Bart didn’t like Ruskin’s manner. He didn’t like Ruskin. The man tried to put on a friendly tone that played false to Bart’s sharp ears.
“What’s your interest?” Bart asked him.
“Curiosity good enough?”
“Sounds more personal than that.”
The bartender bared his teeth in a lascivious grin. “I just wanted to make certain you weren’t putting your own private brand on the little lady. I’m a man with an appetite, if you get my drift, and she certainly is one choice morsel.”
Without thinking, Bart grabbed him by the shirtfront and pulled him off balance over the bar.
“Get my drift,” he said, his face in Ruskin’s. “No one talks about a lady like that while I’m around.” Oddly enough, he took a personal affront since the lady in question happened to be Josie Wales.
Ruskin’s spooky eyes narrowed on him, but the bartender didn’t so much as twitch.
Silence.
Bart knew every customer was watching with unwavering interest to see what would happen next. But he wasn’t about to provide this week’s entertainment. He had too much else on his mind. He let go of Ruskin and dug into his pocket for his money clip.
Removing two singles, he threw them to the bar, saying, “Keep the change.”
Then out he went, knowing he’d left behind an enemy that he didn’t need.
ALCINA…
Josie had to tell her right away. The fly in the ointment, she thought. Here she’d let the generous woman believe she had an extra pair of hands around the bed-and-breakfast…well, she wouldn’t disappoint Alcina. Maybe she couldn’t manage breakfast—she was certain she’d have to be at the ranch at dawn—but she could always help with chores in the evening and on her day off. She wouldn’t get paid for a week, anyway, so she still had to earn her keep.
Besides, she hadn’t gotten the most positive of vibes from Bart. To cave in the way he had, he must be as desperate for help as she was for work. But she had no illusions about his keeping her if she didn’t meet his standards.
The bed-and-breakfast might have her full attention, after all, she thought gloomily.
She found Alcina straightening the parlor and gave her a quick update. The woman seemed more than okay with the situation.
“I’m glad for you, Josie. I know you need work that has pay. Letting you stay in my ironing room for free until you’re back on your feet isn’t going to hurt me. As for working around here at night, don’t be foolish. You won’t have anything left in you.”
Familiar words—Bart had said the same about her walking out to the ranch.
“I’ll save some for you,” Josie assured her. She might not be a big, strong man, but she was far from fragile.
“Let’s wait and see,” Alcina said cheerfully. She patted Josie’s arm and headed for the kitchen.
It was only when the woman was out of the room that Josie realized Tim Harrigan had been on his way down, but he’d stopped halfway along the staircase as if he hadn’t wanted to interrupt them. And yet he must have heard everything.
Descending, he confirmed the fact. “So you got that work you were looking for.”
“On a trial basis.”
He grinned. “I suspect you’ll do all right.”
If only she could deal with the owner…
“The Curly-Q needs more hands,” she said, “if you’re in the market for a job.”
“Running cattle? Where’s the appeal?”
“The paycheck at the end of the week.”
He laughed. “Cowboy pay?”
Aware that cowboy pay wasn’t much reward for long hours and physically tough work, she said, “It’s more than I have in my pocket now.”
Maybe Tim didn’t need a job. From the looks of his shiny new truck—and considering he was renting a room here rather than in some cheap motel out on the highway—Josie figured he had a few bucks in his pocket.
The blare of a horn caught her attention. She glanced out the front window and saw the black SUV at the curb. Bart was already waiting. “My ride is here.”
Tim gave her a smile and a thumbs-up sign. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’ll need it.”
More to deal with Bart Quarrels himself than in doing the work he required, she was certain.
Josie ran out to the SUV and jumped into the passenger seat. On edge, she expected some comment meant to prick her, but without so much as a howdy-do, Bart took off. She waited for him to say something as they sped out of town, but he seemed comfortable in his silence…if she was not.
“Did you find yourself a real cowboy?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact I did—he’s a friend of my youngest brother. He happened to be looking for Chance to get a lead on some day work in the area, so we both lucked out. He’ll meet us at the Curly-Q later this afternoon.”
“How many hands are you hiring?”
“Depends. We already have two hands at the ranch. Only one of them is what you’d call a cowboy, though—I couldn’t pay Moon-Eye enough to get him on a horse. If both my brothers show, I only need three hires.”
“One more, then.”
“At least.”
She didn’t like the sound of that. Surely he meant to give her a fair shake. She bit back a direct response, though. She didn’t need to get off on the wrong foot with him. The ranch itself was the safest topic. Besides, she wanted to know more about what she was getting into.
“How has your father been getting along with only two men on such a big spread?”
“He had more. Just couldn’t keep ’em—the story of his life,” Bart said, his voice tight. “The spread has suffered for it lately.”
Josie sensed big issues lay between Bart and his father. She figured it would be wise of her to stay clear of their personal business if she didn’t want to irritate him. Besides, she didn’t want him grilling her, either, and she guessed he would give tit for tat.
If the conversation got too personal, it would only be a matter of time before he figured her out. Even if he wasn’t wearing a badge anymore, he was still a lawman. Couldn’t take that out of a man like him.
“Tell me about the spread,” she said. “It must be pretty big if you need—” she quickly added up the help he had and the help he wanted to hire “—eight hands.”
“Sixty thousand acres,” Bart agreed. “We run a cow-calf operation. Around two thousand cows and a hundred bulls. I don’t know how many calves we have at this time. Pa said they’d only culled off a few hundred so far, so our first big undertaking will be to separate the rest from their mamas. You could say we’re a bit behind schedule.”
Somehow, Josie gathered that before he said it. She might not remember where she was from, but no way was she a city girl. She absorbed the details he offered about the Curly-Q as naturally as if she’d lived on a ranch herself.
Which probably meant she had.
She closed her eyes in hopes of conjuring some image that would prove it. But nothing came. She fought the sick feeling that tried to get hold of her every time she realized how truly lost she could get inside her head.
That she could regain her memory at any time was possible. The doctor had told her so in that short time between her awakening and her escape.
She wanted her memory back…she needed it…and oh, how she feared it.
That she had stolen the truck she’d been driving when she had the accident was a dismal fact…and yet one that she had difficulty accepting. Deep down, theft—any kind of crime—was an anathema to her, so maybe she wasn’t a really bad person, after all.
With all her heart, Josie wanted to believe that, wanted to banish the guilt that lay below the surface, threatening to swallow her whole.
Maybe she ought not think about anything but the present. She needed to keep her mind where it belonged. On her work. On the ranch.
And what a ranch the Curly-Q turned out to be. Acre upon acre of good-weather grazing land gave way to a bad-weather protective deep
canyon, the very sight of which stole her breath away.
“It’s beautiful.”
They’d only snaked halfway down the rock when she spotted a band of horses on the floor of the canyon. A couple of bays, an Appaloosa, a gray and a blue roan lined up along the road, waiting. When they hit bottom, the horses surrounded the vehicle, jogging on either side, acting as escorts to the buildings ahead.
The house was a sprawling adobe with wings that might have been add-ons to the original structure. The earth-colored walls were brightened by blue-trimmed windows and doors. As they passed the front of the house, she noted the long red chile ristra hanging from the door and, to one side of the stoop, the brightly painted ceramic pot large enough to hold a bluish-hued juniper bush.
“That building was our original barn, but now it’s used for storage,” Bart said of a long, dark red volcanic rock structure a hundred yards or so from the house. “It also has quarters for our hired hand.” He indicated another adobe a bit farther off. “That’s the bunkhouse over there.”
Two barking ranch dogs shot out of nowhere, joining the horses and adding the noise of frantic barking to the mix. Their mottled coats and cropped tails made Josie think they had Blue-Heeler in them.
Bart brought the vehicle to a stop in front of a small pipe-and-wire-fenced corral alongside another building—a huge vaulted barn with an arched roof of corrugated metal.
As she stepped out of the vehicle, Josie looked around at their four-footed escorts, all still with them. Bart whistled to the dogs and gave them a hand signal. Both sat, though their tails continued to beat the dust and they whistled excitedly through their pointy noses.
“Meet A.C. and D.C.,” he said. “Sisters out of the same litter.”
Josie held out a relaxed hand so the dogs could get her scent. When they licked her fingers, she stroked each of their faces, murmuring, “Well, aren’t you the friendly girls.”
Then she approached the horse that had ventured closest—the blue roan, who was eyeing her with interest. “And what about you? Are you a friendly one, too?”
She kept her voice so low the horse had to prick its ears forward to hear, and she held out her hand much as she had to the dogs. When the mare snuffled her, she gently stroked its velvet nose, all the while keeping eye contact with her and talking low and sweet.
“You seem to have a way with Juniper there,” Bart said. “She’s barely green-broke. It’ll take time and energy to make her into a good cattle horse.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll manage it.” Smiling, Josie carefully slid a hand around to the mare’s neck and found a sweet spot. “We seem to have an understanding, don’t we?” The other horses were eyeing her from various distances. “I only count five horses here.”
“Don’t worry, there’re lots more where they came from,” Bart assured her. “But these are the ones who’ve been ridden lately. Except for Juniper, of course. She’s just been getting used to the place. Your first job will be to round up some of the horses from another pasture and bring them in closer to the barn. And then you’ll have to ride each of them, see what kind of work they need. From what I understand, it’s been quite a while since they’ve been ridden, so they’re probably all full of beans by now.”
A thrill of challenge shot through Josie and she prayed she could meet it. This would be her test, she knew. Rather, her first test. She didn’t figure Bart for the type to go easy on her, ever.
The knowledge that she could do it—just as she knew she could make Juniper into a cattle horse—came as naturally to her as did her knowing what she preferred to eat for breakfast. Odd how this amnesia thing was so selective.
The other horses were determined to get in on the act now. They were pushing and shoving at one another for an introduction. Josie laughed and made certain each horse got a pat and a personal greeting.
Suddenly the feel of Bart’s gaze pulled on her, drawing her attention from the equine reception.
Warmth flowed from her fingertips where they ruffled a mane, all the way down to her toes. He couldn’t hide his approval and she couldn’t still the excited thrum of her pulse. In some strange way, she felt as if she was home and couldn’t say if it was him or the horses that did it for her. Most likely a combination. She’d sensed some kind of link with Bart right from the first.
It was an experience that left her breathless, and restless, so that she was relieved when the dogs’ barking again broke the connection.
A grizzled old man, average in height but square in stature, cut across the corral. The dogs scooted under the fence to dance around him. The man ignored them as he gave Josie the once-over with his good eye. It didn’t take a genius to know this was the hand Bart had called Moon-Eye. His left eyelid was only half open and no iris was visible—only part of a milky white eyeball.
“Found yourself a cowboy, did ya?” he asked, tone skeptical.
“That’s what we’re gonna find out,” Bart said. “Though it looks like a good beginning. Moon-Eye Hobb…Josie Wales. Moon-Eye has been a fixture on this ranch as long as I can remember. And as far as I know, he’s never taken it upon himself to get on a horse.”
“If God had wanted us to go gallivanting around on four legs, he would’ve given ’em to us.”
Bart laughed. “He did in the way of horses. You just won’t admit you think they’re smarter than you.”
“Ain’t dumb enough to get on one, but they’d be dumb enough to let me,” Moon-Eye protested. “I prefer my vehicles with wheels, if that’s all right with you, son.”
Despite their acerbic exchange, Josie sensed a genuine fondness between the two men.
“Frank’s not back yet?” Bart asked.
“He’s still out counting calves like you asked. Your kids went with him. Lainey had her camera.”
“Sounds promising.” To Josie, he said, “My kids are having some difficulty accepting the move.”
Though startled by the mention of his having children, she said, “Moving is hard on anyone.” She hadn’t considered that Bart might be married…because, of course, she had no reason to care one way or the other. “Probably hardest on kids,” she said of the moving, “because they don’t have a say.”
“I’m trying to do what’s best for them. They haven’t been the same since their mother died last year.”
Died. He was a widower, then.
A rush of giddiness swept through her. Josie swallowed the smile that threatened her lips lest he think she was callous. What in the world was wrong with her?
“Losing a parent is difficult, but I’m sure they’ll come along in time.”
Losing both parents was even harder, Josie thought, somehow knowing that her own were gone. Not that she could remember the details.
“Enough about my personal life,” Bart grumbled. “Let’s take a pickup out to that horse pasture.”
“You’re coming along for the ride?”
“I wouldn’t want you to get lost.”
Josie was a little relieved that she wouldn’t be left completely on her own as she’d expected.
“Got any cake we can bring along?” she asked.
She’d always thought the word cake, the nickname for protein pellets that reminded her of chunks of a cigar, as being odd. Then, again, horses usually went crazy for the stuff as if they were treats.
“Bribery, huh?” Bart asked.
“You object to my methods?”
“Not if they work.”
Ten minutes later, they were cutting across an adjoining pasture in a truck nearly as old as she was. Josie was behind the wheel, Bart riding shotgun. Once he got her within sight of the band of horses, he let her take the lead.
She stopped the truck, got out and gave a series of sharp whistles. The horses’ heads lifted and she repeated what she meant to be a command—that they pay attention and come to her. They began meandering her way, if with more curiosity than enthusiasm. That changed when she picked up the bucket of bribery from the back of the truck. She
shook it so the pellets would bounce and make noise, all the while repeating the series of sharp whistles.
Then they couldn’t jog fast enough.
More than a dozen horses crowded her, shoving at one another and her in the quest for treats. Josie shoved back and refused to let one of the big noses dip into the bucket. She made sure each and every horse took the cake directly out of her hand. They needed to make that direct connection, to know that she was their new boss.
“Okay, you lazybones, time to go to work.” She threw the empty bucket onto the back of the pickup. Whistling again, she hopped inside, yelling “Yeeha!”
Some of the horses appeared immediately on edge, prancing in place and nickering. Others turned their rumps to her as if to ignore her.
But Josie knew she actually had their undivided attention. She set the truck at a crawl and reached out the open window to beat on the roof with the flat of her hand. That spooked them into moving!
“Yee-ha!” she yelled again.
Some of the horses started to move off in the general direction of the barn. Others tried to wander away. She rode the truck the way she would a four-footed mount, circling and pushing the horses where she wanted them to go, all the while keeping up the encouraging noises.
Whistles…yells…pounding…
A few minutes later, the horses were streaming through the gate opening that put them right where she wanted them—in the smaller pasture next to the barn. She followed them through, then stopped the truck long enough for Bart to jump out and secure the gate.
As he slid back into the passenger’s seat, he said, “Seems as if you know what you’re doing.”
Josie grinned and murmured, “Yee-ha.” She’d made the first hurdle!
SITTING ON THE FENCE, Bart watched Josie bring one of the bays into the corral where she brushed him down, tacked him up and mounted him. Hardly waiting until they’d made one full circle, she put Mack through his paces.
Jog. Walk. Stop. Circle. Tight figure eight. Stop. Back up.
Start over.
She’d chosen well. The horse remained calm and responsive to her every nuance. Bart could hardly see her signals. Moon-Eye was watching from the opposite side of the corral and seemed equally impressed.
Heart of a Lawman Page 7