And even if they weren’t short on help, there were the bears. With the early cold sweeping in, bears were getting crankier and more desperate about getting their bellies full before hibernating for the winter.
To top it all off, just today he’d come across more evidence of rustlers in the area…a ring, the ash still warm from a fire that morning. In the dust around the fire pit he’d found the unmistakable marks of running irons. Only rustlers used those.
Somebody had been up there near the meadow, and they’d been careful to put out their fire before dawn. Whoever it was didn’t want to be seen.
All afternoon, he’d chased the question around. What to do about those rustlers? What would Silas do if he were still here?
“What are you thinking?”
Marlee’s voice cut through his contemplation, and Jett stretched his shoulders. “Silas.”
“You miss him,” she said softly.
He nodded.
“I wish I could have met him.”
Jett smiled. Worries about rustlers slunk to the back of his mind. “He’d have liked you,” he said.
She blushed and ducked her head, a curl brushing her cheek. Something sweet swelled up in his chest.
“Mom was sick and couldn’t work,” he said.
A soft sound slipped from her—not quite a sigh. Her eyes warmed from velvet to a golden color that reminded him of honey.
Why was he telling her this? He took a deep breath, savoring the fresh deep scent of the fall forest, and the words just came out.
“Silas Paycoach fixed up a small apartment for us on the barn, and said we’d always have food, shelter and spendin’ money as long as I pulled my own weight. I was only nine.”
Marlee inched Calamity closer, and leaned forward, peering into his eyes. Thick brown hair tumbled over her shoulder. Even after a long dusty day on the trail, it still bounced shiny and rich. He wanted to reach out and drag his fingers through it. It would feel as warm as the comfort in her eyes. Warm and soft against his rough hand.
He swallowed hard, and yanked his eyes back to the cattle. He needed to get his mind back to the ranch. Back on his responsibilities. Besides, his hands were so calloused, he’d probably get them tangled in her hair and pull it.
“After mom died and I graduated, Silas said I’d earned a permanent spot on his crew if I wanted it.”
He dared a glance at her.
Bad move, cowboy.
The mix of admiration and respect shining in her eyes drilled him right in the chest.
“I can see why you couldn’t turn that offer down,” she said. A soft laugh bubbled under the surface. “You were born in the saddle.”
Jett licked dry lips and watched her flick a long swath of hair over her shoulder. When she looked at him like that and complimented him, she might as well have taken a whisk to his insides. She scrambled him in a way he’d never felt before. His heart was acting as stubborn as any bronc he’d tried to bust when he was young and dumb enough to climb on them.
He couldn’t think of anything else to say, so they rode in silence for a while.
Above, the sky was beginning to turn from a deep blue to an eggshell, and clouds scudded along the rim of mountains. They’d be treated to an amazing sunset soon, and would likely pull into camp about dusk when the whole world had turned to blues and purples.
Fat Cat pinned his ears and arched his neck.
Jett tensed.
Something wasn’t right.
He leaned back in the saddle slightly and the big roan came to a stop.
“What’s wrong?” Marlee brought Calamity to a halt.
Jett listened carefully. The road curled between two small ridges, and both slopes were covered in trees. Everything was quiet.
“Nothing,” he said. He stretched his arms casually, and then moved Fat Cat forward again, trying to look nonchalant. But his thoughts focused on rustlers.
This was private ranch land. Nobody had any business being on this land unless they were a part of the Paycoach outfit.
No doubt about it. This was the wrong time to babysit a greenhorn from the east. No matter how crushed-velvet soft her brown eyes.
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a flash through the trees on the opposite side of the road. But when he turned his head, there was nothing.
Marlee was saying something about apple dumplings, and he wanted to listen, but his senses were tuned into the land around him.
Behind them about a hundred yards, a large rock tumbled down the embankment and onto the road.
Jett forced himself to keep riding straight ahead and not turn around to look.
There had to be at least two of them.
Maybe more.
CHAPTER TWELVE
He had to decide what to do, and fast. Out here, in these remote mountain canyons, no cell phone would get a signal, and the only satellite phone was at camp. The sun would be going down soon.
Should he stay on the road and hope he and Marlee could get into camp before dark?
That was one option, but he didn’t like it at all. He didn’t like the naked feeling of being on the road while whoever it was out there had the high ground on the ridges.
They had a full view of him and Marlee. But he couldn’t see them.
He and Marlee needed to get out of their line of sight, somehow. Around the curve up ahead, there would be a tree-covered draw leading up to a ridge.
And if he and Marlee could get into the tree line before the two riders rounded the bend, then they might not be seen.
Then, if he could get up to that ridge, and out to the rock outcropping that overlooked the road, he’d be able to see the road below him and catch a glimpse of the men following him.
At least then he and Marlee would have the high ground.
But they’d have to push the heifers, and they’d have to ride hard to find the tree line. And once there, they’d have to ride quiet and hope in the fading light, they wouldn’t be seen.
The rock outcropping had a few small caves. If worse came to worse, they could hunker down for the night.
“You feel like a race?” he asked. He tried to keep his voice relaxed.
She turned and stared, shock widening her eyes. “Are you crazy?”
He shrugged. “Good exercise for the horses,” he said. “I race the Paycoach cowboys all the time. Builds cowmanship.”
Her lip drooped for a minute, and her hunched shoulders told him how tired she must feel. A small crease appeared between her brows while she considered his challenge.
She was going to say no, and he’d have to figure out something else.
But then she sat up straight and gave him a small determined smile.
“You’re on,” she said.
Her voice cracked a bit with exhaustion, and his heart went out to her.
This woman didn’t just have pride. No. It went deeper than that. She had integrity. She had backbone.
She might not be born in the west, but backbone was what the west was made of.
He set the rules. “Race to the trees. No yipping or yelling to your horse or the cattle. Then collect your horse, stand quiet and calm. Good athletes are all about self-control and horses are no different.”
“Then what?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
She tilted her head and studied him. “You know you’re going to beat me. So it’s not really a race.”
“Backing out?”
She tossed her hair back and straightened in the saddle. Her eyes flashed with gold flecks of defiance.
His stomach tightened and his throat went dry. Time to scrape his jaw up off the ground before she caught him drooling over her.
“No,” she said. “But I don’t see why you’d want to race if there’s really no competition.”
“It will give me a better idea of how you’ve improved since this morning if I see you in action,” he said.
“You say that like you’re my teacher.�
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He shrugged. And waited while she chewed her lower lip.
Finally, she kicked Calamity forward a bit.
“Say when, cowboy.” She drew herself up tall in the saddle and laughed over her shoulder, and Calamity turned and kept turning in a nice crisp circle. It happened in one smooth motion—a clarity of thought that played out from rider to horse, and he had to swallow his grin. For a split second, turning that horse so natural without thinking about it, she looked like a bona fide cowgirl, and it sent his insides zinging. Maybe she’d make a horsewoman yet.
He gave a soft “yip” to the cattle, and flicked at their heels with his lasso, and then they were off in a flash the moment they rounded the bend.
He was more than half worried she’d fall off Calamity when in a full gallop. But when he glanced over, she didn’t look half bad in that saddle. Not half bad, but certainly more than half scared. She still bounced a little too much like a greenhorn, but she leaned forward like he’d taught her, reins loose in her hands. Either her previous riding experience was coming back to her, or she had natural talent. He’d never seen anyone improve so quickly in such a short time.
It was a quick sprint to the tree line, and when they reined in, he put his fingers to his lips. She raised her eyebrows in question, but then sat back in her saddle, perfectly still, Calamity calm under her.
He motioned for her to follow him, and they set out slowly and silently up the draw.
Marlee was unusually quiet. He expected her to gloat that they’d nearly tied. But she was probably too tired to celebrate, judging by the sag in her shoulders.
But tired or not, he was grateful she was quiet.
It was hard to shush a woman like Marlee.
Every now and then, he’d pause and listen, but he heard no signs of anyone following.
Any decent tracker could pick up their trail and follow them up here, but he was betting these men weren’t trained trackers. According to the brand inspectors, the rustlers poking around in this area weren’t a sophisticated bunch. They had rigs and money. But they typically took the easy way to the cattle. Even if it meant nearly getting caught. And they were growing bolder.
And besides, they would never expect Jett and Marlee to have gone off the road. In this case, darkness would work to their advantage. Already, shadows between the trees were growing murky and thick.
All the way to the ridge, Marlee was quiet. Together, they slipped through the trees, riding a little below the top of the ridge so they wouldn’t be silhouetted against the orange and purple sunset. Jett rode point, with Marlee trailing behind the heifers.
Finally, they came to the rock outcropping. This one looked like a big square pie, where God had cut out a nice fat wedge. And just like Jett had remembered, there was plenty of sagebrush and fallen timber around. He could herd the cattle against the crevice and stack up a makeshift brush fence. And next to that was a small cave. The perfect size for Marlee to curl up in for the night.
He’d have to spend the night under the stars, keeping guard.
It would be a cold night.
He was about to dismount when Marlee’s soft voice came to him through the purple shadows.
“Do you think we lost them?”
He swung out of the saddle and stared up at her. She had known all along. But she hadn’t let on. “Yeah.”
She shrugged at his silent question before she slid off Calamity. “I noticed you listening on the trail, before you said we should race.”
He blinked and his ears went hot. She’d been watching him?
“You listen with your whole body.” She laughed softly. “It’s pretty obvious. How do you know they’re gone?”
“I don’t.”
Her eyes widened.
He hated saying it. Hated seeing the fleeting fear in her eyes before she squared her shoulders. He half expected her to tear into him.
But she just bit her lip and turned to her horse to loosen her bedroll.
He stepped in to help her with the bedroll and saddle. He had planned on removing her hands to unbuckle the bedroll himself.
But instead, he found himself putting his hands over hers. Her fingers were cold.
He almost thought he heard her catch her breath.
He almost thought she leaned into him slightly.
But then he heard a soft chattering. The woman was freezing.
He rubbed her fingers for a moment between his warm hands, trying not to think of how soft they were.
And then he remembered what he had been doing. Getting her bedroll down. The sooner he had it ready for her, the better. At least she could stay up off the cold ground while he climbed up to scan the road.
“We might stay here tonight,” he said. “Depends on where they are.” And if he could even see them in the dusk.
He took a pair of binoculars out of his saddlebag.
“Not much light left. I gotta leave now if I’m going to spot them.”
She swallowed. She clearly didn’t like the idea of being left alone, and he couldn’t blame her. Already, the mountain range was beginning to echo with mournful howls. With the bears bedding down for the winter, soon the wolves would rule the range. Their lonely cries dug into him. Normally, he loved their howls, but lately they reminded him he’d just buried the only man he’d thought of as a father figure.
“I need you to work on a brush fence for the cattle,” he said. “Pile up sage brush and whatever wood you can move. It will make them feel safe. Less likely to wander off. Then keep warm until I get back.”
She nodded once, and hitched her leather knife case up. He’d seen her do that so many times before. A nervous habit. He was starting to feel tuned-in to her now. That was easier to do now that she wasn’t talking as much.
He headed toward the granite face. He’d climbed it many times before, so he was certain he’d get up there fast.
But he’d never had to scale it to look for criminals.
And he’d never had to leave a vulnerable woman behind to do it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jett laid on his stomach, surveying the land as long as he could before darkness swallowed everything. He swept the binoculars back and forth—along the road where they had come, and also up ahead where it bent and then descended into a creek bed.
No signs of human activity. No startled birds, no flash of metal against the dying light, no soft snort of horses.
For a little while, there were only distant wolf calls and the scrapes and crackles of Marlee dragging brush down below.
But he watched anyway, hoping he’d see something—anything indicating the rustlers hadn’t noticed where he and Marlee had turned off the trail.
It was hard to say what men like that were thinking. Most cattle rustlers were cowardly thieves, stealing cattle when they were sent up to mountain pastures, or taking them a little at a time from ranch corrals in the dead of night. Most were stealthy, slinking off in the shadows like the yellow-bellied curs they were, whenever someone came close to them.
But these men were different.
Ben Rockspur had caught some rustlers in the act two weeks ago. They were loading up some of his heifers near dawn, and they’d shot at him as they’d fled. That’s why Austin had flown Silas and Cassie over the Bitterroot Range that fateful day. They’d been trying to spot where the rustlers were holing up.
Silas was like that. He always took it personally when somebody messed with his neighbors.
But these thieves weren’t like other rustlers. They were bold. And dangerous enough to open fire in order to get away with the cattle.
But rustlers following behind on a cattle drive in daylight? That was odd. It carried a high risk of getting caught.
Maybe they were more bold because the Paycoach Ranch ran the best beef around—Angus cattle. Angus fetched top dollar. Something any rustler would salivate over.
More likely, they were closing in now because they’d heard Silas was gone and they figured there would be no o
ne to protect the herd.
Jett’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, blood pounding hard in anger. He’d protect this family’s ranch until his dying breath if he had to. Outnumbered and cut off from camp like this, he’d have to do some fancy maneuvering if he was going to out-think them.
He considered their position again.
It might be a good thing that he couldn’t see the rustlers. But it might also be very bad.
It was possible he and Marlee hadn’t fooled them. It was possible the rustlers had followed them and were near their makeshift camp now, waiting for Marlee and Jett to settle in for the evening, so they could snatch the cattle from under their noses.
His spine prickled.
Marlee was down there alone.
Jett slid over the edge and began descending as quickly and silently as possible.
Down below, Marlee had a small fire going. She wasn’t going to like this, but they’d have to put it out. They couldn’t take any chances that they’d be seen up here.
Already, he was starting to think maybe they should have gone on ahead to the camp with everyone else.
Jett grunted when his foot slipped, flinging his weight back.
Adrenaline burst through his body, blood roaring in his ears. He swallowed hard and tightened his grip on the ledge above him. His hands began to slip off the granite, but he dug in harder, ignoring the pain as the sharp rock cut into his hands.
Stretching, he reached with the toe of his boot. Pebbles skittered loose as he scrambled to find a toe-hold in the darkness.
But it was too late.
* * *
Every muscle in Marlee’s body ached from sitting in a saddle all day, and then dragging sagebrush and deadwood around cattle huddled in the cleft of the rocks.
This cattle drive was far worse than she’d imagined it would be. So far, she was failing at everything. Cooking. Helping with the cattle. Getting out of bed on time.
Even her body was failing, her limbs weak as she drug brush and heavy logs. Cold drove her aches and pains bone deep.
Love on the Range: A Looking Glass Lake Prequel Page 8