“You think he’s put in with the rustlers?” Hogan’s lips were set firmly and his hands clenched at his sides, forming fists that twitched with the obvious urge to vent his fury. He shot a glance toward the long lane, where even now Chloe was leading a horse, bending her head to speak to the animal she held on a short line. “She’s lookin’ kinda frayed around the edges, ain’t she?”
“Yeah,” J.T. agreed, knowing that part of Chloe’s drawn look was due to the lack of sleep she’d encountered during the night before. And it was his fault, though he could not bring himself to regret one moment of the pleasure he’d found in her arms. They’d spoken softly, murmuring words that blended into the background as he’d sought her throughout the night, unable to leave her untouched, his hands ever smoothing across her skin, his mouth seeking hers in gentle assurances of his concern.
And she’d gloried in it. As surely as he’d watched her sleep in the dawn’s light, he knew that in spite of the shadowed lids, her eyes would be shimmering pools of delight when she awoke, that her memories would be replete with the pleasure he’d brought to her virgin flesh. Chloe was a bride to be cherished, and even as he watched her near, he renewed his vow to handle her with care.
“Got everything sorted out?” she asked, halting before them, her eyes touching on Hogan’s taut features before she looked fully into J.T.’s eyes. “It looks like you’ve managed to get everyone headed north this morning, Hogan.”
“Yeah, we’re covering the herd as best we can,” he told her. “I’m leavin’ myself to check on the horses. Too bad we don’t have a couple more bodies to ride the north edge of the ranch, but the men are covering as much ground as they can.”
“What about the new man?” Her gaze was sharp as she spoke the words.
“He’ll do well, I think,” Hogan said swiftly. “J.T. feels the same way, Chloe. He’s with Willie, and we all know he’s on his best behavior these days.” His grin was quick, and J.T. cast him a cautioning look. Best that Chloe was not aware of the extent of his talk to the boy, and the rest of the men had taken it upon themselves to let their own opinions be voiced. Willie would mind his p’s and q’s. That was almost guaranteed.
“Don’t be too hard on him,” Chloe said with a grin. “He’s just a boy, feeling his oats. I’ll bet little Miss Francie Higgins can keep him in line. And if she can’t, his mama will.”
She turned aside, circling them with the gelding close at her heels. “Anybody working with another horse yet? Or am I done for the morning?”
“I’m on my way,” J.T. told her, turning to follow in her footsteps. Hogan kept pace, veering off to where his saddled mount waited near the barn door. Settling his hat more firmly against his brow, he lifted a hand and then touched his heels to the sides of the black mare he rode.
“I don’t know what I’d have done without him after Pa died,” Chloe said quietly, her hand rubbing in a distracted movement against the nose of the animal she led.
“Well, he’s as loyal as the day is long, honey,” J.T. told her, meaning every word, knowing that he could give no higher praise to the man Chloe had entrusted her ranch to during those difficult days while she got her feet beneath her.
“How many horses have you worked with this morning?” he asked, tilting his head to look deeply into her eyes. “Are you all right? I’m afraid…”
She laughed aloud. “Don’t you dare apologize for one thing, Flannery. Keeping me up half the night was about the nicest thing you could have done. Nice isn’t the right word for it, I guess,” she temporized, “but the other things I’m thinking are best left unsaid until you slide the lock in place on our bedroom door tonight.”
A sense of relief he hadn’t known he needed flooded him, and he allowed his smile full force. “You’re not sore?” The words were a whisper, and her quick grin assured him that she did not share his concern. The urge to hold her against his body was sudden, and he fought it for a moment, then gave in to the desire he could not contain.
She melted against him, lifting her face to his as though she sought the morning sun, and would find it in his countenance. “You make me happy, Jay. I can’t say it any other way. I won’t be repeating what I told you last night. I won’t put you on the spot thataway, but know that the words are in my heart.”
Almost struck dumb by her honesty, he could only bend and touch his lips to hers, murmuring soft assurances as he held her curving form to his own hard body.
Cleary appeared at the kitchen door while dinner was being dished up and, with a single rap of knuckles, announced his presence.
“Come on in,” Tilly boomed. “You don’t need to wait for an invite, boy. It’s time for dinner and there’s more than enough to go around.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” he said quietly. “Hogan said I should bring out food for all the men’s noon meal. He’ll send half of them back to the house for supper later on. If you want to send extra, the rest of us will make do overnight.”
“Is there much food left in the cabin?” Tilly asked, a frown appearing as if she already was forming a list of supplies to send back with him.
“I saw canned goods and a lard tin full of coffee when I was there last time,” Chloe volunteered, standing in the kitchen doorway. “If you wrap up the rest of the roast for sandwiches and send along the soup you made yesterday, they can have that later on, along with a loaf of bread. There’s plenty of biscuits and ham sliced up for their dinner and we’ll give them the potato salad you just made.”
“Ma’am, that sounds like good food to me,” Cleary said vehemently. “Best news I’ve had all day.”
“Are things going well?” Chloe asked. “Nothing happening?”
“Calm as you please,” he answered. “The men are making regular patrols around the perimeter and keeping a close eye on the herd. It’s kinda hard to keep them on a tight leash, with all that open country leading off into shallow valleys and such, but they’re doing their best.”
“You much of a cowman, Cleary?” Chloe asked, and was gratified when his shrug and quick grin made modest work of his reply.
“I can handle most anything that comes my way, Miss Chloe.” His gaze was straightforward and his eyes clear of subterfuge. She’d lay odds that he was more than he appeared, but if Micah and J.T. were satisfied with him, she’d toss her vote his way, too.
“I’ll bet you can,” she said, turning to relieve Tilly of her burden as she stepped from the pantry. Hands filled with food, a jar of potato salad beneath her arm, she welcomed Chloe’s aid, and in moments, they had sliced ham and the chunk of roast beef into sandwich-size slabs and were wrapping them in waxed paper. The packages were thick and the waxed covering held the juices and grease within its folds, ensuring the meat would stay moist and edible throughout the day.
“That sure looks like enough food to last them till morning,” Cleary said, reaching to pack it into the saddlebags he’d carried into the house with him, taking care with the towel-wrapped loaf of bread. He hoisted the bags from the table and tossed Tilly a grin. “I’ll bet they never give you a day off, do they, ma’am?”
“Not lately,” Tilly answered smartly. “You just keep a good eye on those steers, mister, so Chloe here can rest easy.”
His eyes narrowed and Chloe sensed the return of his normal caution as he nodded. “I’ll do that,” he said, opening the door to leave. He looked back at Chloe and nodded once, a silent message she pondered as she watched him stride from the porch to where his horse lingered beneath the nearest tree, reins touching the ground.
J.T. was right. The man rode well, had a horse between his legs that followed his command with barely a movement to be seen of either reins moved or knees pressed against the animal’s barrel. And the boots and saddle were of top quality, as J.T. had pointed out. As was the man, she was willing to bet.
“I wonder where Micah found him,” she mused, turning back to Tilly as she reached for three plates to set the table. J.T. would be in shortly, ready for
dinner, and as that thought entered her mind, she hastened to finish readying the kitchen for the noon meal. In moments she had pulled the bell cord on the porch, allowing the clanger to touch each side of the bell just once, the sound that would announce a meal, not an emergency.
And in her mind rang the echo of Tilly’s murmured reply. “That Micah’s got something up his sleeve. I’d lay odds on it, and I’m not even a gambling woman.”
The next days passed by in a flurry of activity, the workload heavier with the men doubled up on guard duty, leaving the chores to the hands of Chloe and whoever was left to work with the horses. Usually J.T., but sometimes Lowery, was there, and Chloe knew that the best talent available was at hand. They were both men who rode as if attached to the animal they handled, their every movement precise, as if they danced in unison with the horse’s fluid movements, bodies lithe and elegant in the saddle.
Today, Lowery had taken on the duty of training and putting the green-broke animals through their paces. A buyer was coming from a rancher’s group in Montana, and J.T. was doing his best to have the chosen horses ready to sell. Already, he was looking beyond this year’s stock to the foals that would welcome spring next year, the results of the breeding he’d accomplished thus far with the paint stallion he kept close to the barn. And Chloe had begun to share his excitement, even buried as it had been beneath the worry of rustlers and the added work entailed by their presence.
Her arms were weary from the brushing, her legs ached from the miles she’d walked today, cooling the horses down. Time after time, hour after hour, she paced, with only the intermittent currying and cleaning of her animals to break the monotony of the task she’d taken on.
And her mind churned with thoughts she could not dump onto J.T.’s broad shoulders, as willing as she knew he was to hear her fears voiced aloud. As ready as his listening ear would be, she could not speak aloud the dreadful thoughts that woke her in the hours of the night. The image of Pete dangling at the end of a rope filled her mind, as she had seen it so vividly against her eyelids just before dawn. She groaned aloud at the tortured lines of his face, a face she’d beheld with such reality, that, even knowing it had been a dream, she could not escape the memory.
“Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart,” J.T. said from beside her, and she jerked to attention, aware that her mind had wandered far from the animal she was supposed to be grooming.
“You don’t want to know,” she muttered, bending again to her task.
“Well, they weren’t of me, I’ll warrant,” he said, touching her arm to cease the regular movement of the brush she held. “You looked like you’d just lost your last friend. And I know better than that, honey.”
“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” she said fervently, adding additional muscle to the long strokes she took across the gelding’s side. “And after last night, I don’t think I’m in any danger of you running off anywhere.”
His laughed aloud. “Now that’s better. I declare, ma’am, your cheeks are about as rosy as those flowers Tilly keeps watering by the porch.”
“I needed you to cheer me up,” she admitted. “I’ve had too much time to think lately.”
“About Pete?” he surmised and she nodded glumly.
“You can’t do anything about him, Clo, except think good thoughts, and I’m not sure even that will help. Unless he turns up pretty soon, I’m afraid he’ll be considered a part of the shenanigans that’re goin’ on around here.”
“Have you heard from Micah?” she asked, her thoughts turning to Corky’s presence in the town jail.
“Yeah, I’m afraid Corky’s not going to get a trial of any sort. The judge came in and Micah sent word that he sentenced him to prison. He’s giving him three days to come up with some names. Promised him a shorter sentence if he’d come clean, but I don’t hold much with Corky spilling what he knows. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“Did Micah talk to you?” she asked, turning to hear this latest bit of news.
“No, he sent word with Hale Winters last night, and Lowery told me about it. I think Micah’s looking for something to happen in town, maybe a jailbreak. Those rustlers would like to get their hands on Corky. They’re probably worried about him blowing the lid on them, I’m thinking.”
“Is the judge still around?”
J.T. nodded. “Yeah, he told Micah he’d advise him to find another deputy and to put a man in the jail around the clock. He hasn’t any real authority, but Micah thinks he’s right on the button.”
Chloe’s heart beat more rapidly as she listened. “What do you think?” she asked finally, watching closely as J.T.’s mouth grew taut, as if he hesitated to reply.
“I think we need to be ready for anything, Clo.”
Supper was a silent affair, with only four eating around the table, Hogan hastening back to the bunkhouse afterward for as much sleep as he could manage before another long day faced him. “I’ll go on out early on and replace Lowery,” he told J.T. And then he turned to Tilly. “Can you make up a batch of biscuits for the men? Anything fresh tastes good out there.”
He lifted a hand when Chloe would have spoken. “Nobody’s complainin’, Chloe. It’s just a fact of life. We’ve got them all spoiled with good grub. But, they’re earnin’ their way, keepin’ those cattle underfoot and takin’ turns on guard.”
“How about the new man?” she asked, and Hogan chuckled.
“He’s keeping Willie moving right along. Looks to be handy with a rope and his horse is well trained. Hope he’ll stick around when this is all over. We can use a man like that, maybe a couple more like him when things get off the ground and we’re doing more with training the new colts we’ll be seeing the next couple of years down the road.”
J.T. walked out with Hogan, and Tilly waved Chloe off. “I’ll clean up in here. Go on out and sit on the porch for a bit. Enjoy the cool air and wait for J.T. to come back.”
It was a welcome suggestion and Chloe stood at the end of the porch, her eyes cast upward as the first stars began to appear. Depression fell with the darkening sky, and she thought again of Pete, her heart aching with futile pain. He’d never been strong, maybe feeling he had taken a back seat to her years ago, she decided, when she and their father had bonded so closely.
And yet, she’d always hoped that the intimate beginnings, when they’d shared their mother’s womb, might have instilled in Pete a deeper love for his sister. Searching her mind, she thought of his lapses, his chronic need for rebellion, and achingly pondered the ways and means she might have found to help him during his last stay on the ranch.
Probably her marrying J.T. had been the final straw for Pete, knowing he was finally on the outside looking in. Yet, she could not regret one moment leading up to that point. “If only…” Her lips whispered the sad phrase, and as if prompted by the melancholy of her mood, she saw a figure, riding slowly, but with purpose, toward her.
Stepping down from the side of the porch, she hastened to meet the solitary horseman, never giving a thought to danger, intent on discovering who the visitor might be. “Pete?” she called out hopefully. “Is that you, Pete?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” he answered, his voice muffled, as if he feared being discovered in this place. He halted beneath the lone tree at the side of the house, and dismounted, holding his horse’s reins and watching as Chloe approached. “I didn’t know if you’d talk to me,” he said quietly.
“Where’ve you been?” Even to her own ears, the words were accusing, and she watched as he turned back toward the saddle. “Wait,” she cried, rushing to catch hold of his shirt. “I’ve been worried about you. Don’t get angry right off, Pete. Just stay here and talk to me.”
His back was stiff, unbending beneath her hand, and she untangled her fingers from the cotton fabric, brushing against the nap, as if she would apologize for her hasty words. “You always accuse me first, don’t you?” he said, anger rimming the words. “It’s always my fault, no matter what goes wrong
.”
“That’s not true,” she said, denying his claim, stung by the unfair accusation. “You’re the one who left in the first place, the one who ran out and brought me to my knees. If it weren’t for J.T.—”
“Damn J.T.” he said roughly, spinning to face her. “This whole thing was his fault, cheating me out of my money and then taking the ranch.”
She caught her breath, stunned by the fury radiating from him. “You hate him that much?” she asked sadly. “He just happened to be there that day, Pete. If it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else, and that someone else might not have been as good to me as J.T. has.”
“Yeah, I saw how good to you he was,” Pete sneered. “Snatched you right off the shelf and said a few words in front of a preacher, and now he’s got the whole kit and caboodle for himself.”
“We’ve been over this before,” she told him. “And you’ll never see past that image, will you?” She stepped back from him, sadness surrounding her as she saw the futility of this moment. “Why did you come back this time?” she asked. “There’s no money for you here, and with the rustling—”
“What rustling?” he asked sharply. “What’s going on now? You think I’m in on a thing like that?”
It sounded like bluster to her ear, and yet, she could not accuse him without proof, and she shook her head. “I don’t know what to think. I just know that the night we got married, rustlers hit during the party and we lost a lot of steers out of the north range.”
“Well, I didn’t have anything to do with it,” he said staunchly.
“Where did you go when you disappeared that night?” A dark voice cut through the night, and J.T. appeared from the opposite side of the tree, stepping closer as he spoke.
“That’s none of your damn business, brother, ” Pete said, sarcasm oozing as he faced the bigger man.
“Well, I happen to think it is,” J.T. persisted. “You ran off, and within a couple of hours we lost a good-size chunk of the herd.”
“Yeah, well I heard in town that Corky’s the man you need to be accusing,” Pete blustered. “I heard they’re out shoppin’ for a new rope right now.”
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