“Where are our cows?” she asked.
“On a bit of low land on the far side of the ranch.”
“How did you find out where they were?”
“I’ve known where they were for some time, but today Carruthers told me to round up a crew and start branding the calves…with his brand.”
“That’s the same as rustling,” Amanda exclaimed.
“Carruthers doesn’t care,” Dan said. “All he can think about is getting your land and that bull.”
“When does he intend to start the branding?” Broc asked.
“Tomorrow.”
“Then we need to get the cows tonight.”
“There’s no way you can drive that many cows back on your ranch before morning. If Carruthers caught you with them, I wouldn’t put it past him to shoot you and have the men swear you were stealing his cows.”
“What do you suggest?” Broc asked.
“You and Amanda need to ride into town first thing in the morning and bring the sheriff. I’ll do what I can to put off the branding until you all show up.”
“Amanda doesn’t need my help to bring the sheriff,” Broc said.
“Don’t think about coming on the ranch by yourself,” Dan warned. “Carruthers hates you more than ever. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he knew you were on the ranch today. The men aren’t crazy enough to shoot you for trespassing, but I wouldn’t put it past Carruthers.”
“Are you sure you can hold things up long enough for us to get there?” Broc asked.
“I think so. Carruthers likes to give orders, but he doesn’t like to do the work, especially when it’s hot, nasty work like branding and castrating.”
“I’ll go back to town now and wake the sheriff,” Amanda said.
“Don’t,” Dan said.
“Why?”
Amanda thought Broc sounded a bit distrustful.
“The sheriff won’t take any stand against Carruthers without hearing his side first,” Dan explained. “If he does that, it will give Carruthers time to move those cows. We might not find them again. I’d better be going. I’m already going to have to answer a lot of questions about where I’ve been for the last couple of hours.”
“You got a good excuse?” Broc asked.
Dan grinned. “Yeah. I’m seeing a girl.”
Amanda was surprised. Cactus Bend wasn’t that large. She’d have thought she would know if Dan was seeing anyone in town. “I gather she doesn’t live in town.”
“I’m not telling,” Dan said. “A man needs a few secrets. Don’t forget to be in town early. The boss is an early riser.”
“I always thought Carruthers was behind all our trouble,” Amanda said as she watched Dan ride off into the night. “Now we’ll be able to prove it. We’ll take Leo with us. With four of us against him, Carruthers won’t dare to try anything.”
“There’ll be just three of you,” Broc said. “I’ll be hidden out of sight, keeping an eye on those cows when the sun comes up.”
“Here, let me,” Leo said to Amanda. “If the sheriff sleeps like Andy, it’ll take a mule kick to wake him.”
Leo pounded the door with his fist. Amanda hated to wake the sheriff’s wife or his young children, but her need was too urgent to worry about that this morning. If she failed to convince the sheriff that her neighbor was trying to brand her calves, Broc would have to face Carruthers and his men alone.
A very sleepy and very angry sheriff yanked the door open.
“What in hell do you mean my banging on my door at this hour of the morning?”
“Carruthers has stolen more than a hundred of our cows,” she told the sheriff. “He’s going to start branding the calves this morning.”
The sheriff’s expression was filled with disbelief. “We’ve been over this before. You’ve got no proof of your accusations.”
Amanda put out her hand to keep him from closing the door. “I’m not asking you to arrest him, just go with me to where the cows are being held.”
“I can’t go traipsing all over his ranch looking for a few cows. Do you have any idea how much range Carruthers controls?”
“I know where the cows are, but it will take us a couple of hours to get there.”
The sheriff sighed in frustration. “You just won’t listen, will you? I don’t have any evidence, and I can’t take your word he’s got the cows because you’re not an impartial witness.”
“Do you consider Dan Walch an impartial witness?”
“Yes, but he’s Carruthers’s foreman.”
“Dan told me Carruthers had ordered him to start branding the calves today. He promised to hold off as long as he could.”
“When did he tell you this?”
“Last night. He came to the saloon but didn’t want to talk there. He met Broc and me when we were halfway home.”
The sheriff looked thoughtful. “I did see him leave town early. I spoke to him, but he wasn’t in a talking mood.”
“That’s because he didn’t want to do what Carruthers said. He’s helped us once before.”
“When was that?”
“I’ll tell you on our way,” Amanda said. “We’ve got to leave now.”
“I’ll need to dress, eat, saddle my horse, stop by the office to—”
“I’ve got a horse already saddled and some hot biscuits and sausage you can eat on the way. I’ll write a note for your deputy while you dress. If we’re not there in time, Carruthers might try to kill Broc again.”
“Again? Only a crazy man would try anything like that.”
“Carruthers just might be crazy.”
Comfortably settled in his hiding place, Broc glanced up at the sun, trying to gauge the time, wondering who would show up first. Amanda had said she’d be in town before the sheriff had his breakfast. Even if she could convince Mercer to leave immediately, Broc doubted they would arrive before Carruthers and his men, which was why he’d been determined to be here before dawn. Come hell or high water, he was going to make sure no calves were branded before the sheriff arrived.
Broc didn’t know why Carruthers was so eager to claim the water and grass on the Lazy T ranch. A nearby creek provided enough water to create a small lake and an extensive marsh area populated by at least a dozen kinds of songbirds. He had watched a pair of osprey circle and dive for fish. A snowy egret shuffled through shallow water in an effort to frighten prey out of hiding. A careless bullfrog had settled himself on a lily pad to catch insects skimming over the water. In the pale light of dawn three deer had emerged from a blackjack and post oak thicket to drink from one of the shallow inlets. The stolen cows had long since begun to graze. Their calves, having fed and frolicked, were now lazing in the morning sun. It seemed impossible that such a pastoral scene could soon be the setting for a potentially deadly showdown.
Not for the first time he wondered about the wisdom of the Liscombs’ trying to hold on to their ranch. With her father dead, Gary gone, and Eddie too young, most of the work and all the responsibility would devolve on Amanda. What she needed was a husband.
A husband like Broc.
He had tried to prevent that thought from crystallizing in his mind, but, aided by the kisses they’d shared, it had assumed a life of its own. He still couldn’t accustom himself to the fact that she had allowed him to kiss her, or that she kissed him back. He’d spent too many years convincing himself no woman would want to be with him, much less welcome his embraces. Yet it had happened again and again. Each time made him more eager for the next opportunity. More than once he’d had to force his brain to stop searching for ways and times for them to be alone and pay attention to his work. He was starting to get questioning glances from Leo.
The more time he spent with Amanda, the less he was able to imagine his life without her. Whether they were working on the ranch or in the saloon, they had formed a connection that kept them attuned to each other. It had shown up first in their duets, when, even though they had their backs to each other most of the
time, they sang as though they’d practiced together for weeks. They slowed together, swelled the tone together, even emphasized the same words. To him, it seemed proof they were meant to be together.
The sound of approaching horses broke his train of thought. It was impossible to tell until they came into sight, but it sounded like about a half dozen men were approaching. Broc had left his horse on the other side of an oak thicket so there wouldn’t be any danger of the animal’s giving away his hiding place. The men were here earlier than Broc had anticipated, but he believed Dan would find a way to hold up the branding operation until Amanda and the sheriff arrived.
That hope was shattered when, one by one, the riders crested a small rise about a hundred yards away. Earl Carruthers was the first rider to come into view.
Broc had to do some rapid recalculation. Dan couldn’t delay the branding indefinitely with Carruthers in charge. That meant Broc might have to try to stop it, but how could he do so by himself? Even if he could count on Dan, his one gun couldn’t be depended on to stop the seven men who would be against him. It certainly wouldn’t stop Carruthers.
Nor could he take it for granted he would be safe if he went unarmed. Under normal circumstances, no one would shoot an unarmed man, but he couldn’t be sure about Carruthers. The man seemed unswayed by law or common sense. Broc would just have to watch and make his decision at the last minute.
As the riders came closer, Broc could see that Dan was arguing with Carruthers, and Carruthers was yelling at Dan. About the only words Broc could hear clearly were profane. He tensed when he realized they were headed straight for the thicket where he was hiding; at least there were no hoofprints to give him away. It had been dark when he rode in, but he’d been careful to approach from the side away from Carruthers’s ranch.
“Stop worrying,” Carruthers told Dan. The riders slowed as they drew closer. “Nobody’s going to know.”
“What about the sheriff?”
“He knows which side his bread is buttered on.”
“He’s not going to protect a rustler. Every cowman in the state would be after his head if he did.”
“Nobody’s going to touch him without my say-so.”
“Rustling is a hanging offense. They’ll be after your head, too.”
“Nobody’s going to lift a finger against me. I’m too rich.”
Broc had seen that attitude in a few men before the war. Since then it seemed to be growing more prevalent, especially in the parts of the West where the law was ineffectual or nonexistent. Powerful men like Carruthers seemed to feel that they could do anything they wanted. They would have to be controlled—or eliminated—if the West was to become a safe place for ordinary people to live and raise a family.
“What you’re doing will endanger these men as well.” Dan gestured to the six men who, having brought their horses into a tight group, were carefully listening to him. “You may be too rich and powerful to be arrested, but we aren’t. We’ll be the ones actually wrestling the calves down and slapping your branding iron on them. We’ll be the ones the sheriff arrests.”
Carruthers dismounted and signaled to the men to follow. “Nobody’s going to be arrested.” He glanced around. “This looks like a good place. There’s enough blow down around this thicket for the fire, and the ground is dry. You ought to be done with the branding in a couple of days, but take more time if you need it.”
“This is crazy,” Dan said. “Anybody taking just one look at calves wearing different brands from their mamas will know they’re stolen.”
“I’m not stupid,” Carruthers shouted. “We’ll drive the cows back to their range once the calves are weaned.” His laugh was a high-pitched, unnatural sound. “Maybe I won’t take the Lazy T just yet. It might be more profitable to keep taking half her calves. In a few years I’ll have so many young bulls I won’t need her stud. Then I’ll take the ranch.”
Broc couldn’t believe Carruthers was so confident he was beyond the reach of the law that he would outline his criminal activity in front of seven people.
“What if somebody sees these cows before then?” Dan asked.
“Nobody will dare set foot on my range.”
“But what if somebody does?”
“You’ll kill him. Dead men carry no tales.”
“You can’t shoot people just for crossing your range.”
“I’ll say they were trying to steal my cows. That’s a hanging offense, so nobody will care if they’re already dead.”
“I’m not shooting anybody.”
“You’ll follow orders just like the rest. Now let’s get started before it’s too hot. You,” Carruthers said, pointing to two men, “start gathering wood. I’ll need enough to last the whole day. Dan and I will heat the irons and brand the calves. The rest of you start rounding them up.”
Broc backed deeper inside the thicket so there wouldn’t be any chance the men gathering wood would see him. In the meantime, he listened to Dan put forth one argument after another. Carruthers ignored everything Dan said. He appeared so focused on heating the branding irons, he didn’t seem to notice he was doing all the work while Dan did nothing. If this ever went to court, Dan couldn’t be accused of participating.
“The irons will soon be ready,” Carruthers told Dan. “Tell the men to start roping the calves.”
“I’ve got to ask you again not to do this,” Dan said. “It can only end up being bad for everybody.”
Carruthers appeared to lose control of his temper. He waved his fists in the air and got so agitated, his face turned dark from the force of his anger. He made Broc think of one of his younger brothers who used to throw a tantrum when he didn’t get his way.
“Nothing is going to happen to anybody!” Carruthers shouted. “Now stop talking and take one of these branding irons. Sully will have that calf on the ground any minute now.”
“I’m not picking up one of those irons,” Dan stated. “I’m not going to brand any calves that I know don’t belong to you.”
Carruthers let out a strangled shout of anger, yanked one of the red-hot branding irons from the fire, and turned on Dan, waving the rod like a weapon.
Dan evaded Carruthers’s attack, then moved in to get a grip on the man’s wrists and hold them immobile. Unfortunately he didn’t have eyes in the back of his head to see one of the men sneak up behind him, pick up a rock, and hit him over the head. Dan crumpled into a heap on the ground.
“Son of a bitch!” Carruthers said. “He turned on me.”
The men, shocked by the unexpected turn of events, had frozen into a tableau.
“Shoot him,” Carruthers shouted to the man with the rock. “Shoot him and throw his body into the marsh.”
The man froze.
“Shoot him!” Carruthers screamed. “I want him dead.”
“I don’t have a gun,” the man stammered.
Broc wondered if he would have shot Dan if he had had a gun.
“Any one of you got a gun?” Carruthers asked the other men.
One by one they shook their heads. Apparently thinking they were only going to brand calves, none of the men had come armed.
“You’re all spineless, useless bastards. If your mothers could see you now, they’d be ashamed they gave you birth. Looks like I have to do it myself.”
When he strode over to where his horse stood munching on the rich grass, and yanked his rifle from its scabbard, Broc knew the decision about what to do had been made for him. Pushing aside the foliage blocking his sight, he took careful aim with his own rifle and fired.
Carruthers’s weapon exploded into three pieces and flew from his hands. Everyone knew the shot had come from within the oak thicket, so Broc had no option but to show himself.
“You!” Carruthers exclaimed when he saw Broc. “I’ll kill you for being on my land. Shoot him!” Carruthers shouted at his men, apparently forgetting they’d already told him they were unarmed. “Shoot him! He tried to kill me.”
“If that’
s what I’d meant to do, you’d be dead instead of acting like a crazy man. I just wanted to stop you from shooting Dan.”
“I have another rifle.”
Carruthers turned to where his horse had been, but the rifle shot had caused the animal to run off.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Broc told him. “Amanda knows where we are and what you intend to do. She and Leo are bringing the sheriff.”
The announcement appeared to make no impact on Carruthers, but it had an immediate effect on his men. The man who had wrestled a roped calf to the ground jumped up to let the animal scramble to its feet. A second cowhand released the pressure on his rope, which allowed the calf to shrug off the lasso and run bawling to its mama. A third cowhand released his calf. The others backed away from the animals they were holding in a tight circle. In a matter of seconds the scene had changed from one of a branding to men sitting their horses. The only evidence of what was meant to happen was the fire and the still red-hot branding irons.
Broc knew that would be enough. Carruthers recovered enough from his rage to realize that, too. “Scatter the fire and throw the branding irons in the marsh,” he ordered.
“No one is going to touch that fire until the sheriff gets here,” Broc said.
“Rush him,” Carruthers ordered. “Without the fire, there’s no evidence against you.”
The last word was hardly out of his mouth before Carruthers turned and started running after his horse. It was clear Carruthers didn’t intend to be caught in case the sheriff really did show up. Broc had a decision to make: did he keep the men covered and allow Carruthers to get away, or did he go after Carruthers and let the men get away? He didn’t know if he could trust them to be more concerned about their own skins than Carruthers’s anger, but he couldn’t allow the boss to get away. He started after Carruthers.
Running in boots was hell, but Broc ignored the pain. What he couldn’t ignore was that Carruthers had gotten a good head start and was incredibly fast for a man his age. If Broc didn’t do something, he might get to his horse before Broc reached him. Hoping he hadn’t lost the accuracy he’d gained playing darts with rich men on riverboats, Broc threw his rifle at Carruthers’s feet. His luck held. The rifle struck one leg, causing the rifle to spin and catch the other leg. Carruthers hit the ground hard.
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