Chapter 3 - Seven Devils Meet Their Match
Clementine did not scream.
That disappointed the twins immediately.
She did not gasp.
She did not drop the boot.
She did not call for Josiah.
She simply stared into the foul mixture filling the leather, then turned the boot upside down over an open window.
Mud and manure dropped into the yard.
Three cactus needles stuck stubbornly near the heel.
Clementine removed them with kitchen tongs.
She repeated the process with the second boot.
Above her, Jasper mouthed, Why isn't she mad?
Cole shrugged.
Clementine washed the boots.
Scrubbed them.
Dried them.
Put them on.
Still she did not look toward the loft.
Then she lit the stove.
The children exchanged disappointed looks.
Five minutes passed.
Ten.
Fifteen.
A skillet warmed.
Bacon began to crackle.
That smell drifted upward.
Rebellion became difficult.
Then came butter.
Then biscuits.
Then blackberry preserves Clementine had brought in one of the smaller cases packed inside her trunk.
Emmett crawled toward the ladder.
Wyatt grabbed his shirt.
"No."
Emmett stared at him.
"Bacon."
"No."
"Bacon."
"We wait."
Emmett considered this.
Then bit Wyatt's hand.
"Ow!"
The four-year-old escaped.
Pearl followed.
Mave followed Pearl.
Soon the twins surrendered.
Sadi was next.
Wyatt remained alone for thirty seconds.
Then his stomach growled.
He descended.
The kitchen table was full.
Eggs.
Biscuits.
Salt pork.
Potatoes fried with onion.
Blackberry preserves.
Clementine stood beside the stove.
"Sit."
Everyone sat.
Even Wyatt.
She placed a plate in front of Emmett.
Then Pearl.
Then Mave.
When she reached Cole and Jasper, she stopped.
"After breakfast, you two will clean the outhouse."
Both boys froze.
Josiah looked up.
"Why?"
Clementine finally glanced toward the loft.
The twins followed her gaze.
Their faces went pale.
"How'd you know?" Jasper asked.
"Your boots."
They looked down.
Mud covered both pairs.
Cole attempted bravery.
"Maybe we walked by the creek."
"At four in the morning?"
Silence.
Clementine put breakfast on their plates.
"You will scrub the outhouse."
"That's not fair," Cole complained.
"Correct."
He blinked.
"What?"
"Fair would be filling your boots with what you placed in mine. I am choosing mercy."
Sadi made a choking noise into her cup.
Jasper looked betrayed.
"You laughing?"
"No."
"You are."
Clementine turned toward Wyatt.
"And you."
His expression hardened.
"What?"
"You knew."
"You can't prove that."
"No."
She set his plate down.
"So you will help your father mend the west fence."
"That's already my job."
"Excellent. Then your punishment will barely inconvenience you."
Josiah hid a smile behind his coffee mug.
Wyatt saw it.
"You think this is funny?"
"No."
"You do."
Josiah looked at Clementine.
For the first time in years, something unfamiliar moved through the kitchen.
Not happiness exactly.
Order.
He had forgotten how peaceful order felt.
After breakfast, Clementine established rules.
No knives at the table.
No animals in the kitchen unless the animal was becoming supper.
No leaving tools in the yard.
No insulting siblings during meals.
Everyone worked.
Everyone ate.
Anyone deliberately ruining another person's belongings repaired or replaced them.
Wyatt listened with narrowed eyes.
"You can't make us."
Clementine folded her arms.
"No."
That surprised him.
"I cannot make you become decent people."
The children stared.
"I can only decide what happens in my kitchen."
She nodded toward the pantry.
"If you want what comes out of it, you will contribute to what goes into it."
Wyatt looked toward Josiah.
"You letting her do this?"
Josiah took a long drink of coffee.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you're sitting at a clean table eating your second biscuit."
Wyatt had no response.
The first week became warfare disguised as domestic labor.
Clementine woke before dawn.
She worked relentlessly.
But unlike the previous women Josiah hired, she did not attempt to do everything herself.
That changed the household.
Sadi was placed in charge of morning bread.
She complained.
Then discovered she was good at it.
Mave washed dishes.
Pearl gathered eggs.
The twins chopped kindling under supervision.
Wyatt worked outside with Josiah.
Emmett carried spoons from one drawer to another with tremendous seriousness.
When the children made mistakes, Clementine corrected them.
When they deliberately caused trouble, she gave them work.
She did not strike.
She rarely shouted.
And nothing frightened them more than her ability to wait silently until they realized they were being foolish.
By Thursday, the kitchen floor was visible.
By Saturday, clean clothes appeared in bedrooms.
By Sunday, Clementine announced they were all going to church.
Seven voices protested.
"No."
She looked around.
"That was not a question."
Wyatt folded his arms.
"I ain't going."
Clementine nodded.
"Then you may stay and whitewash the chicken coop."
Five minutes later, Wyatt was putting on boots.
At church, Gertrude Finch nearly injured her neck turning around.
Clementine entered behind Josiah with seven children.
Clean children.
Not perfectly behaved.
Cole whispered something that made Jasper laugh during the hymn.
Pearl dropped a book.
Emmett crawled beneath the pew searching for a button.
But clean.
Gertrude stared.
After the service, women surrounded Clementine.
Some were kind.
Others were curious.
Gertrude approached last.
"You're still here."
Clementine smiled.
"I had noticed."
"How are the children?"
"Alive."
Gertrude's mouth tightened.
"I suppose you're discovering frontier life isn't Chicago."
"Indeed."
Gertrude looked Clementine up and down.
"And marriage?"
Josiah, standing nearby, became suddenly fascinated by a hitching post.
Clementine replied calmly.
"We are managing."
"How romantic."
"Romance is difficult when one spends the morning removing a chicken from a flour barrel."
Cole looked away.
Gertrude frowned.
She had hoped to embarrass Clementine.
Instead several women laughed.
On the wagon ride home, Josiah was quiet.
Clementine noticed.
"What is it?"
He kept his eyes on the road.
"Nothing."
"Mr. Caldwell."
He exhaled.
"You didn't have to defend us."
"I didn't."
"At church."
"I defended myself."
"Same difference."
"No."
She looked at him.
"You worry too much about what people think."
"Easy for you to say."
Clementine's eyebrows rose.
Josiah realized what he had said.
"I'm sorry."
"For?"
"People talk about..."
He stopped.
"My size?"
Josiah looked miserable.
Clementine spared him.
"People in Chicago also had eyes."
"I didn't mean—"
"I know."
She looked toward the horizon.
"I learned something when I was young. Most insults are invitations."
"Invitations?"
"To surrender control of yourself."
Josiah considered that.
"And you don't accept?"
"Rarely."
At the ranch, Wyatt waited until Clementine entered the house.
Then he approached his father.
"You like her."
Josiah nearly dropped the harness he was carrying.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"She's my wife."
"That ain't what I asked."
Josiah looked toward the house.
Through the open window Clementine was showing Pearl how to roll biscuit dough.
"I respect her."
Wyatt's expression darkened.
"You respected Ma."
Josiah became still.
"This isn't about your mother."
"It is to me."
Wyatt walked toward the barn.
Josiah wanted to call him back.
He did not.
That evening, Clementine found Wyatt sitting alone behind the stable.
She almost left.
Instead she sat on an overturned bucket ten feet away.
Wyatt did not look at her.
"You following me?"
"No."
"Then go."
"No."
He threw a pebble.
Minutes passed.
Clementine said quietly, "I am not trying to replace her."
Wyatt stiffened.
"My pa tell you?"
"He didn't need to."
"You don't know anything about my mother."
"Correct."
"Then don't talk about her."
Clementine nodded.
Another long silence.
Finally she said, "But I know what it is to lose someone and resent the people who remain."
That got his attention.
He glanced toward her.
She stood.
"I'm making apple dumplings."
Wyatt looked away.
"Don't care."
"Good."
She walked toward the house.
Five minutes later, he followed.
Small victories.
That was how Clementine thought about the Broken Spur.
Not transformations.
Victories.
A washed shirt.
A repaired hinge.
A child saying please without being threatened.
Josiah laughing once at supper.
Wyatt sitting at the table instead of eating outside.
She knew families did not heal in grand moments.
They healed through repetition.
Through showing up tomorrow.
Then the following morning, hoofbeats thundered toward the ranch.
Three riders appeared on the road.
Josiah saw them first.
The color drained from his face.
Clementine was hanging laundry.
"Who is it?"
He did not answer immediately.
The rider in front sat atop a magnificent black stallion.
His clothing was too expensive for ranch work.
His smile was too pleasant to be friendly.
"Virgil Tatum," Josiah said.
Something in his voice made Clementine put down the shirt she was holding.
The children came outside.
Wyatt moved closer to his father.
Virgil stopped in the yard.
He looked at the repaired porch.
The clean laundry.
The woman standing beside it.
His smile widened.
"Well, Caldwell."
His gaze moved to Clementine.
"I hear congratulations are in order."
Clementine said nothing.
Virgil remained mounted.
"I won't stay long."
Josiah stepped forward.
"You're early."
"I know."
"The payment isn't due."
Virgil's smile vanished.
"It is now."
Clementine watched Josiah's hands.
They trembled once.
Only once.
Virgil reached inside his coat and withdrew a folded paper.
"Eight hundred dollars."
Josiah stared.
"By when?"
"Friday."
It was Monday.
And in that instant, Clementine understood why a strong man who could wrestle cattle and survive Wyoming winters suddenly looked as though someone had knocked the air from his lungs.
May you like
The Broken Spur Ranch had four days left to live.
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