The Nanny Solution. Barbara Phinney
Читать онлайн книгу.
folded his letter. Roughly. “It’s a ranch, not a farm.”
“What’s the difference?”
Unceremoniously shoving the letter into its envelope, he answered, “A farm is usually smaller, and they raise crops like corn and wheat or various vegetables or fruit. A ranch is big, has strictly livestock, like cattle or sheep, or even horses. They are raised, bred and sometimes kept for years.”
“What do you have?”
“Mostly cattle. Though I do have a few sheep closer to the house.”
“Why?”
His head throbbed and he shut his eyes again. So many questions. “Sheep aren’t as good at fending off predators like wolves,” he answered. “Cattle are better at it.” He paused. “I once saw two cows make mincemeat of a wolf. They charged and gouged him with their horns right before my eyes. If I put the sheep out with the cattle, the wolves would go after them.”
He continued on, with more enthusiasm than he’d expected he would have. “Although, I am experimenting with a donkey in my herd.”
Victoria looked mystified. Her eyes widened, her lips parted. For a moment, he forgot what they were discussing. “A donkey? Why?”
Mitch cleared his throat. “They guard the cattle. They may look like they don’t care, but believe me, they hate dogs and wolves. And they have a powerful kick to them.”
Victoria removed her gloves, tugging one delicate finger at a time. It was fussy little gesture, he thought. And yet, in Victoria’s hand, it was slow and fascinating, a sheer, perfectly choreographed art form in itself. How could ladies possibly wear them for as long as they did? “How did you discover that?” she finally asked. “How long have you had your donkey?”
He blinked. Her questions were in strange contrast to his wandering thoughts. “When I first went West to take ownership of my land, I traveled with an old rancher who’d been on one of the original wagon trains. They used donkeys as pack animals and began to realize their potential as guards for their cattle. He suggested I get one. It wasn’t easy to find a docile one. Most are cantankerous because they’ve been overworked in the mines, but I found one that wasn’t so bad and took her out to the pasture. I haven’t lost an animal to wolves since she’s been there.”
“Are there a lot of wolves?” She leaned closer.
“Some. The rancher who owns the land next to me claims a wolf sired his dog’s pups.”
“Is that possible?”
“Yes, but the resulting animal is unpredictable at best. Not to worry. My donkey keeps my herd safe.”
John stood and tapped Mitch’s knee. “Will we be able to ride her? Like Jesus did in the church play?”
Mitch was surprised at his son’s knowledge of their faith. Agnes had taken the children to church? Apparently she’d been a good mother, after all. But that was all. Still, he shook his head. “No. She’s not broken. I’d have to break her first.”
“Why do you have to break her if she’s not broken?” the boy asked.
Despite his insistent headache, Mitch smiled wryly. “That means you can’t ride her.”
Crestfallen, John sat back in his seat between Matthew and Ralph. Were tears forming in his eyes?
The reaction cut into Mitch’s heart. He remembered when John was Emily’s size. Agnes had struggled to keep the boy full; he was so hungry all the time. He’d learned to crawl early, too, and had developed an interest in dangerous things.
John had been seven when Mitch left to start the ranch, two years ago. Mitch leaned forward. “But I have some ponies, and I’ll teach you how to ride them.”
John’s face lit up. Warmth spread quickly through Mitch, and as he glanced Victoria’s way, he caught her own soft, approving smile. The warmth increased, stopping his breath for a moment. He sat back quickly, clearing his throat and scowling at her.
Abruptly, Victoria looked as crestfallen as John.
She recovered quickly and leaned close. “If you’re not a gentleman farmer, how did you learn to read? I saw you reading that letter. The writing looked difficult to understand. And where did you live that you could learn to both read and to ranch?”
He offered a smile that tugged up one side of his mouth. “My mother had been a schoolmarm for years before she married. She was thirty by that time and quite set in her expectations.”
“Thirty! And she went on to have you?”
“Then my two brothers. And being set in her ways meant that not even my father could change her mind when she said she was going to teach us everything she knew.”
“She would be very proud of you if she saw how well you read that letter.”
Mitch shook his head. “I didn’t read it that well. Lacewood’s handwriting is difficult. He stretches out every letter.”
“Then he needs your mother leaning over his shoulder as he writes.” She smiled. “Where did you grow up? In Boston?”
He folded his arms. Was she saying that Boston was so big that the classes of people would never intermingle? Fighting sudden irritation, he answered, “No. I grew up near a small town on the shores of Lake Michigan.”
“Michigan? I saw a map of our route at the depot. It won’t be so far from us as we travel. Perhaps your family can come to visit you someday.”
“Unlikely. My father has a large farm and is reluctant to leave it.”
“And now you own ranch land.” She turned pensive. “It’s good to own land, I think. I should like to again, some day.”
Again? So she was without money and desperate enough to take the first job offered her without asking about its details. She’d been as desperate as he’d been.
Fine pair. But that was the only thing they had in common. “Even better to own both the land and the minerals under it.”
Mitch shut his mouth, inwardly reprimanding himself for allowing that to slip out.
A frown marred Victoria’s perfect features. “I don’t know what that means.”
“No one has the right to mine my land. It was a provision allotted to a few ranchers at the beginning of the process of selling government land. It stopped after someone realized what exactly they were giving away.”
“What were they giving away?”
“The right to own all the coal, fine stone and such. All the minerals that are underground. And the rights to do with them as you please.”
“But the government is building the West. It doesn’t seem fair to hoard it.”
Mitchell frowned at her. “What do you think should be done?”
“The minerals under your land should be mined. I hear the gold rush has helped Proud Bend prosper. Shouldn’t we do this to help our country?”
She couldn’t be that naive about big business, could she? Was she really hinting that he should give away his rights for the good of the country?
“I mean,” she amended, “you should at least look at what’s there.”
“A prospector already did a good assessment. I know exactly what’s under my land.” There was coal and silver as well as a small amount of gold and gemstones, the prospector had told him after surveying the sharp gully at the western edge of the north pasture.
“Then why aren’t you mining?”
“I don’t believe we should tear apart a land to extract a few tons of whatever is under it. The beauty of God’s creation should count for something. And the land above needs to feed cattle. I’m not hoarding anything.