by Norah Hess
Willow thought it was hard to believe that this big, rough-appearing woman would have such a sensitivity to what she had around her. Her gaze went to a basin of potato peelings sitting on a work bench. "Where did you get the vegetables for your roast? I didn't see a garden patch when I took a look around the house area."
"I bought them from a young man who sells vegetables and dairy products from his farm."
Could it possibly be? Willow wondered as she asked, "Is his name Thad?"
"Yes. Thad," Corrie Mae answered. She looked as though she was remembering something very pleasant. "Do you know him?"
"Yes. I used to buy his produce, too. Also his eggs and once a frying hen," Willow answered. She ignored the fact that Corrie Mae waited for her to go into more detail about her dealings with the handsome Thad. But this big woman could very well know Jules and might run into him some day. It was best if she knew of no connection between the rancher and her new boss.
Not that it would make all that much difference to him where she was. By now Jules had probably moved a new woman into his home. "I'll see you at supper time, Corrie Mae." She finished her coffee and left the cookhouse.
Chapter Sixteen
The sun had gone down, and the shadows were growing long. As Jules left the bunkhouse, a quail called plaintively off in the distance and he felt akin to it. He was tired, all the way to the bottom of his feet, and the horseplay of his men had aggravated the hell out of him.
It didn't occur to the whip-lean man as he strode toward the house that only a short while ago he would have enjoyed the cowhands' antics. Nor did he realize that he went around looking dark and brooding. He didn't even notice that his men stayed away from him whenever they could, that his presence in the bunkhouse made them uneasy. If anyone had dared ask him why he had a perpetual dark frown on his face, he would have answered that he was as mad as hell that four of his help had deserted him. He would not say one word about the cancer that was eating at his heart. He had convinced himself that he was a lucky man, discovering in time that Willow Ames had been out to trap him in marriage.
Jules was walking past the darkened veranda when his aunt called from the shadows. Taking a seat beside her, he asked, "Why are you having your pipe out here instead of in your usual place on the patio?"
"It's cooler out here." Jess knocked the remains of the tobacco out of her pipe. "I hope it rains soon to cool things off for a while."
"We need a real good gully-washer," Jules agreed, kicking off his scuffed boots and wiggling his toes. "The grass is beginning to dry up."
There was a companionable silence until Jules asked, "Have you seen Logan today? He didn't show up for supper, and I missed seeing him at breakfast."
"He's gone on a vision quest." Jess told her lie smoothly. "He said he'd be back sometime tonight."
A wry grin twisted Jules's lips. "Logan never struck me as the sort who would do those Indian things."
"You can never tell by appearance what lies in another man's heart."
"Nor a woman's," Jules said sourly.
"I expect by that remark you're referring to Willow." Jess peered at her nephew in the gathering darkness.
"Willow and her ilk. I've learned one thing—steer clear of the so-called decent woman. She's dangerous. She'll lead you to a preacher before you know what's hit you."
"Sometimes that's the best thing that can happen to a man."
"Bah! Putting a ring in his nose doesn't help him. It only takes away his independence, his freedom."
"That didn't happen to your pa when he married my sister. He remained the same strong-minded man he always was. As for his freedom, your mother allowed him to do anything he wanted to… except fraternize with loose women and whores. Of course he had no desire to do that. If he still wanted to whore around, he never would have asked your mother to marry him."
Silence settled between nephew and aunt as Jules thought back to when his parents were alive, remembering how much in love they had been.
He gave a start when Jess asked, "Do you still want to whore around, Jules? Is that why you're so dead set against marriage? Are you afraid you wouldn't be able to be true to your vows?"
"Aunt Jess, you can ask the damnedest questions," Jules snorted. Picking up his boots, he said a gruff good night and strode toward the door. As he was about to step through it, Jess called to him, "When you find time, will you ride over to my ranch and see how everything is coming along?"
"Logan and I are going up to the high country tomorrow to look for more wild ones. I'll check on your place after that."
The very tip of the sun was emerging in the east when Jules and Logan left the hacienda behind and rode toward the open range. They had a seven- or eight-mile trip ahead before they came to the area where they had found the last herd of wild ones. They had seen others that day, but had had their hands full with the ones they were chasing toward the ranch.
The air was close and humid, promising an uncomfortable day ahead. "Well, Logan, was your vision thing successful?" Jules asked, half joking. "I think so."
"Well?" Jules waited for him to expound.
"In my dream I learned the foolishness of some men. Their fears that keep them from fulfilling the lives they were meant for. I saw them in their old age, alone and bitter with no one to care whether they lived or died."
"So you had a good look at your future, did you?" Amusement was in Jules's tone.
"Yes. And that of a friend of mine."
Jules's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You mean me?"
"I did see a man who looked surprisingly like you."
"It couldn't have been me." Jules's amusement turned to irritation. "I won't be alone and bitter in my old age. I'll have some young thing to keep me company, and I sure won't be bitter about that."
"That young thing you speak of won't love you. She'll tolerate your old stove-up body for monetary gain. When you grow ill and are dying, she will leave you without a backward look. A loving wife wouldn't do that. She would hold your hand and help you to step over the Great Divide."
"Won't the same hold true for you? You don't yearn for hearth and home."
"After what my vision revealed, I may rethink my plans for the future."
"It was your vision, not mine. Do as you please," Jules grunted and kicked his horse into a brisk canter.
Logan grinned after him. "My friend," he said, "you don't like what I gave you to think about."
As Willow bridled the little mustang and cinched the belly strap, Rooster walked into the barn. "I think this close, humid air is gonna bring us the rain we've been wishing for," he said.
"I was thinking the same thing," Willow agreed. "I'm afraid an electrical storm will accompany it though, the air is so still. I hope we can find the cattle and drive them onto our range before it breaks."
"I think it will hold off until this afternoon," Rooster said, leading his horse out of its stall.
"Where's Jimmy?" Willow asked as she and Rooster mounted and rode off.
"He'll be along. He's horsin' around with them other two hellions."
"What do you think of our new cook?" Willow asked, switching to another subject.
"Well…" Rooster grinned. "She's a good cook, and she feels right at home with Denny and Hoot."
"I noticed that." Willow's eyes crinkled at the corners. "I got the impression this morning that she probably knows them in the biblical sense."
"I'm sure you're right. I could have got to know her that way last night had I a mind to. I had the invite."
"No fooling?" Willow laughed. She frowned then and chewed at her lower lip. "I don't want the boys hanging around her."
"I understand how you feel, them bein' almost like your own, but they couldn't find a better female to break them in."
"For heaven's sake, Rooster," Willow said, bristling. "They're only sixteen years old."
Rooster didn't comment on her outburst, but he was remembering that he'd been fifteen when he had had his first woman.
But if the teenagers wanted to lose their virginity to big Corrie Mae, they'd better not let Willow learn about it. Brian was a couple of years older than Jimmy and Sammy, and he'd bet his spurs that the teenager was no virgin. If the boys ended up in Corrie Mae's living quarters, it would be Brian who would lead them there.
Willow and Rooster looked over their shoulders at the sound of a whooping yell. "That damn kid oughtn't to be racing his horse already," Rooster grumbled. "It's gonna get enough runnin' in this heat when we spot some cattle."
"You're right. I'll speak to him about that."
But when a grinning Jimmy rode up alongside them, and Willow began to gently point out that he shouldn't race his mount unnecessarily, Rooster glared at the teenager and had his say.
"If I ever catch you runnin' your horse in heat like this just for your own pleasure, I'll jerk you out of the saddle and knock you down. Is that clear, young man?"
With a sheepish look and a muted, "Yes, sir," Jimmy dropped behind them.
It was around noon and the three were scouting the edge of the foothills when a herd often head was spotted in a large thicket.
"Watch out for them devils," Rooster cautioned as they rode toward the longhorns. "They look red-eyed mean. Jimmy, you ride around behind them. Willow, ride upwind of them, and I'll stay here alongside them. When we're all in place, start yelling and popping your ropes. Spook them out of there."
Sweat rolled off Willow's brow, down across her eyelids, trickled between her breasts and soaked the back of her shirt as she and Jimmy and Rooster tried to chase the cattle from the thicket. Every time it looked as if they would succeed, the longhorns would spin around and go back into the thorny brush.
One bull, big and mean-looking, insisted on following Willow's horse, blustering and bullying and pretending that he was going to charge it. She dropped her hand to the gun belt strapped around her waist, thankful that she wasn't afoot. Longhorn steers were very dangerous. They even challenged each other, making rumbling and moaning noises as they swung their horns about.
When finally the wild ones were driven out of their cover and onto the open range, Willow and the men were surprised at the overcast sky. They had been so busy with the cattle, they hadn't noticed the black clouds that had moved in.
"Dammit, Willow," Rooster yelled. "We're in for a storm that's gonna make all our hard work for nothin'. The first crack of thunder is gonna spook them ornery varmints and they're gonna make a beeline for them thickets again."
It was around two in the afternoon, the air hot and close, before Logan sighted a small herd of mustangs. He signaled to Jules to ride to the left of the stallion and mares while he drifted slowly to the right of them. When both men were in position, they drew their guns and began shooting into the air. With a plunging rush, the horses tore off across the range. With wild yells, Jules and Logan raced after them.
During the head-long dash, the air fanning across their faces grew hotter, and dark storm clouds gathered in the north. Neither man had time to notice the impending storm. Both were startled when suddenly the humid stickiness of the air was broken by a zigzag streak of lightning, then the loud crack of thunder.
"Damn!" Jules exploded as he was hit broadside by a blinding sheet of rain. "Forget about the horses," he shouted to Logan. "My Aunt Jess's ranch is in the area, if we can see how to find it."
"Give your mount his head," Logan shouted back. "If there's cover nearby, he will find it."
With the reins loose on their necks, the two quarter horses turned in unison. It wasn't long before they topped a butte and directly ahead, the riders could make out a group of buildings through the slashing rain. When Jules spotted three riders pounding toward them, he grinned. Someone else had been caught in the sudden downpour.
Willow and Jimmy had gladly left off chasing the longhorns and raced after Rooster as he led the way homeward.
Now, as they neared the barnyard, Willow saw through the rain the dim shapes of other riders racing toward the dry haven of the barn. The rest of the fellows were coming in, too, she thought, bringing her little quarter horse to a skidding halt only feet from the wide double door that someone had swung open.
She slid to the muddy ground and tugged the horse inside.
Willow heard footsteps pounding behind her and gave a grunt when she was hit by a heavy shoulder. She lost her balance and stumbled back against her mount.
"Watch where you're going, Jimmy," she said sharply, dashing the rain out of her eyes.
She heard a surprised grunt, then heard Jimmy, several stalls down, call out, "I'm all right, Willow." She looked over her shoulder to see who had bumped into her and stared right into Jules's hard, cold eyes.
"What are you doing here?" she gasped.
"I was about to ask you that." Water dripped off Jules's hat while his soaking wet clothes made pools around his feet.
"I'm running the ranch for Aunt Jess," Willow answered, her voice a little shaky.
"Hah! What happened to Jose Salazar?"
"He and his wife wanted to retire. They've gone back to Mexico."
Jules's eyes narrowed. It was all suddenly clear to him. Aunt Jess, the matchmaker, was trying her hand at playing cupid. Well, her plans weren't going to work the way she wanted them to, he thought angrily, even as he wanted to snatch the rain-soaked Willow into his arms and ravish her lips.
He ran his gaze over her slender body and sneered, "You'll never make a rancher even if you did steal four men from me to help you."
"Hardly four men," Willow snapped. "One man and three striplings. They all came because they wanted to."
"Yeah, because they knew they could get away without giving you a full day's work."
"You're wrong. The boys have been working very hard for me."
"And you had the nerve to take my hound."
"I didn't take him. He came with the boys."
Willow noticed Logan standing to one side and opened her mouth to say, "Ask Logan." But when the tall man gave a small shake of his head, she knew he was silently asking her not to let on that he had been here before. She looked back at Jules and said, "I'm not going to stand around here in these wet clothes and bandy insults with you."
She left her horse for Jimmy to unsaddle and wipe down, and without further words sprinted through the rain to the ranch house.
Ruth, who had seen them ride up, had dry clothes laid out for Willow, along with some towels. When Willow rushed in, dripping wet, she exclaimed, "Hurry up and change your clothes, child. Then come back in here and get some hot coffee inside you."
"Ma, Jules is here. He'll probably come to the house later."
"Oh dear. Is he angry with us?"
"He's not angry with you, but he's not very happy with me."
"Should I make extra for supper?"
Willow thought a moment about Ruth's question. It would be very uncomfortable, just her and her mother sharing a meal with the stony-faced Jules—feeling the cut of his frosty eyes on her, listening to his snide remarks. Shaking her head, she answered, "I think we'll eat with the men at the cookhouse tonight."
Willow had pulled off her boots and was on her way to her room when the door was pushed open and Jules walked into the kitchen, a mist of rain blowing in behind him. He quickly closed the door and stood for a second, water dripping off his clothes. He took off his soaked hat and hung it on the wall, then smiled at wide-eyed Ruth.
"You're looking chipper, Ruth," he said in warm tones. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm ever so much better, Jules. How are you?"
Jules cut a look at Willow and drawled, "I couldn't be better."
As Willow, with chin in the air, disappeared down the hall, Ruth asked, "Do you have some dry clothes here that you can change into? You're soaked clear through."
Jules nodded as he sat down and pulled off his boots. "I've had a room here as long as I can remember. I'm sure I'll be able to find something to change into."
"Jules," Ruth said when he had placed h
is boots on the stone hearth to dry out, "I hope you're not angry with Willow for taking this job that Jess offered her."
Jules was somewhat surprised that Ruth didn't know the real reason her daughter had left him. What had Willow told the gentle woman? he wondered. He decided that it would be too embarrassing to tell her the truth.
He smiled at Ruth and said, "I can't fault Willow for taking a better job." He couldn't resist adding, "It's only natural for a person to grab an opportunity that might better her future. Willow is the type of young woman who would take advantage of every opportunity." Ruth smiled uncertainly. She was trying to decide if there had been a sour note to Jules's words, a hint of contempt. She was still trying to decide when Jules stood up and said, "I'm going to get out of these wet clothes now. I'll see you at supper."
There was a strained silence in the cookhouse as everyone ate the evening meal. It was broken occasionally by Corrie Mae making some kind of jovial remark. The jolly woman wanted laughter and easy conversation in her kitchen.
She looked at Jules, who sat across from Willow, and took the coffee pot off the stove.
"Cat got your tongue, handsome?" She grinned down at Jules as she refilled his cup. "I can't remember ever seeing you so quiet. Don't you like your supper?" She gave him a flirtatious look. "Just tell me what you want and I'll take care of it right away."
Jules saw through his lowered lashes that Willow wasn't missing anything Corrie Mae had said.
He gave Corrie Mae a wicked look and, running his hand up her skirt, asked, "Eight here and now? Shouldn't we wait until after everybody has gone?"
Corrie Mae gave a playful slap at his hand and retorted, "If you can wait, so can I."
The tension in the room eased as everyone laughed at the repartee between Jules and Corrie Mae. Everyone except for Willow and Ruth. Ruth looked bewildered, trying to figure it out, and Willow sat stony-faced, sure that every word out of Jules's and the cook's mouth was serious. There was no doubt in her mind that after everyone had left, Jules would remain.