“Um.” She glanced around. They had always had only enough cut up to burn for one day so there was no set place to stack it. “You can put half of it here by the bunkhouse and half over there by the soddy.”
He nodded and went back to work chopping as he asked, “So is there anything else you want to ask me?”
“Well, I find myself in an awkward position. You see I don’t really know the first thing about running a ranch, so I don’t know what questions I should ask you. You said you were the trail boss on a drive, so I suppose that you know something about cattle. Where did you learn that information?”
Jason set another log up on its end, swinging the ax high and chopping it in half before he leaned on the handle and replied, “My uncle’s best friend owns a ranch. His name is Smith Bennett, and his son, Cade, and I were pretty good friends growing up. Every summer until I was seventeen I worked on their ranch with my cousins, helping do all sorts of odd jobs. I also sometimes helped my uncle with his work. He is the sheriff back home in Shilo. I learned cattle from Smith Bennett, and I learned about horses from Uncle Sean.”
“And organizing and running a ranch, what do you know about that?”
“Well, I’ll be honest with you on that. I have never had to run a ranch. But,” he glanced around at the rundown buildings, “I have some ideas that I think will work. At least improve your situation.”
Nicki was about to ask something else when she heard a rider approaching and turned to see who it was.
“Nicki? I heard there were some shots over in this direction?” William swung down from the saddle, his mouth thinning as he took in Nicki’s attire.
She glanced down. She had forgotten about her clothes. Heat warmed her cheeks.
Jason didn’t miss the way Nicki’s cheeks tinted as she self-consciously smoothed a hand over the front of her baggy pants. The newcomer eyed him in a decidedly unfriendly fashion, then turned his eyes back on Nicki, waiting for her reply.
“Hello, William. You heard right. Your fears the other day were justified. Someone wants me off this land.”
“Someone with a .44 caliber,” Jason added, his eyes casually taking in the Winchester of the same caliber that rested in the scabbard of William’s saddle. He had taken a few moments to check out the rounds that struck the bunkhouse and had even meandered over the hill to look at the area where the shots had originated. The shooter had been on foot, and Jason knew he wouldn’t soon forget his tracks.
“Who is this?” The man’s accusing tone hung thickly in the air.
Nicki gestured toward Jason. “I’d like you to meet Jason Jordan. Jason, this is William Harpster, my neighbor and friend.”
Jason stepped toward William, nodding as they shook hands. Nicki continued, “Jason is my new ranch foreman.”
Jason relaxed inwardly, although he didn’t let his relief show. After their fiasco of an introduction, he had wondered if she would even consider hiring him, yet somehow even while they were being shot at, he’d known this was where he suddenly wanted to be. He’d ridden down the hill grumbling about this God-forsaken ranch in the middle of nowhere. But one glimpse of his new boss’s pretty eyes, and suddenly he felt right at home.
His eyes flickered toward Nicki as he picked the ax back up. She was very beautiful. He suppressed a snort of disgust with himself. He was as shallow as the neighbor who had stepped very close to Nicki in a protective gesture. Nicki folded her arms and stiffened. Interesting.
He swiped his cheek against one shoulder, grabbed a log, and set it up on the chopping block. Lord, help me to serve this woman for the right reasons and not just because she is beautiful.
Jason eyed the newcomer even as he continued to chop wood. He sensed that this man was not happy with his presence here and wondered what caused his displeasure. His eyes dropped once again to the man’s rifle, suspicion darkening his thoughts.
“A ranch foreman, Nicki?” William lowered his voice, “If you would accept my offer, you wouldn’t need a foreman.” He touched her arm, trailing his fingers from her shoulder to her elbow and looking deeply into her eyes. The hushed words were not meant to reach Jason, but he heard them, nonetheless, and understanding dawned.
She has a suitor this soon after the death of her husband? Something seemed odd about that, but remembering his own reaction to her beauty, Jason was not surprised.
William turned and stared at Jason, who continued calmly chopping wood, his swing of the ax rhythmic and smooth. “Nicki, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you,” he said, his eyes still on Jason, his voice raised a notch.
“You are not going to need a ranch foreman.”
Jason heard Nicki give a dry chuckle as she turned on William. “Look around you! This place is literally falling apart. I need someone to help me put it back together; get it organized. I’ll not be frightened off this place.” There was an edge of iron in her tone.
Good girl.
“Nicki, don’t do this. Please. Listen to reason. You aren’t qualified to run this place.”
“Which is why I’ve hired a foreman.”
William took Nicki’s elbow. “Listen to me.” He led her a few steps away, paused, then started talking.
Jason, now unable to hear what he said, watched as William handed her a yellow paper that could only be a telegram. Nicki frowned and glanced down at it. Jason’s eyes stayed on Nicki as he set another round of wood on the chopping block. She read the telegram, dropped it to her side, and raked the fingers of her other hand back through the dark, loose strands of hair by her face. It was a gesture of defeat. William pulled her into his embrace and Jason saw her shoulders slump as she leaned into his arms.
Lord, help her. Give her the strength to go on. That little boy in there is going to need her. And don’t let her fall into the temptation to give up, like Mom did. He swallowed a lump in his throat. Keep her strong. Show her she needs to keep her eyes on You.
William and Nicki exchanged some more words, then William turned and mounted his horse. Riding away, he cast one more frown in Jason’s direction.
Nicki stood still, staring at the snow-covered peaks of the Three Sisters that could be seen in the distance. Turning, she headed toward the house and then, apparently remembering him, she turned back, the telegram clutched in her trembling fist. She didn’t once meet his eyes as she said, “You are welcome to stay for dinner but—” She ended in a choked whisper, “I’m sorry you came all the way out here. I will have Tilly pack you a grub stake for your trip home.” With that, she turned dejectedly for the house.
Jason sank the ax deep into the chopping block and swiped his temple against the shoulder of his shirt as he watched Nicki make her way into the house. “Lord?” He spoke the prayer out loud but heard no reply.
Conner and Ron rode toward home as the sun began to set. Conner rolled his shoulders and dropped his head from one side to the other, stretching out his neck. It had been a long day in the saddle. They would have been home by now if it weren’t for the heifer and her calf that had gotten bogged down and then tangled in the barbed wire where a drift had mounded up against the fence.
Oh, how he was looking forward to a hot cup of strong black coffee! His stomach grumbled at the mere thought.
Dusk glazed the countryside with a film of gray. Only black shapes indicated trees, bushes, and the strip of trail that lay before them. Off to their right a cow lowed and another responded. The wind picked up and Conner shivered, reaching to adjust his sheepskin coat. Ron’s horse tossed its head, the bit clanking against its teeth, and Conner felt the muscles of his mare bunch even as her ears swiveled forward.
“Ron!”
The warning came too late. A lasso sailed out of the darkness toward Ron, a black snake slithering against the twilight sky. Ron’s horse reared up, pawing the air, even as the loop settled around his shoulders and jerked him from the saddle. He landed with a thud and a groan against the embankment.
Conner scrambled from his saddle and rushed to Ron
’s side. He knelt in the snow by him. “Ron!” He was out cold.
A footfall sounded behind him. A blade pricked his throat.
Conner froze, a tingle of fear prickling his tongue with a metallic taste.
The breath from a throaty laugh heated his ear and the stench of stale beer assaulted his nostrils. “Turn around and you’re a dead man, boy.”
Conner swallowed and kept still.
“You should have tossed that race like Roland wanted you to, son.”
Squinting into the darkness, Conner willed his heart to quit beating so loudly in his ears. Did he know that voice? He willed himself to breathe normally and tuned in carefully to the sounds around him, straining to hear if there were any other people with this half-drunk foe.
Off in the distance he could hear the rush of the Deschutes River. And somewhere a cricket chirped happily, uncaring of the drama being played out at its back door. His mare stamped her foot and snorted impatiently. But he heard nothing except the breathing of the man behind him and a soft moan from Ron.
The man chuckled and pressed the knife deeper into his throat, twisting the blade slightly. “Bet you wish now that you’d just slowed up a little, huh?” he whispered. “Wouldn’t o’ been so hard now, would it?”
Conner swallowed hard but said nothing. He might have one chance to make it out of this alive. And he would bide his time, waiting for the right moment before he acted.
Another chuckle. “You got nerve, I’ll give you that much, but it ain’t gonna do you a whole lot a good where you’re going.”
The pressure on the blade eased up slightly as the man raised it for the plunge.
With a feral yell, Conner snapped his head back, smashing it into the nose of the man behind him. He felt the satisfying crunch as it gave.
The man yelped, sprawling over backwards.
Lurching to his feet, Conner spun, then immediately realized his mistake. The blood rushing to leave his head left him blind and lightheaded. He stretched his hands out in front of him as he staggered sideways.
A gun cocked and he froze, sure that at any moment he’d be passing through the gates of glory. “Mister.”
It was a new voice and not one Conner recognized. He held his breath. The newcomer continued, “I think it would be smart for you to hurry on back to whichever coward sent you out here to hunt down this cowpoke and tell him that if he wants a fight, he should come and get it like a man.”
Conner released a puff of air. This man must be an angel sent from God himself! He blinked, realizing that his sight was back, but still all he could see was blackness. Everything was in total darkness now as black clouds obliterated the moonlight, but Conner heard a rapid scuffing and scrambling and then dead silence for a beat.
“You must be Conner and Ron?” the newcomer asked.
Conner was slow to respond, still processing the last few minutes.
“You okay?”
With a shudder Conner finally managed, “Yeah, thanks.”
Ron moaned and Conner scrambled to his side. “Who are you?” he asked, as he slipped the rope off over Ron’s head.
“Name’s Jason. Nicki got worried when it grew dark and you hadn’t arrived back home. She hired me today, and asked me to come out looking for you.” He reached behind Ron from the other side. “Here, let’s get him up on his horse and back to the house.”
Dinner was a solemn, quiet affair.
Ron held a bag of snow to his head, and Tilly had fussed over the cut on Conner’s neck, making sure it was cleaned and bandaged.
Nicki had prepared a meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, canned green beans, and biscuits, with lemon-meringue pie for dessert. Plenty of hot coffee for the adults and fresh, cold milk for Sawyer accompanied the meal.
Jason did a double-take when Nicki approached the table wearing a dress. If he had thought her beautiful before in the baggy pants and shirt, she was decidedly more so now. His eyes lingered on her face. Quite possibly, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
She glanced at him, but he did not look away. He could see that she was ready to give up. Whatever was in that wire had convinced her she wouldn’t be able to make it and now, with the attack on Conner, she was determined to be done with this place. Stubbornly so. Her look was defiant, daring him to challenge her decision to give up. He had never been one to pass up a dare. He kept staring until she looked away, flustered.
Jason sighed. He wanted to help her; to encourage her; to infuse her with strength. His look had been meant to assure her that she could make it through this time. Whatever had been in that telegram couldn’t be all bad. God would help her work through it. Where had her determination of the morning gone?
Nicki broke into his thoughts. “Jason, I know you’ve met, but I’d like to formally introduce you to my two ranch hands, Ron and Conner.”
The men chuckled and looked at one another. Jason had immediately taken a liking to both of them, and he stretched his hand out to each man with a nod.
After a brief discussion about the day’s ordeals, they all made light conversation throughout the meal, as if sensing Nicki didn’t much feel like talking.
When the dishes were cleared, Sawyer was occupied with Tilly, and everyone had a slice of pie with coffee, Nicki broached the unpleasant subject at hand. “William came to see me today.”
The men looked at her—Jason with his elbows on the table, Conner over the rim of his coffee cup, Ron still holding the icepack to his head—each slowly chewing a bite of pie, knowing that she had more to say.
“He brought me a telegram. From a bank in Prineville.” Nicki glanced at all three men, then turned her eyes back to Ron. “The bank wants the balance of the money they loaned to John when he bought this place. They say I have two weeks to pay off the loan, or they are going to repossess.” She sighed. “I didn’t even know there was a loan on the place. I wondered where John got the money but never even considered that he’d taken out a loan. Certainly not for this amount.”
No one replied. Jason knew that each of them were lost in their own thoughts on how this new information was going to affect them all.
Conner darted a glance across the room to where Tilly played with Sawyer before he raised his cup to his lips. When Tilly met Conner’s eyes with an alarmed look of her own, Jason knew there was more brewing in their glance than the desire to keep Nicki from losing her ranch.
Jason broke the thick silence. “How much do you owe?”
Nicki swallowed. “Five thousand dollars. I’m afraid there is nothing I can do. I’m so sorry.” She looked back and forth from Ron to Conner. “I will pack up and take Sawyer to California. Maybe I will be able to find my family there if they haven’t moved.” She shrugged, twirling her fork in the slice of pie in front of her. “There is nothing else to do.”
Jason eyed her, savoring a mouthful of smooth lemon sweetness as he contemplated the situation. He had never been one to take defeat lying down. There had to be something they could do to keep this young widow from losing everything she had to her name. “Ron, tell me about the stock.”
Nicki blinked at him. “Don’t.” She raised a hand to stop his line of thinking. “Just don’t. There’s no way we’re going to be able to raise five thousand dollars in the next two weeks.”
Jason was undaunted. “Ron, how many cattle would you say John ran here?”
Nicki glared at him. He looked away, waiting for Ron’s reply. Ron glanced carefully between Nicki and Jason, then slowly replied, “I’d say 150 or so.” He set the bag of snow down on the floor by his feet and took a sip of coffee.
Jason calculated. “Not enough.” He drank some of the dark brew, his eyes on Nicki over the rim. “Even if you got twenty dollars a head, you wouldn’t be able to raise enough. And that would clean you out of stock, leaving you nothing to repopulate with.”
“I figured that, Señor.” Nicki glared at him, her slender hands cupped around a hot mug.
Jason raised a
forkful of pie halfway to his mouth as he said, “You could sell some of your timber. I saw a large grove of tall pines not too far from here, and lumber is selling for an arm and a leg right now in Portland.” He finished taking the bite, wiped the corner of his mouth and raised his coffee cup, sipping.
Nicki shook her head. “I have the contract. John signed something saying we would not sell anything that would decrease the value of the property until it is all paid for or we forfeit all the land.”
This last comment struck a nerve. Something didn’t sound right about that to Jason. Why would the bank want that clause in there? All they should care about was getting their money back.
Nicki went on. “Besides, we don’t have the time to cut them all down, get them to the mill, then haul them to Portland and sell them. Don’t you think I’ve considered all this?”
“I don’t think there’d be enough anyhow,” Ron said. “Other than that one nice stand, the trees are pretty sparse out here. Just juniper and sagebrush mostly.”
Jason nodded. “The cattle need some shelter from the winds on these wide-open places anyhow. We should leave the trees. Just a thought.”
Nicki folded her arms and gave him an I-told-you-so look that would have melted butter. Her eyes were black with anger as they bored through him.
Undaunted, Jason went back to considering the problem. He glanced at her, calculating the danger of pushing the she-bear further. The corner of his mouth twitched and he quickly looked down into the inky liquid in his cup.
He’d bet his saddle no one had ever told her how beautiful she was when she was angry. Who would risk it? His mouth twitched again, and he spoke quickly before he could reason himself out of it. “I think you are giving up too easily.” Jason savored his last bite of lemon meringue and enjoyed the flame of her cheeks and the pulsing of the little muscle along her jaw. “Any other assets besides cattle?” He directed the question toward Ron.
Nicki slapped her palms on the table with an unladylike growl and stood. In his peripheral vision Jason saw Tilly jump. Nicki’s voice quavered as she spoke. “¡Este hombre! ¡Dispense! Excuse me! Ron, Conner, will you excuse us for a minute?” Nicki glared at Jason, jerking one finger toward the door. “¡Ben a fuera de la casa!” She spun and marched outside, not bothering to interpret for him but clearly expecting him to follow.
High Desert Haven (The Shepherd's Heart) Page 9