A Cowboy at Heart

by Lori Copeland

  As though he heard Jesse’s thoughts, Luke spoke in a low voice, his stare fixed on the pair in front of them. “Jess, you and Butch saddle up. At the first sign of trouble, you take the boy and hightail it out of here.”

  Jesse would have argued, but his gaze fell on Butch, whose round eyes were still foggy with sleep. He caught sight of the men, who had made no move to approach them. If anything happened to the boy, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. With a quiet whistle to Rex, who had strayed a few yards away in search of fresher grass, he spared a hope he could climb into the saddle without shaming himself.

  Rex covered the distance between them, and Jesse positioned the horse between himself and Littlefield’s men. He exchanged an anxious glance with Butch and then hooked his foot in the stirrup. He heaved himself into the saddle on the first try, and without Butch having to give him a shove. Butch’s ascent to Rex’s back wasn’t nearly as smooth and nearly unseated Jesse, who had misjudged his ability to swing the boy up with his left arm, but after a scramble they were both astride.

  Luke whistled for his horse and mounted while Colin stood watch, and then he swung his horse around beside Rex. When Colin grabbed his horse’s reins, Littlefield’s men spurred their mounts forward.

  Jesse’s stomach tightened. Butch’s thin body trembled against his back. Between his thighs, Rex’s muscles twitched, attuned to his rider’s mood. Colin was in the saddle before the men reached a distance to be recognized. When they did, acid rose in Jesse’s throat.

  “Well, what do you know?” He pitched his voice to broach the distance. “I thought I recognized that yellow streak running down your back, Sawyer. Sheriff Wiley is going to be interested to know you’ve turned up again.”

  Sawyer held his tongue as he cast a nervous glance at his partner.

  Woodard didn’t spare a sideways glance but kept his stare fixed on Jesse. They came to a halt several yards away, on the other side of the newly erected fence. The animosity in the man’s face started an itch in Jesse’s palm, and he fought the instinct to reach toward his pistol.

  “I can’t hardly believe my eyes,” the man said, his voice gravelly. “Looks like you boys are aiming to get somebody kilt.”

  “No, sir. Just protecting a friend’s property.”

  “This ain’t yore land. Tear that fence down. Now.”

  “That sounded like a threat to me,” Luke said. “What about you, Sheriff Maddox?”

  Sawyer started and stared at Colin through rounded eyes.

  “Hard to tell,” Colin replied in a conversational tone. “Could be he’s making polite conversation, only he sure sounds rough.”

  Woodard turned his head and spit, though his eyes didn’t leave Jesse’s face. Jesse’s blood picked up speed, racing through his veins with the dim rumble of a distant rainstorm.

  Sawyer had the look of a man who could barely keep his tongue in his mouth. “What’s this fence doing here?” he blurted. Woodard silenced him with a quick glare.

  Jesse watched Sawyer out of the corner of his eye, but kept his gaze fixed on the older man. “Why, don’t you recognize it? You ought to, since you boys put it up not two weeks ago. This here’s Mr. Littlefield’s fence.”

  “This ain’t our fence.” The younger man rose up in the saddle and pointed toward a place behind them. “Our fence is back that a way.”

  “Shut up, idiot,” Woodard growled, and though Sawyer shot an angry glance, his mouth snapped shut.

  Colin spoke in a pleasant voice. “Well, see, here’s the thing about that fence. It seems there was a mistake in where it was put up. It cut straight through our father-in-law’s land. Cut him off from his watering rights. You boys probably missed the trench marking the boundaries of Jonas’s farm since it was overgrown. It’d be an easy thing to do.”

  “My wife got real upset when she heard about her daddy’s trouble.” Luke matched Colin’s reasonable tone. “Fellas, I can’t abide my wife being upset.”

  “Me, neither,” Colin agreed. “All those tears break my heart. I hate to see a woman cry. Now, I’m sure Mr. Littlefield wasn’t aware of the mistake, but you boys tell your boss not to worry. We’ve set things right now.”

  A storm gathered on Woodard’s face. His gaze slid from Colin to Luke, and finally came to a rest on Jesse. “You don’t know who you’re messing with. Mr. Littlefield’s a powerful man. He owns five thousand head of cattle and a spread down in Texas that would put this puny little farm to shame. Nobody crosses him and gets away with it.”

  Jesse scowled. “Only problem is, this is Kansas, not Texas.”

  A scornful laugh escaped Sawyer. “We know we’re in Kansas. We’re not stupid.”

  Woodard growled, “Shut your trap before I nail it shut.”

  If he hadn’t been the same slimy varmint who had shot him in the back, Jesse might have felt sorry for the younger man. He ducked his head between his shoulders and slumped in the saddle, casting a resentful glance at his partner.

  Behind Jesse, Butch’s breath came shallow and fast. His own pulse raced, and his fingers twitched, senses on high alert while he watched for movement. He didn’t think either of the two would try something when the odds were three against two, but he knew better than to count on them using good sense.

  “You have a message to deliver.” Jesse tossed his head in the direction from which they had ridden. “What are you waiting for?”

  When they still didn’t move, he added in a dry tone, “I’m not leaving until you boys are out of sight. I learned a thing or two about turning my back on a pair of low-down prairie dogs like you.”

  Beside him, Luke shot him a warning glance, which Jesse ignored. After another long glare, Woodard turned his horse and moved off in an unhurried retreat, Sawyer following behind.

  When they had topped the ridge and dropped out of sight, Colin turned an exasperated frown on Jesse. “If I didn’t know better, Montgomery, I’d say you were doing your best to get them to draw down on us.”

  Jesse answered with more confidence than he felt. “I knew they wouldn’t. They’re the kind of men who are quick on the draw when the numbers are in their favor, but not when the odds are against them.”

  Colin didn’t look convinced. “Let’s get back and tell Jonas what we’ve done. I need a cup of coffee. It’s been a long night.”

  He turned his horse and pointed it toward the Switzer home, Luke following. Jesse spared one more look at the horizon in case Woodard and Sawyer decided to double back and pull another dirty stunt like last time. The only movement he spied was a woodchuck making its cautious way through the grass.

  Behind him, Butch’s stomach growled.

  “All right, all right,” Jesse said with a laugh. “Let’s get home and get some breakfast in you.”

  He nudged Rex into movement, turning him after Luke and Colin, and headed for Jonas’s place. With luck, their act of defiance would show Littlefield that he was dealing with more than a single peaceful Amish man, and he’d back off.

  Jesse glanced over his shoulder. Somehow he doubted it would be that easy.

  THIRTEEN

  You’re sure you can handle things around here?”

  Jesse returned Luke’s searching gaze with a nod. “It’s been three days since we moved that fence. If Littlefield was going to do anything, he would have done it by now.”

  He spoke with more confidence than he felt and saw from the look in his friend’s eyes that Luke wasn’t fooled. But he also saw Luke’s struggle. He’d left his wife and kids alone for three days. When Colin left Monday morning, he’d promised to keep an eye on them and handle things around the farm, but he had his own place to run. Jesse pushed back envy. Luke and Colin, though not Amish, lived a peaceful life. They both had families. If Jesse would admit it, he was tired of roaming. Tired of single life. Yet there wasn’t a wife in sight unless he considered Katie, and that was a foolish dream. She’d been good to him and nursed him back to health, but he’d bet all he owned no other man would
ever take Samuel’s place. Bishop Miller would see to it.

  The past three days had been edgy and anxious for all of them. Jesse couldn’t keep himself from searching the horizon, expecting any minute to see a pair of riders heading their way bent on trouble. Luke, too, had been jumpy while he helped Jonas plow his new cornfield. That had irritated Jesse, because Jonas already had a plowed field ready for planting, but he had to admit he understood the man’s hesitance. Littlefield’s boys could do a lot of damage to new corn plants in the distant field before Jonas could get there. At least this one was near enough to the house that they could keep a closer eye on it.

  And at least they no longer had to carry water to the trough for Jonas’s animals. He glanced in that direction now, where a dozen or so milk cows sauntered along the bank of their favorite watering hole.

  Luke shuffled his weight from one boot to the other, his struggle apparent.

  “Go home,” Jesse urged. “Emma needs you more than we do.”

  He finally relented, barely hiding his relief behind a mask of real concern. “If you get wind of trouble, or if you need anything at all, get word to us, okay?”

  Jesse nodded and then watched his friend cross the yard toward the cornfield to tell Jonas of his decision, his step lighter and stride longer than it had been in days. A smile twitched at Jesse’s lips. If he had a good woman and a couple of great kids waiting for him, he’d be in a hurry to get back to them too.

  Butch exited the barn and came to stand alongside Jesse, his gaze fixed on Luke. “Is he going home now?”

  “Yeah.” Jesse eyed the boy. “You want to go with him?”

  His head jerked sideways. “No. I really like Colin and Rebecca, but I-I’d like to stay here if I’m not a bunch of trouble.” He looked away again. “I like it here.”

  “You’re not any trouble, son. You’re a real help around the place. I don’t know what Rex would do without you.” Given the violence Butch had witnessed when his family was killed, there was little wonder he liked the peaceful atmosphere around the Switzer home. Actually, Jesse had seen enough violence in his twenty-five years to fill a couple of lifetimes. His gaze roamed the yard, the house, and then the field where Jonas had halted his horse and stood talking to Luke. A peaceful life had a lot to offer a man.

  He ruffled Butch’s hair, grinning. “I’d hate to leave too.”

  When Maummi Switzer was informed of Luke’s impending departure, she called for Butch’s help as she scurried around the house putting together a pair of bundles to send to her granddaughters. She supervised Butch tying them to Luke’s saddle, giving each a firm tug to test the security of the knots. Only when she was satisfied did she nod her approval for Luke to climb into the saddle. Smiling indulgently, he did.

  “Tell our Rebecca to send for me when the little one arrives.” She shielded her eyes to look up at him. “A girl needs help at such a time.”

  She’d said the same thing to Colin three days earlier. Luke nodded. “Yes, ma’am. And thank you for feeding me so well the past few days.” He rubbed his stomach. “Emma’s going to have to let out my britches when I get home.”

  “Bah.” She waved a wrinkled hand in dismissal. “It’s good to have hungry men at the table. And hungry boys,” she added, with a smile in Butch’s direction.

  Luke nodded farewell to Jonas and Butch, and then he looked at Jesse. “You take care, buddy.”

  “Always.”

  Luke dug his heels into the horse’s sides. They stood watching until he’d cantered out of sight.

  When Jonas started toward his new cornfield where the horse and plow stood waiting, Jesse stopped him.

  “You think you could teach me how to work that thing?”

  Jonas’s eyebrows inched upward. “You are well enough to plow?”

  Every day Jesse noticed more improvement. The waves of dizziness had stopped, though an almost constant headache still plagued him sunup to sundown. He’d finally given up on trying to shoot left handed, figuring his efforts were better spent getting his right arm back to normal.

  “I figure hard work’s about the only way to regain my strength.” Jesse lifted his arm above his head to demonstrate. “Might as well make myself useful, seeing how you just lost one of your helpers.”

  Jonas looked toward Maummi Switzer in a silent request for approval. Her answer was a shrug.

  “All right, then.”

  Jesse grinned. It was strange how eager he was to put his hand to a plow, the ultimate sodbuster activity. But anything was better than sitting around watching the grass grow.

  And how hard could plowing be?

  Jesse moaned, but then bit it off when the sound came out louder than he thought and filled the dark bedroom with proof of his aching muscles. He held still, listening for signs of activity on the other side of the door. The straw tick in this bedroom wasn’t nearly as comfortable as Maummi Switzer’s feather tick downstairs. He hadn’t noticed it so much in the three days since he had vacated her room and moved upstairs to what he was told used to be Rebecca’s bedroom, but before tonight his muscles hadn’t been as sore as a green bronco rider after his first rodeo.

  He swallowed another groan and eased himself over onto his side. Jonas made plowing look easy, but holding that blade straight as it carved through hard soil that had never seen a plow had proved to be a skill requiring strength and endurance. When he got to the end of his first row, he’d been embarrassed to see the zigzagging furrow alongside Jonas’s straight ones. And he’d lost as much sweat today as a hot day in the saddle on a cattle trail. His back ached so that he worried he’d ripped something open in there. Finally, after two rows, Jonas had taken pity on him and set him the task of clearing the rocks unearthed by the plowshare.

  His throat was drier than dirt. No way would he get back to sleep with his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His aching muscles protested when he rolled over and put his feet on the cool floorboards. He glanced at the peg on the wall, where his britches and shirt hung. Nobody was up at this time of night. His long johns would be clothing enough to get him down to the kitchen and back again.

  Moving as silently as a cat on the prowl, he crept across the floor and cracked the door open. The sound of muffled snores came from two directions. Down the hall, from behind the door to the room where Butch slept, and the quieter snores that drifted up the stairway from the direction of Maummi Switzer’s room. He tiptoed downstairs, easing his weight onto every stair with care for a telltale creak. That woman had ears like a jackrabbit.

  In the kitchen he headed for the water pitcher she kept sitting on the work surface. He filled a cup and downed it in a single draught. Still thirsty, he filled the cup a second time and drank more slowly. His thirst finally slated, he wiped the cup dry with a towel and covered the pitcher the way Maummi always did.

  As he turned away from the high table toward the stairs, something caught his eye through the window. Moonlight illuminated the yard and glimmered off the leaves of the big tree. Branches swayed, stirred into an eerie nighttime dance by the ever-present Kansas wind. Gyrating shadows skittered across the grass. But to the left, in the direction of the barn, the black of night was relieved by an orange glow.

  Jesse planted his hands on the sturdy wooden worktable and leaned forward for a better look. His stomach clenched.

  “Fire!” He whirled and bolted across the room, his hands clenched into fists. “Jonas, wake up. The barn’s on fire!”

  He directed his shout up the short staircase, pounding on the wall for good measure. The snores came to an abrupt halt, both from Maummi Switzer’s room and from upstairs. Good. He wasted no more time but sprinted for the door.

  Part of his brain burned with a fury that rivaled the flames now visible through the open barn door as he ran barefooted across the grass. This was Littlefield’s doing. He didn’t doubt it for a minute. That scheming skunk had retaliated in the most cowardly way possible, striking under the cover of darkness.

  He fo
cused on the task at hand, rescuing the terrified animals who had been corralled into the barn for the night.

  “Rex!”

  He ran into the barn and made straight for Rex’s stall. Smoke filled the dark interior, pungent and heavy. It seeped into Jesse’s lungs, a menacing presence that threatened to steal his breath permanently. With a sickening realization, he detected another odor. Kerosene.

  The horse stamped with fright, his breath snorting through his nose when he caught sight of his rider. Jesse threw open the stall door.

  “Go on, boy. Get out of here!”

  Rex galloped off while Jesse dashed to the second stall, where white rims showed around Big Ed’s eyes. Jesse released him too, and the horse hurried after Rex. From here he could see where the fire had started. Hay filled the barn’s upper level, dry from sitting all winter and spring, the perfect kindling. Jesse searched for the source of the orange glow. If the fire were contained to the straw, maybe they could shovel it through the high opening on the back of the barn.

  No good. Though smoke billowed from the straw, he caught sight of flames licking up the wooden back wall toward the pitched roof and heard the crackle of burning wood.

  A figure brushed past him toward the two stalls in the rear. Jonas.

  “I’ll get this one,” Jesse shouted.

  While Jonas ran to the stall on the left, he dodged right. Inside, the frightened bleating of goats drowned out the snapping fire. Jonas confined his small herd in the barn at night to keep them from Maummi’s vegetable garden. Jesse opened the door and the terrified animals rushed away from him to cower together at the back of the stall. He ran inside to shoo them out. They joined their brothers and sisters, released by Jonas, in a stampede for the exit.