Mr. Rhodes laughed. “He ain’t in charge. That’s the lead mare’s job. She determines where they go and what happens. The pecking order within the herd. Everything is her decision. All he does is keep other stallions away. That’s his only concern. The herd’s stallion will change out every three years or so when someone younger, stronger comes along. The herd though. That is eternal. Passing down from mother to daughter.
“Sometimes,” he continued, “if it gets big enough, the herd will split. The younger mares going off with a new stallion. The land won’t support too many horses in any one spot for long.”
“Three years?” she asked, “That seems so short.”
Mr. Rhodes laughed. “But rewarding, you might say. Especially when compared to the alternative.”
She paused for a moment then asked, “And you Mr. Rhodes. Could you allow yourself to let a woman be in charge?”
He laughed and shook his head, “Perhaps with a dozen wives, it might be the smart way to go. Let her handle the problems.”
Rebecca felt her cheeks grow warm. How had she fallen into a discussion about the love lives of horses? She smiled at the ridiculousness of it all. But It was pleasant to be talking with him instead of traveling in silence.
“But,” he continued. “No. Can’t say that I could let a woman be in charge of me. Nothing personal Ma’am, but I have a hard time with anyone telling me what to do. It just scrapes at me.”
“Maybe that is why you have never settled down,” she replied.
“Perhaps Ma’am. Maybe I’m a saddle tramp at heart. Always destined to move on to something else.”
She studied him for a moment. The tall, strong man who seemed to know everything of importance. No, there was more there. More to him. She just knew it.
Chapter Ten
Dusty Rhodes flicked the reins to encourage the horse up the last hill. It was all coming to an end, he realized. Miss Carson could return to her world and him to his.
He wondered what would happen if they passed each other in the street? Would she smile at him? Perhaps stop and talk for a moment? Or, would she lift that pretty little nose of hers and pretend he didn’t exist? Nothing more than a peasant from the fields.
No, he realized. She wasn’t like that. She wasn’t as near high toned as he had thought. One of the few surprises in his life.
“Here we are,” he said as they crested the hill to pull into the courtyard of the C-Bar Ranch. Carson hadn’t made many changes. Next to him, Rebecca stiffened as she examined her new home. Dusty could see it through her eyes. A nice ranch house off to the right. A large barn and corrals. Off to the side a long low building for the hands.
He remembered the night Hank and he rounded up the crew and kept them docile while Jack dealt with that land grabbing murderer, Cooper.
Six months later, Carson had shown up from back east and bought the place from the bank. He’d been green but willing to learn. Couldn’t really ask for much more. Best of all, he’d proven to be a nice neighbor to Jack and Jenny.
Miss Carson held her breath next to him as she took in everything. He could almost see her mind working. It was so different.
“There’s a spring up the draw,” he told her. “It provides enough water for the stock and Consuela’s garden.”
“It’s nice,” she said with a weak smile.
“It will grow on you,” he assured her as he pulled the horse to a stop just outside the front door to the main house. From the corner of his eye, he caught four cowboys stepping out of the bunkhouse. None of them moved to greet them, instead standing there like somber columns. His gut tightened. Something wasn’t right.
From the main house, a middle-aged Mexican woman with dark hair turning gray stepped out, drying her hands on a dishtowel. She instantly examined Miss Carson, then shifted over to him with a large smile.
“Mr. Dusty,” she said as she held out her arms.
He jumped down and gave her a quick hug. Lifting her up and spinning her around.
She laughed and slapped at his shoulder, then quickly turned to once again examine Miss Carson before raising an eyebrow at him.
“Your wife?” she asked him then turned back to Miss Carson before he could stop her. “You chose well,” she said to the woman in the buckboard. “This one, he is acceptable.”
Miss Carson’s face turned instantly white then returned to full blush.
“This is Miss Carson. Mr. Carson’s sister.”
Consuela frowned. “Mr. John, he not find you? He left early to meet your train.”
The worry in Miss Carson’s eyes pulled at him. He hated the idea of her being frightened.
“I wouldn’t worry,” he told her as he handed her down from the wagon seat. “He must have gotten held up for some reason and we just missed him in town. We really didn’t wait around all that long.”
She nodded but still, that worried look remained.
“You,” Consuela called to one of the young ranch hands. “Take Miss Carson’s bags to her room. Across from Mr. John.” Then turning back to her, she smiled. “I have your room ready. Mr. John was so excited.”
Miss Carson nodded as she started to remove her gloves.
“I’ll get Prince settled,” Dusty said. She shot him a quick frown, obviously worried about being left alone in this strange world.
Dusty lifted down the goat and glanced over at the hands watching, daring them to say anything. Then led Prince to the stable where he deposited them both into a middle stall.
“What’s with the goat?” one of the hands said as he followed them into the stable.
Dusty shrugged his shoulders. “That’s between Mr. Carson and Prince.”
The ranch hand, a tall thin man that he had never met before, frowned and shook his head. Dusty could well imagine the complaints and gripes in the bunkhouse tonight. The idea of having to care for a goat was not going to sit well.
“So, this is the horse he was talking about,” the man said indicating Prince. “Can’t believe he paid all that money for him. Seems stupid to me.”
Dusty ignored him as he tossed in hay for the horse. The man was naturally cantankerous and not too bright. The worst of combinations. Dusty shook it off. It was Carson’s problem. Not his. He had a poker game waiting for him.
When he returned to the courtyard, he noticed that Miss Carson had gone inside. As he saddled Red, he wondered if he should say goodbye or just leave. The thought bothered him at the bottom of his stomach.
Before he could make a decision, she stepped out of the house and gave him a quick smile. She had removed her hat and gloves. It made her seem more approachable somehow.
“Well, I’ll be off,” he said as he stood with Red. Yet something inside of him told him he was making a mistake. Walking away was just not going to sit well.
“Would you like to eat before you leave?” she said with a raised eyebrow. “Consuela told me that she would have dinner ready in a little bit.
He was tempted. Mighty tempted, but if he didn’t leave now, he might never leave.
“No, Ma’am. I think it’s best I get on the road. If I hurry, I can get to town before it’s too late.”
She bit her lip as she nodded, “Of course, I understand,” she said as she stepped forward to lay a hand on his arm. “Again, Mr. Rhodes, thank you for all you have done. I will make sure that John is fully aware of how much we owe you.”
“I’m sure he will be home soon. I will probably pass him on the road.”
She nodded but he could see the worry that remained inside of her.
He swallowed hard as he stared down into her eyes. Maybe he should stay until John Carson returned. No, it wasn’t his place. Instead, he took a deep breath before turning and stepping up into the saddle.
“Ma’am,” he said as he lifted his hat. “It has been more than a pleasure.”
She smiled sweetly as he turned Big Red. That smile he thought. It was going to haunt his dreams for months.
.o0o.
Rebecca watched him leave with a deep sense of loss and foreboding. Would she ever see him again? The thought of never seeing his smile. Or the way he walked, as if he owned the world, frightened her.
No, she thought. She would make sure that did not happen.
As she turned to go back into the house, she noticed that no one had come to take care of the buckboard. The tired horse glanced over his shoulder as if asking her why he had been forgotten.
“Sir,” she called to the man standing just outside the bunkhouse looking at her. “Can you please see to the horse and buckboard.”
The man didn’t move, just stood there studying her. A flash of anger filled her. How dare he ignore her.
“I’ll get it, Ma’am,” a young cowboy said from behind her as he returned from taking in her bags.
She smiled a quick thanks then looked out at the ranch hand across the yard. He hadn’t moved. Her stomach tightened. Where was John? she wondered. He should have been here. Everything was so different.
Taking a deep breath, she slowly looked around. The mountains hung over them like a solid wall. The air tasted of dust, sage, and pine. The sun would be going down soon and she could almost anticipate the cooling to come.
Where was John?
Sighing heavily, she turned to go inside. As she stepped over the threshold, she glanced back to find that cowboy still standing in the same place, watching her. Her insides clenched as she tried to understand what was normal and what was not.
Had she made a mistake by asking him to care for the buckboard? Or had the man no sense of his responsibilities, or manners for that matter. Of course, that made her think of Mr. Rhodes. Yet that was different. She had never felt frightened by Mr. Rhodes. No, it wasn’t fear she had felt when it came to him.
She spent the remainder of the evening eating alone, then unpacking. She had hoped to get a chance to talk to Consuela. To find out about this new world, and perhaps if she was lucky, to find out a little more about Mr. Rhodes.
But the woman seemed permanently busy. Between feeding the ranch hands out on the covered patio to cleaning up after. Now was not the time, Rebecca thought as she made her way back to her room.
Her room was comfortable, with a large bed. A dresser to match and two tables on either side of the bed. Consuela had left a small vase with wildflowers on the dresser. She would be comfortable here, she thought. Knowing that there was another woman in the house made her feel safer somehow.
Later, as she was dressing for bed, she reached down to remove the knife and sheath strapped to her calf. She smiled to herself. She had sort of forgotten to return it on purpose. It would provide an excellent excuse to talk to him again.
If someone would have told her a week ago that she would be maneuvering to talk to a drifting cowboy. A man with no roots nor ambitions. She would have thought them crazy. Yet, here she was.
Where was he? she wondered as an image of Mr. Rhodes flashed into her mind. Sitting in a saloon behind a deck of cards? Or had he found one of those women? The ones in the frilly dresses parked outside the saloon. The thought built an anger inside of her that surprised her.
No, she thought. She wouldn’t think about Mr. Rhodes. She would keep it from her mind. Of course, she failed miserably.
The next morning when she woke, she stretched and smiled to herself. She had slept very well in the comfortable bed. So much nicer than a Pullman Sleeper. The smell of bacon and coffee pulled her up and out of bed. She held her breath as she threw on a robe and stepped into the hall.
John’s door was still open. The bed had not been slept in.
A pain of worry shot through her, filling her with doubt and fear. Where was he?
She quickly changed into a simple day dress and found Consuela. The older woman shot her a quick look of concern then glanced down the hall to John’s empty room.
Rebecca swallowed hard but held her tongue. If she expressed her fears, they might come true.
Obviously, Consuela felt the same way as she kept her mouth tightly closed while placing a plate of eggs and bacon at the far end of the table for her.
While she ate, Rebecca examined the room. Like the rest of the house, it was nicer than she had anticipated. Polished wood floors. Fine, if sturdy furniture. Well crafted. Clean windows with light blue curtains.
A nice home, she realized. But it was John’s home. Would she ever have a home of her own? A family? Children?
Suddenly, a picture of Dusty Rhodes jumped to the front of her mind, shocking her with the connection. The man was far from ideal husband material. And definitely not from her world. No. She thought. Besides, he was far away and not likely to return.
No, she must focus on making this a home for John. What if he married? She thought with a shudder. She would become the spinster aunt to his children. The sad, lonely woman in a man’s world. Living in another woman’s home.
She shook off the depressing thoughts and left to check on Prince. As she crossed the dusty courtyard, she noticed that a light rain had fallen in the night. The dust was smoothed out and two puddles remained in the corral.
Almost reaching the stables, she was surprised to see three of the ranch hands sitting on wooden chairs just outside the bunkhouse. One was carving a long stick, his knife slicing off chunks of wood. The other two simply sat there and watched her walk across the yard. The fourth, the youngest, Tommy, Consuela had told her, was missing.
A shiver ran down her spine. Shouldn’t they be out working? she wondered. The ranch was huge. Surely there were tasks they should be performing. Were they waiting for instructions? Once again, she wondered where John was and why wasn’t he here dealing with these men.
She stopped mid-stride and addressed them. “Shouldn’t you men be doing something?”
None of them moved, although the carver did stop in mid-stroke. He studied her, then continued to slice at the wood.
The tall, lean cowboy’s brow furrowed for a moment, then he said, “We work for Mr. Carson. He tells us what he wants done.”
An anger began to build inside of her. These men knew she was John’s sister. Yet they treated her as an interloper. A non-entity. As the anger began to build, she fought to think of some job to send them on. But really, she had no idea what needed to be done.
What was worse, she was positive they would ignore her. Then what? She would look even weaker and more ineffective than she had already. These were rough proud men, she realized. She had no authority nor the ability to command them.
Grumbling under her breath, she turned for the barn and Prince. When John arrived, he would deal with them.
When she stepped into the barn, she was pleased to find young Tom currying Prince. Billy, the goat was off to the side, watching, making sure the young cowboy did a good job. At least someone around here was working.
The boy couldn’t have been more than sixteen. With a kind face, eager to please. He smiled at her but kept running the brush over the big horse’s back.
Seeing that the prized stallion was being well treated, she returned to the main house, ignoring the stares from the ranch house crowded around the bunkhouse door.
No, they were John’s problem, she reminded herself.
Chapter Eleven
Rebecca paced back and forth in the main room. Eight days. John had been missing for eight agonizing days. Each one a heavier weight on her. Threatening to bury her with grief.
With each step on the hard, wooden floor, her stomach grew tighter with fear and the beginning of acceptance. He wasn’t coming back. She knew her brother. Nothing could have kept him from his ranch. Something had happened.
For the first time, she admitted to herself that there was every possibility her brother was dead. No, more like a probability. This was a harsh land, Mr. Rhodes had told her over and over. A dozen different ways for a man to disappear and never be heard from again.
Wild Indians, outlaws, bears, wolves, mountain lions. Even the scorpions could kill a man. Not to say anything
about the snakes. Or a horse could trip and fall, crushing him. Leaving him alone, broken, with no water. So many ways for a man to die and no one ever know.
For the last eight days, Consuela had grown quieter, with a concerned, almost frightened look to her eyes. As if she knew John wasn’t coming back.
Rebecca had requested the ranch hands to look for him. That Jacob Palmer, the tall, skinny one had stared at her for a long moment until he finally relented and told the others to saddle up. But she wasn’t sure how hard they tried. For all she knew, they could have ridden out of sight and stopped looking. That Mr. Palmer, she wouldn’t trust him to feed chickens, let alone look for her brother.
Taking a deep breath, Rebecca fought to hold off the tears. John was dead. She knew it in her heart. And he had left her all alone out here in the high desert. The thought sent a cold shiver through her entire body.
John was the last of her family. The only other person in this world she could trust and rely upon. Now, she was alone with a ranch that she had absolutely no idea how to run. As the reality began to sink in, she pushed away her sorrow. She didn’t have the luxury of grieving. Not yet. There were too many problems to be faced.
John’s books showed that he was in a great deal of debt. The money for Prince had been the last of his cash. Instead of using it to buy down his debt with the bank. He had risked it all on a horse that he hoped would improve his stock.
No, as his only living relative, she was the new owner of the C-Bar, she was the one in debt.
What had he been thinking? she wondered as she shook her head. Prince would not pay off for years. If ever. John had risked all. Hoping that Royal Prince would begin a valued bloodline.
Looking up at the ceiling she rolled her eyes. It appeared her brother was more like her father than he would have preferred to admit.
What was she to do? Her mother had always said that the sign of a lady was she knew what to do in any situation. But her mother had never owned a failing ranch in the foothills of the High Sierras.
The biggest challenge her mother had ever faced was what to serve at her Tuesday tea.
High Desert Cowboy (High Sierra Book 2) Page 7