by Norah Hess
"I hope I can keep it looking like this," Ruth whispered when Sofia opened a narrow door to their left and stepped through it. "You'll do just fine," Rooster was saying when the Mexican housekeeper returned, carrying an earthern pitcher.
"I keep all foods that spoil quickly in the larder. There is a small creek that runs through it all the year. It is always very cool in there. My vegetables stay nice and fresh in there for several days," she explained, putting the pitcher on the table, and then reaching down three glasses from one of the cupboards.
"Now"—Sofia smiled when she had poured the milk—"I will make you sandwiches."
"Don't go to that trouble, Sofia," Willow said, anxious to do a little exploring of the ranch, to meet the men who worked there. "It will be supper time soon." She glanced at Ruth, who looked a little drained. "I think Ma should lie down and take a nap while Rooster and I take a look around."
"I am a little tired," Ruth admitted as she sipped her milk.
"You can choose which bedroom you want," Sofia said, and then added, "There are three. When you are ready, I will show them to you."
Willow and Rooster finished their refreshment and left Ruth in Sofia's capable hands.
"The buildings are all in good shape, but everything looks a little neglected," Rooster said when they had given the barn and other buildings a cursory look. "Some doors need to be tightened and a few tiles ought to be replaced on the roofs. I noticed there are some poles missing on the corral. Things that can easily be taken care of I think it's a case of nobody caring. I'll get it feed up in no time."
"Does that mean you are going to stay on with me and Ma?" Willow looked at the big man, hope in her eyes.
"Yes, I'd like to if it's all right with you. I don't like to think of you two women living here practically alone. And Ruth bein' fragile and all."
Willow knew that it was her mother and not herself that made Rooster want to remain at the ranch. She felt sorry for the big, gentle man, yearning for a woman he could never have. Even though her father didn't love his wife, he would never let her divorce him.
"You care for my mother, don't you, Rooster?" she asked softly. "More than just as a friend?" Rooster's face reddened and he ducked his head. "I expect I do," he said in a low voice. "You understand that she's still a married woman?" Willow asked gently.
"Oh, yes," Rooster said earnestly, bringing his gaze back to her. "I just want to look after her, no more. Even if she was a single woman, she wouldn't look on a rough character like me as a suitor."
Willow was about to say, "Don't be too sure of that," but she thought better of it. Why give this fine man false hope? No more was said about Ruth when two men stepped out of the bunkhouse and looked at them curiously. One was a tall, rangy fellow who seemed to be in his mid-thirties. The other one was older, pushing forty, also tall and lean.
"Can we help you folks?" the younger one asked as the pair walked toward them.
"I'm Willow Ames, and my friend here is Rooster Garr." Willow held out her hand to the man who had spoken.
"My handle is Denny Prater, and my pard is Hoot. Hoot Welby."
When everyone had shaken hands, Willow said, "I don't know how you men feel about taking orders from a woman, but if you stay on, that is what you will be doing. As of now, I'm taking over the running of Jess Miles's ranch. If that doesn't set well with you men, I suggest you gather up your gear and head on out tomorrow morning."
When both men had gotten over their shock, Denny Prater said with a pleased smile, "I don't see any problem with that. What about you, Hoot?" With a wide smile on his thin face, Hoot declared, "I always wondered what it would be like, takin' orders from a pretty woman."
"You may not like it." Willow spoke coolly. "I'll expect more work out of you than you've been doing lately."
"I don't know what you mean, Miss Ames," Denny said, looking uncomfortable.
"When was the last time you checked the cattle?" Willow pinned him with stem eyes. "And speaking of them, how come you lost so many head this past winter?"
"It was a real cold winter," Hoot muttered.
"No worse than usual." Willow said firmly. "You could have driven them into the foothills and scattered hay for them." Neither man made any more excuses and Willow asked, "Where can I find Seňor Salazar?" Denny nodded toward the barn. "He's probably still taking his siesta on a pile of hay. He'll get up when it's supper time."
That remark told Willow why everything had a rundown appearance. The old man had lost interest in the ranch, and consequently, the help did pretty much as they pleased. Which was only natural, with no one to tell them what to do.
"It's near that time now." Willow glanced up at the sky. "I'll wait until then to meet ň Salazar."
Chapter Fourteen
Jules and Logan lounged around their campfire, the restlessness of stamping hooves the only sound in the darkness as they sipped strong coffee. Each man stared into the flames, thinking his own thoughts.
Jules was thinking of Willow, wondering why he hadn't been able to see her before he left the ranch three days before. Why hadn't she come to his room the night before he left? Ruth had whispered that she was asleep when he knocked on the door. There hadn't been much he could do about that. Her mother would have thought it strange if he had entered the room and shaken her daughter awake.
But why hadn't she met him for breakfast the next morning? Had she still been sleeping? One thing he did know. He missed her. Missed her company, missed the long hours of holding her in his arms, making love with her.
He thought of the conversation he'd had with his aunt the night before he went on the wild horse hunt. Had she been right, claiming that Willow expected marriage from him?
He shook his head. Willow was no more interested in marriage than he was. What she had seen of marriage hadn't been good, and she would be affected by that.
Besides, she was the type of woman who wasn't afraid to ask for what she wanted. If she wanted marriage, she would have said so a long time ago.
Would marriage to Willow be all that bad? Jules asked himself His desire for other women had died after the first time he made love to her. One thing he knew for sure, he would never tire of her. Not only was she beautiful and desirable, he could talk to her as he had never been able to talk to another human being.
He glanced across the fire at his companion, who sat cross-legged, staring into the flames. "Logan," he asked, "have you ever been married?"
Logan looked up, blinked his eyes in surprise a couple of times, then after a rueful laugh asked, "Now what decent woman would marry a half-breed?"
"I think any number of women would jump at the chance to marry you."
"You're wrong, friend. Because of my mixed blood, no white father or Indian father would allow his daughter to marry me."
"If I had a daughter, I'd let her marry you."
"But you don't have a daughter." Logan reached forward and stirred the fire. "You're not likely to have one, either, if you don't intend to get married."
"I guess not," Jules agreed and spoke no more on the subject.
But their conversation lingered with Jules. He found that it bothered him that he would never have a daughter or a son. A son who would carry on with the ranch when he was too old to do so. He wondered if Willow ever thought of that. Did she ever ask herself if she would miss having grandchildren around when she grew old? He thought of his Aunt Jess, a bitter, sharp-tongued woman with no husband or children, only a wild nephew to take care of her. Did she ever regret not marrying, having children?
His head began to ache. He had never before given serious thought to anything other than his cattle and the wild horses he chased. "I'm going to turn in," he said, standing up and brushing off the seat of his trousers. "I'd like to get started by daylight." Logan nodded and continued to gaze into the fire.
Jules held the lead rope that was tied to the tame horse dragging a thorny mesquite bush behind him. As the shrub bounced along, it kicked up high, rolling
dust that the wild ones followed. To them, the dust was their leader and they would follow it wherever it led.
In this case, to the Asher ranch where a specially built corral awaited them.
Jules lifted the corner of the bandana tied loosely around his throat and wiped at his whisker-stubbled, sweating face. Another ten miles and they would be home. He glanced back at Logan, who was bringing up the rear of the herd. The heat never seemed to bother him. As for that, nothing ever seemed to bother the tall, stoic man. Jules often wondered what went on behind the dark eyes that gave nothing away.
He knew there was much bitterness in his new acquaintance, and he could understand that. Shunned by both races, not welcomed by either one, his life must be hard to bear. No wonder he was so good with horses. Those beautiful animals didn't care a whit about his blood lines. They only knew that he had a gentle touch and an understanding of their wild spirit.
Jules left off thinking about Logan and turned his thoughts to Willow. In another hour or so he would see her. He would grab her in his arms and hug her until she squealed for mercy. Then later, in the soft night, he would breathe and drink in the very essence of her. The night wouldn't be long enough to sate his desire for her.
A few hours of daylight were left when they topped a butte and looked down on the ranch buildings. Jules's keen eyes went to the high corral that was only used for the mustangs he captured. As he had directed before he left three days ago, the wide, sturdy gate stood open, waiting for the mustangs to be driven through it.
As the wild ones thundered toward it, no one came running to greet them. Every man on the ranch knew that to do that could frighten the horses, scatter them in all directions. Three days of hard work would have to be done all over again. And to catch them a second time would be hard, if not impossible. The lead stallion would be wiser, his trust of men gone.
When the last horse had gone through the gate and was milling around with the others, looking for an opening to escape through, Jules and Logan ran to drag the heavy gate closed.
Only then did several men come hurrying up. "Hey, boss," one man exclaimed, staring through the bars, "you sure have caught a bunch of beauties. You and Logan are gonna have your hands full, breakin' them. They act real spirited."
Jules kept looking past the cowboy, hoping to see Willow come running from the house to greet him. Hadn't she seen him ride up? he asked himself when no graceful feminine figure appeared.
She had to have heard their arrival, he thought, frowning. The hard pounding of fifteen horses' hooves could be heard a mile away. He was disappointed that Willow didn't seem as eager to see him as he was to see her.
"Fill the water trough and pitch the mustangs some hay," Jules ordered no one in particular, then strode off to the house.
Stepping into the kitchen, he called out, "Willow, Aunt Jess, I'm home." He waited for the sound of Willow's hurrying feet, but heard only the tapping of Jess's cane coming down the hall.
"Hello, nephew," Jess said as she made her slow way into the kitchen. "Did you have a successful hunt?"
"Yes, I did. Where's Willow?" he asked impatiently.
"Sit down, Jules, and I'll get you a glass of whiskey to cut the dust in your throat."
"What's going on, Aunt Jess?" Jules looked anxiously at his relative. "Did that father of hers show up again and force her to leave with him?"
When Jules didn't sit down, Jess did. She looked up at his suddenly strained face and said, "Her father hasn't been around, but Willow and her mother are gone."
"Gone? Gone where?" Jules sat down now. His aunt's words had weakened him so he was afraid his legs would buckle and he would fall to the floor.
Jess shrugged her narrow shoulders and carefully couched her answer. "I guess if she wanted you to know, she would have left us a note. I understand that she and Ruth took off shortly after you did… Rooster went with them."
"But you must have an idea why she went away. Did she seem upset or angry before I left?"
"Yes, to both your questions."
"Why should she feel that way?"
"She overheard our conversation about marriage the night before. I guess you were mistaken that she didn't expect marriage from you."
When Jules only stared at Jess, the old lady pointed out, "I told you that she did, but you were so sure you knew what you were talking about that I decided to let you find out the hard way that Willow was no Nina."
"She never said anything to me about marriage!" Anger began to grow inside Jules. Anger directed more at himself than at Willow. For the first time in his life, he had misjudged a woman.
He jerked to his feet and stamped out of the kitchen. When he arrived at the corral, his face was as dark as the clouds building in the west. "What's tied your tail in a knot?" Logan asked, grinning at him.
"Willow." Jules snapped the name. "Would you believe that she snuck away as soon as my back was turned? And that's not all—Rooster went with her and her mother. A man who has worked for me for over fifteen years."
"Rooster is pretty soft on Miss Ruth. He'd want to look after her." Logan studied Jules's tight face a moment and then asked, "Did she leave you a note, saying why she left, where she was going?"
Jules shook his head. "No note, no nothing. She just up and left."
"There's got to be some reason she'd leave without saying why. You haven't been beating her, have you?" Logan joked.
"I'd like to beat her now." Jules looked unseeing at the horses, which were slowly settling down. "According to Aunt Jess, Willow overheard her asking me if Willow and I were getting married. I said that I had no intention of ever getting married. I guess Willow had different ideas."
"You know, Jules, you're a real smart fellow when it comes to cattle and horses, but you don't know diddly about how a woman thinks. A decent one, that is. Any man with a speck of brains would know that Willow Ames is the type of woman men marry. No man should treat her like a whore."
"Hey, hold on there," Jules said, bristling. "I wouldn't treat Willow with anything but respect. I have the highest regard for her. It was my intention that she be here with me the rest of my life."
"I can't believe you are fool enough to think that Willow would be satisfied with such an arrangement."
"That's the only kind she's ever going to get from me," Jules growled. "It's just as well that she left then. It won't take her long to find another man who will jump at the chance to marry her."
A picture of the handsome young farmer swam before Jules. That one would marry her in the wink of an eye. A sudden thought narrowed his eyes. Had Willow gone to Thad Wilson?
"I don't give a damn where she went," he muttered to himself Turning his back to the corral, he said with forced lightness, "I guess I'd better wash up and ride into town to find a new housekeeper."
Logan shook his head as he watched Jules walk away. "You poor devil," he said, "why don't you admit you're torn up inside?"
The sound of pounding hooves and creaking wagon wheels turned Logan's attention from Jules. He grinned when he saw two riders racing a chuck wagon. When the three pulled rein in front of him, his grin widened. All three riders were between boyhood and manhood, at the moment leaning more toward boyhood as they argued good-naturedly over who had won the race.
"You saw us, mister," a gangly blond said. "Who do you think got here first?"
"I'd say it was a dead tie," Logan answered, not about to get in the middle of a teenage squabble. "All three of you were doing some fine riding."
Logan had chosen his words wisely. The young men nodded, please with his decision.
The blond one spoke again as he climbed off the wagon. "We heard that Willow's mother was here and that she didn't feel very good. Do you know how she is now? Willow was awfully worried about her."
"She's coming along pretty good. I take it you fellows are just getting in from the cattle drive."
"Yeah," the blond answered; then he introduced himself and his friends. "I'm Jimmy, and that long dri
nk of water is Sammy, and that ugly one is Brian."
When handshakes had been exchanged, Jimmy, the spokesman for the trio, said, "Let's go say hello to Willow first, and then we can take care of the horses."
"She's not there, fellows," Logan said. "Where is she? Has she gone to town?"
"No, she hasn't gone to town. Nobody knows where she's gone. She just up and left three days ago. She and her Ma and Rooster." He wondered why the three looked so crestfallen at his news.
Jimmy stared down at the ground, a thoughtful look on his face. The other two waited for him to say something. Finally, he raised his head, the light in his eyes saying that he had arrived at a satisfactory conclusion.
"Miss Jess will know where Willow is. Tonight when she sits on the kitchen patio having a pipe before going to bed, we'll go talk to her. She'll let something slip."
Logan laughed to himself when the three rode off toward the barn. Only callow youths would think they could get something out of that old rawhide woman.
He was still sitting on top of the corral fence, studying the mustangs, deciding which of them would make good mounts, when Jules joined him. The rancher had bathed, shaved and donned clean clothes.
"You're looking pretty spiffy," he said with a grin, looking at Jules's snug-fitting black trousers and white shirt with the sleeves rolled up midway between his wrists and elbows.
"Why don't you come to town with me?" Jules asked as he led his saddled stallion out of the barn. "You need a few hours of relaxation too. You know—some drinks, a few dances with the saloon girls."
Logan studied the deeply tanned face a moment. It showed signs of recklessness and a readiness for violence of any kind. Jules would take his anger and hurt out on anyone who got in his way. A half-breed would be crazy to involve himself in a white man's brawl.
"Thanks, Jules, but all I want is a bath and a soft bed. I'm pretty beat."
"Suit yourself" Jules shrugged and climbed into the saddle. "You're going to miss a real good time."
"Maybe the next time."