When Passion Calls

by Cassie Edwards

  Shane looked down at his brother, pitying him. It did not seem possible that Josh could be capable of poisoning cattle one night and beheading a longhorn the next, for at this moment he was not

  even aware of what was happening around him. He had no idea, even, that his brother had saved him a lot of moneyand perhaps even his hide!

  Josh shoved his chair back and rose shakily to his feet. He touched Shane's face, then patted it. "Hi, Shane," he said, laughing oddly. "Wanna drink?"

  Shane gave Josh a silent stare, then leaned over the table and scooped up the coins. He shoved them into his brother's front breeches pocket, then guided him from the establishment.

  "Where's your room?" Shane asked, steadying his brother against him. "I've come to talk, but I don't think it's necessary any longer. I think I've got all the answers I need."

  "My room?" Josh said, idly scratching his brow.

  "I'd take you home with me, but I don't think you're up to the ride," Shane said. "You've got to sleep off the whiskey, Josh. Then we'll do some serious talking about your coming home where you belong."

  "I belong here," Josh said, tossing an arm around Shane's shoulder. He nodded toward a steep staircase that led up to a room over the saloon. "My room is up there, Shane. Want to join me there for a drink?"

  "Josh, knowing how you feel about me, I know you must be drunk to be offering me all these kindnesses," Shane said, his voice drawn. He let Josh place his full weight on him and began walking him toward the stairs. "I'll take you up to your room and get you settled into a bed and, by damn, Josh, you stay there until you're sober.

  You're in no shape to do anything, much less gamble with men who are ready to take everything you own. Take my word for it, those men were ready to skin you alive."

  "I'll beat 'em all to hell next time," Josh said, laughing boisterously. A keen dizziness overtook him. "But for now, I think I do need to get a few winks of sleep."

  "And then some more," Shane growled, finally at the head of the stairs. He opened the door and half dragged his brother into a dimly lit room that reeked of whiskey and dirty bed clothing. He cringed when he looked slowly around him at the empty whiskey bottles and half-smoked cigars that cluttered the floor. The bed was covered with yellowed sheets, and roaches crawled along the walls and floors. A dark green window shade was pulled closed, emitting cracks of light through slits cut into its rotten fabric.

  "So this is what you call home now, Josh?" Shane said, helping Josh to the bed and easing him down onto it. "How can you prefer this over living at the farm with me? Is being around me all that intolerable?"

  Josh was no longer even aware of who was there with him, nor did he hear anyone speaking to him. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

  Shane shook his head, then left the room. He had found no answers; only a man whose mortality was being tested, it seemed.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The loon sang its haunting tune in the distance as night fell, the sky a dark crimson backdrop for the flashing stars. Downcast, torn with mixed feelings about Josh, Shane unsaddled his horse and walked it to its stall. Lifting a handful of straw to his stallion's mouth, he watched him munch at it from his palm; his horse's brown, friendly eyes revealed his trust in Shane.

  "If life could be like the bond between a man and his horse, no one would ever have cause to hate or mistrust again," Shane whispered, lifting his other hand to draw his fingers through his stallion's sleek, white mane. "You've been good for me. You've been dependable from that very first day I placed a saddle on your broad, strong back."

  "Boss?"

  A voice from behind Shane startled him. He dropped the remainder of the straw to the ground and eyed Ken warily, then took a wide stride toward him. "Have you done as instructed?" he asked. "Have you positioned men around the pasture to keep watch through the night?"

  Ken avoided Shane's stare, looking down at his feet as he shuffled them nervously. "Boss . . ."

  Shane placed a firm grip on Ken's shoulder. "When you speak to me, look at me," he said. "Do you understand?"

  Ken raised his eyes quickly. He clamped his hands tightly behind him and met Shane's steady stare. "Not too many men were willin' to do that," he said. "They don't like what's goin' on here. They even expect some sort of Indian trouble. They know about you havin' stolen horses from an Indian chief and that you brought them here. They don't want to have any part of the Indian's revenge. They think it's already started by what's happened here."

  "Chief Gray Falcon is not responsible for what's happened here," Shane growled.

  "Now can you be sure?" Ken dared to argue.

  Shane's eyes wavered. He dropped his hand away from Ken and went to the door to gaze down at the ground, where blood still stained the tramped earth. He did not give Ken any answers. He was beginning to doubt everyone and everything.

  "Those who choose not to cooperate can come to the house and draw their wages," he said.

  "Those who do cooperatewell, tell them I appreciate it."

  Ken went to stand beside Shane. "Boss, those who don't like what's goin' on here have already left," he said. "They said to tell you they'd be back to collect their wages when Josh is here to pay them." He cleared his throat nervously. "Seems they don't trust your ability to give them what they've earned.''

  An instant rage tore through Shane. He walked away from Ken in slow, easy strides, not wanting to show the humiliation that he was feeling. When he reached the protective walls of his house, he closed the door and leaned against it, burying his face in his hands.

  He kept telling himself over and over again that he had known all along that none of this would be easy.

  Dispirited, yet determined that Shane would not be alone should another disaster befall him this night, Melanie stood among her cowhands, looking authoritatively at them.

  "I've gathered you together tonight to ask your assistance on a delicate matter," she said, eying each of the men separately. She smoothed her hands down the front of her fringed buckskin skirt and shifted her knee-high moccasins nervously in the tramped dirt in front of her stable. "Gossip spreads fast, so I know that you are aware of what has been happening at the Brennan farm."

  She began walking from man to man. "You know that Josh has left for a while and his brother

  is in charge," she continued. "Well, it seems that someone doesn't approve of Shane, so attempts have been made to encourage him to leave."

  She straightened her back determinedly. "Tonight will probably be no different," she said. "I would like for you all to volunteer to help Shane, should the need arise. I would like to ask each of you to sleep with your clothes and boots on, in case I come and ask for your help at a moment's notice."

  She stepped closer and let her gaze move slowly from man to man again. "Is there any among you who has a problem with my request?" she asked.

  "I do, Melanie," Terrance said suddenly from behind her.

  Melanie turned with a start as Terrance approached her, his eyes lit with fire. "And why should you?" she asked shallowly, anger rising inside her.

  "Haven't you heard?" Terrance said, stopping to tower over her. He leaned down into her face. She recoiled, smelling the stench of whiskey on his breath. "Most of Shane's men skipped out on him early this evening. I'm not going to ask our men to go and take their places. Do you want them to go over there and be killed by some crazy lunatic who seems to stop at nothing to frighten Shane? So far it's just been cattle that's been slaughtered. Who knows? Maybe tonight it will be a man!"

  He squared his shoulders. "No, Melanie, I won't allow it," Terrance said flatly. "We pay our cow-hands to fight our battles, not Shane's."

  Melanie's head was spinning. She hadn't heard

  about the men walking out on Shane. She had only chosen to ask her cowhands for their help in case Shane's were not enough to handle whatever problem arose.

  And now? She had no choice but to ignore Terrance and order the Stanton cowhands to give Shane a hand
.

  She sighed heavily and shook her head with disgust. "Terrance, you couldn't go another full day without drinking, could you?" she hissed. "And I bet you're quite smug about what's happened at Shane's, aren't you? Well, just take your whiskey and smugness and leave me be!"

  She turned and faced the cowhands. "I have as much right to plead for your help as my brother has to order you not to help," she shouted. "I know that puts you all in a bad position, torn with what to do! But it boils down to this. If you have any compassion, you will do as I ask."

  She gave Terrance a half smile over her shoulder, then looked back at the men. "And don't forget who keeps the ledgers here at Stanton farm and who dishes out the wages," she warned. "It's not my brother! He doesn't know the first thing about ledgers or who gets paid what. My father taught me, not Terrance! If you walk away from me and what I ask of you, you will be walking away from your job!"

  The cowhands glanced at each other, then stepped forward and offered a handshake to Melanie, affirming their trust in her.

  She smiled as she shook their hands, thanking them each as they passed by her. Then she again

  explained what she wanted of them. They would sleep in their clothes and boots. They would keep a loaded pistol at their side. Their horses would be saddled and ready to ride.

  As the lamps dimmed in Shane's house, the cowhands who remained moved from their assigned posts and met at the stable. They knelt down in a circle, facing one another.

  "You know what this will mean to Shane," Ken argued. "You know what it will mean for you. You'll be out on your asses. It's mighty hard to find a job like this in these parts. There's not that many farms around who employ a good number of cowhands and who pay as good."

  "You know damn well that if we wait around long enough in town, Josh'll be back in charge," another cowhand argued. "I'd say, let's leave this guy Shane to fight his own battles. He's the cause of the trouble here. Before he came, nothin' was goin' wrong. Now every night somethin' spooky happens." He looked toward the house. "I say it's because he was raised by Injuns. He's practically one of them!''

  "Yeah, he even went and stole those damn horses like a savage would, from another savage," another cowhand grumbled. "There ain't no need in us waitin' around to have our scalps removed just because of somethin' that half-breed did. I say let's head out. We all have enough earnings to get us through a few weeks. I'm lookin' forward to havin' some fun with the wenches in town. Damn, just think of it. We can stay in bed humpin' all day

  if we choose to. What more could you ask for than that?"

  Ken frowned. He could not tell the men that he liked Shane Brennan and wanted to do right by him. He had to go along with the crowd. Shane Brennan was not worth the sort of ridicule that Ken could expect if he stayed behind while everyone else rode away.

  "All right, let's get our gear and leave," Ken said, rising to his full height. "But we've got to be quiet about it. Shane Brennan has ears like a polecat. He'll hear us if we ride out. One by one we've got to walk our horses away from the farm. Do you understand? Once we get far enough away, only then will it be safe enough to ride."

  "Yeah, that's best," the men agreed, nodding.

  Before long, everything in the pasture was eerily quiet. Only the longhorns stood there, their tails swishing, their horns glistening against the dark sky.

  Melanie could not sleep. Fully clothed, she rose from the bed. She peered from the window toward Shane's house, and then at the pasture. Everything seemed peaceful enough. Perhaps she had been too hasty in asking her men to be on guard in case they were needed tonight. Perhaps the person responsible for the havoc at Shane's farm would not be so brazen as to show up again so soon. Surely they would have to know that Shane was sitting shotgun again tonight, waiting. She had not gone to see him tonight because of this. She did not want to disturb his plans.

  "I can't believe that some of his men actually left him," she said, stepping back from the window. She began nervously pacing. "How can they hate him so much?"

  A figure stole stealthily through the dark. When he got close enough to the longhorns to smell them in the darkness, he watched for any sudden movement on their part. Familiar with them, the man knew that when a steer bedded down, he held his breath for a few seconds, then blew off. That noise showed that he was settling himself for comfort. But when he curled his nose and took long breaths, it was a sign that he was sniffing for something, and if anything crossed his wind that he didn't like, there was likely to be trouble.

  There was to be trouble tonight.

  The air was suddenly charged with tension. A dun steer awakened and lifted his head slowly, rose to his knees, and looked around. He got to his feet and raised his nose to smell.

  Another steer rose and stood rigidly still, expectant, then others, until the whole herd of longhorns were on their feet, motionless.

  Hurrying, knowing that his life was at stake, the man placed a grotesque scarecrow close to the longhornsa scarecrow with wings that moved up and down as the wind blew against them. The man scurried away, mounted a horse, and rode away from the scene of coming disaster.

  A breeze caught in the wings of the scarecrow. They began to move up and down. A longhorn bull saw the wings moving. Frightened, it leapt into the

  air, then back down to the ground with a thud. He gave a grunt that sounded more like that of a hog than of a cow. Others followed. The pounding hoofs popped and clicked while horns clacked upon horns in the longhorns' desperation to flee from the grotesque scarecrow.

  A stampede had started with the swiftness of a lightning bolt!

  The steers smashed into the fence. The leaders piled up, while the cattle behind, forming a gigantic battering ram, rushed over them and surged over the fence, then through it, tearing it down from the top.

  As they raced across the land, the cattle stretched out so that their bellies seemed to scrape the roots of the grass.

  Shane heard the first bellow. Still fully clothed, he bolted from his pallet of furs and ran from his room. Taking the steps two at a time, he raced outside, then looked wildly around him. His heart sank. There were no riders in sight trying to stop the stampede. There were no cowhands there to prevent it. They had all deserted him! Each and every one of them. Even Ken.

  But there was no time for regrets. Knowing that he alone had to stop the stampede, Shane broke into a run and swung himself up into his saddle. Taking the reins, he led his stallion from the stable, then sank his booted heels into the flanks of the horse and rode in the direction of what sounded like thunder echoing across the land.

  Then he drew his horse to a sudden stop. He

  looked disbelievingly at Melanie as she rode up and reined in beside him, then saw the swarm of her cowhands on horseback, jumping the fence, chasing the crazed longhorns.

  "How did you know about the stampede?" Shane asked. "How did you get the cowhands to agree to come and help so quickly?"

  "I'll explain later," Melanie shouted, her bay gelding pawing nervously at the ground. "Right now, let's do what we can to stop the stampede!"

  "You stay behind!" Shane shouted.

  "Shane, please don't tell me not to help!" she pleaded. "I want to! I know about stampedes! My father told me about some that he had experienced and how he stopped them!"

  "Melanie, this isn't the time to get stubborn on me," Shane growled. He glared at her. "You stay behind. I don't want to have to worry about you. I've enough to worry about already!"

  "Shane, while we're arguing, your longhorns are getting away!" Melanie shouted, exasperated.

  Shane looked into the distance and saw that the cowhands were not having much luck at stopping the stampede. Having experienced crazed buffalo, even at age thirteen, he knew the art of what to do about them.

  "Do as you wish!" he shouted, gesturing with a hand. "But be careful, Melanie! I love you!"

  Melanie was overcome with warmth, knowing that Shane did not speak those words all that freely. But when he did speak
them, they were from the heart. They were true!

  "Shane, I love you," she said, then slapped her

  reins and rode alongside him toward the stampeding herd.

  "We've got to get around the cattle and circle the leaders," Shane shouted. "Swing the leaders around into the tail end of the herd."

  Melanie nodded, trying not to show the fear that was gripping her insides. She knew the danger in the cattle's sharp horns! She knew the danger of her horse becoming spooked, possibly throwing her! Riding at breakneck speed through the night to check the stampede was the most dangerous part of a perilous job. Melanie depended on the sure-footedness of her horse. A spill meant certain death, with both horse and rider thrown in the path of the herd.

  But she had to help Shane. No matter what.

  The longhorns picked up speed. It was so dark, it was hard for Shane to see them in the distance, but he could tell by the noise that they were now running straight. There was no clicking of horns. What he was hearing was a kind of buzzing noise, loud and deafening. There was no use trying to turn them in the darkness. He rode wide, herding by ear, following the noise. Soon his ears told him that they were crowding and milling together, their heads jammed together and their horns locked.

  Shane and Melanie finally reached the front of the stampede and began zigzagging across the front, directing its course. Melanie looked over at Shane as he began to chant.

  "Wo-up, wo-up, wo, wo-o-o, wo bop, wo-o-oo, boys. Be good, be good, wo-o-o-o, you wall-eyed

  rascals!" Shane chanted, as he had so long ago when riding after buffalo.

  The lead cattle suddenly tried to halt, but there was no time. The rushing mob was at their heels, propelled by its own mass, and it plunged over the hesitating leaders. Some fell. The herd piled up, animals on the bottom being trampled to death.

  Now the stampede was without direction, some cattle trying to run in a circle, bunches cutting off this way and that. While Shane and Melanie rode side by side, zigzagging across the front of the stampede, still attempting to direct its course with the cattle running too fast to be circled, an old cow suddenly let out a bawlprobably for her calf. In a minute, the whole herd was stopped and every animal in it was bawling.