“I’d appreciate that. Frankly I hope there isn’t anything. All we need is a big gold strike to bring every hopeful miner from both sides of the border converging on us. Can’t think of anything worse.” Jake grimaced.
“Ben was right to play his cards close to the vest. Sometimes all it takes is the rumor of a find.” He shuddered. “I remember my pa saying that happened once at Lynx Creek. Before scuttlebutt was proved wrong, the rush of miners leached the area clean, destroyed the vegetation and eventually dried up the creek. That area’s a wasteland now.”
Jake nodded. “Thanks for the warning. I believe I’ll mosey back by Mrs. Ryan’s camp on my way home and press upon her the need for secrecy.”
“Telling a woman not to blab is like waving a red flag at a bull. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you’ll understand the female species makes a point of doing whatever a man tells her not to.”
Jake stood and shook hands with his friend before settling his hat on his head. “Not all women gossip. My mother and Dillon’s wife detest the practice.”
“I only met your brother’s wife at the wedding. Your mother, now, is a rare lady.”
“She is at that.” In fact, the biggest thing standing in the way of Jake’s burgeoning feelings for Hayley Ryan was the reservations his mother seemed to have.
The old man followed Jake and watched him saddle the mare. “One last bit of advice, Jacob. A woman always takes suggestions better from another woman. You might make more headway if you could get Nell to visit your Mrs. Ryan.”
Jake made a face as he climbed on the broad-backed horse. “She’s not my Mrs. Ryan. I hope you remember that. Especially if you cross paths with anyone who works for the Triple C. Or for that matter, the J & B.”
“Don’t tell me you’re sniffing after Westin’s little honeybee?”
“I thought you knew me better than that.”
“Glad to hear you confirm it. I like John Westin all right. It’s a shame he’s so blind when it comes to his kid.”
“People all have their own ways of raising kids. I’m afraid I can’t render an opinion until I get some experience. Which isn’t likely to be soon.” Jake waved goodbye to the man on the porch—whose laughter followed him up the trail. That, as nothing else had, changed his mind about looking in on Hayley Ryan again.
As the mare walked carefully through the brush, flushing a covey of brightly plumed Gambel’s quail, Jake’s thoughts returned to what he might be like as a father. He’d always assumed he’d have kids someday. Most of his friends in the area, guys he’d gone to school with, were married and had started their families. Bob Verner and his wife had recently had number three.
Link Thompson and his wife, Bev, had four girls. Four. Link was two years younger than Jake. Oddly, Jacob found that unsettling. At least Dillon and Eden weren’t expecting yet. Jake wondered if they sat around home at night and talked about optimal timing.
“Nah,” he said aloud, shaking his head and setting the mare into a trot. “Dillon lives moment to moment. He’s not big on long-range plans.” Eden, now, was a different story. She organized, saved and kept meticulous books. Building and furnishing the house on Dillon’s hundred acres had been her doing. Nesting. Jake would bet Eden did have a baby plotted into her chart somewhere.
It shouldn’t matter to him what plans they made. So why did the picture of them sitting around the family Christmas tree, bouncing a laughing infant, stick in his craw?
At that moment Jake spotted a group of steers feeding in a ravine. All wore the Triple C brand. Stopping to take an exact count and write it in his logbook returned his brain to work mode. Not that he considered this hard work. Riding the range, even on the back of a horse as uncomfortable as Paprika, hardly fell under the heading of work at all to Jake. His dad used to say he’d been born in the saddle. Ranching was in his blood. Even in the winter when the wind froze a man’s nose and any other body part he was unlucky enough to expose, other cowboys groaned and moaned. Jake rarely uttered a complaint. He truly did not understand why so many of his contemporaries couldn’t wait to trade the red dust of the Santa Cruz valley for the sizzling concrete of Arizona’s cities. Jacob didn’t mind wearing white shirts and ties to funerals and weddings. The thought of having to don that getup with regularity sent chills down his spine.
Most women of his generation fawned over jokers wearing suits. Jake saw it at the dances and the bars he frequented when he went to Kansas, Wyoming or Texas to the bull sales. Plenty of women flirted with cowboys. Few committed themselves for the long haul once they had a taste of what it took to carve a home out of earth and rock.
For many of his cowboy buddies who’d gotten married were single again, and looking. Jake would admit cowboying could make a man lonely. Which was why curling up at night next to a wife held such appeal. But it had to be the right woman.
When Jake left the Mortimer ranch, he’d set his course for the Triple C. It was a shock to suddenly wake up out of his fog and find himself staring down through a waning sun at Hayley Ryan’s camp. Again…
He sucked in a huge gulp of air. After all, he’d reversed his decision to pay her a visit. Yet because he was here, he raised his field glasses and scanned the clearing. Just checking to see that all was well. Once satisfied, he’d ride on without her ever being wiser.
Her campfire danced brightly. The chickens Jake had penned earlier scratched contentedly. Her truck and trailer sat untouched. Letting the glasses fall to the end of their strap, Jake gathered Paprika’s reins in his left hand, preparing to skirt Hayley’s camp. In two seconds he would have been gone. But he happened to catch sight of her. She leapt from her chair beside the fire, bent low, clutching her stomach with crossed arms and made a beeline for the trees.
Jake fumbled with the binoculars again. Sweat popped out on his own brow when he finally brought her into focus again. She looked close enough for him to touch. And touching was what she needed. Her face had turned a ghastly white. Perspiration dampened the fine dark hair that framed her oval face. It hurt Jake physically to see her cling to a sapling and retch violently.
Never giving thought to her wanting or needing privacy at a time like this, Jake snapped the mare into high gear and galloped full tilt into Hayley’s camp. He dismounted on the fly and ran to her side.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, sweeping her up and into his arms. He babbled the whole time he ran, carrying her to the spring. “Did you catch a flu bug? Or food poisoning?” Stripping off his dusty neck scarf, Jake dipped it in the cool water and began to bathe her face. He forgot to wring out the material and soon soaked both their shirts.
“Stop,” Hayley sputtered. “Where did you come from? You scared the daylights out of me.” Struggling to get off his lap and out of his arms, she felt her stomach drop and heave. Only the worry on his face eased her struggles.
“I…I…didn’t know anyone was around,” she managed. Embarrassment gripped her tongue. She couldn’t tell this man that she was apparently one of the unlucky women who suffered morning sickness twice a day. According to the book, one in four women endured nausea both morning and evening. One in ten, the booklet said, were sick all day. Hayley had counted her blessings to falling into the one in four category. However, being tenderly ministered to while languishing by a man not responsible for her condition, Hayley didn’t feel lucky at all. In fact, she felt about as miserable as she imagined a woman could feel. She did the only thing she could do to save face; she forced her roiling stomach into submission, and she lied.
“Thank you for your concern. I wor…worked my claim all day. Got a tad too much sun, I guess.” Hayley did separate herself from his muscular arms this time.
Jake’s racing heart put on the brakes at last. Now he felt like a fool watching her untie the tail of her blouse and mop at the water he’d all but drowned her with.
“Heatstroke is serious. Didn’t you wear a hat?” For some reason he found it easier to sound tough rather than to give in to his
desire to gather her in his arms again. She’d fit into the crook of his elbow just fine. Her hair hadn’t smelled like that of a woman who’d toiled all day in the sun. A light floral fragrance had tickled his nose, reminding him of the flower shop in town.
Hayley turned away, carefully spreading her laced fingers across her still-shaky stomach. “I wore a hat. A baseball cap. I do have a floppy ghastly straw hat with a big brim. It makes me look like Mother Goose.” She would have gone on, but choked and turned clammy when she realized he might get suspicious at her reference to a child’s storybook character—or was she totally overreacting? Why didn’t Jacob Cooper go away and keep his nose out of her life?
“Women.” He expelled the word along with a massive sigh. “You won’t find a man letting fashion rule over his good sense.”
“You have some nerve.” Hayley found the strength to muster indignity. Already the wave of nausea was passing. “You don’t know anything about me. Nothing at all.”
“Is that so?” Jake let hostility cover his emotions. “You say you’re married, but I know your husband really left Tombstone with another woman. Maybe you should ask yourself if she was less vain, less concerned with looks and more mindful of good health.”
The minute the shock registered in her wide eyes, Jake wanted to retract his cruel words. Dishonest words.
“Leave!” she said through quivering lips. “I’m going into the trailer to change into dry things. I want you gone when I come out again.”
Jake called himself a million and one foul names as Hayley darted across the clearing and jerked open the trailer’s door. The pitifully tiny place she called home. Of course she wasn’t vain. He ought to be ashamed.
He was ashamed.
He hung around the fire for twenty minutes, wanting an opportunity to apologize. Jake gazed vacantly at various-size samples of ore she had sitting around in boxes. If she’d dug all of those samples today, no wonder she had a touch of sun fever. Some blue slabs glittered in the firelight. He didn’t know enough about rock and minerals to know if she’d found anything worthwhile.
He hoped she had. Jake felt like a rat. Lower than a rat.
After ten more minutes of silence, it became apparent that Hayley wouldn’t come out again until he left. He had no doubt that she never wanted to see him again. Shame overwhelmed him and ultimately convinced him to bow to her wishes.
He climbed slowly into Paprika’s saddle and then trotted the horse as close to the small side window in the trailer as he could get. “You can come out,” he called. “I’m leaving.”
Waiting, he listened, fully expecting to hear sounds of weeping, which would make him feel terrible—exactly what he deserved. Only silence greeted him. In a way it was worse than tears.
He rode off, keeping one eye trained over his shoulder. If she emerged before he lost sight of her camp, he’d turn back and beg her forgiveness tonight. As she kept stubbornly to herself, Jake knew he’d be riding this trail again in the morning. He only hoped that between now and then, he’d figure out some way to make it up to her.
CHAPTER SIX
WADE COOPER intercepted Jake as he tried to sneak into the house without going through the kitchen, where his parents were sure to be. He was still in a foul mood after the way he’d left things with Hayley. Tonight, food and family chitchat had fallen off his list of priorities.
“You’ve put in some long days in the saddle lately, son.” Wade placed a broad hand on Jake’s shoulder and turned him from the dark hallway toward the bright light spilling from the kitchen.
“Yeah,” Jake grunted. “I’m bushed. Tell Mom a shower and sleep takes precedence over whatever she might have saved in the oven tonight.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear it.” Wade looked glum. “We’re on our own. Nell is firing kilns tonight. She and Eden are spending the night in town. I waited dinner. Thought you and I could throw together a batch of nachos. I already iced a six-pack of beer.”
Jake wavered at the threshold. His dad was so transparent. Since his accident, he wandered the ranch like a lost puppy. The whole family tried to look out for him—keep him occupied so he wouldn’t feel useless and start to overdo things. It surprised Jake that his mom had abandoned her shift. He said as much.
“It’s the new clay she bought in Tucson. She’d have stayed home, but I know how badly she itched to get her fingers in the new slip. I convinced her I was meeting John and some of the other ranchers to talk about water.”
“Is that how you spent the day?” Jake’s curiosity carried him into the room. He saw that Wade had already grated cheese and cut up jalapeños, tomatoes and onions; there was a bowl of black beans, as well as olives and a bag of large corn chips.
The elder Cooper twisted off the caps from two long-necked brews. He handed one to Jake, then set the other aside while he prepared the chips and popped them into the microwave. “John doesn’t want to wait for the Ryan woman to get bored. Pearce and Lowell would accept the original agreement if John and Marshall weren’t pressuring them to take action.”
“Action? What action?” Jake turned off the buzzer, grabbed an oven mitt and set the steaming plate between them on a thick pot holder. “Ben’s granddaughter filed legally. You checked. As long as she works the claim, we can’t force her to sell.”
“No. But John says there’s nothing stopping us from giving her money to abandon her claim.”
Jake bit into a jalapeño that made his eyes water. The chili pepper wasn’t all that burned. What John Westin proposed sounded like a cheap underhand trick to Jake. “How does John suggest you set fair compensation when no one knows the value of what Hayley’s prospecting?”
“Hayley? Pretty familiar aren’t you? But then, I suppose a woman might get friendly fast with a guy who took her five laying hens.”
Jake choked on his swig of beer. He should have known his dad would notice. The man had always had a sixth sense when it came to his boys.
“I hoped you planned to tell your mother. Soon as she figures out those hens are gone, she’ll be claiming the gray wolves Fish and Game released last winter got ’em. The way you stood up to the neighbors and backed that release program, I’m sure you don’t want to be responsible for its demise. Nell raised that flock from chicks, you know. John’s not the only one in the valley who can incite people to riot.”
“You’ve made your point. I’ll talk to Mom soon. And to be clear on another thing, Dad, nothing’s going on between me and Hayley. I’m just…well, concerned about her situation. Fool woman’s oblivious to what can happen along the border.”
“Then John’s plan should appeal to you. Take up a collection and help her move back to Tombstone posthaste.”
It did sound reasonable, Jake allowed. At least it did until he considered how stubborn Hayley was, how intent on self-reliance. “I don’t think she’ll go for the idea.”
“Why not? Surely she can’t enjoy toiling in the sun day after day, digging through rock until her hands bleed. Breaking her back for zip.”
“She’s got Ben’s pride and more.” The minute he said it, Jake realized he was making a judgment call. He didn’t really know Hayley Ryan, as she’d pointed out tonight. She might well take the money and run. The notion left a bad taste in his mouth. Or maybe it was the beer. He pushed the half-full bottle aside.
Wade licked cheese off his fingers and narrowed his eyes at Jake before he fumbled a napkin from the holder. “O’Dell wouldn’t even come to our house for dinner. Said he didn’t take handouts. Unlike his granddaughter, he’d never have accepted those chickens.”
Guilty color splashed across Jake’s angular cheekbones. “I told her if they produce eggs, she could pay me. Ten dollars for the lot.”
Wade choked. “Those prize chicks cost Nell twenty bucks apiece.”
Jake didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. The seed had been planted, and he didn’t even know if he should have stuck his neck out. But it was too late. Wade was weighing what he’d do if that was Eden o
r his wife dug in at the spring. Enough had been said. Unless there was a majority vote to buy Hayley out, Jake bet his dad would vote to leave her be.
Jake rose, rummaged in the fridge, then added slices of roast chicken to the next batch of nachos. He let the hum of the microwave fill the silence.
Both men tucked in to the newest platter with gusto. Talk gradually resumed and turned to the beef count and the upcoming roundup. Though Hayley’s name didn’t surface again, Jake’s mind conjured her up. He wondered if he should forewarn her of Westin’s plan.
Even though Jake told himself repeatedly that he’d done his part and should keep his nose out of it, he lay in bed that night and worried about the doggedness of the other ranchers. Westin hadn’t built an empire by avoiding land grabs. He’d been known to undercut neighbors. People didn’t dwell on it, but the truth was there if anyone cared to examine it. Jake had a hunch most partners in the coalition wanted the Triple C to possess the land surrounding the spring rather than letting Westin get his hands on it.
Jake already had his reasons for visiting Hayley in the morning. Technically he didn’t owe her anything but an apology, but as sleep continued to evade him, he mulled over ways to put her on guard. What could he say, though, that wouldn’t place all the ranchers in a bad light? Including the Coopers. After all, he’d been the first to approach her about leaving her claim—and then about sharing the spring.
By the time the milk cows began to low and the songbirds awakened, Jake had wrestled the problem every which way from Sunday—to no avail. He decided to deliver his apology and ignore the water issue. It was possible nothing would come of John’s proposal. Even if it did, Jake needn’t be involved. He’d already made up his mind that after today, Hayley Ryan was on her own. He had a job to do for the Triple C, and it didn’t include riding herd on a headstrong female.
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