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"Oh, no, Missy . . . well, they were until they got word that the Tribal Council had called a 'mergency meeting. They've been gone for four days now. Mr. Warren left one of the ranch hands in charge and he also left 'structions for the men to stay out on the range to ride guard over the herd cause there has been some stealin' going on. Ah’ve been here all alone and Ah don't mind saying, Ah've been plenty scaird!" Tillle clicked her tongue. "Here Ah am, rattling my head off while you're starving. Just make yourself at home and Ah'll be back shortly." She grabbed a pitcher and a small straw basket from the counter top and hurried out the back door.

  Apprehension twisted around Blair's heart as she sat down at the kitchen table. Since the Tribal Council had called an emergency meeting, and with Warren issuing such stern orders, there was reason for definite concern. And she sensed the concern went far beyond the loss of a relatively small parcel of land to the north. When that land was opened to the settlers, in all likelihood it would only whet their appetite for more. Where would it end? Only time would tell, but she had a terrible feeling that nothing would ever be the same again. Suddenly, her earlier fears of what Warren would say or do to her seemed childish and insignificant.

  A few minutes later Tillie returned, burdened with a full pitcher of milk and the basket filled with potatoes, carrots, onions, and apples and two jars of canned meat. She set them on the counter. "Corn-bread and buttermilk is fine for lunch, but thought you might want something more filling for supper," she explained, breathing heavily from her quick dash to the cellar. "Mr. Warren tol' me he was goin' slaughter a steer so we can have some fresh beef, but until he does, Ah'll add these vegetables to this canned meat . . . and you won't hardly know the difference from fresh. Ah decided to bake some apple pies, too."

  "Uh, ma'am, the trunks are unloaded." Bobby stood in the back doorway, nervously twisting his hat.

  "Wait just a minute, young man. Ah don't have but two hands." Tillie reached into the cabinet, removed a loaf of bread and began cutting it into thick slices.

  While the woman had her back turned, Bobby grabbed at the opportunity to speak to Blair. "Uh . . . Blair . . . uh . . ."

  "Come on in, Bobby. I want to thank you for bringing me home." Although Blair had already paid Bobby's employer for his services, she reached into her reticule and withdrew a coin. "Here is something extra for unloading all of those trunks."

  "Oh, no, it ain't necessary." He tried to push the money back into her hand.

  "Yes, it is. I insist."

  "I'd rather you let me call on you instead!" Bobby blurted in a rush of words, shifting his weight uneasily. "I know that you are a few years older 'n me, but you're so pretty and . . . have always been so nice . . . and then too, when me 'n Pa claims some of that land, I'll build us a house just like this'n . . . and you won't want for nothin'. 'Course, don't think it's no secret how Pa feels about Indians and breeds, so we might have to keep our courtin' from him for a while, but he'll come around in time."

  She drew her breath in surprise at the depth and sincerity of his feelings, but there was no way on God's green earth she could ever consider his proposal. He was years younger than she, and being afflicted with simple-mindedness made him seem even more childlike. But regardless of that, even if he had been an intelligent, handsome man, she would never consider marrying him—he was filled with too many prejudices and bigotries. She had to say something to permanently discourage his attentions. But what? It went against her nature to be deliberately cruel, yet what other recourse did she have than to be truthful? Then an idea struck her.

  She deliberately stammered, "B-Bobby, I’m sorry, I thought I t-told you."

  "Told me what?"

  Blair swallowed hard, it had always been difficult for her to he. "W-why ... my hand has already been spoken for . . . or it will be as soon as my young man arrives and speaks to Warren." She heard Tillie gasp, but refrained from looking in her direction.

  All color drained from Bobby's face. He gulped loudly. "Oh ... I didn't know," he mumbled, toeing the floor. "Guess I've made ... a fool out of myself."

  "But you haven't! I think it —was very sweet of you to ask . . . and I do hope we can remain friends. I have always valued your friendship." Again, another lie, but a lie spoken to prevent cruelty would probably be forgiven.

  Bobby, staring at the floor, brushed at his eyes. He mumbled softly, "Well, he darn sure better treat you good, or he'll have me to answer to."

  Blair then glanced at Tillie, silently imploring for help. Nodding, the woman quickly wrapped the thick sandwiches in a clean white cloth and thrust them into Bobby's hands.

  "Ah'll see you to the door, young man. Miss Blair is plum tuckered out and she needs to eat a bite before she lies down to rest. You be real careful on your way back to Doughtery, you hear."

  Blair deliberately kept her eyes averted, not wanting to see the pain so evident on Bobby's face.

  Moments later, Tillie stood beside Blair's chair, smiling broadly, her hands akimbo. "Now Ah know why you came home un'spected. Ah'll wager that your brothers —'specially Mr. Warren — didn't know you were a-coming. This news will certainly take 'em by surprise! When do you 'spect your young man? Ah reckon he's from back east?"

  Her slender hands unconsciously twisted together. "I don't have a young man, Tillie," Blair said, a bit reluctant to admit she had lied. "I merely told him that so he would not pester me to death."

  "Ah see," she said, wondering precisely why Blair had come home at this time. Had there really been a man in her life or had she heard of the trouble that was getting worse every day. In due time the girl would tell her, she just had to be patient. "Well, can't say that Ah blame you none. That boy is too young, too homely, and too poor for a pretty girl like you!"

  "Money and looks are really not that important to me, Tillie," she insisted. "Even if Bobby were a handsome man and owned a king's fortune, I could never be romantically interested in someone like him. The man I marry will have to accept me the way I am, and not be ashamed of my mixed blood." She sighed heavily; her features were softly composed, a slightly wistful, slightly fatalistic set to them. Tillie had no way of knowing her thoughts were on a man a thousand miles away. "And thus far, I have never met a man like that . . . and at times, I doubt if one even exists."

  Uh huh! There was a man in her life, and it appears he broke her heart, "Ah'm sure there is, Miss Blair. One o' these days a man will come along and he'll be all you ever wanted. Then 'fore you know it, you'll be bouncin' babies on your knee. Just mark my words, that's how it’s goin’ to happen."

  Afraid that Tillie would soon ask why she was here, Blair quickly stated, "My mouth has been watering for a bowl of cornbread and buttermilk ever since you mentioned it." She deeply breathed the aroma. "The cornbread smells delicious. If it tastes as good as it smells. ..."

  Tillie beamed with pride. "Now, you know it will! My cooking hasn't changed in the least. But don't you want to take a bath and get out of them traveling clothes 'fore you eat?"

  "No, I am too hungry to wait. I will just wash my face and hands here at the sink and take a bath and a nap when I finish."

  While Blair washed, Tillie cut the golden brown cornbread into pie shaped wedges, then she set the platter of cornbread, the pitcher of milk, a bowl, and a spoon on the table. She then added a few pieces of wood to the firebox of the huge cast-iron stove before putting kettles of bath water on to heat.

  The food was so delicious, Blair had to make a conscious effort not to eat too quickly. "Tell me what's been happening around here. Coy wrote regularly but I am sure there is so much he never mentioned." She listened attentively as Tillie bustled about the kitchen while filling her in on all the news concerning her brothers and grandfather. Blair already knew most of what Tillie told her, but it felt so good to sit in her own home and hear someone talk about her loved ones.

  Both Samuel and Collin had married during the time she had spent back east; Samuel had
married a full-blood Chickasaw woman, and Collin, a woman with mixed blood like himself. They were happily settled in their own homes on the land that had been granted to each of them by the Tribal Council. Blair knew that their land had been used by the Bar 4 for years, but building homes on the land reinforced their claim. And, with the whites soon to settle so close to their land, she conceded that it might prove to be a wise move indeed. She was also told that her grandfather was starting to show and feel his advanced years. Warren had finally started courting someone—Tillie didn't know who — alleviating their grandfather's fears that he would never marry. And Coy showed no signs of settling down, but Blair had already surmised that by his letters.

  When Blair finally pushed back her bowl, Tillie grasped the two steaming kettles by their bales and firmly ushered her to the bathing room with strict orders to soak for at least an hour before she showed her face. Exhausted from her long journey, Blair did not argue.

  Where is Tillie? Blair wondered dismally. I have called her and called her. If she doesn't bring a towel or my robe soon, I will turn into a wrinkled prune. Annoyance sharpened her tone, "Tillie! Tillie! Where are you?"

  Tillie finally opened the door and peered around it, wide-eyed. "You calling me, Missy?"

  She bit back the sharp retort that was on the tip of her tongue. There was no need in getting cross with Tillie just because she was tired. Besides, if her sight was failing, perhaps her hearing was, too. "Yes, I've been calling. I am stranded in here. There are no towels on the rack and my robes are packed away in my trunks."

  Tillie removed the items hidden behind her back and dangled them at Blair as she hurried inside. "Are these what you're wanting? Lordy, Ah thought you were going to shout the roof down in here."

  "All of those times I called . . . you heard me?"

  "Sure did," she said, helping the girl dry off and slip on her robe.

  "Why didn't you answer?" Blair's curiosity was aroused. Tillie was definitely up to something.

  " 'Cause Ah was busy . . . remember when Ah tol' you about this bathing room? Ah failed to mention there was another surprise, too. Mr. Warren will be highly disappointed that he wasn't here to see your face, but it can't be helped." She led Blair into the hallway. "Now close your eyes and be sure and not to peek . . . not even a little bit."

  Thoroughly intrigued, Blair complied with her request. She sensed Tillie was leading her to her bedroom.

  "All right, now you can open 'em," she said proudly.

  Blair gasped loudly when she saw her bedroom. Her old but sturdy furniture had been replaced with dainty, feminine furnishings, such as a canopy bed, an elegant settee, and a mahogany armoire. The hat rack made from steer horns, the many stacks of dime novels, her gun rack, the pictures and paintings of various breeds of horses, and her collection of brightly colored Indian blankets had disappeared. Crisp, mint-green lacy curtains hung over the windows and a matching canopy and spread covered the bed. The walls were painted white, and the porcelain dolls that had been given to her over the years, but rarely played with, sat on the upholstered window benches. Stiffly starched doilies bedecked the huge dresser and highboy chest. The new marble-topped dressing table held a varied array of dusting powders, and perfumes. It was beautiful, but it belonged to a stranger.

  Tillie chortled at Blair's startled expression. "This is all Mr. Warren's idea. A few months ago, he saw some drawings of a fancy mansion 'n decided to fix your room just like the one in the book. Using the drawings as a pattern,- we all pitched in to help. Ah could barely hold my tongue 'til you saw it! Ain't it pretty?"

  "Yes . . . it's beautiful," she mumbled.

  Backing out of the doorway, Tillie said, "Well, Ah’ll leave you alone now while you get acquainted with your pretty new things and so you can take a nap. Ah'll call you when supper's ready."

  Blair lay propped on her pillows, hands entwined beneath her head, anger rising in her throat. Although she would never admit it to Warren, the room was pleasing to the eye and she. liked it immensely, however, he had his nerve removing her personal keepsakes without asking her permission. She had made a thorough search of the drawers and storage trunk, and not a single pair of trousers, her boots, a dime novel, or one painting of a horse could be found. It was as though the old Blair had never existed. Warren was so intent upon turning her into a lady, he had apparently forgotten she was an individual with her own distinct tastes. He was forcing her to be something whether she wanted to or not. If he had just let it lay, he would have seen the changes in her and, in all likelihood, would have been pleased. She knew if she allowed him to get by with this invasion of her privacy, he would make her life miserable in the future; perhaps not intentionally, but he was too dominating and she was tired of it.

  All traces of her weariness gone, Blair bounded from the bed and threw a robe around her shoulders, then marched saucily into Coy's room. After rummaging through a trunk containing his old clothing, she found a pair of denim trousers, a shirt, a floppy hat, socks, and a pair of worn boots. "I'll show him just how unladylike I can be!"

  Back in her own room, she held the shirt up, then the trousers, and studied them with an appraising eye. Although the garments had been made for someone much taller, she decided they would serve her purpose. Finding scissors in her sewing basket, she snipped the extra length from the trouser legs.

  Tossing aside her robe and nightgown, she slipped on a pair of bloomers and a camisole, then threaded her arms through the shirt sleeves. The sleeves were too long, but after rolling them up, the shirt fit fine except for her breasts straining at the shirt front. Donning the jeans, she was surprised that they fit snugly through the hips and were loose around the waist. Another search through her sewing basket produced a sturdy strand of yarn to use for a belt. She then stuffed handkerchiefs in the toes of the boots before she slipped them on. She plaited her hair into a single braid then crammed the hat down on her head. The ill-fitting clothes felt uncomfortable after wearing well-constructed gowns and voluminous petticoats, but since her trousers and shirts had mysteriously disappeared, they would have to do.

  An impish smile spread across her face when she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a pathetic waif, and it was exactly how she wanted to look when Warren came home. Giving the mirror a backwards glance, Blair, with a blanket rolled under her arm, left her bedroom and met Tillie in the hallway.

  An expression of sheer bewilderment flashed over Tillie's face when she saw her. "Child, what in heaven's name have you done to yourself?"

  Placing her hands akimbo and splaying her legs in an arrogant stance —a gesture she had seen Warren do a countless number of times — Blair stated firmly, "I am going for a ride. And if I do not return home tonight, don't worry about me. Who knows? I may decide to find the men and give them a hand rounding up cattle."

  Tillie wrung her hands together. She could not imagine what had brought about the change in this girl. "But . . . but . . . you can't do that! That's men's work. . . . 'Sides, it's too dangerous for a pretty young woman to go gallivantin' by herself. Ah done already tol' you, nesters have been causing all kinds of trouble!"

  Blair shouldered her way around Tillie and marched into the study where Warren kept his guns. I'll take a rifle. You know as well as I do, I can shoot just as good as any of my brothers . . . maybe even better."

  "But . . . Miss Blair, that was a long time ago!" Tillie argued, chasing after her.

  "I have not forgotten how to shoot."

  Tillie was not about to give up easily. "But . . . but . . . you can't spend the night out on the range with those . . . those old hairy-legged men! Why, they are liable to . . . get the wrong notion 'bout a pretty little thing like you!"

  "No, they won't." Blair remained determined. "Coy said that the same men are still working for us, and I know they can be trusted."

  "Yes um, maybe so. But that was when you were nothin' but a skinny little girl. You're
a grown woman now and. ..."

  Blair turned and stared at her pointedly. "In that case, I'll have my rifle and I am not afraid to use it. Besides, my staying out tonight is not definite. I may not be able to find them . . . unless you can tell me what general area they are in."

  Tillie stubbornly folded her arms. "Ah don't have the least notion where they are! And Ah wouldn't tell you if’n Ah did!"

  Blair snapped, "That's what I thought." Then hoping to reassure Tillie, she said in a softer tone, "I will be just fine. Don't worry about me."

  "Well, Ah will! Fact is, Ah'll worry so much my hair will turn white." Seeing that did not phase her, she added, "That is, ifn my old heart don't give out first. And it's liable to, it's thumpin' something awful." She clutched at her chest to give emphasis to her words.

  Tillie's excuses sounded so familiar but she could not allow her sudden ailments to change her mind. She was determined to teach Warren not to treat her like a child.

  Tillie, finally realizing she was wasting her time and breath, muttered, "Since you have your mind set on this, 'least let me pack you something to eat. That way, when nesters jump you, or those old hairy-legged men get evil notions, you won't meet your Maker with an empty belly! And don't you be the least bit surprised to see me standing 'fore Him, too. 'Cause if n Ah don't worry myself to death, Mr. Warren will nail my hide to the barn door for letting you go!" She slowly raised her gaze upwards, then lifted her hands. "Did'ja hear me. Lord? Just go ahead and get my place ready 'cause Ah'm fixing to come home! But Ah don't mind saying. Ah ain't ready to come yet . . . it's this child's fault, she's sending me to an early grave!"

  It was all Blair could do not to laugh. Though still determined to teach Warren a lesson, she could not do it at the expense of Tillie's peace of mind. "All right, Tillie, you win. If I promise not to join the round-up, will you promise me that you won't die?"

  Obviously relieved, she sighed heavily. Ah'll try not to. Missy."