THE TIES THAT BIND

by Ginna Gray

  "Why that sorry—" Matt bit off the tirade and clamped his jaw tight. Anger radiated from him like a red aura.

  Shocked, Willa stared at the housekeeper. Seamus had always been foul-tempered and unforgiving, but even so, she couldn't believe he would do such a thing to his own child. Apparently, however, he had.

  Zach looked at his brothers. "I think we should find Colleen's grave and have her body brought here for reburial. Agreed?"

  Without hesitation, J.T. and Matt nodded and murmured their approval.

  Zach turned his attention back to Willa. "Do you think Lennie's father has been nursing a grudge all this time?"

  "Probably." She yawned and fought to stay awake. "There's been bad blood between him and Seamus ever since my mother and I came here. I never knew why, but this explains it."

  "Do you think Henry Dawson is bitter enough to be behind these incidents?"

  "It's possible, I suppose."

  "I see where you're going with this, Zach," Matt said. "But it doesn't hold up. Why would Dawson try to run us out? Unless he can afford to purchase the ranch in the event we default, he'll be better off if his son marries Willa."

  Zach looked to Willa again. "Can he afford to purchase the Rocking R if it went up for sale?"

  "I doubt it. Even if he used the Bar-D for collateral, he couldn't borrow enough for the purchase price."

  "So Matt's right. The only way Dawson and his son would gain is if Lennie married you."

  "Please. There is no way I'd ever marry Lennie Dawson."

  "Yes, but does he believe that?"

  "He should. I've told him often enough." Willa sighed and her shoulders slumped. "But knowing Lennie, probably not. His ego is so big he can't imagine there's a woman alive who wouldn't jump at the chance to be Mrs. Leonard Dawson.

  "Look, I'm too tired for this. Could we continue this discussion in the morning?"

  Without waiting for an answer, Willa scraped back her chair and stood up.

  "It seems to me that pretty much eliminates the Dawsons as the ones behind the attacks," J.T. said as she trudged across the kitchen. "Which means we still don't have a clue who's behind this."

  "You're right." Matt tossed the note down onto the table. "We don't have any more to go on than we did before."

  As exhausted as she was, the remark still set fire to Willa's temper. At the door she paused and looked back at them over her shoulder, her expression tight with resentment.

  "Wrong. This note may not tell us who is behind the vandalism, but it certainly proves that it wasn't me. In case you've forgotten, I was working up at Henchman's Meadow with the three of you all day."

  * * *

  "My alarm clock didn't go off."

  Willa burst through the kitchen door, hopping on one foot while pulling a boot on the other one, no easy task using one hand. "Usually I wake up before it makes a sound. Wouldn't you know, the first time I oversleep the blasted thing doesn't go off."

  "It is no big thing, niña. You needed to rest." Maria plunked an iron skillet down on the stove. "Sit down and relax and I will cook you breakfast. Last night you took only a bite of food."

  "Don't bother. Just wrap up a couple of biscuits. I'll eat them on the way to Henchman's Meadow. There are still plenty of cattle up there that need to be rounded up." She held on to the back of a chair and stomped her foot down into the boot.

  Kate stood at the sink washing dishes while Maude Ann dried them. The two younger women and Maria exchanged a wary look. Maude Ann cleared her throat.

  "Uh … actually, Willa, you aren't working today."

  She looked up and blinked. "Excuse me?"

  "Zach asked Kate to take you to the hospital in Bozeman to have your wrist X-rayed."

  "He what?"

  Doing her best to ignore Willa's dangerously quiet tone, Maude Ann rushed on. "I would take you, myself, of course, but I always try to be here when the kids get home from school."

  "I've already called and made an appointment," Kate added. "We should leave in about an hour."

  "Forget it. No one is taking me anywhere."

  "Now, niña, Señor Zach, he is only trying to do what is best for you. He say you need to rest. And you know you must have a doctor look at your arm."

  Willa's gaze flashed to Maria, who was wringing her hands and looking incredibly guilty. "You turned off my alarm clock, didn't you? He told you to turn it off. Why that—"

  "Ah, no, niña. The señor, he is worried—"

  "Yeah, right."

  "Willa, wait! Where are you going?" Kate cried.

  "Where I go every day. To work. Zach Mahoney may have taken over the Rocking R but he is not taking over my life."

  "But what about your appointment?"

  In reply, she slammed the door behind her.

  Willa fumed every step of the way to the barn. By the time she reached it she had worked up a good head of steam.

  "Here now. What're you doin' here?" Pete demanded when she stormed inside. "I 'spected you'd be halfway to Bozeman by now to see the doc."

  "My wrist is fine. It's just a slight sprain."

  "Izzat so? Then why're you holdin' it against your belly that'a way?"

  "I'm fine. Don't fuss." She lifted her bridle off the nail with her good hand and stepped into Bertha's stall. "Would you please come help me saddle her? It's a bit awkward with one hand."

  "Uh-uh. Not me. Zach left strict orders that you was to see the doc and rest today, an' that's all. I ain't about to cross the man just 'cause you got a burr under your saddle."

  "He left orders? Why that arrogant, overbearing… Fine, then. I'll do it myself."

  "Suit yerself. Just don't 'spect any help from me." Putting a bridle and saddle on a horse one-handed proved to be incredibly difficult. Willa grunted and strained and cursed and struggled. Pete watched the whole thing with a disgruntled expression, shaking his head occasionally. The operation took her the better part of an hour, and by the time she had finished she was panting and exhausted and her injured wrist was throbbing like a son of a gun. Nevertheless, she grabbed the pommel with her left hand and swung herself up into the saddle. As she walked Bertha out of the barn, Pete followed behind her.

  "Now that you're saddled up, just where is it you plan on goin'?" he asked dryly.

  "Up to Henchman's Meadow to help with the roundup."

  Pete snorted. "Well, then, little gal, you jist wasted all that time and effort fer nothin'. Zach's just gonna send you right back here."

  "He wouldn't dare."

  "Oh, he'd dare, all right. Why, he's jist liable to toss you over his shoulder and haul you back hisself. Face it, Willie, when it come to strong wills, you've met your match in that man. He's a patient one, but if I was you, I wouldn't push him too far."

  Grinding her teeth, Willa held her throbbing arm against her side and glared down at the old man, but she knew he was right. Her act of defiance could well turn into humiliation if she showed up at the roundup camp. But dammit! There had to be something she could do to show him he couldn't run her life.

  She glanced around. Two men were repairing a corral gate nearby and another was filling the water troughs. A second later her gaze lit on the group of cattle in the pen next to the barn. She stared at the small herd as an idea began to take shape in her mind.

  Standing up in the stirrups, Willa called out to the men. "Skinny! Leroy! Taggert! Stop what you're doing and come over here."

  "What're you up to now, little gal?" Pete demanded, glaring at her suspiciously.

  "I'm going to take those men and drive this bunch up to the high country."

  "What! Are you crazy?"

  "There's no reason they can't be driven to summer pastures. None of the heifers is going to drop a calf and the bulls we didn't want to use for breeding have already been castrated."

  "There's plenty a reasons 'sides them. The main one bein' Zach ain't ready to move them animals yet. He plans to take them up with the rest of the herd when roundup is over."

/>   "In the meantime, they're just standing around consuming feed."

  "Zach thinks it's too early to move 'em. We could have us a blizzard up in the high country yet. It's happened a'fore."

  "It won't this year. Spring has settled in nicely."

  The three men walked over. "You wanted us for something, Willie?"

  "Yes. Saddle up and get those cattle out of the pen. We're taking them up the mountain."

  The men exchanged an uncomfortable look. "Uh, the boss said we was to get these repairs done."

  "Now I'm telling you to stop and help me drive these cattle."

  The tall, lanky man called Skinny scratched the back of his neck. "I don't know. The boss didn't say nothing about moving cattle."

  "I don't care what Mr. Mahoney said. I'm ordering you to saddle up and move these cattle. Now."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "I'm tellin' you, Willie, you're making a mistake," Pete argued when the men disappeared into the tack room to get their gear. "Zach's gonna have a conniption."

  "Let him. I'm moving those cattle."

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  « ^ »

  The first thing Zach noticed when he rode into the ranch yard a few hours later was the empty pen.

  He dismounted in front of the main barn and stalked inside. He found Pete in the tack room.

  "Where the devil are the cattle that were in the holding pen?" he demanded.

  The old man glanced up at Zach's thunderous expression and winced. "Willie's drivin' 'em up to the summer pasture on Devil's Cup Mountain."

  "She's what? Why didn't you stop her? I made it clear that I didn't want to start the drive to the summer ranges for another two or three weeks. The weather this time of year is too unreliable."

  "I tried to tell 'er, but she weren't in no mood to listen. Come tearin' in here madder'n a wet hen 'bout three hours ago, bound and determined to defy you." Pete shot a stream of tobacco juice into his copper spittoon and darted Zach a sly look. "Willie always was an independent little cuss. She don't take kindly to being ordered 'round, even when it's fer her own good."

  Zach bit out an expletive. "That little idiot. I knew sooner or later that temper of hers would land her in trouble. Dammit! This morning the weather channel predicted a severe snowstorm would hit the high country by late afternoon."

  The old man's head jerked up, alarm clouding his faded blue eyes. "By now they're over halfway there. We gotta do somethin'."

  Zach spun on his heel and stalked toward the door. "Saddle a fresh horse for me. And add a bedroll and saddlebags. And a bag of grain. I'll go round up emergency supplies."

  * * *

  Zach rode hard, following the swath of churned earth the herd had left across the rangeland and up into the foothills. Once through the cut in the mountains the trail began a steep climb, leaving him no choice but to slow the gelding's pace.

  Frustrated, Zach urged the horse upward at a speed just shy of reckless, giving silent thanks for Pete's years of experience. The old man had chosen well. The barrel-chested gray wasn't the fastest or the biggest, or even the handsomest horse on the ranch, but he had stamina and he was sure-footed as a cat.

  There were several places on Devil's Cup Mountain that the Rocking R used for summer pasture, but from the direction Willa was taking she was heading for a high meadow called Cowboy Basin. She and the men had better than three hours' head start on him, but Zach knew the herd would slow them down. Cattle balked at climbing and had to be prodded every step of the way up a mountain. He figured he'd catch up with them a mile or two before they reached the summer range.

  He clucked his tongue and nudged the gray's flanks almost constantly, urging him upward, all the while keeping a wary eye on the sky. Ominous, low-hanging clouds were moving in fast from the northwest. The higher he climbed, the darker the sky became and the colder it got.

  Just past the halfway point he felt the first sting of sleet hit the back of his neck. He pulled a long fleece scarf out of his coat pocket, looped it over his Stetson to hold it on and wound the ends around his neck and the lower half of his face. Turning up the collar of his coat, he kicked up the gray's pace. A quarter mile farther up the trail the sleet turned to snow.

  Zach's heart began to pound. Surely by now Willa would have realized what a precarious position she had gotten herself and the men into and turned the herd around, he told himself. Any minute now he should meet up with them coming down the mountain. When he did and he got his hands on Willa…

  Clenching his teeth, he pushed the thought aside and forged on doggedly.

  Five minutes passed. Ten. Twenty. The wind kicked up and the temperature began to plummet. The farther up the mountain Zach went, the harder it snowed and the worse visibility became. Snow quickly covered the ground, obliterating all sign of tracks and it swirled so thick that Zach had to lean forward in the saddle and strain to make out landmarks.

  Luckily, he'd spent most of the previous two weeks riding the high country with a couple of the old hands. Taking advantage of the spell of mild weather, they had led pack trains to each of the line camps and stocked the cabins with supplies for the cowboys who would be riding herd on the cattle throughout the summer. In the process he had learned the territory.

  It was bitter cold and getting colder. The snow was blowing almost sideways now. Worry gnawed at Zach's gut like a sharp-toothed animal. He had grown up in a small mining town high in the Colorado Rockies. He knew how easy it was to get disoriented in a snowstorm.

  His heart gave a leap. Up ahead through the curtain of white he thought he saw something move. Nudging his horse forward, he cupped one gloved hand to his mouth and called out. "Hell-oooo!"

  The wind whipped the greeting back in his face, but as he drew nearer he could make out a large, dark, shifting mass and beside it the hunched shape of a rider on horseback. He rode within five yards of the herd before the man spotted him.

  "Zach? Is that you? Man, am I glad to see you."

  "Dammit, Skinny! What the hell are you doing up here?"

  "Well, uh … you see, boss, Willie, she ordered us to help her move these cattle, an—"

  "You take your orders from me, not from Willa. You're supposed to be repairing corrals. When I assign a man a job, unless I tell him otherwise, I expect him to complete it. You got that?"

  "Yessir, boss."

  Zach cast a furious look around. Bunched together in a tight circle, their backs dusted with white, the cattle appeared as a shifting grayish-brown blob through the blowing snow. On the far side of the herd, he could barely make out the shadowy shapes of two other riders, but both were too large to be Willa.

  "Where is she?"

  "Looking for strays. Willie'd decided to turn around and head back when five or six head took off into the brush. She told us to hold the herd here and wait for her. But me'n Leroy and Taggert, we're gettin' worried. She's been gone 'bout twenty minutes. Maybe a little longer."

  Zach's head snapped around. The look he gave the cowboy was hard enough to cut steel. "That's too long. Why the devil haven't you already been out looking for her?"

  Skinny's Adam's apple bobbed. He looked bike a man going to his own execution. "Willie ordered us to stay with the herd."

  "If you yahoos had followed my orders as well as you seem to follow Willa's, none of us would be in this mess." Fighting to control the fury and fear swelling inside him, he clenched his jaw and looked around. "Which direction did she take?"

  "North, right through them bushes."

  "All right. While I go look for her I want you three to take this herd down the mountain as fast as you can."

  Even through the swirling white, Zach thought he saw the man pale. "In this? We'll be lost in ten minutes. If we don't fall off a cliff first."

  "Here, take this." Zach dug into one of the saddlebags and pulled out a compass and handed it to him. "Tell the point man to keep a close watch on the ground and keep a steady southeast course. In an hour or so you should be
out of the worst of the storm, and if you don't dawdle you'll make the foothills by dark. From there the going is fairly easy. Now get these cattle moving. You're burning daylight."

  Zach didn't wait around to listen to any excuses. He nudged the gray and rode into the brush.

  Conditions were growing worse. The snow fell faster and thicker and the wind began to howl, whipping the icy flakes into a frenzy. Within minutes Zach found himself in a whiteout.

  He didn't bother searching the ground for her horse's tracks. The snow had wiped out all traces of those. In any case he knew how easy it would be to miss seeing her in the swirling maelstrom. While he stared at the ground he could pass within a few feet of her and never know it. So he rode slowly, his eyes constantly moving, straining to peer through the shifting white veil. Every few seconds he pulled down the scarf, cupped his mouth with both hands and yelled Willa's name.

  He had no idea how long he searched. It seemed like hours. He was cold to the bone. Icy crystals clung to his eyebrows and lashes above the scarf. He was beginning to lose feeling in his toes and the tips of his fingers. Zach knew he had to seek shelter soon or perish, but he couldn't bring himself to stop searching. Willa was out there somewhere.

  It was pure accident that he found her. He stopped to get his bearings, and in a brief instant of partial clearing he spotted the ghostly form of a horse and rider slowly crossing his path a few feet ahead.

  "Willa!"

  Giving no sign that she'd heard him, she rode on at the same plodding pace, hunched over, her coat collar turned up all around. Then the wind shifted, and the curtain of white swallowed her up again, and terror grabbed Zach by the throat.

  "Willa, stop!" He kicked his horse's flanks, and the startled gelding leaped forward. In three long lopes he had her in sight again, but her lack of response and slumped posture only increased his fear. Lord, had she frozen to death in the saddle?

  "Wil-laaa! Wil-laaa!"

  Her head came up like a deer testing the wind for a sound.

  "Here! I'm here." Shouting over the howl of the wind, he rode up beside her, grabbed Bertha's reins and brought her to a stop.