For a moment, as they stared at each other through the hazy mist rising off the spring, Jacob saw his mistake in judging this woman vulnerable.
“Take it easy.” He made his voice quiet and even. “It’s Jake. I brought those laying hens we talked about last night.”
With shaking hands and a disgusted look, Hayley let the gun barrel drop. Her heart still raced madly from the fright. Bending, she retrieved the towel that had fallen from her hair in her haste to protect herself. “Talk about insane,” she said at last in barely disguised fury. “What brand of idiot sneaks up on a naked woman?”
“I wasn’t sneaking! I rode straight in off the trail.”
“On a strange horse and without your dog,” Hayley said, standing the rifle against a tree while she swiftly fashioned a turban around her wet head.
Gritting his teeth, Jake swung down from the saddle. “You’re dead right. I could’ve been anyone. A desperate man fleeing the border patrol. A deranged war vet wandering these hills trying to live off the land. Or even a no-account drifter riding from ranch to ranch looking for work. We’ve covered the possibilities before. Thank you for making my point. It’s bad enough that you’re bunking out here alone. It’s pure stupid to be hopping around naked.”
“I was not hopping. Well, maybe when I first got out. When you’re wet, the air feels cold.” She stopped to collect a shell-shaped dish that contained a bar of soap, then stalked over and stoked a bed of coals. “I suppose you’d prefer I slink out in the dead of night to bathe and be eaten by the wild animals you said come here to drink.”
Jake untied the ropes holding the cache of chickens to the saddle. He caught the crate seconds before it crashed to the ground. “In my opinion, you shouldn’t be bathing at all.”
At that, Hayley faced him and arched an amused brow.
He felt a suffusion of heat streak up his neck and into his cheeks. “I mean, not out here in front of God and everyone. Can’t you wash up in the trailer?”
“I plan to wash my clothes out here, too. And dry them on that rope I strung between these two trees. Would you settle for spit baths if you had this lovely waterfall within reach?”
Still scowling, Jake unwound a roll of wire mesh, took a staple gun out of his saddlebag, and set about stringing the mesh into a reasonable pen for the chickens.
“Well, would you?” Hayley demanded, when the silence stretched out.
“I hardly think it’s the same. Even the orneriest scalawag would hesitate before tangling with me. You, on the other hand, are an open invitation.” He gestured at the trailer. “Don’t let me keep you from going inside to dress.”
Hayley, who rarely got her dander up enough to raise her voice, shouted, “Are you accusing me of trying to be provocative?”
“Stop putting words in my mouth. I never said that. But when a man happens on another man skinny-dipping in a wilderness stream, it’s no big deal. Let him stumble across a woman in the same situation and…well, there’s a lotta guys who’d take advantage.”
The fight went out of Hayley. He was right of course. If she’d been Ben’s grandson and not his granddaughter, Joe Ryan would still be peddling mining supplies in the back of beyond. And she’d be unmarried, still living in Tombstone. But then, she wouldn’t be looking forward to having a child. A baby of her own.
Holding in thoughts and emotions she couldn’t share with anyone, Hayley took a deep breath and gathered her robe tightly under her chin. Then she turned and stomped into the trailer.
Jake had watched the various expressions that crossed her face, including reluctant resignation. He disliked being the one to open her eyes to the harsh realities attached to her present venture. But better him than some guy who thought women had only one role in life—to serve men’s baser needs. While most cowboys held women in high regard, he’d met some who didn’t. There were men who’d take advantage of rural women who had no sophistication. He didn’t know Hayley Ryan well enough to place her in that category. Yet she didn’t strike him as particularly worldly.
He released the chickens into the makeshift pen and then dawdled, breaking apart the crate and stacking it carefully near the fire to be used as kindling. The longer it took for Hayley to reappear, the more Jake considered mounting up and leaving her to sulk. After all, he faced a hard day’s ride. Why stick around? He’d done his duty, and had even delivered a lecture that would’ve made his mother proud. What Hayley chose to do with the information wasn’t his problem.
Nevertheless, Jake was glad that the door to her trailer popped open and she stepped out before he could sling a leg over the roan’s broad back.
Clean shiny hair curled over delicate shoulders covered in a khaki blouse. She’d tied the blouse at the waist of denims, worn white in spots from frequent washing.
Jake’s breath whooshed out as if he’d been sucker-punched. In a way, maybe he had. His brain backpedaled furiously. It was difficult to know what transformation he’d expected to see. Certainly not this look of innocence, this utter lack of guile. Or the engaging sunny smile she flashed him.
“I’m glad you didn’t ride off before I could thank you for bringing me the hens. I started thinking you must consider me the most ungrateful wretch who ever lived.”
“Not at all. We got off on the wrong foot today. My fault,” Jake mumbled. “For riding in unannounced. For calling on you so early.”
A self-conscious laugh fell from her lips. “That’s okay. Much later, and I’d have been out digging.” She tugged a few loose bills and some change from her pocket. “How much do I owe you for the chickens? I’ll have to trust you to set a fair price. So far, the only fowl I’ve ever bought came wrapped in plastic.”
Jake grinned at that. “Well, now.” He stroked his chin in an exaggerated manner. “I could pad the bill and try to make my day’s wages. Then I could skip hunting strays and goof off all day.”
Hayley played along. “You could. But I recall you telling me your family owned the ranch. So wouldn’t that hurt your profits, too?”
“Smart lady. In any event, I’d be wise to charge you enough to keep me solvent while I hunt for a new job. I’ve got a feeling blood won’t count for much when my mom discovers I swiped her private stock.”
Hayley’s smile disappeared. “You’re selling me stolen chickens?”
“Nope. I’m giving them to you. I do have some scruples.”
She looked aghast. “And what do I say if anyone else from your ranch wanders past and happens to recognize these birds?”
Jake laughed. He gathered Paprika’s reins in his left hand and swung up into the saddle. Gazing down at Hayley’s puckered brow, he knew he should assure her of his mom’s generosity. He should make her understand that Nell Cooper would give a neighbor her last dime if need be. But Jacob felt a sudden unexplained need to dig a deep boundary between his home, his family and this woman. He sobered and dropped all pretense of joking. “Give them hens a few days to see if they lay eggs for you. If they do, I’ll stop by and collect ten bucks for the lot. I’ll even write you up a bill of sale.”
“All right.” Hayley, who understood that something in their give-and-take had shifted, folded her money and tucked it back in her pocket. “Goodbye until then,” she said.
Jake, who’d hardened his resolve, who’d argued internally that he couldn’t keep riding out of his way to check up on this woman, gave a curt nod. He jerked the mare’s reins sharply to the right. The surprised horse wheeled and bolted up the trail. It was all Jacob could do not to turn back and offer a friendly wave, but he kept his shoulders square to the saddle and let the momentum carry him out of sight.
Hayley lifted a hand. Once she realized he wasn’t going to return her wave, she curled all four fingers into her palm. She didn’t try to gauge how long she stood there smarting at his slight. Longer than she should have, she acknowledged with a grimace. Who was Jacob Cooper to make her feel like an insignificant bug? He was nobody, that was who.
The day she
’d filed for divorce from Joe, she’d seen pity on the face of the clerk as she read what Hayley had written: for reasons of abandonment. Hayley had promised on the spot that no man would ever make her feel pitiable again. Certainly not an arrogant cowboy. For all she knew, he might be feeding her a line about his relationship to the owner of the Triple C. He could be any old saddle bum.
She would have collected her gear and stomped off into the hills at that moment, if not for the fact that her stomach decided to act finicky again. Very likely because she hadn’t eaten breakfast. Hayley chose to place the blame on Cooper’s effrontery. “I’ll give him back his chickens.” She fumed aloud as, with jerky movements and roiling insides, she filled a pot of water to heat for tea. After hurrying into the bushes to empty her stomach twice, Hayley dug out the booklet Dr. Gerrard’s nurse had given her, outlining what she could expect over the ensuing months of pregnancy. Without the book, she’d probably have panicked over the sudden bout of weakness and flulike symptoms.
Fortunately she’d read the booklet cover to cover before heading into the wilds. Now she had to hope one of the book’s recipes—a tincture of horehound, peppermint, ginger and fennel, which she’d bought at a healthfood store—would have the promised calming effect on a stomach gone amuck.
The booklet also indicated that staying calm tended to ease many problems associated with pregnancy. Her seeming inability to do so was something else she laid at Jacob Cooper’s door. “Insufferable man,” she grumbled, sitting down to drink the concoction she’d brewed. As she glared at his morning gift, one of the hens spread her wings and flapped them frantically, then squawked and made gross noises as she burrowed into a pile of dead leaves. When she stood, a pristine white egg lay atop the heap.
Grinning like a fool, Hayley ran to the pen and plucked up the egg. “So, girl,” she said, adding a soothing layer to her voice to disarm the bird. “It’s high time your new mistress learns to think before she shoots off her mouth. After all, the man went to considerable trouble to cart you ladies here. Maybe I shouldn’t be so hasty about throwing you all back in his face.”
She promptly soft-boiled the egg, layered it between two halves of a toasted biscuit and ate every morsel. By the time she’d polished off the meal, her nausea had disappeared. With an improved disposition, Hayley gathered her mining tools and set off to coax the rocky hillside into giving up its secrets.
IT WAS STRAIGHT UP NOON when Jake reached the Mortimer ranch that abutted the fenced perimeter of the old ghost town of Ruby. He’d turned up another hundred head of Triple C stock. They looked fat, sassy and content, so he jotted their approximate location in his log; he’d let the wranglers flush them out during roundup.
Ruby was a once-prosperous mining town that had been abandoned for nearly three decades. Its location discouraged all but the most avid ghost-town enthusiasts. Along with other local boys, Jake and Dillon had loved exploring the old buildings, which were still in surprisingly good condition. The mine, originally named Montana Camp, had at one time yielded lead, silver, gold, zinc and copper. Somehow, shortly after Arizona received its state-hood, the town’s name had changed. According to the story Jake had heard, the owner of the general store and post office had named it after his wife. Currently the town was privately owned. Jake knew the owners hoped to restore Ruby and open it to tourists. But area residents liked the tranquillity its anonymity afforded them. Locals, and Jake included himself, would be happy to see Ruby maintain its status quo.
Ted Mortimer’s house overlooked the remains of Ruby. He’d quit ranching after his wife died, but couldn’t bring himself to leave the old homestead.
It was time for lunch, and Jake always preferred sharing a meal to eating alone. Besides, catching Ted up on area events would take Jake’s mind off Hayley Ryan. He’d meant to forget her after he left her camp. So far it hadn’t happened. Visions of her intruded on him all too frequently. He found his mind wandering in her direction when he should have been paying attention to business.
“Yo, the house,” Jake called, sliding out of the saddle.
A man appeared from behind a clapboard house. “Well, bless my bones, Jacob. Welcome.” He grasped Jake’s right hand and squeezed it hard. “Hope you have time to sit a spell. It’s been a while since anybody stopped by.”
“Isn’t Pima College still running field trips to Ruby?”
“Yeah, but them professors and kids have got their own agenda. Between you and me, I think they pity me.”
“Pity you? Why?” Jake loosened Paprika’s cinch, dropped the saddle on the porch and led the mare to a metal tub brimming with water. Shading his eyes, he gazed over the rolling hills, taking in a hawk soaring against the cloudless sky.
“I get the feeling all those folks from town believe I’m an outcast forced to reside next to a ghost town as punishment.”
Jake laughed and followed the man to a shaded side of the porch, where he helped himself to a seat on the soft cushions of a swing glider. “’Course, you don’t set ’em straight, do you?”
“You’ve got my number, boy. But I don’t lie. I tell them this is the closest a man gets to paradise without dying. Still, that don’t mean I’m a recluse. I hope you’ve got time for a glass of lemonade and a corned-beef sandwich.”
Leaning back, Jake swept off his hat. “You know my weakness for corned beef. And lemonade would go down easy. Anything I can do to help?”
“It’s ready. I saw you cross over the loop a couple hours ago. You’re right on schedule.” The man’s words were cut off by the bang of a screen door as he went inside. He emerged from the house moments later with a tray of glasses, thick sandwiches on homemade bread and a frosty pitcher of lemonade. Silence settled comfortably around them as the men dug into their lunch. Suddenly the one-time rancher wiped his mouth and said, sounding miffed, “When you see Ben O’Dell next, tell him I’m plenty p.o.’d that he flew past here without bothering to stop by and say howdy. He must be getting close to bringing in a payload to be in such an all-fired hurry.”
The corned beef stuck in Jake’s throat. When he finally managed to swallow it, he took a big swig of lemonade. “Ben died,” he said, rubbing idly at the moisture beading the outside of the glass. “That was Ben’s granddaughter you saw driving his rig. The girl’s filed to work his claim.”
“A girl miner? Well, don’t that beat all!”
Jake saw Hayley Ryan as she’d looked in the early-morning light. “I should have said woman,” he corrected himself. “I don’t know her age, but I’d guess she’s in her twenties.”
“When you get to be my age, sonny, any woman under forty-five falls into the category of ‘girl.’ Tell me about Ben. He stopped here on his way home last fall. Looked hale and hearty then.”
“I don’t know a lot. All I’ve heard is that it was pretty sudden. My folks went to Tombstone to check out the girl’s story. It isn’t any secret that Ben agreed to give us first option on the land. That spring has been the topic of conversation all year at the Cattlemen’s Association meetings.”
“So now this gal shows up out of the blue with clear claim to your ranch’s main water supply. I think I see how the wind blows.”
“Well, she said she’d give us the same deal we had with Ben. If she doesn’t renege on the bargain, the Triple C, the J & B and probably the Rocking R—that’s owned by Marshall Rogers—will still be able to meet the water needs of our summer stock.”
“Do I hear a but at the end of that statement?”
Jake gave the swing a lazy push with his boot heels. “No. Nothing I can put my finger on.”
“I think I understand. This woman’s a new unknown player in the game. She could get fed up with digging her fingers bloody in the dirt. If she flies the coop without telling anyone, or if she up and turns loose of her claim, any Tom, Dick or Harry could snap up the land. Including the water and mineral rights.”
“You’ve got that right enough to ruin my lunch.” Jake stopped swinging. “I hadn’t got
around to putting my fears into words. You summed them up nicely.”
“Is she a looker?”
“Wh-what?” Jake stammered.
“The woman. Is she pretty? If she is, you might want to marry her. Won’t give you automatic rights to her claim. But, boy, you’d be in a position to keep tabs on the situation.”
Jake’s first inclination was to laugh. Somehow the laugh never materialized. “She’s already married,” he muttered, lavishing an inordinate amount of attention on the uneaten portion of his sandwich. “Or she could be in the process of divorce. According to rumors floating around Tombstone, Mrs. Ryan’s hubby took off with another woman after selling Ben’s silver mine out from under her.”
“Then you wouldn’t want to get tangled up with her if she’s already a loser.”
“I wouldn’t classify her as a loser.” Jake didn’t realize he’d betrayed his interest in Hayley, until his companion let out a cheeky laugh, winked and jabbed Jake’s ribs.
“So, the thought of corralling this filly has already crossed your mind.”
“If you want the continued pleasure of my company, old man, stop deviling me. I get enough of that from Dillon. There’s ways to keep tabs on the lady without going to such extremes. I’ve devised any number of reasons that’ll take me past her campsite on a regular basis till roundup starts. If she sticks around that long,” he added.
“You’ve got a point there, son. Ben had the know-how and the patience to work a claim. Most folks get discouraged if they don’t see any monetary gain. To my knowledge, Ben never took a dime out of the Blue Cameo. Still and all, he seemed mighty sure she’d pay off one day.”
“Did he ever mention what he expected to turn up?”
The iron-haired man rocked back in his chair and contemplated. “Can’t say that he did. Last year when he stopped by, I thought he seemed reluctant to go back to Tombstone. Hinted about being close to a payload. But I’ve never met a prospector who isn’t just a shovelful of dirt away from riches. I’ll think about our last visit. If I remember anything more, I’ll give you a jingle at the ranch.”
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