“Maybe we should talk some more.”
He cringed at the way it sounded. Desperate. Awkward. She didn’t react, and if his presence irritated her, she didn’t show it. Her eyes remained riveted on the smooth surface of the water. Birds flew overhead, chattering and challenging each other. The sheep baaed in the background. Pastoral. Very Psalm 23, Tyler reflected, except for the presence of the woman and the problems it created.
“How did you manage to be taken captive?”
She bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut.
He regretted the question. Her distress could only mean. . . “Did they hurt you, Renee?”
She sobbed. Once. And then shook her head. “No. Not really. They. . .”
He waited. Knowing something more, darker, must be shadowing her memories.
“It’s my fault.” Her statement drowned beneath a bank of sobs that shook her shoulders and seemed to rip every bit of strength from her.
He hated the helpless feeling her tears evoked. He glanced at the sheep, incredulous at his earlier vision of pastoral peace. Her tears tinged everything with gray. He was sorry he had rescued her.
No.
That wasn’t quite right.
He was sorry he couldn’t get her home.
Would they come looking for her? He knew little of the circumstances that placed her with those men. If they were holding her for ransom, they would come after her. If she were a hostage, they might let her go, unless they feared her being able to describe them. In that case they would either run to avoid capture or try to find her trail.
“They shot my brother.” Her breaths came hard. He digested the words, fresh anger consuming him. “I wanted him to come with me to find the gang.”
“A gang?”
She nodded and brushed her hand across her eyes. “I thought it would be fun. Thomas didn’t want to go.”
“You thought it would be fun?”
“I didn’t expect to really find them.”
He couldn’t believe his ears. This young woman went after a gang because she thought it would be fun? That she’d been foolish to set off after a gang, to even desire such a reckless thing, spotlighted her immaturity. He judged her to be about eighteen. Probably spoiled by parents who demanded nothing of her. If she expected words of consolation, he had none to offer.
“It was a foolish thing you did.”
Her eyes flashed to his, angry. “You don’t think I know that?”
“Having a person’s blood on your hands is a terrible thing.”
She swept to her feet, spun, and ran away, scattering the sheep in her path. He let her go. So much for a conversation. But her revelations withered his estimation of her. Still, he’d had his say. He would not coddle whatever insecurity made her go off on such a foolhardy quest and drag her brother along, only to get him killed.
A lamb toddled his way, pausing, its mama close by but its curiosity leading the baby to forget her for a moment. Tyler wondered how many lambs he had rescued in the last three years, their desire to explore their world leading them down a narrow path that separated them and sent their mothers into a frenzy. At least they were innocent of their wrongdoing. Unlike Renee. Unlike himself.
ten
She’d wanted her freedom, curling her lip at the idea of being a wife and mother, of being tied to a ranch and all the hard work when there was a world to see. Places to go and things to do that had nothing to do with horses or saddles, cows or fencing. Thomas would have been alive if not for her. Tyler was right to call her a fool, though it hurt her pride to admit it.
From a safe distance, she watched as he hauled a lamb onto his shoulders and walked it back through the herd to its mother. He knelt by the little one, stroking its head and ears. He went through the flock, touching a random sheep, petting a skittish lamb, or checking the feet of some animal, for what, she didn’t know.
He didn’t scold them, but his low tones were soothing and gentle even if she couldn’t make out his words. He was a strange man. Content to lead a flock of sheep in the middle of nowhere with nothing more than a dog and a tent.
At some point, the wind carried a low humming to her. Tyler was a distant speck, at the lower half of the herd scattered along the meadow. The sheep seemed to enjoy his attention. She tilted her head to catch the source of the humming. A bee? But it was too indistinct beneath the baaing of the sheep and the twitter of birds.
When Tyler had gone through the herd he returned to his spot next to the cook fire and pulled out a small book. Relieved he wouldn’t ply her for more answers or want to talk, she studied him from the distance that separated them, realizing she knew nothing of this man who refused to take her back home, or even to a nearby ranch. Instead she was at his mercy. Should she try to leave, she would not get far, not in the rocky terrain, steep slopes, and narrow trails. And the dog, that scarred hound with the tattered ears. . .she shuddered. If Tyler was intent on holding her captive and discovered her missing, he might set the dog on her. She squeezed her head between her hands, desperate with the sudden worry of it all.
“Renee?”
She raised her head, wary. Tyler lifted the little book and gestured to a spot on the ground near him, posing an unspoken question. She shook her head and glanced away, more than content to maintain her distance, even as her hands slid up to rub her arms. The temperature had dropped sharply. The warm fire beckoned her closer.
Her legs were stiff from sitting so long on the large rock. Chilly air bit through her thin blouse, and she ventured a tentative step toward camp. The collie caught her movement and lifted his head. She expected to see his teeth bare, but his intelligent eyes were merely alert, aware for movements out of the ordinary.
Tyler glanced up and motioned her closer again. “You must be cold.” With a confidence she didn’t feel, she took the next steps.
“It’s too cold to wander far from the fire. Tomorrow will be warmer,” he said as she drew into the circle of light. He smiled into the sky as if he understood something she didn’t. “I can feel it.”
“Maybe it’s because you’re so close to the fire.”
Tyler laughed, and the sound reminded her of Thomas. Laughter softened his face and erased the severe expression she’d grown accustomed to seeing. He always seemed so intent on his sheep and his “duty” that her well-being appeared nothing more than a second thought. She winced inwardly. And why shouldn’t it? A sharp wind beat around the hill and pierced through her thin shirt. She shivered.
“No use trying to stay warm out there. Come closer. I’ll get a blanket.”
She obeyed without protest and angled her body toward the flames. She felt the moment when he lowered the blanket to her shoulders, its weight a welcome shield. In short order he had a pot of something bubbling over the fire. Between the smell wafting from the pot and the warmth, the tightness in her stomach eased. Food sounded good.
A movement to her left caught her eye, and she jumped and turned. Her heart slammed at the shadowy dark figure now crouched next to her before she realized it was Tyler’s dog.
“Come here, Teddy,” Tyler called. “You know it’s supper time, huh?”
Tyler rustled in a sack and threw something. The dog caught whatever it was in his mouth, gave two chomps, and swallowed. She heard Tyler’s low chuckle and another piece of food flew through the air.
“Where’s the other dog?”
Tyler glanced her way and threw another morsel to Teddy. “You mean the mutt? He kills his own dinner usually. You won’t see him much unless there’s some trouble he can’t handle.”
“I saw him on the hill before you got there.” She fingered the blanket around her shoulders. “The trail I took down the hillside was the same one he had taken. It was like he was showing me the way.”
“He’s a good dog. His howls usually mean he’s onto a coyote or something, but that day. . .” He shrugged.
“Do you think they’ll try to find me?”
Tyler squinted at her,
and a hard glint flashed in his eyes. “If they’re outlaws.”
“I saw the wanted poster on them.”
Tyler’s nostrils flared. “Outlaws don’t like people to interrupt their plans or steal from them, and that’s exactly what they would think. But I doubt they’d ever find us. The Big Horns are vast.”
Something he had said niggled at her, but she couldn’t quite bring it into focus as the fire worked its magic and made her drowsy. She would remember tomorrow.
❧
Tyler didn’t sleep well that night, his mind occupied with the dilemma Renee’s presence posed and the impact it would have on the safety of the sheep. The woolies seemed more restless than normal, some lying down but most on their feet. One in particular, his boundary walker, found a crevice between two rocks that led to a rough patch with long, dry grass. It took him a while to encourage the ewe back into the pasture. For twenty minutes he worked in the dark to block the crevice by stacking stones.
He meandered back through the herd, noticing that more were on their feet, as if sensing the ewe’s escape and fearing they would somehow be in trouble as well. As he strolled in their midst, he hummed, the soft strain of music his gift to them. Tyler stroked the faces of a little lamb and its mother. Their trust in him satisfied on a level he had never experienced.
Not that he’d ever been a man worthy of trust before becoming a sheepherder. What Renee did not know of his past she would be better off not knowing. The girl seemed troubled enough, as well she should be. Still, the death of her brother must weigh heavily on her. He hoped the event would rattle some of her wayward tendencies—setting off after a band of outlaws for fun? He shook his head in the dark, disgusted with her all over again.
As the sky lightened, the sheep began to rise for the morning graze. Teddy went to work at Tyler’s command, walking passively along the perimeter of the sheep, ever watchful for those that might stray too far.
Lambs nursed from their mothers as they cropped the lush green grasses of the flat, wide section. His throat grew thick at the idyllic scene, and he wished he could absorb the peace and imprint it on his soul. What he would give to remove the blight his own reckless youth had left. Tyler retreated to the camp and found Renee still asleep. He recognized himself in her. That burning, youthful need for something more. A desire to be different, though unsure of what that difference entailed or what it would cost. Adventure replacing caution and common sense.
He shuffled to the blanket spread on the ground and rolled himself into its warmth. Tyler rummaged in the sack he used as a pillow and pulled out the Bible. He wondered if God could redeem a robbing murderer.
eleven
Renee’s eyes snapped open. She became instantly aware of the fire and the man encouraging it to flame higher. The sun was just skimming the horizon, and the sheep baaed as they moved about the grassy area. The picture brought back her mother’s stories of serenity and peace. Scriptures she often quoted from the Bible about men in trouble and women who went beyond the edges of what was considered proper. All directed at her. To tame the wild streak that even then her mother had sensed.
She pulled onto an elbow and ran her free hand through the tangles of her hair. She needed to wash it and considered how good it would feel to sink into a tub of hot water.
Tyler poked at something in a pan and put it over the fire. “Got some time before food will be fit for eating.”
She nodded and stretched.
“There’s a pool of water down a ways if you’ve a need.”
Renee moved in the direction he’d pointed, following the stream as it meandered away from where the sheep grazed. It widened at a point about eight hundred feet away, emptying into a pool deep enough to cover her knees. She gasped at the icy cold clearness and cast an eye back toward camp. She could see the tendrils of smoke rising from the fire but nothing else. If it got hot, the pool would be a refreshing place to bathe and scrub her hair. She raised her hand to scratch at a spot over her ear, chagrined that the idea of washing her hair seemed to make all the itches pop out along her scalp.
With a sigh she lowered herself to the ground, grateful for the material of the trousers covering her knees to protect them from the rough rocks scattered along the shore of the pool. She leaned forward as much as she dared. Her hair swirled in the water but not enough to get wet. With a huff she flipped her hair back and formed a quick twist to secure it with the few hairpins that hadn’t slipped out during her captivity and rescue. She would have no choice but to wait until Tyler was out of camp; then she could wade into the pool. Soap, too, would be nice.
When she returned and sat at the fire, Tyler handed a plate over to her. She felt his eyes scan her. “Pool’s a good place. Get yourself a cake of soap from my saddlebags. I’ll take the sheep down to water after we eat.”
She watched as he returned to his spot across from her and sat on his heels, perfectly balancing his weight and the plate of food. He bowed his head for a moment, and she looked down at the food on her own plate wondering what he saw that was so interesting. She scooped up some bacon and chewed, enjoying the rich saltiness of the meat. She’d have to say that the man was a much better cook than she’d ever be. Bacon had been something their cook despaired of having her master.
The thoughts of home, of her father and Thomas, clenched her stomach hard. If Knot Dover didn’t love his daughter before he would never love her now that Thomas was dead. She lowered her head, the plate growing blurry as tears collected in her eyes.
She pictured her father’s grief-stricken expression, the same one he’d worn since the death of his wife, except this time it would be worn because of Thomas. She wondered if he even missed her. A little voice tried to pry reason into that thought. Her father hadn’t always been so remote. She still remembered his tenderness toward her mother. That first time she had caught her father hugging her mother and had laughed out loud at the delight of seeing those two shapes merge to form one big lump. It brought a smile to her lips even as tears squeezed through her eyelids.
Tyler cleared his throat, and she raised her head. He stood a few feet from her, his hands working around the edge of his hat. His downcast eyes showed his awkwardness. “I’ll be taking those sheep downstream. Be gone for quite a while.” He held out his hand, and a cake of soap sat on his wide palm, a gray-white lump against the roughness of his calloused skin.
She swallowed hard and accepted the gift.
“You can clean up the plates.”
She could only nod her head, the urge to protest against the work far away. She didn’t know how he cleaned up in a camp, but she’d figure something out.
Tyler said not another word but turned and gathered the reins of his horse, mounting up and whistling for Teddy as he dug his heels into Sassy’s sides.
❧
Tyler adjusted his position in the saddle, casting another glance over at the huddled form of Renee Dover. Her rich, thick hair. Her clear skin and smoky eyes. He nudged the horse hard with his spurs. Rich would send a camptender in six more weeks. He would be at summer camp in the mountaintop in two. He’d already given thought to having the man stay with the sheep while he returned Renee home. Six weeks was a long time for the girl to wait. He toyed again with the idea of letting her take Sassy down but knew she would never be able to find the way. He groaned. Dover, Dover. . . The name was not familiar, but that didn’t mean anything. More people were coming out to the Big Horns every year.
The sheep were lying down. Following a hand signal, Teddy began a slow and wide circle behind the animals. In response to the dog, the sheep rose to their feet and headed off toward the rocky pool a mile downstream. Besides having to bring in Punky, the wayward ewe who always led a few in rebellion down impossibly narrow paths or out onto ledges, all went smoothly. As the sheep drank of the cool water, lambs, finished with their breakfast milk, began to frolic and play, running and stopping, legs splayed, before they bounced into the air and repeated the actions.
&nbs
p; He used the hours with the sheep as a means to give Renee space. As he checked over several of the ever-growing lambs, the sheep spread out more. He rescued a playful lamb that got stuck in brambles. Tyler carried the injured lamb on his shoulders back to the hill that looked out over the stream and sheep. Teddy sniffed at the lamb as Tyler swiped blood from the lamb’s cuts and applied a thick salve. When the lamb finally stood on his own legs, the dog nosed the baby and it began bounding around, eventually heading toward a clump of ewes.
Several ewes kicked out at the suckling lamb, refusing to accept its presence as their responsibility. The moment the baby found its mother, the ewe chewed its cud placidly and the baby nursed, little tail flapping in joy. Tyler assessed the two ewes yet to give birth. Most lambs were already thirty days old.
With the herd settled for a while and his long, sleepless night wearing heavily, Tyler stripped off his hat and lay back on the grass, eyes closed against the warm sunshine. His last conscious thought was of glossy dark hair and gray eyes pooling with tears, and of his fingers reaching to wipe those tears from her soft cheek.
twelve
Touching the cool water froze Renee enough to make her scalp prickle. Undeterred, she plunged into the refreshing liquid. The icy cold snapped up her spine. She gasped and splashed, laughing at the spectacle she was making for any animals watching her antics. The water streamed in rivulets down her neck and back and over her shoulders. With brisk strokes she worked the soap over her hair and body, invigorated by the idea of being clean again. Loosening the trail dust with warm bathwater always cheered her back home, though Thomas usually taunted her to “hurry it up” through the curtain that surrounded the wash tub.
The memory of her brother evaporated her joy. She clutched her forearms and pressed her lips together to keep from crying out. Oh, Thomas. She dipped her head beneath the water and for a fleeting moment she stayed there, tempted as she’d never been before to inhale and let the water fill her nostrils and lungs. No one would miss her or be disappointed.
Shepherd's Song Page 4