"Sheriff Dawson tells me you are an honest man, so take that into consideration when you set your price. But before you agree to anything, I will need you to stay on here and run the place and teach me all you can. I know very little about ranching."
There was cautious expectation in the old man's dark eyes. "You mean if you bought the place, you'd let me stay on here?"
"It would be part of the transaction. I would give you the control to buy cattle and hire what men you need to work the place."
Taylor sat forward and grinned. "Major Tremain, I could move into the foreman's house, and he could bunk in with the hands, since his wife left him for some northerner."
"I have more considerations before you decide." Jonah leaned against the porch railing and watched the old rancher's face. "Two more, actually; I will want all transactions to go through a bank in Fort Worth, because I don't want any dealings with Edmund Montgomery's bank. And I don't want anyone to hear that I bought the ranch until I have decided to let it be known."
"No one will hear a word from me, and I know the sheriff here won't say anything either."
Dawson nodded in agreement. He'd never liked Montgomery, and it did him good to see someone get the better of the banker.
Lester suddenly shot out of his chair and laughed with pure joy. "Damn if I ain't gonna get back at Edmund, and there's nothing he can do to stop me." He stuck out his hand to Jonah. "Son, you just bought yourself a ranch!"
"Call me Jonah."
"I'll call you Jonah, boss, king of the hill, anything you want me to call you. When I woke up this morning I didn't have a hope in the worldwhen I go to sleep tonight, I'll put my worries behind me."
Jonah stepped out of the telegraph office and right into the path of Edmund Montgomery.
"Major, what a coincidence, running into you. I have been wanting to speak to you about something."
"Mr. Montgomery."
Edmund heard the coldness in Jonah's voice, but he couldn't retaliate as he would have liked. He needed information that only the arrogant bastard could furnish. "I see you got a telegram."
"That's right."
Edmund watched him fold it and place it in his breast pocket. "I guess you won't be staying here much longer. I'd wager they'll be needing you at Fort Fannin, with the Indian trouble and all."
"We in the cavalry are practically vagabonds, Mr. Montgomery-we never know where we are going to be from one day to the next."
Edmund bit back the angry words that came to mind. He wasn't getting anywhere with this Major Tremain. He wanted to ask the major if he had touched Abby. He wanted to shove a gun in the man's face and pull the trigger. "I know you're looking for the men who robbed the army payrollthat's right, isn't it?"
Jonah detested the banker even more now that he had learned about his crooked dealings with Lester Taylor. And he was offended by the way the man was always prying into his affairs. "Mr. Montgomery, the government pays me to do my duty and to keep my mouth shut while I'm about it. I'm sure you can understand that."
It was becoming a real struggle for Edmund to hold on to his composure. "Will you be staying much longer at the Half-Moon Ranch?"
Jonah stared coldly into the man's eyes. "If you will excuse me, I have matters that need my attention." He stepped around Edmund and walked in the direction of the livery stable to get his horse.
The banker's fists were balled at his sides. That bastard was after Abby-he knew it.
Something had to be done about him.
He ground his teeth and entered the telegraph office. His smile was in place when he faced the young operator, Ira Billings. "How's everything going today, Ira?"
The young man was tapping out a message on the keys, so he held up his hand to silence the banker. When he was finished, he turned his attention to Edmund.
"I'm just fine, Mr. Montgomery."
"I noticed Major Tremain was just in here."
"Yes, he was."
"I know the major is in town on a mission, and I think I can help him, if you'll help me. But to do that, you'll need to tell me what was in his telegram."
"No, I can't do that. All messages that come through this office are confidential."
Edmund was growing more frustrated by the moment. "You can tell me if he sent a wire to anyone, can't you?"
"Yes, he did."
"But you can't tell me what was in it, or whom he sent it to?"
"No, I can't."
Edmund leaned even closer. "How would you like to come and work for me at the bank, boy?"
"I wouldn't like that at all, Mr. Montgomery." There was indignation in the young man's tone. "It was you and your bank that took my folks' farm. I wouldn't want to work for such a place."
Edmund whirled around and stomped out the door just in time to see Major Tremain riding in the direction of the Half-Moon.
That imperious officer would one day feel the heel of his boot on his neck-that or a bullet in the back; it didn't much matter which to Edmund. For the right price, Kane would be happy to accommodate him.
And as for young Ira, he'd put pressure on his boss to fire him.
Frances heard Jonah ride up, and stepped out onto the porch to greet him as he dismounted.
"I'm the only one home, Major. The men are all out helping Quince look for the mustangs."
"And Abby?"
Frances eyed him craftily. There was a situation developing here, but it might not bode well for any of those concerned. The major was developing an attachment for Abby, and Abby was already moping about because of him. "You can't never tell with her. The last time I saw her she was riding past the barn."
Abby braced her back against a wide tree stump and held her sketch pad on one drawn-up knee. Moon Racer was wandering about, grazing on sweet clover, so she was able to sketch him from every angle.
She always found solace in drawing because she had to concentrate on what she was doing and couldn't think of anything else-like worrying whether Jonah were going to come back, and wondering why she should care.
Abby heard a rider approach, and her heart contracted when she watched Jonah dismount and walk toward her with long strides. She noticed that his limp was barely visible.
She lowered her head and her hair fell forward, masking her face. One black boot came into view. "You are blocking my light," she mumbled as her hand flew across the tablet, making bold strokes.
He moved to her other side and crouched down beside her. "What have you done to your hair?" he asked with quiet intensity.
She allowed herself to look at him only at chin level. "I asked Glory to cut it for me."
He reached out and took a black strand and tucked it behind her ear, suddenly tormented by the thought that she had cut her hair to please Grant. He tilted her chin up and looked at her closely. "I like it. But I'll miss that saucy little braid."
She ducked her head and reminded herself to concentrate on her drawing and not on the thundering of her heart.
"Let me see what you are doing." He took the pad from her and studied it, then flipped back to other pages and marveled at her talent. "You are good, Abby. You captured Moon Racer's muscles, and you managed to make horsehair look real enough to touch."
She felt uncomfortable under his praise and wished he would just go away so she could breathe again. "I always draw when I'm irritated." She raised her gaze to his. "Or when I'm mad."
He watched her eyes flame with indignation. "Who has made you angry, Abby?"
"Quince. He wouldn't let me go with them to search for the mustangs. He thinks I would be in danger just because someone shot at Moon Racer."
His fingers slid through her silken hair, but when he realized what he was doing, he pulled them away and reached into his inside pocket. "That's irrelevant now, Abby." He handed her the telegram. "This came this afternoon. The mustangs have been found."
She read it quickly, but the sentences were short and choppy and made little sense to her. "What does it all mean?"
"A
man called Buddy Pratt, who apparently helped rustle the horses, was caught trying to sell them in Scurry County," he told her, filling in the blanks. "Pratt admitted that the horses had come from the Half-Moon, so he was arrested. I think Quince should send someone to Scurry County to drive the horses back and question this Pratt."
She stood up slowly, and he stood with her. "Jonah, you did this for us, didn't you?"
"It wasn't difficult. I have the resources to reach out to the authorities all over the state. It was Quince who mentioned that whoever took the horses would probably try to sell them. It was just a question of waiting and having others keep watch."
He was near enough that she could reach out and touch him if she wanted to, and she did want to. "You have helped my family once again, and I don't know how to thank you."
He smiled slowly, that devastating smile that turned her insides to a quivering mass.
"You could reward me by giving me that picture of Moon Racer, and we'll call it even."
Her eyelashes swept upward, and she perused his face discreetly, trying to gauge this new and lighter mood. This was a side of him she had never seen before, and she had no defense against it. She nodded and handed him her sketchbook. "Take the whole thing. I have others."
He laughed and tucked it under his arm. "One day, when your talent is hailed by one and all, and you are famous the world over, people will beg me for these drawings."
She carelessly brushed her hair out of her face, and her laughter joined his. "Thank you for what you did about the mustangs. Only a friend would go to so much trouble."
"Am I your friend, Abby?" His tone deepened. "Am I?"
"Yes," she admitted. "A good friend."
He stared at her for a moment. More had changed about her than her hair. There were other subtle differences. She was still wearing those damned trousers, but she looked more feminine somehow. She was so small, he wanted to protect her. He wanted to make her days happy and her nights-
"I was on my way to tell Quince about the mustangs, and I thought I would detour to tell you first. I know how distressed you have been about the horses."
"Will you be coming back to stay with us?" she asked, hope creeping into her voice.
He nodded. "I would like to very much, if it's not too much trouble."
"You'll always be welcome with us."
"Then I'll take you up on your offer tomorrow night. I don't want to be seen too often in town. Certain people are starting to notice and ask questions."
"Consider Matt's room yours anytime you want it."
"Matt is the only one of your brothers I don't know. What is he like?"
She thought about Matt, who had been wild in his youth, and had always been in trouble. Of course she would not say this to Jonah. "I think Matt took our mother's death even harder than the rest of us." She smiled up at him. "I miss him so much. I just want our family together again."
"Family is important." He took a long breath. "I have to leave now if I'm going to ride by the Diamond C and tell Quince about the horses. Afterward I have something to do in Diablo."
"Jonah, what can you be doing in town that you don't want people to know about? Everyone is talking about you."
"There isn't anything I can say at this time." He was anxious to tell her about the cattle ranch he had bought, but instead he said, "I'll see you when I get back."
Kane was skulking about in the shadows, watching the major and Miss Hunter. He liked nothing better than to torment Edmund with tales about the young Hunter gal and the army officer. He might even embellish some when he explained today's situation to the banker. In truth, nothing had happened between those two that could be considered intimate, not as he understood intimacy. But Edmund didn't have to know that.
He watched Major Tremain ride away, and shortly thereafter the woman left, too. He waited a bit until she was out of sight before he mounted his horse and rode to the tree stump where she had been drawing.
He dismounted, smiling. The two of them must have had something else on their minds, because they'd left the telegram behind. He read it quickly and then frowned, wadding it in his fist. He hadn't expected the telegram to concern him-he was getting careless.
He had little doubt that the Hunter brothers would make tracks for Scurry County; he would have to get there ahead of them and permanently shut Pratt's mouth.
Frances was kneading bread dough when Abby walked into the kitchen, still wearing her trousers. "Don't tell me you're wearing that garb to the dance tonight."
Abby opened a jar, removed a pickle, and bit into it. "Since you asked so politely, you might like to know I'm wearing one of Glory's gowns."
The housekeeper wiped her floured hands on a dish towel. "I'm glad you decided to cut your hair."
It had been three days since Glory had cut her hair, and it had taken Frances this long to mention it. "Do you really like it?"
"I surely do, and you know it. And I'm glad you've decided to go to the dance with Grant. He's such a nice young man." Frances watched Abby's face closely as she said, "The major came in with Quince today. He's going to stay a couple more days. But he rode off, saying he had a meeting with someone in Diablo."
"Did he say if he would be going to the dance tonight?"
"He didn't mention it to me," Frances answered. "But then why should he? I ain't going."
"I didn't really want to go to the dance myself. But Grant left me no choice. I'm not sure how everyone will react to my being there," Abby admitted, remembering painful times when she had been all but ignored. "If you had a son, would you want him to dance with me?"
"If I had a son, I'd be proud to have you for my daughter-in-law."
"I'm not going to marry anyone-it's merely a dance."
"And it's about time you had some fun." Frances looked Abby over, and her voice softened. "When those hateful women whisper behind your back, they'll only be jealous, because you'll be the prettiest one there."
"I don't think they will be commenting on how I look."
"Seeing you standing there with the light shining on you, it strikes me how much you favor your ma's picture."
"Why do people always say that to me? Mama was beautiful, and I'm certainly not."
"Because you not only have her inner beauty, you also have her features," her father said, entering the kitchen and lingering in the doorway.
Abby gave him a half smile. Sometimes, like now, she caught an expression on his face as if he were asking for some small show of affection and kindness, so she moved forward and put her arm around his shoulder. "How was your day, Papa?"
"Busy, as always," he said, hugging her to him, then releasing her almost too quickly.
"Jack," Frances said gruffly, pointing one doughcovered finger at him, "if you don't keep that dog out of my kitchen, I'll be serving you dog meat stew one of these nights."
He laughed, something he had rarely done since he came home from prison. "I can't make that hound do anything. He's useless and a pest." He winked at Abby. "But I guess I'm stuck with him, and he's stuck with me."
Abby took another bite of pickle and moved to the back door. "When Glory gets here, tell her I'm in the stable with Quince."
Quince was hunched near one of the mares, with her foreleg resting on his knee. He glanced at his sister when she approached. "She's been limping, and it looks like she picked up a stone." He ran his pocketknife around the horseshoe and nodded in satisfaction when the offending object popped out. "That should do it. Make sure you tell Navidad not to let anyone ride her for a few days; it looks like she's got a slight bruise."
Abby bent down to hold the mare's leg while he applied ointment. "Did you get the horses back?"
"Curly and Red just sent word that they found them. They said the mustangs were skin and bones, and we would probably lose some on the drive back." He screwed the cap back on the ointment and stood. "It's a funny thing-Jonah got word that the man who helped rustle the mustangs was found dead in his cell in Scurry County
. Someone shot him right though the bars of the jail."
"Who would do such a thing?" Abby asked in horror, standing and giving the mare a comforting pat.
"Someone who didn't want him to talk to the sheriff, I should think," Quince told her.
"It's a fine thing that Jonah has done for this family. I don't know why I didn't like him when we first met."
"I don't understand it either." He watched her closely. "Have you started training that mare to the sidesaddle?"
"I... have been gentling her down first and gaining her confidence." She couldn't tell Quince that the thought of training a horse for the woman Jonah was to marry was extremely painful for her.
"Don't let yourself care about Jonah too much, Abby," he said with a brother's insight into his sister's feelings. "Jonah will marry that woman in Pennsylvania, and I don't want you to get hurt."
She knew it was already too late for his warning. "I'll start saddle training the mare Monday."
Quince nodded. "Patricia Van Dere and Jonah's pa will be arriving in Diablo in two weeks' time. He'll want the mare trained by then."
"Don't worry about me. I'm a Hunter, and everyone knows Hunters are uncrushable."
The lunch hour found Grant and the Hunter family members gathered around the kitchen table.
"Abby," Grant remarked with his fork halfway to his mouth, "why did you cut your pretty hair?"
"She didn't," Quince spoke up.-"My wife here is the culprit."
"I like it," Crystal said. "Don't you, Brent?"
Both her brothers looked their sister over. "Yeah," Brent said at last. "But I liked it the other way better."
Quince agreed with a nod until Glory jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. "It's just that you don't like change."
Quince smiled down at his wife. "I like you just the way you are, and my sister was all right before you cut her hair, too."
"It makes Abby look too old," Brent said, adding his assessment.
Abby bent toward him. "I am old, Brent. Frances keeps telling me that most women my age are already married."
"Not all," Crystal injected. "Melinda, the mancrazed Barton, is still single."
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