“I’ll keep that in mind,” Slate said, fighting to keep his temper in check. He felt Lindsey pressing against his leg, and the fact that Lucky was frightening her made him even angrier.
“You won’t last a week,” Lucky said as he roughly stepped past Slate, knocking his shoulder as he went.
Lindsey stepped away from Slate and looked at Lucky as he strode past her. She eased over to Slate. “I don’t like him.”
“It could be that he’s just overly protective of your mother and the ranch.” Slate didn’t believe it for a second, but there was no point in upsetting Lindsey more than she already was. Her breathing was short and shallow, and her gaze lingered after Lucky.
She reached up and took Slate’s hand. “Sometimes Mr. Lucky stands outside the house, watching Mama. I don’t like him.”
Chapter Four
Cassidy wasn’t surprised when she heard Slate still moving around in the barn. He’d entertained Lindsey for a good twenty minutes, and Cassidy had worked hard to persuade the child to go inside with Nita for her bath. Now, as she approached the barn door, Cassidy wondered if Slate was getting to know the horses…or waiting on her. The rush of anticipation was so strong that she had to take a steadying breath before she walked in. He stood in the center aisle, brushing Cutter. His hands worked over the gelding’s burnished coat with an assurance that was a pleasure to watch.
“Did you find a bunk okay?” she asked.
“Everything’s fine.” He met her gaze and his hands stilled for a split second. Then he went back to work, his attention on the horse. “I checked Lightning over again, and she’s fine.” He hesitated. “And I want to thank you for the job.”
“Was Hook’em upset that I stole you?” she asked with a smile.
“No, he seemed pleased with the turn of events.” Slate’s face held some confusion. “I don’t know if that’s a good sign or a bad one. Maybe I’m not a good employee. I don’t remember.”
Cassidy laughed. She remembered too well that Slate worked harder than any man she’d ever known. Hook’em Billings was pleased because the old coot thought he was some kind of matchmaker. During the years that Slate was in prison, Hook’em had fanned the flame of her love for Slate. He was still at it.
“What’s so funny?” Slate asked. His own smile showed that he was pleased with her laughter, even though he didn’t understand it.
“Hook’em is one of a kind.”
“Cass—Mrs. O’Neal,” Slate stumbled, finally resting his hand on Cutter’s back.
“Call me Cassidy. All the men do.”
“I need to ask a favor of you. And I want to be up front.”
She didn’t like the sound of this. “What is it?”
“I got my father’s gun today. As a convicted felon, I’m not allowed to carry it. I was wondering if you could put it someplace for safekeeping. I thought of the bank, but then that didn’t seem like such a good idea, walking in there…with a gun.” His smile was wry.
Cassidy shook her head. “Very funny. This time you might lose more than your memory. As far as the gun—” she had misgivings, but none too strong to heed “—I’ll lock it in the house. We keep payroll sometimes, and there’s a strong safe. When you leave you can have it back. But this is a good time for me to be honest with you. I’d prefer it if you didn’t carry a weapon. For the sake of the men. I don’t want any excuse for trouble.”
He nodded, and she couldn’t read his expression.
“Slate, I know this must be hard for you. I can’t begin to imagine how hard. But it’s tough for a lot of people.” Her throat tightened, and she fought sudden tears. She knew how hard it was for her, him standing in front of her without the first memory that they had been engaged, that they’d planned a life together.
“In a way, not remembering may make it easier on me.” He rested his arm on Cutter’s rump. “I won’t ever know how many people I disappointed, and that may be a blessing.”
“Can you put the past behind you?” There was no good answer, at least not for her.
“I hope so. If not, I’ll have to move on. But there’re some things here that aren’t settled. At least not in my mind.”
Apprehension whispered at the back of Cassidy’s neck. For Slate, and for herself. “Be careful, Slate.”
He unhooked Cutter from the cross ties and returned him to his stall. “Tell me about Joker. If you’re planning on breeding your stock to him, you must know more about him.”
This was a topic that Cassidy could warm to without reservation. “He’s a grandson of Mr. Jett.”
Slate’s eyebrows shot up. “Really. Can you prove it?”
“I’m pretty sure. Once we get him, we’ll pull some blood and have the DNA tested. I’ve been over this and checked as thoroughly as I could, but I believe Joker’s mother was stolen by a range stallion several years back from a ranch about eighty miles west of here. The mare, The Queen of Hearts, had been bred to a son of Mr. Jett. There was a big hunt for her, but she was never found. The assumption was that she’d been killed while running with the herd.” Cassidy could hear the excitement in her own voice.
“So you believe she delivered the foal.”
“I do.” She believed it with her entire heart.
“And no one else has figured this out?”
Cassidy leaned against the barn wall. “If they have, they don’t care. Wild horses have grown to be more and more of a nuisance as the range is becoming divided into smaller parcels. It used to be that folks ignored the wild herds. It was more of a ‘live and let live’ attitude. But we’re all getting squeezed together. Folks are so used to viewing the wild horses as a problem, they don’t stop to think of the possibilities.”
Slate nodded. “What if he isn’t a grandson of Mr. Jett? What will you do with him?”
Cassidy had given this some thought. “He’ll have to be contained. The simplest thing would be to geld him and just let him run as free as he can be on the Double O.” She bit her lip. “I hate to do that, but I don’t know what else. If he stays out there, Cole or someone else is going to kill him or capture him and sell him to the rodeo.”
“That would be a shame. He’s quite a horse.”
“Even if I can’t trace his bloodlines, he throws some mighty fine foals. I’ve been toying with the idea of breeding some nonregistered stock. Performance horses.”
Slate’s face showed his agreement and enthusiasm. “Is there a market?”
“I believe there is. Of course, some folks would say that I’m nuts.”
“I like the way you’re crazy,” Slate said. “I’ve always believed that the worth of a horse is in how he performs, not in who his daddy was.”
“There are people who understand that I believe I could make it work.” She brushed her hair away from the side of her face. “I know I can.”
“He’s a magnificent animal,” Slate said. “And a tough problem. But the first thing is to get him. And if you’re agreeable, we’ll start tomorrow.”
She pushed away from the wall with eagerness. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll get Kip to pack some food. How many of the hands do you want to take?”
Slate’s hand moved out to her arm, his fingers almost touching her sleeve. But he stopped.
She didn’t need psychic abilities to read his thoughts. He was not a man who could reach out and touch a woman. He was an ex-con, and even if he could forget that in a moment of enthusiasm, he was afraid that she could not
The past rose up, a barrier between them that Cassidy knew neither could speak about.
“I want to go alone,” he continued, dropping both hands to his sides
“Alone?” She frowned.
“I wouldn’t mind if you came along with me, but, basically, I can accomplish more without a lot of interference.”
“How can you catch that rascal alone? It’s going to take—”
“I know my prison record doesn’t make this easy, but you’re going to have to trust me. I know what I’m
doing.”
It was the one request she couldn’t deny. Whatever had been between them in the past, whatever he’d done in that bank, he deserved another chance. “Okay,” she said. “You’re the horse trainer, we’ll do it your way.” At the relief on his face, she felt her own tension ease. “I want to come with you, though.” At the wariness that sprang into his eyes, she reached out and touched his arm in a gesture so deliberate she knew he had to understand. “Not because I don’t trust you or your technique, but because I want to learn.”
His smile warmed the green depths of his eyes. “Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “May I ask you another question, and this time I may be overstepping my bounds?”
“Go ahead. I’ll tell you if you are.”
“Lindsey’s father? How was he killed?”
Cassidy started to speak, then stopped. The lie that had tasted so bitter when first spoken was now about to poison her. She found she couldn’t continue. “Lindsey’s father isn’t dead. I told her that to spare her the truth. It’s better for her and everyone else if she accepts that her father is no longer living.”
“Was he that bad?” Slate answered his own question. “He must have been, to willingly leave a child like Lindsey behind.”
This was the moment she’d dreaded. “He didn’t leave because he wanted to, but he knew it would be best for his daughter, and for me, if he didn’t force his way into our lives.” Cassidy felt the tears building, and she knew that if she’d ever need to exert self-control, now was the time. “I have to put Lindsey to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” She walked away as she spoke, hoping he’d get the idea the subject was closed.
“I’ll be ready at six,” Slate called after her.
IT WAS A PERFECT SUMMER morning, cool and dry with a gentle breeze, and, sitting in the saddle, Slate felt more at home than he had in five years. He was still riding Cutter, but he was heading out to Hook’em’s later in the day to help with the barbecue and to pick up Stargazer.
He glanced at the woman who rode beside him. Her attention was on something in the distance. He guessed her age between thirty and thirty-five, and he wondered again at her single status. What he’d wanted to say the night before, but had not had the right to, was that a man would be crazy to abandon a child and a woman like Lindsey and Cassidy. But that was none of his business, and with his past, it never would be.
He’d been troubled by her reference to a man who left her because her life was better without him. He could easily be that man. The timing was right, and she’d tried to see him in prison. But there had been no indication from Cassidy that there had ever been anything between them, and he assumed she’d been trying to give him news of his mother’s illness. It was fantasy on his part to even think that a woman like her would give him a second glance. And Lindsey bore no trace of his dark looks—she was a child of sunlight, like her mother.
Cassidy looked over at him and smiled, and he thought he detected a lingering wisp of sadness in her eyes. She looked at his saddle “No rope?”
“We’re going to watch him today. And tomorrow. And see what happens.”
“Okay.”
Slate felt overwhelming relief. He knew Cassidy was worried about time, and yet she was trusting his judgment, completely. No questions asked.
“I guess he headed north after yesterday,” Slate said. “It’s been dry, and if I remember correctly, the creek curves in that direction and there used to be a small valley with elms that would give good cover.”
“It’s still there.”
He smiled at her questioning look. “Little bits and pieces of things come back to me when I least expect it. It gives me hope that one day, I’ll get all of my memory back. Right now, it seems that the land is what speaks to me. It’s the strangest feeling, like…”
“Coming home?” she asked.
“Exactly.”
“You grew up on this land. Your mother sold me a portion of the Three Sisters Ranch before she died. I bought as much as I could. Cole got the rest.”
“I’m glad you got it,” he said, and meant it. A blind steer could see how she loved the land.
“Your mother was a remarkable woman.” She pointed to the west. “Just beyond that knoll there’s a ridge. Her grave is there. It’s on the Double O property, and I take care of it. It was where she asked to be buried.”
“Hook’em told me,” Slate said, and found that he missed a mother he didn’t remember. He missed her because Cassidy so obviously did.
“If you ever want to visit, I’ll be glad to show you. Mary was a good friend to me. And to Lindsey,” she added. “I was born around here, but after my folks died, I lived in Houston with my aunt. I came back here to train horses and met your mother. I know you don’t remember, but she loved you. You were the sun in her day.”
“I’ll bet,” he said, surprised at the bitterness. “I can see where she’d be real proud of her son, in prison.”
Cassidy swung around in the saddle and stopped Lightning’s gentle walk. “She wouldn’t be proud of that.” She lifted her chin, her cheeks red with emotion. “She never, not one single day, believed you tried to rob that bank. Surely you know that.”
“This isn’t something I want to talk about.” He nudged Cutter into a faster walk.
He saw that she was perfectly willing to let it drop, and they rode in silence for an hour. As they crested another of the hills, they saw the small band of horses. Slate stopped and got off Cutter.
“What?” Cassidy asked.
“Just let them see us. Wherever they go, we’ll follow.”
“But they’re headed off my land and onto Cole’s.”
“It’s okay. Just follow.” He mounted up as Joker began to circle the mares, pushing them north. He seemed in no hurry, moving away from Slate at the same leisurely pace that Slate pursued him.
“What will this accomplish?” Cassidy asked. There was more curiosity than censure in her voice.
“It’s an old Indian trick. We follow them, and then they follow us. It works.”
“It’s worth a try,” Cassidy agreed, setting Lightning’s stride to stay even with Cutter.
They followed the herd until lunchtime, when Slate dropped back. “They know we’re with them,” he told Cassidy as he helped her take the saddlebags down. “It’s the idea that we’re following. I want them to get used to us.”
“What if they get used to the wrong people?” she asked.
“We can’t let that happen.” He unbridled the horses and set them to grazing beside a small stream. Taking a seat in the shade, he motioned Cassidy to sit beside him. “And we won’t.”
Slate watched as she unpacked the sandwiches and the canteen of tea that Kip had made for them. Her movements were sure and graceful, and he was struck again by her beauty. She was a woman any man would want, and he was no exception. He was also surprised at the ease he felt around her. If she held his prison record against him, she worked overtime not to show it.
He took the roast beef sandwich she handed him and bit into it, relishing the food as he hadn’t in years. “Does Kip cook for the hands?” he asked.
Cassidy grinned. “He does. And if you get on his bad side, you’ll see it reflected in your plate.”
“I’ll remember that,” Slate promised. “Kip is one person I want on my side.” He considered talking to her about Lucky, but he hesitated. Maybe there was something between the two of them that Lindsey didn’t understand and he would be putting his big foot into Cassidy’s private business. No, it would be better to hold off and watch. If he had something solid, then he’d speak.
They finished their lunch and leaned against a tree for a moment’s rest from the saddle. Slate heard the hoofbeats first, and when he sat up, Cassidy heard them, too. She got to her feet, and he rose to stand beside her.
The lone rider came across the rocky terrain at too fast a clip. One wrong step and his horse could snap a leg. Slate stepped slightly in front of Cassidy. He recognized the ride
r as Cole Benson and felt Cassidy tense.
“I was hoping I’d find you.” Cole’s glance took in the remains of the lunch. “I need a word with you, Cassidy.”
Slate was on the verge of stepping between them when Cassidy walked forward. “What brings you in such a hurry that you’d risk a broken leg, or neck?”
“The men are back at the ranch, waiting for you. The fence repair crew. Remember?”
Cassidy put the palm of her hand against her forehead. “I’m sorry, I simply forgot.” She picked up her bridle and started toward Lightning. “Cole is loaning me some men to repair a pasture fence,” she explained to Slate. “I’ll ride back with him. You can finish checking the north pasture fencing on your own, can’t you?”
“Sure,” Slate said. He realized she didn’t want Cole to know the real reason they were out together. He wondered if Joker was the only reason, though. There had been a proprietary note in Cole’s voice as he spoke to Cassidy, and a gleam of jealousy in his eyes. Was there something between them? He bent to gather up the picnic things. “I’ll take care of everything out this way,” he assured Cassidy.
She had her mare bridled and swung into the saddle. “I am sorry, Cole. I didn’t know you were coming with the men.”
“Since we’re going to the barbecue together, I thought I’d take a shower and clean up over at your place. Save me a drive home.”
Slate wasn’t certain he heard hesitation in Cassidy’s voice, but he heard her answer loud and clear. “Sure, that’s a good idea,” she said as she rode off with the rancher.
Even as he bridled Cutter and repacked the remains of the lunch, he kept an eye on Cassidy. Not a single time did she turn around and look at him.
THE FIDDLER SAWED the strings, and the couple on the dance floor swung into a two-step. There was laughter from the dance floor and the tables, where clusters of people finished their barbecue dinners or simply sat back and talked.
Remember Me, Cowboy Page 6