Sage and Leather - Chapter 3

By Deanna Twedt

As you may recall, in the last chapter of Sage and Leather, Evie Calloway became introduced to the owners of the TR outfit--the Hollisters. She did not appreciate her brief conversation with Raphael Hollister, who has plans to take over her family’s homestead. Evie decides she wants her and Tad to quit working for the Hollisters for this very reason. Will she be successful? Let us find out this month in the third chapter.

Chapter Three

A snake had left behind a rivulet in the dirt of the barn floor. Knowing that, my eyes darted everywhere, paying close attention to anything near my legs. Fortunately, all I saw were clumps of hay, remnants from a horse’s clipped hoof, piles of manure, and the tongs of a pitchfork. Reaching the other side of the barn, my boots stopped beside an earthenware jar, coated in gritty dirt from grimy hands. Other boots were within the same vicinity--cracked, chapped, torn open, worn down. The once beautiful leathers were now crunchy, dry, scratched, and a dull gray, an echo to the original coal black and shiny sheen splendor they had once been.

Two of these sets of boots belonged to Jose and Luis, the brother vaqueros from Saltillo. Both of them were sitting on wooden buckets, conversing back and forth, gesturing with their gnarled, leathery fingers that looked crippled either from being broken and sprained a few too many times or from the curse of arthritis. While I hardly saw their mouths moving beneath their mustaches, I could hear Spanish lilting off their tongues and mixing with the dry dust shimmering in the air. Marc, the farrier, leaned against a boarded wall, scrunching his own bent up hands in the hair of a nodding off dog. Marc’s watery eyes were fixed on the brothers, but his only two cents seemed to be to nod along to whatever they were saying.

When the three of them realized I was standing there in the dim light with a pitcher of lemonade and some glasses, they broke their conversation. Jose was the first to move forward, tipping his hat back.

“Thank you, Senorita,” he said with a yellow toothed smile, his face crinkling and his hand raising the glass to me before he took a good chug. He smacked his lips in satisfaction. “Ay, muy bueno.”

“Nice of you, ma’am,” Luis agreed, settling back down on his bucket. “Juanita never does this.”

“Really? She asked me to.”

“I reckon with you around,” Forschild said from behind, startling me in the process, “she can spare you to do other things.”

Adjusting to his abrupt appearance in the dim light of the barn I noticed he was recoiling a rope around his arm.

“Like the new arrangement,” Jose declared, wiggling his eyebrows and downing his lemonade fast.

While I was grateful to be hearing English, it saddened me to think that I could not communicate with them very well in their language. Or that the Hollisters probably exceeded me in that department. I was bothered at the fact that they made my blood boil so much. How did these men feel about the Hollisters and were they happy to be working for them? What kind of lives had they left behind to come work here?

Forschild asked, “You boys finished already?”

“No, Senore,” Luis responded. “Taking a break from the heat. Senorita brought us some sour juice.”

I stared at him incredulously. That may have been the most English I’d heard spoken from his mouth.

“I see that.” Forschild hung the rope on a hook and took the pitcher from me to pour the contents into a glass. He smacked his lips after he took a sip. “Ah, lemonade. That hits the spot. How’s it going for you, Miss Calloway? Working well with Juanita?”

“She certainly knows her stuff.”

“Yes, she’s a mighty good cook. Her and Sannah.”

“Sannah?”

“Oh, she’s a neighbor who supplies herbs sometimes. You’ll like Sannah. She knows more English than most of the people around here.”

I should have been excited about the news, but I was wondering in my mind how I would be able to tell Forschild that I no longer wanted this job. Well, I had a little while to figure that out since I decided I would discuss it with Tad first.

“When do you think my brother will be back?”

“Reckon within the week.”

I knew a week wasn’t bad, but how much longer could I stand seeing Mr. Hollister twice a day in his thousand dollar house surrounded by items he gained by trading Comanche relics?

All of our ears perked up when we heard a loud bellowing coming from outside. Walking back out into the lightning white sunlight, we all slowed to a stop when we noticed two riders approaching the gate. The leader was bearded and probably about the age of Mr. Hollister. He was excitedly flapping his hat as his horse trotted into the yard. The rider behind him is who took me off guard. She had rich tan skin like the caramel tones of the earth. Dark hair swathed back into a braid and tied with a band of leather. Pearl fringed leather dress, encapsulated with turquoise and red on the shoulders. Moccasins for shoes. Large beaded earrings. I blinked, my heart racing. I’d heard about Indians, but I hadn’t seen any since Tad and I moved to Texas. Thinking about it now it was strange that I had not seen a single one. Perhaps the Texas Rangers had wiped out a lot of them, but I couldn’t believe they were completely gone. This woman was pure proof that they still existed. I willed myself to calm down. She could not mean harm. She was alone as near as I could tell. She did not appear to be an immediate threat.

Jose and Luis each took a horse by the reins as soon as the two riders dismounted. A slight kick of dust erupted around their feet. The bearded man was sweating profusely, his face red and peeling. When the girl faced me I felt as though her brown eyes could see right through me, discerning me without moving a single muscle in her face. I shuddered on the inside to think what she could see, not that there was anything to be ashamed of. Draping from one of her hips was a beaded pouch. Dried herbs stuck out from the inside. On the other hip hung a large, glinting knife.

Luis tipped his hat to her. “Buen dia, Topsannah.”

She subtly dipped her chin. So this was Sannah. I was marvelously surprised that Hollister had hired an Indian. And the fact that she had agreed to it. As to who the man was I had no doubt I would find out within the next few minutes.

“Forschild! Take me to Hollister will ya?” the man loudly exuberated. “I have business to discuss with him.”

“That I can do, Carlisle. He should be up at the house.”

The brothers took the horses to the barn along with Marc while Forschild led Carlisle to the Hollister mansion. That left Topsannah and I standing alone in the swirling dust and blistering sun, staring each other down. She eyed me skeptically before spinning on her heel. In a trance, I followed her inside to where she immediately began conversing with Juanita. I assumed they were both speaking Spanish, for I heard similar words I had been trying to understand within the last few days. Juanita was inspecting the contents Topsannah emptied from her pouch.

When I set the pitcher on the table, devoid of what it held earlier, Juanita flicked up her head. “Evie!” She started gesturing to me to move closer to see what they were looking at.

I had barely glimpsed what looked to be oregano when I turned to the sound of boots on tile. Now standing in the kitchen with us was Gabriel Hollister. Topsannah’s attention fully became fixated on him and to my amazement, I could have sworn her eyes sparkled.

Gabriel briefly glanced at me before he tilted his head. A signal for Topsannah, apparently, because without so much as a word, she disappeared into the yard with him. Before they were completely out of sight I noted that their hands briefly touched. Juanita gave me no indication that she was aware or that she cared. She pointed to the pitcher and ordered words at me I didn’t understand. I decided she wanted me to refill it when she pointed back at the house. I could only guess that now that there was company she wanted me to provide lemonade. How lovely. Another excuse to go back to the lion’s den.

This time I was directed to the parlor. I first noticed Forschild sitting uncomfortably in a straight back chair, fumbling with his hat in his hands. Near him stood Mr. Hollister with his hand resting on the mantle and a glass of amber liquid in his other. He was peering down at the man named Carlisle, who was as boisterous in here as he was outside. Mrs. Hollister was perched on the edge of the leather sofa, her hands folded in her lap. I stood awkwardly in the entrance, gazing at them all, holding a pitcher of perspiring lemonade.

“I tell you, Rafe, Montana is where everyone will be within the next ten years. No, five years!” He pointed to the ceiling with his bulbous finger. “That’s where the cattle will thrive. Lush grass, snow runoff in the rivers, rich fertile land.” He spread out his fingers as if he were capturing a title. His eyes searched into a distance that was not within the room. “A Cattle King’s Paradise.”

Mr. Hollister’s mustache twitched. “Wouldn’t you argue I have that here, Cal?”

“You’ve got most of Texas. Better start in Montana before it’s too late. Two territories all yours. How about that, Rafe?”

“Why bring it up with me when you could have it yourself?”

I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. For as much as Mr. Hollister wanted my place, why wasn’t he all quick to grab up Montana Territory?

“Well I don’t have the vigor in me to do it, but you, Rafe, have got all the power in the world to do so.”

“Seems a bit contradictory,” Forschild expressed, glancing between the two men.

“Yes, if you’re so eager to force it upon me,” Mr. Hollister said pointedly at Carlisle.

Mrs. Hollister’s eyes flitted back and forth between the two older men. So engrossed in their conversation was she that she didn’t even notice me standing there. I cleared my throat as loudly as possible. The chatter abruptly stopped and all heads turned towards me. I swallowed deeply before lifting the pitcher.

“Miss Calloway.” Forschild invited me in with a smile. “Come in.”

“Juanita thought you’d all like some lemonade.”

“Tell Juanita thank you,” Mrs. Hollister replied before she patted the space on the sofa next to her. “Why don’t you sit down and enjoy some yourself?”

Any other day I would have refused, but something about this conversation had me intrigued. So I chose to stay.

Carlisle resumed, “Rafe this is a one in a lifetime chance. I’ve never known you to back down from a challenge. Go to Montana! Point them north! Make history! Become the wealthiest cattle baron in the country!”

I was appalled. Ranching wasn’t meant to be about the money. It was supposed to be about the cattle, the lifestyle. Raphael Hollister had enough. Why did this man need to insist he have more? The only good thing I could think about this was that it might distract him from thinking about my home.

This time there was a twinkle in Mr. Hollister’s eyes as he spoke. “Last I heard it’s still an untamed country right?”

“That’s where I’d suggest you bring along the Texas Rangers or a force of some kind. There’s wild Indians up there, Hollister, but that’s never stopped you before now has it.”

In the back of my mind I wondered what Topsannah would have thought if she’d been in this room and heard that remark? What connection did she have to this Mr. Carlisle anyway? Where did she and Gabriel go?

“Think of the journey, Mr. Hollister,” Forschild professed. “Many of us would be gone for probably over a year if we were to go through with this.”

Mrs. Hollister looked stricken, her hands clenched her skirt. “Rafe, you aren’t really considering this?”

“Wouldn’t I be a fool not to?”

“You already are.”

I hid my smirk behind my fingers. She really knew how to put him in his place.

“Now think about it, Calliope. It’d be cooler up there.”

“Freezing is more like it. I wouldn’t be able to grow my olives and lemons nor my peppers.”

“Since when have you been the gardener?”

Mrs. Hollister pursed her lips at that. “Our home is here, Rafe. We don’t need to go gallivanting off to God knows where.”

“Land of Shining Mountains, Callie,” Carlisle supplied. “Of the Crow and Piegan.”

“And how do you know all this?”

“Buffalo hunters.”

“What a reliable source,” she muttered, sarcastically.

Forschild chuckled, but his smile quickly disintegrated when Mrs. Hollister glared at him.

“When has Cal ever been wrong?” Mr. Hollister asked his wife.

“And when has he ever not exaggerated?”

“Now, Callie…” Carlisle started as if he’d been hurt.

Mr. Hollister stepped forward. “Forschild could take it over or Gabriel.”

“I thought Gabe would inherit this place.” Mrs. Hollister’s face had turned pale.

“One day he will, but imagine if we could leave him a stronghold in Texas and one in Montana? What a legacy that would be.”

“This is sounding far-fetched by the minute.”

“Where is Gabe anyway?” Carlisle questioned.

“He went outside when you got here,” Forschild explained, hooking a thumb at the door.

“Well doesn’t he know I’m in here? And what’s taking Sannah so long?”

Now it was my turn to fidget. Something in Carlisle’s tone told me that Topsannah was closer to him…like she belonged to him.

“When one visits Juanita,” Hollister declared, “it’s hard to get away.”

Carlisle stood up. “Then perhaps I should go save my wife.”

I sucked in a breath. Only Forschild glanced at me, indicating that he had heard my audible gasp. I’d seen too much for my own good. I didn’t bother to pick up the pitcher.

“Speaking of Juanita I better get back,” I said.

I didn’t give them a chance to keep me there either. I would only make a fool of myself if I did. But yet again, I ran into Gabriel and this time by walking forward.