Page 10 of Beyond Montana's Sky
So much for using diplomacy.
“You’ve come a long way.” Cai had to stop himself from saying her first name. “Mrs. Grayson, you must want to rest a bit and refresh yourself.” He jerked a thumb toward the team. “Rest your horses. Twenty minutes more to the house.” He fudged the truth a tad.Twenty minutes at a fast pace. More likely thirty with tired horses pulling a surrey.
“I suppose so. I can drive, though.”
“You’re about to cross a creek, and the water level is high from last week’s rainstorm.” He waited, knowing better than to push.
Edith obviously deliberated, and then nodded, handing him the reins. She picked up the muff and set it on her lap. Sliding over on the leather seat, she arranged her skirt around her legs and tucked her gloved hands into the muff.
Cai settled next to her, catching a whiff of rose perfume with a hint of spice, which made him lightheaded. He held himself back from dipping his nose closer to her neck for a deeper inhale. He flipped the reins and started the chestnuts trotting. A glance over his shoulder showed Rascal following.
At first, they drove in silence. Cai wasn’t usually at a loss for words. Indeed, even though technically the boss, with all the Andersons around him, sometimes he had to fight to make himself heard.
They came to the creek, and Cai slowed Edith’s horses. The ford was shallow and sandy, even with the recent rainfall. Still, one never knew what lurked below the water, and he was sure Edith would scold if fast-turning wheels kicked up drops to splash her.
Once on the other side, he heard the splashing as Rascal crossed. After a few minutes, he checked behind to make sure Rascal followed, and then nodded in satisfaction at the sight of his trusty steed trotting near the back wheel. He flicked the reins to start the chestnut moving at a faster pace.
Edith huffed. “That wasn’t too bad. I’m sure I could have handled the crossing.”
He winked at her. “I have no doubt.”
Another huff. “Oh, you!”
Cai couldn’t help chuckling at her irritated expression, sensing that she really wasn’t annoyed. “That creek loops around a bit.” He transferred the reins to one hand and sketched an S shape in the air. “The house, barn, outbuildings are in the top of the S. The Anderson Village is in the bottom.” He resumed his two-handed grip on the reins.
“Anderson Village,” she echoed. “I believe I’ve met your Andersons. Or at least, I recall some ladies with that surname. But I’ve never heard of a village.”
“The first American Andersons met my grandparents on the journey from the old countries to the West. After a series of incidents, the Welsh and the Swedes formed an alliance. Since the Andersons were dirt poor with no particular place they intended to settle, they came to work for my grandparents. They had a batch of sons grow to adulthood. Then those sons married and had children…. The place is overrun with Andersons. There’re more of them here than horses.”
She glanced at a nearby pasture, probably noting the thirty or so mares and foals grazing. “Oh, I doubt that.”
“Seems like it sometimes.” Cai grinned. “Think that’s why my grandfather decided to pen them up in a village. Keep them away from the castle, so to speak.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Now Iknowyou’re teasing me.”
He couldn’t resist. “The Andersons are like family, actually. But better, because they go home to their village instead of living in my house.”
Edith elbowed him. Seeming to recall her decorum, she stiffened and shifted away a few inches.
Something about you brings out the humor in me.Talking to Edith reminded him of a time when his parents were still alive—before Aurelia’s birth. He and the Anderson boys, and sometimes the girls, ran wild over the ranch. The children worked hard, of course. Taking care of the livestock, growing food, and doing other chores necessary for survival never stopped. They also had lessons with his schoolteacher mother. But they’d played just as hard and gotten into plenty of mischief.
Edith nodded in the direction of the house. “Was this your family’s original cabin?”
Cai slowed the team to a walk and guided the horses in a wide sweep to the left so she could view the wing perpendicular to the main house. He waved an arm. “That was the original cabin built by my grandparents. Now it’s the kitchen.”
He urged the horses onward to the front of the house.
A wide stone path laid down by his father from the barn to the house meant guests never got their feet muddy. Cai angled the surrey so Edith would dismount on the walkway.
The horses’ hooves on stone made a clipping sound. He drew up in front of the house and set the brake. “Welcome to Driscoll Ranch,” he drawled and waited, some apprehension tightening his stomach.Why I should care what she thinks?
But I do.
Young Frank-Swen Anderson, all of a strapping sixteen years of age, emerged from the barn, followed by his father Old Frank-Swen Anderson. Old F.S. wasn’toldper se. More Cai’s father’s age. But when a man was foolish enough to hand a son his name, then something had to give.
Both men looked at them with interest.
Cai’s foreman followed on their heels.Farfarbarked an order that had Old F.S. veering off in the direction of the horse pasture. Then the old man came toward them, curiosity apparent on his craggy face.
