyes followed her as she approached. “We’ve got a visitor, Pa.”

Virgil’s head jerked up like he’d been dozing. “Doc Hamilton here?”

“It’s Addie, Pop.” Virgil turned his head and saw her, his face pale and drawn.

“How are you doing, Ches?” Addie asked.

“Been better.”

“Mind if I sit down?”

“Not at all. Can somebody bring this woman a chair?” he called out weakly.

Markus Travers was first to grab a chair from the table. He brought it over and placed it next to Virgil’s.

“Thanks, Marcus,” Addie said.

He nodded and respectfully went back to the table, giving them space and privacy. She noted his sensitivity to the situation and appreciated it greatly. 

The murmur of quiet conversations resumed as she sat down. Suddenly, Addie realized this was her first time addressing a major injury as ranch owner. She felt ready. “Rumor has it you had a run in with a corral fence,” she said gently.

Chester grunted, smiled wearily. “Yeah. Good news travels fast.” It was his customary sarcasm, but spoken through gritted teeth. The man was in a great deal of pain and struggling not to show it. 

“How’s the leg doing?” Addie asked. 

“You don’t wanna see it. Trust me: it’s a mess.”

She rested a hand on his forearm. “Hang in there. Doc Hamilton should be here any time now.”

“Good,” he replied. “The knee stings a bit.”

“What happened in the corral?”

A look of regret appeared on his face. “It seemed like that horse was starting to calm down just fine; losing all his fight. So, stupid me thought I’d take a victory lap near the fence, run past the boys.” He grunted. “That was a little… premature.”

“Soon as I got near the fence, the dang bronc kicked up and threw me right into the rails. I swear, Addie, it was like he suckered me into it. Like he knew what he was doin’! My left leg got tangled between a couple rails; all my weight came down on the knee.”

“Oh my goodness,” she said, squeezing his arm gently.

“Made a nasty tearing sound. I don’t know if the doc’s gonna be able to fix it or not.” Chester’s face twisted with emotion. “Either way… I probably won’t be able to make the drive this year. I’m sorry, Addie.”

She patted his forearm. “Don’t you be worrying about that. Right now you need to focus on getting better; letting that leg heal.”

He nodded. 

“We’ll get you the best care available.”

“Thank you, Addie.” 

I will need to find a new trail boss for this year’s drive… and soon.

She looked at Virgil. “How’re you holding up, old timer?”

He looked crushed with worry, but Virgil managed a smile. “Holdin’ on.”

“Good to hear it. Can you ask Doc Hamilton to come see me at the house after he’s finished tending to Ches’s leg?”

Virgil nodded.

“Thanks.” She stood up. “I’ll see you at the house.”

 

Back at the ranch house, Pearl was sitting in front of the fire. She startled when Addie came in the kitchen door, then hurried over to where she was taking off her coat. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s in pain but bearing up well. Virgil’s going to stay with him until Doc Hamilton gets there.”

Pearl paused then asked, “How’s his leg?”

“I didn’t get a look at it.”

“Come on now, you can tell me, girl. How did it happen?”

Addie related how Chester was thrown into the fence and twisted his knee. 

Afterwards, the older woman was quiet for a minute. “You’re gonna need a different trail boss for this year’s drive, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Addie sighed. “Ches was the first one to come out and say that his leg won’t be healed in time for this year’s trip. He apologized that he can’t make it.”

Pearl went over to the bookshelf, pulled out the envelope from between the books, and held it out toward her.

“Cole Hargrove?” Addie said in surprise. “He has trail boss experience?”

“He led the drive a year or two when we needed somebody to step in. Don’t you remember? Did a fine job, too.”

Hiring Cole was the last thing Addie wanted to do—experience or no experience. “I don’t know, Pearl …” 

“I understand how you feel about him. You two weren’t on good terms when he left the ranch. But he’s a trustworthy man; your Pa trusted him fully.”

“I don’t like him… fully!” Addie spit out the words with such force that it surprised her.

Pearl took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “It’s three weeks until the cattle drive. Do you have any other candidates in mind?”

And there it was. She couldn’t think of even one. The time frame was just too short. Marcus was lead foreman and could fill in, but there was no one to take his place. They were short staffed as it was.

“Even if we ask Hargrove, he may not be available,” she said, more to comfort herself than anything. 

Or maybe God will answer yes if I pray for a different trail boss.

“Well, you’re the boss now, Addie,” Pearl said with a shrug. “It’s up to you whether you want to write him or not.” She tossed the envelope onto the kitchen table and went back to her chair in front of the fireplace. 

Addie stared at the piece of paper. 

Pearl’s right, as usual. I’d better write him… just in case. Why is she always right? 

She stepped forward and scooped up the envelope. “I need to do what’s best for the ranch, Pearl. I suppose we’d better ask him then.” Addie didn’t want to use the word ‘I’ when it came to asking Cole Hargrove anything. They resented each other so much. Or at least it seemed that way to Addie. When Cole left the ranch a few years earlier, they could barely speak to each other without her getting angry. She wasn’t sure why.

And now she had to ask him to come back and lead a cattle drive?

Her stomach roiled at the thought, yet there seemed to be no alternative.

A consoling thought came to her. Maybe we’ll hear about somebody else who can do the job before Cole gets the letter.

She turned and strode toward the staircase. “I’m going upstairs for a while. Can you let me know when Doc Hamilton comes to the house?”

“Okay, dear,” Pearl replied, with a smile that clearly said I told you so.

Addie bounded up the stairs. Why does she always need to be right?