Loveland

by Andrea Downing

  Cal raised his six-shooter and fired several shots in an attempt to scare the herd into turning, but the noise was such and the distance so great that the shots were barely audible. It was hard for Alex to see anything through the dust. Her eyes stung and her mouth tasted as if she had eaten mud pies. She leaned further into Jesse.

  Jesse signaled to Cal and the two men split off to the sides of the bunching cattle and turned their horses to get back at the front. With Alex still hanging on, Jesse fired his gun and turned his horse toward Cal, and the two men finally got the herd into a mill. Confused and with no leader, the cows at last crowded in on themselves, stopped their run, and settled. The three riders sat gasping for air amid the settling dust.

  “Jeez,” said Reb riding up. “I thought we was surely headed into the Rockies to stop them cows.” He stopped to catch his breath. “Shit,” he said totally forgetting himself, “you did all that with Lady Lex on your rear?”

  Jesse’s hand felt for Alex’s arms about his waist as he turned back to look at her. Bedraggled and dirty, blinking the filth from her eyes, with her hair loose from its plait and her face streaked with mud, she had the widest grin on her face he’d ever seen.

  “Can we do that again sometime?” she smirked.

  There was no way to hide what had happened. When Alex appeared at the house, Oliver was livid.

  “You rode into a stampede!” he thundered.

  “Jesse knew what he was doing, Uncle Oliver; there was never any danger—”

  “Never any danger? Are you out of your mind? That was not some canter through Hyde Park, Alex. You could have been killed. One man on a horse in a stampede is dangerous enough, but sitting two—”

  “Are you saying I’m not a good enough rider to hang on to the back of someone? Oh, for goodness sake.” She turned on her heel and started to leave.

  “If you had fallen...You could have been crushed in the melee. You could have been shot by a stray bullet. Anything could have happened. Have you no sense at all?”

  She stared at him, her lips pursed in anger. “No sense? I had the sense to hang on. Jesse had to do what he did or your cows would’ve been in Estes Park! He did his job, and he did it damn well I have to say, and he had every consideration for my having to be there,” she lied.

  “Every consideration? Just what consideration did he give you? He should have set you down, should have left you somewhere.”

  “And then what? If the herd had changed direction I could be standing there with no cover, no place to go! Everyone knows cows panic more when they see a person on foot. I was far safer on the back of his horse!”

  “He’s fired!” Oliver shouted. “I gave you permission to go to the circus with two of my hands—permission against my better judgment I might add—and what happens? You nearly lose your life.”

  “I did not lose my life! I didn’t even come close to losing anything. I am perfectly fine. And,” she strode up to Oliver and took several deep breaths, “if you fire that man, I swear you’ll be sorry!”

  “Are you threatening me?” Oliver growled.

  Alex paced the length of the drawing room while Oliver watched, his eyes blazing. Wilson, the butler, knocked but as he entered Oliver waved him out and the door shut again.

  “I’ve looked at the ranch accounts, Uncle Oliver. I’ve seen the accounts—”

  “You what?” he said, his voice lower, hoarse.

  “I’ve seen. I know. You won’t fire Jesse.”

  Chapter Seven

  Jesse and Alex agreed after the stampede that the shooting lesson had to be postponed. In the early evening on Monday, when the men changed shifts, Alex waited at the corral and watched the punchers come in from the herd. She had her new Colt in a holster on her belt, the cartridge loops had been filled, and she wore her new hat, Levi denims, and a bandana around her neck.

  “Oh, I haveta see this,” said Cal riding in. “Will ya look at this, boys?”

  “Heck, Lady, you look jus’ like someone I used to know,” quipped Jesse dismounting. “Mangy little thing, she was, ’bout so high,” he said, showing her height at age eight. “Y’all see this, boys?”

  Alex stood there patiently letting them have their fun.

  “I dunno,” Garrison joined in. “Used to have a lady lived here a’ times. Y’all remember that, don’t ya Reb?”

  “A lady? Lemme see now.” Reb looked at the sky for inspiration. “A lady? Can’t say I do, Gar—”

  They stopped as a buggy came up the road toward the ranch headquarters. It halted where the drive split, one way to the main house, the other to the corrals and outbuildings, before it proceeded on toward them. A man jumped down, carrying a notepad. He was in his shirtsleeves, cap pushed back on his head.

  Garrison moved up to speak to him, but the man had spotted Alex’s long hair and pushed past. “Alexandra Calthorpe? Lady Alexandra Calthorpe?” he shouted to her.

  Alex didn’t reply. Jesse and Cal moved in front of her.

  “I wonder if I might have a few words? Interview you for the Loveland Reporter? Can I interview you ’bout—”

  “She doesn’t give interviews.” Jesse’s voice was low and menacing as the others surrounded the man.

  Garrison’s hand rested on the man’s shoulder. “Looks like you best be goin’, mister. We’re none too keen on folks’ nosin’ into our bus’ness here.”

  “Lady Alexandra, it’s about your marr—”

  Garrison’s hand clamped around the man’s mouth. Cal moved forward to grab him by the legs, while the others helped pick him up and throw him back into his buggy. Cal jumped on the running board to turn the horse in the right direction, smacked the reins and hopped down, just about giving the man time to grab hold and go on his way.

  Alex stood there with her mouth open. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, when yet another stranger rode up. This time he was distinctly less threatening.

  The young boy stayed mounted and looked from one face to the other, somewhat perplexed. “Y’all know a Lady Alexandra Calthorpe?”

  “Oh, heck, what now?” said Cal. “What’s this for?”

  “Gotta telegram for Lady Alex.”

  Alex gasped. “Jesse, you take it.” She cowered back against the office wall. Jesse took the telegram and found a coin to give the boy.

  “Should I wait for an answer?” the boy wanted to know.

  Jesse held out the telegram to Alex but she shook her head. “You read it,” she said barely above a whisper. “They’re only ever bad news.”

  Jesse pulled his knife from a sheath in his boot and slit open the envelope. He read the telegram to himself, a smile slowly spreading across his face. He handed it over to her:

  Exhibition great success STOP All paintings sold STOP Please advise account for funds STOP Request fifteen paintings for solo exhibit October STOP Letter follows STOP Jonathon Sturgis.

  “I did it,” she said softly, half in amazement. “I bloody well did it.”

  Tears streamed down. Jesse moved to take the corner of her bandana and wipe her face.

  “Never used a bandana for that before,” Cal noted.

  The other men laughed and moved to get their saddles off at last and go in to supper. “Whadja do this time, Ladilex?”

  “Sold my paintings, Cal.” Alex sniffed back more tears, then thought better of it and found her hanky to blow her nose. She looked up at the two men, from one to the other. “SO? Y’all gonna teach me how to use this a-here Colt,” she mimicked. “I reckon it’s time.”

  They rode a short distance from the corrals, to a copse of juniper away from the main ranch. Alex hung on to the back of Jesse for there was no point in saddling up for this short ride, and she knew the men would want to get in for the evening. She held him once more about the waist and felt again the tautness of Jesse’s muscles, the strength of his body; a desire to know the rest of that body, to hold him, jolted through her.

  As they dismounted, she watched the way he moved. He tied u
p the horse and strode over to set up the old tin cans which were lying about, while Cal settled back on a large rock and shaded his eyes with his hat.

  Alex caught Cal trying to suppress a smile as his eyes darted away from her and back to Jesse. She wondered for a moment if he found it funny that she wanted to learn to shoot the Colt, yet he knew she must protect herself. Inscrutable as always, she thought.

  “Now listen to me, and I want ya to listen real good, Alex. Ya hear?” Jesse said.

  Alex nodded in reply, a serious expression on her face.

  “First off, you never draw unless you mean to shoot. If you’re facin’ a man, you look him in the eye so’s he knows you mean bus’ness. This ain’t no toy, nor no paintbrush neither, you understand?” He waited for her to nod again. “Secondly, don’t you go puttin’ no cartridge under the hammer. I know it’s a six-shooter but if you keep it loaded, you keep only five in. You hear?”

  “Why ever not?”

  “‘Cause if you fall from yer horse or trip while you’re afoot or anything else like that, you don’t want to go shootin’ yerself in the leg, that’s why. You keep a cartridge under the hammer, it’s bound to happen sooner or later, you hear?”

  “I hear.”

  “All right.” He loaded the gun, showed her how to hold it and aim and fire, either by pulling the trigger or by fanning back the hammer. Jesse shot down the six cans, then handed her the empty gun to feel the weight of it while he set them up once more. “Now you load it. All six.”

  Cal sat up to watch, a smile breaking through. “Be easier for you with holding the trigger and fanning the hammer, I reckon,” he put in. “You may find repeatedly pulling the trigger a bit heavy.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow at him, waited for Jess to clear away from the cans behind her, and fired—bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!

  There was silence except for Cal’s laughter as he smacked the earth next to him. Jesse started back toward the horses.

  “What? What’s the matter?” asked Alex, going after him. “I did what you said, didn’t I? I shot all the cans down.”

  Jesse turned on her, angry. “You want to make a dang fool of someone, find someone else for a change, lady. Next time ya want—”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, perplexed. “How did I make a fool of you—of anyone?”

  “You knew dang well how to shoot that thing!”

  “You knew I had two rifles. I told you I could shoot. There was no secret about it. It’s not that different. I had just never used a revolver, that’s all. You wouldn’t want me using it for the first time when it was necessary, would you?”

  Jesse started to walk away.

  “Oh, I am sorry, Jesse dear,” Alex simpered in a mocking voice. “I done plumb forgot I’m supposed to be a li’l ol’ helpless thing.”

  The words went unanswered. Jesse mounted and rode off. Alex turned to Cal who sat there, an amused look on his face. “Will you tell me please what’s wrong with him? Really! Do you really all just want to subjugate women?”

  “You wanna know what’s wrong with him?” Cal shook his head in disparaging response. “He’s in love with ya, ya dang fool.” He stood up. Alex was silent. “No one wants to—what was it?—subja-what? Whatever it is.” He smacked his gloved hands together to get the dust off. “Gee, Ladilex, for such an intelligent woman, you sure are dumb.”

  Alex continued staring at him. “I just got back. He hasn’t seen me for five years and suddenly he’s in love with me? How can he be in love with me, for goodness sake? Bloody hell,” she said forgetting herself completely, and denying to herself what had been staring her right in the face. “It’s Jess we’re talking about—you know, the sensible one. The solid one. Sturdy. Dependable. Sensible.” She looked about as if the answer were to be had from the trees. “Albeit hotheaded,” she added as an afterthought almost under her breath.

  Cal sighed. “Heck, Ladilex. Don’t ya know nothin’?”

  “Well, apparently not. Certainly not about men, I should say.”

  “Well, ya’ve spent ya life, or a durned good part of it, with 30 or 40 men on a ranch.”

  “I know! And I love you all, every last one of you, b-but…”

  “Yeah,” said Cal. “Trouble is, there’s a difference ’tween lovin’ like y’all are sayin’ and bein’ in love. And we’re all ‘in love’ with you. Or at least half of us.”

  Alex’s eyes widened at Cal as if she were seeing him for the first time. He always seemed so comfortable with himself, so sure, so centered in a way Jesse never was. With Jesse she always sensed a small frisson of tension beneath the surface, the possibility that the sturdiness and dependability were difficult for him to maintain though he always would because it was the right thing to do. She said, “Well, I certainly hope you’re not in love with me, Cal. I need you as a friend—badly. Who wants to go messing up relationships with the intricacies of love, for heaven’s sake?”

  “Nah, I’m too smart for love, Ladilex.” He bent and pulled up some grass, playing with it in his hands for a moment. “Anyways, I could never be there for ya the way y’all need. I like driftin’ too much. Been down in Texas much of the time you been away. Bet y’all didn’t know that.” He let the grass fly off on the wind. “Jess’ll always be there for ya. Like ya say, he’s dependable.”

  Alex stopped to listen to the wind soughing through the trees, and adjusted her hat back on her head. She didn’t know what she felt, had never been accustomed to analyzing what she felt, other than a strong desire for independence which was in direct contradiction to being in love. Being in love meant being possessed. Or had Annie been right when she once said that if you were in love with someone you would feel differently? You would want to be with them. Did she want to be with Jess—for the rest of her life?

  “He can’t deal with ya bein’ so, I don’t know…so dang wonderful I guess,” Cal said.

  “Wonderful? Because I can shoot? I was twelve when Jesse last saw me, Cal. He’s not in love with me. Come on,” she said at last, “give me a ride back.”

  ****

  The noise of the men having dinner in the chuck house didn’t hide the particular tap of Cal’s boots as he came out from the stables. After seventeen years of riding together, of covering each other’s backs, of practically being blood brothers, Jesse knew that peculiar saunter anywhere—and it was headed for him. The door to the bunkhouse whined open at Cal’s push just as one of Jesse’s boots met the far wall.

  “Nice shot; gonna try the other?”

  “Very funny.” Jesse lay back on his cot, his long legs dangling off the end, his hands cradling his head.

  “Wanna eat or wanna talk?” Cal offered.

  “Neither, if you don’t mind.” His leg swung for a moment before he turned his head. “You know, I still find it hard to believe it’s the same person?”

  Cal leaned comfortably against the next row of bunk beds and looked down at his friend. “It’s the same person, Jess, only older. She been married once already.” He ran his hand through his hair before sitting down. “You know she doesn’t need to be hurt. You know that.” Jesse blinked in acknowledgement. “I…I sure love Alex but not the way you love her, Jess. I love havin’ her ’bout the place, lookin’ at her so dang pretty and fine, hearin’ her laugh and I love joshin’ about with her. But I’m never gonna make her no husband and I watch the way you two look at each other and…you know, I don’t know what gets into you sometimes? You got that temper on you-what the hell are you so mad about anyways?”

  Jesse took a deep breath before sitting up and ducking out of the bunks. He stood and stretched. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m mad because I reckon I can’t have Alex. We’re from two different worlds. I can be her friend—everyone’s fine with that—but anything more? Calthorpe’ll be paying me off and sending me on my way he smells any—”

  “Oh, Calthorpe. Calthorpe’s so busy building his dang empire here he doesn’t see what’s going on under his nose. Hell, T
om runs the ranch and we all know that.” He thought a moment. “Are you looking for excuses? Or are you just plumb scared?” His eyes met Jesse’s for a moment before the other man turned away and went to pick up his boot. “Well, hell, Jess, we’re all scared of women. At least Alex…you say you’re from two different worlds and, yeah, in a lot of ways she’s very much the product of her upbringin’ and all, but I can’t imagine no other English lady dressing like Alex was kitted out today. You gotta get a hold on that temper and you gotta let her know how you feel.”

  “Is that your advice?” Jesse stood with his hands on his hips looking over at his best friend. It always surprised him how sensible Cal could be when you got right down to it.

  “Yeah, that’s my advice. That and we better eat before we starve.”

  Chapter Eight

  The thought bothered Alex—that Jesse might be in love with her, that if she couldn’t return his feelings she would hurt him, ruin their friendship. The next afternoon she rode off to see Annie.

  “Cal says Jesse’s in love with me. How can he be in love with me, Annie? He hardly knows me.”

  “What do you mean, he hardly knows you? He’s known you since you were eight.”

  “Yes, but that’s a very long time ago. I mean, I only just got back. He doesn’t know me as an adult— Jesse, of all people! He’s always been my best friend, he and Cal. And he’s always been fairly sensible—if a little temperamental. How could he just decide, like that, he’s in love?”

  “Well, what do you feel?”

  “That’s what I feel. He’s always been my best friend of the punchers. He’s always been there, protecting me from things, helping me, sorting things out for me. I wouldn’t want to be without him. But in love?”