by Arlene James
Kara finished scanning the letter and let it drop with a frown of disgust. “So it’s back to the Farmington route. Darn.”
He shook his head. “I say we take our chances in Durango.”
“But if the Chakos—”
“They refused him,” Rye pointed out. “Not me. I think I can get their permission.”
She studied him long and hard. “How? If Plummer couldn’t do it, what makes you think you can?”
Rye raked his fingertips through his mustache, considering how much to tell her. He’d been considering that very thing from the beginning, and he still wasn’t certain how much to divulge. He hadn’t said anything to Plummer. It was just too hard to talk about, and whatever he told Kara to win her cooperation, he knew he wouldn’t tell it all. Finally he said, “I need you to trust me on this. Suffice it to say I have a little influence Plummer didn’t have and let it go at that.”
She folded her arms beneath her breasts, and he wished devoutly that she hadn’t. It showed him, in a way that even last night’s glimpse of her impressive cleavage had not, just how much she had going for her. He got busy folding up the map. She said, “I’m not sure I can do that. We’re talking about my whole future here, about keeping my home and my way of life. Maybe you don’t know how important this is to me.”
“I think I do,” he said more gruffly than he’d intended. “I have to worry about making a living, too, you know.”
“It’s not about money!” she exclaimed, shoving at his shoulder to make him face her again. “It’s about a way of life that my family has embraced for generations. I won’t let that go easy.”
“I never thought you would,” he told her softly.
“So tell me,” she came back.
He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t have been satisfied if the boot had been on the other foot. He’d give her part of it. Only part. Because his personal business was his own—and it was too tough to explain. “Shoes Kanaka. You remember we talked about him this morning.”
She frowned. “The farrier.”
He nodded and said, “His uncle is one of the more influential chiefs.”
Kara’s mouth fell open. Being from the general neighborhood, she understood more than the average individual would. “Shoes Kanaka is Chako and he lives off the reservation?”
“Not exactly.”
“Not exactly! The Chakos are notorious for clinging to the old ways. They don’t allow their children off the reservations.”
“They don’t forbid their children to leave,” he told her. “It’s just that they discourage it, and most choose to stay. Shoes chose to come and work for my family up in Durango several years ago. That’s how he picked up the trade.”
“And you think he can get us permission to cross the reservation?”
“Something like that.” The rest he absolutely would not tell her. It didn’t matter anyway. “The important thing is that we have an ‘in’ with the tribal council. I’m sure, for certain considerations, they’ll allow us to cross.”
“What considerations?”
He hung on to his patience by sheer dint of will. “I don’t know yet, but you can bet it’ll be a whole lot lighter on your pocketbook than dealing with the Navajos. What I need from you right now is a decision one way or the other. You say Durango, I fire off a letter to Shoes’s uncle today. Shoes will take it to him personally. You say Farmington, we’ve got to raise some major funds pronto. So what’s it going to be?”
She had the bluest eyes in creation, and she used them just then to plumb him tip to top, her pale lashes sparkling clean. It was all he could do to stand there for it. He didn’t like being probed. It made him feel naked, vulnerable, as if all his secrets were exposed. His hands curled into fists. His gut clenched. His jaws locked. Finally he felt her pull back.
“Durango,” she said. “And you must know that I’ve just put my whole future in your hands.”
He gulped, nodded, and forced his gaze back to the folder. Actually, Plummer had done that weeks ago, and it had felt like a burden then. It felt like the weight of the whole world now. But Plummer had trusted Rye to see this through, and come what may, Rye would do just that. Miss Kara Detmeyer was just part of the package, another detail to be handled, endured and put behind him.
He uncurled his fists, made his jaws relax and said, “Now, about that list of supplies...”
“So he’s shortened the trip, has he? My, my. Next he’ll be walking on water.”
“Payne!” Kara glared at her cousin, who grimaced over the rim of his glass.
“Sony, cuz. It’s nothing to do with you. I just don’t like the man, that’s all.”
“No, really?”
“Well, last I heard you weren’t exactly enamored of the guy, either.”
Heat threatened to climb her throat and blossom in her cheeks. She willed it away and her gaze with it. “He’s not my favorite person, true, but I do have to work with him. And you asked how it was going.”
“I do have a minor interest in the enterprise,” he pointed out glumly.
She set her cup on the edge of the coffee table and reached across the couch to take her cousin’s big, powerful hand in hers. “Payne, I’m sorry. I know this is awful for you, and I’ve been thinking. We could always operate the New Mexico ranch through the partnership. All we have to do is agree to it. Mom and I would live there and oversee the day-to-day operations, and you could continue to take care of the—”
He was shaking his head. “No, I can’t ask you to do that. Why should you when you can have it all with the trail drive. Besides, that’s the way Plummer wanted it. I guess that’s what gets to me most. He didn’t just want to give you a chance, he wanted to cut me out.”
“That’s not true! I know it isn’t. If it were, he’d have chosen some other way to do it, because, believe me, this trail drive is a long way from a sure thing.”
“Yeah?” He tossed back the last of his bourbon. “How so?”
She hadn’t expected to have to answer that question, hoping her assurance would be enough to set his mind at ease, but she had little choice now. She put a hand to her head, sighing wearily. “For one thing, this Colorado route’s no sure thing. Rye thinks he can get permission to cross the Chako Reservation even though Plummer couldn’t.”
Payne sat up a little higher, concern on his chiseled face. “What happens if he doesn’t get it?”
“We head to Farmington,,” she said dismissively, not even wanting to think about it. “Other than that, there’s the crew. Big question marks, every one of them—except Borden Harris.”
“You mean the horse wrangler?”
“That’s right. I figure if he worked for Plummer, he has to be good.”
For a moment Payne seemed lost in thought, the ghost of a smile on his lips, as if he, too, was remembering how gifted Plummer was at this ranching business. “Right,” he muttered after a moment. “What else?”
“Money,” she said flatly. “Mom’s been generous, and Grandpa paid as many fees ahead as he could, but I’m still having to sell my car, and even that won’t give us much of a cushion.”
“That’s too bad,” Payne said thoughtfully. “How much is the crew costing you?”
“We’re feeding them,” she said, “and that’s it. They’re all volunteers. Some folks like a challenge, I guess.”
“Guess so.” He shook his head and looked into his glass. “Not my idea of a good time, riding all day, sleeping on the ground at night, eating God knows what.”
“Working like dogs,” she added, “wearing dirty clothes, getting sunburn during the day and frostbite at night.”
He chuckled. “You must want that ranch awful bad.”
“It’s my home,” she said simply. “Just think what you’d do to save that big house in Denver.”
He cut her a sudden look and said solemnly, “You have no idea.”
“Oh, yes, I do,” she assured him, “because that’s exactly what I’d do to save the ranch.”
His glass hit the coffee table with a clunk, and he laid a long arm across her shoulders. Leaning in, he brushed aside her bangs to kiss her in the center of her forehead. “That’s why you’re so special to me, kid,” he said. “You’ve always understood me like no one else ever has.”
Kara laughed, happy to have this display of affection. He was the closest thing she had to a brother, after all.
“Well, I’m ready to turn in,” he said, getting up.
“Oh, Payne, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“What’s that, hon?”
“It’s about the inoculant serum in the cooling shed.”
“Cattle inoculations?”
She nodded. “Grandpa bought it in big batches. Cheaper that way. It’s stored in the big refrigerators.”
“Yeah, I know. What about it?”
“I want to use it. We can’t move these cattle until they’re properly inoculated, and it was purchased for that purpose. But technically it belongs to the partnership. The foodstuffs we’re using probably do, too.”
“No, they don’t,” he said matter-of-factly. “Dad asked Canton for a detailed inventory, and I’ve taken a look at it The foodstuffs aren’t on the list I’m not sure why, but they aren’t.”
“Well, what about the inoculant? Do you mind if we use it?”
Payne shrugged, then smiled. “Why not? It’s not good for anything else. It can’t even be resold.”
She went up on her knees in the corner of the couch, smiling at him. “Thanks, cuz. I knew you’d be a sport about this.”
He thumped her on the top of the head. “I’m a soft touch where you’re concerned, and you know it.”
She grinned cheekily. “I was counting on it.”
“Brat.”
“But you love me, anyway.”
“Darned if I don’t.”
“It’s mutual, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” He winked. “Good night, kid.”
“Night.”
He left her there in front of the fire and went down the hall toward the bedrooms at the back of the big, rambling house. She sat with her chin on her drawn-up knees and contemplated the days to come. What she’d told Payne was true. This cattle drive was no sure thing. Any one of a million details could go awry— and undoubtedly would—but she wouldn’t let that stop them. She wouldn’t let anyone or anything stop them.
“What do you mean you can’t cook?”
Kara rolled her eyes at the frazzled cowboy. “I didn’t say I couldn’t cook at all. I can rattle around in the kitchen enough to keep myself from starving.”
“Terrific.” He frowned, and Kara couldn’t keep from giggling. His frosty brows drew together. “What?”
She wiped the grin off her face. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that when you do that—” she indicated that she was talking about his mustache by raking her fingertips over her top lip “—your whole mouth disappears under that scrub brush of yours.”
His scowl deepened, but then a grin broke out from beneath the shield of his mustache. “My boy says the same thing, says my lips are hiding.”
Kara laughed. “You’re really crazy about that kid, aren’t you?”
His expression immediately turned wary and a little sheepish. “He is my son, after all.”
“And you really seem to take joy in that fact.”
Clearly uncomfortable talking about his emotions, Rye leaned an elbow against the top of one of the file cabinets and said lightly, “We’re getting off the subject.”
Kara would much rather have talked about him than this newest problem, but she dutifully applied herself to the latter. “Right. We need a cook.”
Rye scratched his neck. “I can talk to Pogo. Champ and I spent a week fishing with him once, and his camp cooking wasn’t half-bad. Maybe he’ll do it.”
“We need him on that flank,” she reminded him.
“We need a lot of stuff,” Rye said wearily, rubbing his eyes with forefinger and thumb.
“You need some sleep,” Kara said, unfolding from her grandfather’s chair behind the desk.
He shook his head. “I’m all right. I’ll rest when we get these cows to New Mexico. I want to go over the map and agenda with you. More than one of us needs to know where we’re supposed to be and how we’re supposed to get there.”
“I’ll take them to my room and study them tonight.”
“That won’t get it. We’re really dealing with two trails here. The chuck wagon and rigs have to stick to the roads, but the herd rarely can. So we have to rendezvous on a daily basis, twice if we want to eat lunch. That means pinpointing rendezvous and campsites exactly and knowing just how the other group’s going to get there. This thing has to be closely coordinated.”
“Okay, but that means that whoever ramrods the vehicles has to know this stuff by heart, too. Why don’t we wait and go over it with—”
“But that’s you,” he said.
Kara stared at him an instant, sure she’d misunderstood. But no, there hadn’t been much to misunderstand. She folded her arms and leaned a hip against the edge of the desk. “What do you mean, that’s me?”
He gaped at her like he couldn’t believe she was asking such a question. “I thought it was understood. I’ll be ramroding the herd. You’ll be taking charge of the vehicles.”
“What gave you that absurd idea?”
“It’s not absurd!” he said. “I drive the cows. You drive the chuck wagon—or the tack truck or whatever you want—so long as you have those vehicles where they’re supposed to be, lunch ready and camp set up.”
“I’m not going to sit around some campsite all afternoon waiting for you to get my cows down the road!”
His shock and frustration were almost comical to watch. Disbelief came and went, his mouth gaping open then snapping shut again to disappear beneath the overhang of his mustache. It was truly a magnificent mustache, Kara couldn’t help thinking. She wondered what he’d look like without it, then decided that he couldn’t look any better than he already did. The man was fine, no doubt about it. She’d always known he was physically attractive, of course, but now that she was getting to know the whole package, the physical attributes were somehow enhanced. In point of fact, she was enjoying Rye Wagner, even while she resisted the very real temptation to reshape his head. He was doing a creditable job of getting a handle on his temper at the moment, clenching and unclenching his fists and jaw while his face pulsed red.
“Now listen, Kara,” he said, striving mightily to sound reasonable, “this will be nasty, physically draining work. None of us is going to be up to it in the beginning. I’ll be walking funny myself for a few days. You can’t possibly—”
“Don’t even go there, Wagner,” she warned. “You don’t know me well enough to risk it. I’ll telling you now, though, I can match you hour for hour, minute for minute all day long. Anything you can do, I can do. Those are my cows, dammit, and—”
“They’ll be your cows if we get them to New Mexico, you mean.”
“That’s right, and I mean to see that they get there step by ornery step, if need be. It’s what I do best, Rye. Honestly it is. You don’t want me getting up your dinner, not when I can do so much better working those cows.”
He looked more than a little doubtful, but he decided—wisely—not to argue the fine points, sticking instead to the obvious. “But we need someone to take care of the camp.”
“You’re right,” she said. “We need a cook, a domestic engineer extraordinaire.” She snapped her fingers, amazed it hadn’t occurred to her before. “I think I may have the answer to our problems. Hold on.” Quickly, she stepped over Oboe, slid past Rye and went to the door. Yanking the door open, she called for her mother. “Mom! Mo-o-m! Mo-ther!”
An answering cry came from some far corner of the house. In moments Dayna Detmeyer appeared, an oil rag in one hand, the corners of a towel knotted in the belt loops of her jeans as a makeshift apron. “Good grief, Kara, what’s
wrong?”
“We need a cook,” Kara explained, “and someone to drive the chuck wagon, er, motor home.”
“It’s a small one,” Rye put in.
Dayna opened her mouth to reply, but Kara wanted to be very sure that she knew what she’d be getting into. “It means breaking camp after breakfast every day, delivering lunch to the crew on the move, then locating the new campsite and setting up camp every afternoon. Plus there’s laundry to think about and—”
“First aid,” Dayna supplied. “Someone’s thought about first aid, haven’t they?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Rye assured her.
“And we need a cell phone,” Dayna mused. “For emergencies.”
“Got it,” Rye said. “Several, actually.”
“Someone needs to call ahead and let the owners know the herd will be crossing their land that day,” she pointed out. “Wouldn’t hurt to check in with someone every night and let them know where we are, either.”
“My folks just south of Durango will be expecting those calls,” Rye said, pleased that their minds seemed to be traveling on the same track.
“Then you’ll do it?” Kara asked excitedly. “You’ll come with us?”
“If you don’t,” Rye said, “then would you please tell this stubborn daughter of yours that she has to take on the job? There’s no one else to do it, and—”
“I will not!” Kara exclaimed, glaring at him. “And that’s final!”
“Well, somebody has to!” Rye pointed out hotly.
“You’re shouting again!”
“I’m just trying to make you understand that we’re out of options here! You have to—”
“I don’t have to do a damned thing, Wagner!”
A shrill whistle split the air and nearly deafened both of them. They clapped their hands over their ears and, as one, turned amazed stares on Dayna Detmeyer, who calmly removed her fingers from her mouth and said gently, “I’ve been trying to tell both you hardheads that I’ve had every intention from the beginning of being in on this thing.”
“But you never said—” Kara began.
“When have I had a chance?” Dayna interrupted firmly. “You two have been closeted in here for days, barely taking time to eat or sleep, let alone carry on conversation.”