by Janet Dailey
"What kind of an answer is that?" she demanded.
"Just leave it, Jordanna. " The set of his jaw told her as plainly as his words that he wouldn't discuss it with her.
At the sound of the tent flap being lifted, Brig turned. He had half-expected Jordanna to return, but it was Jocko who entered the tent. Disappointment flickered in his eyes before it was screened from sight, but not before the shepherd had seen it.
"She has gone to the stream to look for her father and brother, " Jocko informed him.
"I don't recall asking, " Brig snapped. Was he so transparent?
"No, you did not ask, " Jocko admitted and laughed softly.
Brig walked to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee, aware that he had refused it from Jordanna. It was black and strong, the way he liked it. He carried the cup to the crude, wooden table and sat down on the rough bench.
"Have you noticed her lately?" Jocko was at the stove, getting a cup for himself.
"Who? Jordanna?"
"Si. Jordanna. " The Basque mocked Brig's feigned attempt at ignorance.
"What about her?" Brig stared at his cup, feeling the agitation stirring within him like a boiling caldron.
"We have been in the mountains more than a week already and she has not changed. If anything she has grown more beautiful. "
"That's natural Being the only woman, she's bound to look more beautiful, " Brig dismissed the statement
"No, you do not understand me. " Jocko's reproval was gentle, as if correcting a child. "It is that she thrives on hardship. She grows stronger on the challenge of these mountains. She can saddle her own horse, hunt her own game, cook her own food, wash her own clothes, and treat injuries. She is not frightened or intimidated by the isolation. She does not long for civilization or the comforts of a soft bed. "
"So?" The enumeration of all her qualities wasn't necessary. He had noticed all those things that demanded his admiration. Her self-assurance, her strength in adversity, her warm willingness in bed, and her basic capabilities were all traits he had imagined in the ideal woman. That Jordanna possessed them, he didn't need to be told.
"She is a rare woman, " Jocko stated. "She is like the pioneer women who came West with their husbands and families and worked side by side with them to build a new life. "
"You left out one key ingredient, Jocko. A heart" Why had he said that?
"You think your woman does not have one?" He gave Brig a quizzical look.
Brig rose from the table as Jocko was about to sit down. "I didn't say that"
"No?" The one word was more man skeptical.
"No. " His was a flat denial. Something was bothering him. He couldn't put his finger on it.
"I know she is more than just a woman to you. Is it that you are afraid to admit you care?" Jocko gave him a sad look that held pity.
"She warms my sleeping bag on a cold mountain night. She bandages my shoulder. She rides beside me. Yes, I care, " Brig agreed in a confused, irritated voice. "But we're here to hunt sheep, remember. And her father wants a trophy bighorn. " With a passion that had nearly killed Max this afternoon—and himself.
"What does this have to do with Jordanna? You are making things sound complicated. " Jocko shook his head.
"That's because you are a shepherd, Jocko. Everything to you is very simple. " Brig was over-ridden by a suspicion that it wasn't. "You don't know how devious and cunning the rich and self-centered people of this world can be in order to get what they want. It's a world of coyotes, Jocko, " he declared. "I should know. I used to live in it. One coyote alone will attack only something that is weaker—a newborn lamb or a crippled animal. But you know what a pack of them will do, Jocko. Working together, coyotes can bring down a full grown elk. " He glanced toward the tent-flap. "We might have a hunting party of four coyotes out there. I have an uneasy feeling that we shouldn't trust them any farther than you can spit, Jocko. "
"Something happened today that you did not mention?" Jocko guessed.
"Just remember what I said. " Brig took a swig of his coffee and reached for his sheepskin jacket, draping it over his shoulders before walking outside to the fire.
The next day Max decided to stay in camp with Jocko and Tandy. Yesterday's experience was too vivid in his mind. Brig couldn't blame him, although he had seen the glitter of disdain in Fletcher's look.
It was just as well Max had stayed at camp. It had been one of those days that tested the patience of a hunter. Jordanna had picked out a ram from a bachelor group, Its horns hadn't been the size of the bighorn her father sought, but considerably larger than anything else they had seen. They would have run close to forty inches, only the ram had spooked at the last minute. Her shot had missed and there hadn't been time for a second. They had spotted Fletcher's ram several times, but it was always on the move, scrambling somewhere. Their attempts to second-guess where he was going had continually proved to be wrong It was a disgruntled and disgusted Fletcher Smith who returned to the base camp at twilight.
It was Max who became the butt of his displeasure. After the evening meal, they were all sitting around the campfire. Fletcher had been discussing with Brig where they would be most likely to find his ram the next day. Since they had never seen the bighorn monarch in the same place twice, Brig had refused to hazard a guess, which didn't please Fletcher.
He turned to Max and taunted him, "What about you? Are you going with us tomorrow? Or are you staying in camp again?" There was scorn in his look.
Max went white, but attempted a different response. "I don't know. I haven't thought about it. "
"If you don't have the stomach for it, you might as well stay here, " Fletcher stated in a voice that said he was convinced Max didn't have it
"As a matter of fact, " Kit spoke up, "I was considering staying in camp tomorrow. Like you, Max, I think a change of pace is a good idea once in a while. We aren't after a trophy like Dad, so there isn't any reason for us to go out every day. "
"That's right, " Max was quick to agree with him. "Although, who knows? In the morning, I might fed like riding along with the others. "
"You must suit yourself, of course, " Fletcher said and leaned back against a log to puff on his pipe. "I've been thinking about that stock of yours, Max. If I decide to buy it, how would you want the transaction to be done?"
Fletcher had thrown out the lure and like a hatchery fish, Max snapped at it. The two men became embroiled in a legal and financial discussion that lasted the rest of the evening. Before they retired, Max was talking about continuing the discussion the next day— which meant he had decided to go along
A cynical dryness was in Brig's eyes. His cousin's fear wasn't as great as his greed. He'd risk anything to get the money from Fletcher. Max had proven that. Brig walked to the small tent, kneading his sore shoulder.
Chapter 15
"The buckskin's got a loose shoe. " Tandy made the explanation to Brig while he saddled a big bay pack-horse that doubled as a spare riding mount "So you'll have to ride Jughead today. "
"Jughead?" Jordanna glanced at Brig, a laughing twinkle in her eye. "What a terrible name to give a horse. "
"Just be glad you don't have to ride that hard-mouthed, bull-headed, and downright stupid excuse for a horse. " A lazy hint of a smile edged the corners of Brig's mouth.
"Is your shoulder bothering you this morning?" Tandy wanted to know, grunting as he tugged the cinch strap tighter. "Do you want me to top him off for you?"
Brig hesitated, then nodded. "You'd better. I might get bucked off and that would really be adding insult to injury. "
He held the horse's bridle while Tandy swung aboard. Everyone, including Jordanna, had stepped to one side to watch, Tandy pulled his hat down tight on his forehead and settled deep into the saddle seat. When Brig let go of the bridle, the bay horse gave his audience a spirited bucking exhibition. With a rolling snort of defeat, the gelding smoothed out his back and swung into a trot
"Does he always do that?" Jor
danna asked, a smile still softening her mouth.
"With a rider or a pack saddle, " he nodded.
Tandy rode up to them and dismounted, handing the reins to Brig Jordanna stood beside her sorrel. She never tired of watching the way Brig stepped into the saddle. The action was smooth, one fluid motion. Astride the horse, his gaze swung to her. She moved to the side of the sorrel, but as she put her foot in the stirrup, she noticed the saddle was loose. She started to tighten the cinch.
"I'll do it" Tandy was right there. "Dandy always blows himself up. I forgot to check him. "
"There's something wrong with my horse, " Max stated. "He won't move. "
Jordanna glanced over to the brown-spotted gelding. Max was jamming his heels into the horse's side, but it didn't even flicker an eyelash. It stood as unmoving as a statue, despite his rider's harsh proddings.
"The cinch might be too tight, " Tandy suggested. I'll be there in a minute. "
"I'll do it, Tandy, " Fletcher volunteered and swung down from his horse. He walked to the pinto and looked up at Max. "You'll have to get off, " he told him with taunting patience.
"I didn't know. "
Fletcher loosened the cinch a fraction and adjusted the saddle to be certain it was sitting squarely on the horse's back, then stepped away. "Try that, Max. "
He mounted and kicked the horse. "It still won't go, " Max declared in disgust
Tandy slapped the belly of the sorrel horse and snugged Jordanna's saddle cinch tighter. "Maybe there's a crimp in the saddle blanket. That paint is a canny horse. He won't go one step if there's something wrong with the gear. He had a bad back when we got him. I guess he made up his mind it wasn't going to happen to him again. "
Max dismounted again and Fletcher completely loosened the cinch. He checked under the saddle and under the saddle-pad, smoothing them out. At one point he stopped.
"I think I found it, Tandy, " he said. "There was a little crease in the pad. "
"That probably did it"
When Max climbed into the saddle again, the spotted horse stepped right out "That's a smart horse, Max, " Smith observed, and walked back to his own.
Within minutes they were all mounted and Brig led them away from camp. Jordanna rode behind him. It had become her place in line. She liked following his broad shoulders. She always felt especially safe and secure when he was around—not that she had ever really been frightened, because she hadn't It was a sensation she couldn't explain.
The plan for the day's hunt was to return to the place where they had first sighted the big ram. It was close to camp. From it, they could begin a circle to the other places until they found either that ram or one for Jordanna.
She glanced back at the rest of the group. Max was directly behind her, followed by her father, and finally Kit. He had decided to come after Max changed his mind about staying in camp. Jordanna had found it slightly touching the way her brother had leaped to defend Max last night from her father's baiting. Of course, Kit hadn't understood that their father hadn't meant to be so biting. It was his frustration over that elusive ram, something which she well understood.
The thought of the two of them reminded her of the argument she had witnessed. She had hoped this trip would patch the division between them, but it seemed to be worse. Why? She couldn't find a cause.
Absorbed in her thoughts, Jordanna didn't notice that Brig had stopped. The sorrel horse halted of its own accord alongside him. She glanced at Brig, who had directed his binoculars to the valley below them.
"What is it?" Her own binoculars were suspended around her neck, secured to her jacket front so they wouldn't bounce as she rode.
"A black bear. " Brig lowered his glasses for a minute and looked again. "Near that copse of trees. See it?"
Jordanna located the movement and focused her lenses on it The bear was some distance below them, a dark spot ambling along until the magnification of her binoculars gave him shape. He looked no bigger than an overgrown labrador retriever. The darkness of its shaggy coat made the bear smaller than it was over a long distance. It continued its rolling gait and disappeared in the trees.
"There is so much game in these mountains, " Jordanna lowered her binoculars and glanced at Brig The small cut on his jaw brought a smile to her lips.
Brig watched it form with disconcerting interest "What brought that?"
"I was remembering what a terrible time you had shaving this morning—until I took over. " The warmth of her voice was faintly teasing
For a minute a smile played with his mouth, then disappeared. "I think I set a dangerous precedent when I trusted you with a razor, " he murmured and clicked to his horse.
As he started forward, her frown was both amused and puzzled. Brig had sounded almost serious. Her sorrel horse fell back into line. A steep switchback trail was just ahead, winding through the trees to the crest of the ridge. It was a stiff, zigzagging climb, filled with places where the horses had to scramble for footing Jordanna gave her mountain-bred horse its head, knowing it would do better without any interference from its rider.
The first half of the morning, they didn't spot a single sheep. Close to noon, they were belly-down on a ridge glassing a natural sheep basin with a small alpine lake, good graze, and steep, craggy cliffs. The area seemed empty of bighorns.
"Look there, just entering the meadow. " Her father sighted on the southerly edge of the slope.
"I see them, " Jordanna answered as three rams walked warily into the meadow. "One looks good sized. "
"It's hard to tell from here, " he said. "They are too far away for me to tell whether that one has a chipped horn or not. "
"We'll ride closer, " Brig said. "We can approach them upwind by riding just below that ridgeline to the right. " He scanned the area again. "It shouldn't be too difficult a stalk from that point. "
Mounting they rode along the shoulder of the ridge, its backbone hiding them from sight At a point Brig had picked out, they stopped and edged their way up to the crest. The trio of bighorns were still there, grazing not far from the place they had first seen them. The ram with the chipped horn was not among them, but the larger of the three was almost its equal. Jordanna studied it through the spotting scope before passing it to her father.
"It's a good one, " he nodded. "Are you going to try for it?"
"Yes. "
After a low discussion with Brig about the possible routes for a stalk, the degree of visibility of each, and the winds, Jordanna chose the one she preferred. Together, she and Brig began the slow, delicate process of a stalk, trying to make any exposed moves when the ram's head was down grazing, or when he was looking in the opposite direction.
When Jordanna reached a large boulder within fifty yards of her target, Brig was right beside her. His look said this was as close as they could get There was a glint of reluctant admiration in his eyes that her skilled and silent stalking had brought them this close.
She laid the barrel of the. 30-06 over the boulder, cradling the fore-end in her left hand, and snuggled down behind it Her throat was dry and she felt shaky. Ram fever. She took a couple of silent breaths to help the fever pass. Sighting for a point low behind the brown shoulder, she gently squeezed the trigger. The rifle boomed in the mountain stillness, shattering the air and echoing through the stone walls. The ram took a rubbery step and collapsed, as if his legs had gone out from beneath him. The rifle shot had held the other younger rams paralyzed for an instant, before they bounded in a panic to the craggy heights.
The elation of success spilled through her. Jordanna rose from behind the boulder and secured her rifle. Her eyes were sparkling when her triumphant gaze swung to Brig. There was no expression in his.
"Let's go see what you've got" He started forward and she quickly followed.
Slightly winded, as much from the excitement as the short climb, Jordanna reached the lifeless body. It was a magnificent specimen, with a massive pair of broomed and battered horns. The tip of one had been broken off. The
ram had been a part of many fights and, no doubt, conquered many ewes. Jordanna was proud of her trophy.
"Do you want to skin him here?" Brig wasn't giving her any time to revel in her success.
The area where the ram had fallen was relatively level, without any obstructions to interfere with the process. She glanced over her shoulder to see her father, brother, and Max cresting the ridge on their horses and riding toward them.
"Yes, this is a good place, " she agreed and removed her folded knife from her belt
Brig paused, glancing at her with startled skepticism. "Are you going to do it?" His knife was already in his hands, the blade snapped open.
"I do know how, " Jordanna told him, her eyes laughing at his doubtful expression. "You're welcome to help, if you know what you're doing. "
"Thanks, " he offered dryly and stood back to let her begin.
Skinning for a shoulder mount, Jordanna started behind the foreleg and cut up the back. Brig helped her turn the animal over so she could continue to cut down the other side. After circling out the forelegs, she finished the cut behind the brisket. Her knifeblade sliced cleanly up the neck along the backbone and made a "T" cut at the base of the horns. Working at a comfortably steady pace, Jordanna skinned out the shoulders and neck, careful to avoid leaving any pieces of meat or fat clinging to the hide.
"You do know what you're doing, " Brig commented.
"It's part of hunting. " Jordanna tried to sound modest, but she was warmed by his compliment. Brig never praised unless it was earned. She had learned that much about him already.
"You do it very well; I've seen some hunters hack away at a hide until it's ruined. " Brig took over to separate the head from the neck at the first joint.
The arrival of the rest of the hunting party provided Jordanna the tools to finish the job—a screwdriver to pry the skin away from the horns, a saw to cut the top of the skull, and a bag of salt to cure the hide. It was a long, tedious process that required painstaking care.
It was a heavy prize they carried back to camp, the horns alone weighing more than thirty pounds. A magenta sunset painted a spectacular rose hue across the valleys and mountaintops at twilight. There was an air of celebration in the camp that night, a sublime aura of success. The carefully folded hide was tucked in the shady cradle of a tree limb, where it would be safe from scavengers.