by Ginna Gray
Willa spent hours in the saddle riding hell-for-leather through brush and rocky gullies and up and down steep slopes, flushing out strays and recalcitrant new mothers and their young. It was dirty, strenuous work that she could have left to the men, but she used her simmering anger to push on, even when she was close to dropping.
After working without letup for more than an hour, Willa paused on a bench of land above the meadow where they were gathering cattle that day and dismounted to give the mare a rest. She ground-hitched the horse and left her cropping grass, and walked over to the edge of the drop-off to watch the busy scene below.
Even from that height she could hear the incessant racket made by the two hundred or so head they had rounded up so far. Kept bunched in a circle by four men and Sadie, the cattle milled about restlessly, bawling and clacking horns and kicking up a cloud of dust, even though patches of snow still covered much of the ground. Periodically other hands rode up, driving in one or more animals to add to the herd.
Willa's gaze locked on the big man wearing a sheepskin-lined denim jacket and a gray Stetson. Her mouth tightened. Arrogant, overbearing oaf.
By the morning following Tyrone's birthday and that insulting encounter with Zach, her hurt had turned to full-blown anger. Even now, three weeks later, the memory of the doubt and worry in his eyes – and the others, as well – still rankled. That they could think she would deliberately hurt a child was the most scurrilous, contemptuous insult she had ever endured.
So far she had given Tyrone four lessons without any serious mishaps. The boy had missed a lesson when he'd been kept after school one day, and another time she had gotten so busy she'd forgotten to knock off early, causing him to miss another. Wisely, Zach had kept his distance.
Tyrone was awkward and – despite his bravado – a bit afraid of the horse, which had made progress slow, but he was hanging in there. The little cuss was determined, she'd give him that. With that kind of gutsy focus Willa was certain that he would eventually overcome his fear and get the hang of it.
Below, Zach rode over to the herd and said something to J.T. and Matt. Watching him, it annoyed Willa that even from that distance he stood out from the rest of the cowboys. Like it or not, she had to admit there was something about him, something that drew your eye, that set him apart from the other men.
Zach was a commanding figure, a big, broad-shouldered, imposing man in his prime who sat a horse with a loose, easy grace. Still … it was more than just his height and impressive build. He seemed to have an aura of quiet authority about him.
Zach worked right along side his men, charging in and out of ravines and thick brush at breakneck speed and doing any other dangerous or dirty job that needed doing, but no one would ever doubt that he was the man in charge.
On foot, Zach's brothers had the same commanding air about them, even Matt, despite his limp.
As Zach rode out of camp again, Willa's gaze wandered over to Seamus's other grandsons. A reluctant half smile played around her mouth as she watched Matt cut off a cow that tried to bolt. She had to hand it to them. He and J.T. had stuck to the riding lessons with a gritty determination that she hadn't expected of two city boys.
Over the past weeks their riding ability had improved enough that Zach now allowed them to work with the men. However, they did not yet display the same confidence and prowess in the saddle as Zach, nor had they quite mastered the skills of roping or bulldogging, which was why he had assigned them the relatively simple task of riding herd on the stock that had been brought in.
Willa's gaze drifted irresistibly back to Zach as he came riding up out of a draw, driving a bawling cow and her two calves into camp. A tingle danced over her skin, as it always did whenever she saw him, even from afar. She gritted her teeth and told herself the sensation was the result of intense dislike.
In the distance south of camp a cowboy crested a rise, riding flat-out. When he spotted Zach he waved his hat above his head and began to shout. Willa tensed.
Zach had been about to ride out after more strays, but he whirled his horse around and waited. When the rider pulled his lathered horse up alongside Zach he started gesturing wildly, and even from that distance Willa could sense his agitation.
Something was terribly wrong.
Willa raced back to her horse, vaulted into the saddle and headed down to camp as fast as Bertha could safely pick her way down the slope.
When she arrived in camp Zach was shouting orders. Already she could see some of the men riding south, slapping leather all the way.
"What is it?" Willa demanded, riding up beside him. "What's happened?"
"Stretch! Dooley! Come with me! We got trouble!" Zach shouted to the two men who came riding into camp driving three cows and two calves. He whirled his horse and raced over to where his brothers were circling the herd. Willa followed.
"What's up?" J.T. asked.
"We've got a half mile of fence down on the southern border. All the cows we've rounded up so far are out on the highway. Several have already been hit by motorists and killed."
"A half a mile of downed fence? That's impossible. Unless…"
"Unless it was cut," Zach finished for Willa, his mouth grim.
He turned back to his brothers. "You two and Jake stay here with the herd. I'll send someone out later to relieve you and spend the night with this bunch. Send the next man who rides into camp to the barn to load a pickup with reels of barbed wire and staples and get it out there, pronto. As soon as they come into camp, tell the rest of the men to hightail it to the south border along the highway. C'mon, Sadie," he commanded, and when he kicked his horse into a gallop, the dog raced alongside him
Willa dug her heels into Bertha's flanks and took off after them.
"Go back. Stay with Matt and J.T." he shouted when she rode up beside him. "The men and I will handle this."
"Forget it. I'm going. Those are my cattle, too, remember?" Besides, she wanted to get a look at that fence.
Zach didn't waste time arguing.
They found pandemonium when they reached the southernmost boundary of the ranch. At least three hundred head of cattle had wandered out onto the highway. An eighteen-wheeler had slammed into a small bunch and jackknifed. Willa could see at least five dead cows scattered over the asphalt and along the verge. The big rig sat askew across the highway and partly in the bar ditch, blocking traffic.
This part of Montana was sparsely populated, making traffic light, but even so lines of pickups and semi-rigs were backed up in both directions.
It took the better part of four hours to clear the carcasses and wrecked truck off the highway and to round up the meandering cattle. Some had wandered more than two miles. Willa, Zach and several of the men drove them back onto Rocking R land while another crew frantically worked to repair the fence. The last thirty yards or so of wire was strung by lantern light.
It was close to nine when Willa, Zach and the men came dragging in. She was so exhausted she could barely put one foot in front of the other. Worse, she was very much afraid that she had sprained her right wrist, possibly even cracked a bone. She held her arm close to her body, hoping to hide the injury. Later, she'd catch Maria alone and get her to bind it for her.
Zach didn't look as though he felt much better than she did. His face was smudged with dirt and sweat and gray with fatigue.
They were met at the back door by three worried women.
"Ah, muchacha. ¡Pobrecito!" Maria exclaimed, wringing her hands. "Sit. Sit, before you fall on your face, and I will get your dinner."
"Don't bother. I'm too tired to eat. All I want is a hot shower and a chance to sleep for about twelve hours straight," Willa mumbled.
"What foolishness is this? You must eat to get your strength back. Now sit."
She gave Willa's shoulder a downward push, and her knees buckled. With a groan, she collapsed into the nearest chair like a dishrag. She crossed her arms on the table, carefully cradling the injured one, and lay her head down.<
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"First let's see about that wrist."
Willa was so tired she barely heard Zach, and the next thing she knew his calloused hand clasped her forearm. Despite exhaustion and pain, his touch set her nerve endings to tingling.
Her head popped up and she tried to pull away, but it was hopeless. Though gentle, his grip remained firm.
"Let me go. What do you think you're doing?"
"Be still. This arm needs tending. It's already swelling."
"No, it's fine. Just a little strain is al— Ow!"
Zach probed the puffy flesh, then clasped her hand and gently rotated it. Willa groaned and put her head down again, fighting nausea.
"It doesn't appear to be broken, but to be safe you should have it X-rayed tomorrow. In the meantime it should be tightly wrapped."
"Out of my way. I will take care of my niña. Ah, pobrecito. Such a foolish girl."
Willa heard a thunk, and the next instant she felt her hand being immersed in warm soapy water. Maria fussed and tutted while she washed her hand and arm up to her elbow, then dried it tenderly and wound an Ace bandage around the injured wrist.
"There. All done. Now you will eat."
Willa didn't have the strength to argue, or to even go wash up the rest of the way. Besides, she knew she wouldn't win. Vaguely she was aware of Kate and Maude Ann fussing over Zach. She heard plates clunk down on the table, one just inches from her face. The tantalizing aroma of roast beef drifted to her nose. Her stomach growled, but she was too tired to stir herself.
"Have J.T. and Matt gotten back?" Zach asked.
"Yes. About an hour ago," Kate replied. "They ate and went upstairs to shower. They should be down any minute."
As though on cue, the two men came through the door from the hall. "Hey, Zach. How'd it go?" J.T. said.
"We had a helluva time doing it, but I think we rounded up all of the cattle that weren't killed. It took a while to get that semi-tractor out of the bar ditch and clear the highway. And to get the fence mended, but we finally managed it."
"How many did we lose?" Matt asked.
"Seven cows, nine calves."
Maria poked Willa's shoulder. "Wake up, muchacha, and eat."
Groaning, Willa forced herself upright and picked up her fork. Her stomach growled when she took a bite of roast beef, but she could barely summon the energy to chew … or to hold her eyes open.
"Was it deliberate sabotage, like you suspected?"
"Oh, yeah. Dobie and Chuck were repairing fence in the far south pastures today. They said when they rode by that section this morning the fence was fine. When they came back by this afternoon on their way to the barn it was down. Every strand of wire had been cut off at the posts.
"My guess is, it was done as soon as our men were out of sight. Some of the stock had wandered so far by the time we got there they had to have gotten out hours before." Zach reached into the pocket of his shirt, withdrew a folded piece of paper and tossed it to Matt. "I found this nailed to one of the posts."
Willa sat up straighter, her attention caught. "You didn't say anything to me about finding a note."
Zach shrugged. "You were busy."
"What does it say?" J.T. demanded.
Matt unfolded the paper and frowned. The lined sheet had been torn from a spiral notebook and was ragged along one edge – just like the one that had been nailed to the front door a few weeks ago. "It says, 'You were warned. Get out now while you still can, or you'll regret it. This is just the beginning. "
J.T. gave a low whistle. "Damn. Somebody wants us out of here bad."
"Yeah, but who?" Zach looked at Willa. "Do you have any ideas?"
She stiffened. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I was hoping you might think of someone who'd do something like this. Like maybe your boyfriend."
"Which one," she asked with nasty sweetness. "You seem to think I have so many."
"Oh, c'mon, Willa. You can hardly blame Zach if he does," Maude Ann gently scolded. "A pretty girl like you? Why, you ought to have men lined up from here to the highway."
That caught Willa by surprise. She blinked at Maude Ann, delighted by the compliment and not wanting to be.
"I'm talking about Lennie Dawson. I ran into him in town a few weeks back. He went out of his way to let me know that you belonged to him."
Willa's gaze snapped back to Zach. "He did what?"
"He also warned me to keep my hands off of you." Those steady green eyes bore into her, and she knew he was remembering that night in the barn. He'd certainly put his hands on her then. And kissed her senseless, to boot.
She felt her cheeks heat, but she refused to let him make her squirm. "Damn that Lennie," she snarled. "I'll kill him."
"So … does that mean he isn't your boyfriend?"
"Of course he isn't! I told you that."
"You've never gone out with him?"
Willa winced. "Once. Once! And then only because Seamus forbade me to."
"Now there's a good reason." Matt muttered. His wife elbowed him in the ribs and shushed him.
J.T.'s forehead wrinkled. "I don't get it. If you're not involved with this Lennie character, then why is he telling everybody that you are?"
"For one thing, he's full of himself. Lennie always wants what he can't have. Telling him no is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Plus, he wants—"
Willa could have kicked herself. She hadn't meant to mention Lennie's ridiculous claim to anyone. It had been a blatant lie. She stared down at her plate and hoped Zach would let the matter drop. She should have known better.
"He wants what?"
She shot him an annoyed look. "If you must know, I think he and his father want to get their hands on the Rocking R. Before you three showed up they, and everyone else around here, thought I would inherit the entire ranch, which is why Lennie started pursuing me. I figured out that much long ago."
"What about now?" Zach probed. "You think he's willing to marry you for a quarter of what he'd originally hoped to gain?"
Willa's cheeks heated. Put so bluntly, the question was insulting, but since she had brought the matter up, she couldn't very well object, although she suspected Zach was enjoying her discomfort.
Tipping up her chin, she looked him in the eye. "Yes, I do. Even a quarter share of the Rocking R, added to the Bar-D, would more than double the Dawsons' holdings.
"Besides, I think Lennie and his father are determined to at least get my part of the Rocking R. They've got this crazy notion that the whole shebang should have gone to Henry when Seamus died…"
"What? Why would they think that?"
"It doesn't matter. I'm sure Lennie made the whole thing up to annoy me."
"Tell us, anyway."
"It's ridiculous. Lennie claims his father and Seamus had a deal. Henry would marry Colleen and take over the Rocking R after Seamus died. But I don't believe him. Seamus wouldn't do that. Lennie will say anything to get what he wants."
"No, muchacha. It is true."
Six pairs of eyes turned to Maria. The housekeeper stood by the kitchen sink, wringing her hands, her expression pained.
"Maria, what are you saying?" Willa demanded.
"When la señorita is seventeen, the señor he betroth her to Señor Dawson, a man twenty years older than la señorita." Maria huffed and made a face. "The Bar-D, it is not so grande as the Rocking R. Señor Dawson, he is a greedy man and he has much envy for this place. To get his hands on it, he is willing to sacrifice his pride and change his name to Rafferty so the babies from the marriage will carry on the name. Señor Rafferty, he say Señorita Colleen, she owe him this much."
"And our mother agreed to that?" Zach demanded.
"Oh, no, no. Señorita Colleen, she had much spirit, and she refuse to marry Señor Dawson. She love Señor Mike. He is one of the vaqueros who works for Señor Rafferty. When she tell him, the señor is furioso. He dismiss Señor Mike and order him to leave Montana.
"But Señor Mike, he love Se
ñorita Colleen. He get a job at another ranch near Clear Water, and he and la señorita, they meet secretly and make plans to … to…"
"Elope?" J.T. suggested.
"Sí, elope." Maria sighed. "Before they can marry, Señor Mike, he is killed. Something frighten his horse. The animal, he rear and fall on top of him. Not long after that, the señorita knows she is with child."
"And when Seamus found out, he tossed her out on her ear," Zach finished for her with disgust.
"Sí. She ruin his plans, and he go a little loco. By the time he cool off, his pride will not let him go after her."
"That's assuming he wanted to," Matt mumbled.
"Sí. With the señor, it is not easy to know what is in his heart. In the beginning he believe the la señorita will not survive alone, that she will give up her baby and come crawling back, begging his forgiveness, and marry Señor Dawson, as he wishes. But the years they go by, and the señorita, she does not come.
"Then a minister in Houston, he telephone Señor Rafferty and tell him Señorita Colleen es muerto."
"So he knew when we first came here that she was dead?" Matt snapped. "Why the hell didn't he just tell us straight-out?"
"I do not know, señor. Señor Rafferty was an unhappy man. Sometimes he strike out in strange ways."
"I didn't notice our mother's grave when we buried Seamus," Zach said quietly. "I'd like for you to go up there with us tomorrow, Maria, and point it out."
Her eyes filled with tears and her chin began to quiver. "I cannot do that, señor. The minister who called, he say it is la señorita's last wish to be buried beside her madre in the family cemetery here on the ranch." She made the sign of the cross and dabbed at her eyes with her apron. "But the señor, he say no. He told the man of God to bury her in … in … la sepultura de los pobres."
J.T. and Matt exchanged a puzzled look. "Where?"
"A pauper's grave," Zach supplied in a voice tight with fury.