Delilah studied him, wondering what he was thinking, and then turned to look at the valley below. It took her breath away. Bordered by cedars, pines and rocky bluffs, the valley was emerald green with rich moist grass. A narrow river ran through the Southern portion, and not far from that lay the ranch buildings. It was beautiful. No wonder Eve had ignored her husband's pride and risked incurring his wrath by asking for help. Losing a place like this would be unthinkable.
"I'll ride on down with you," Chambers said. "While I'm here, I might as well check to see if they've had any more trouble."
Delilah snapped a look at him. Was he talking about the rustling, or something else? "What kind of trouble?"
In the process of studying the valley below rather intently, he shrugged and, without looking at her, said, "The rustling. Isn't that what you so kindly informed me that I should be most concerned with?” His sarcasm was not lost on her, but before she could think of a suitable response, he added, "It's been a while since I've heard anything from them.” Then he effectively ended the conversation by nudging his horse onto the narrow trail that led down toward the Devil's Fork. Delilah was left with little choice but to follow.
Upon nearing the ranch, a commotion from the direction of the corrals left no doubt in Delilah's mind that something of significance was taking place. Cattle bawled. Men shouted. Dogs barked. And a woman's voice rang out with a definite note of authority. The stench of burning hair hung in the still mountain air as they drew closer.
"Looks like branding time," Sheriff Chambers commented as they reined the horses in. He indicated the figure of a woman in the center of the corral. "That'll be Mrs. Cameron. Don't know how you're going to get her attention, though. She looks a mite busy, and I wouldn't recommend going into the corral."
Delilah stared in amazement. That was Eve?
The woman in the corral flipped a calf on its side with an ease Delilah would not have thought possible, hog-tied it, and then averted her face while holding it for the brander's iron. A moment later, the task completed, she released the calf and straightened.
Using a sibling's perception, Delilah studied her sister.
Eve wore what appeared to be a split skirt fashioned from leather. The garment was a little shorter than Delilah would have thought appropriate, for it fell only to mid-calf, but Eve wore high work boots which preserved her modesty to some degree. A tan shirt, buckskin vest, well-worn leather gloves, and a green bandanna completed her ensemble. . . with one single exception. Eve wore a sidearm. A six-gun in a holster rested on her hip as comfortably as though she'd been born with it. Yet Delilah knew she had not.
Eve had always been the gentle one. The child who had been most like their Southern belle mother despite inheriting their father's tawny hair and cat-green eyes. She'd always hated guns. Heavens! She'd been so incapable of cruelty of any kind that she'd been unable to so much as watch a chicken being butchered for supper. Yet here she was branding calves!
This was not the sister Delilah remembered. In the year since they'd last visited, Eve had matured from a girl into a woman. A very determined woman if appearances were not deceiving. And yet she was scarcely twenty years old. What had happened to induce such a rapid change in her baby sister?
Whatever it was, their mother would have been proud of the result. She'd always wanted her daughters to be stronger than she had been, claiming that, had it not been for Garrett Sinclair's daring last-minute rescue, she would undoubtedly not have survived the Civil War. Delilah tended to think that her mother simply had been unable to recognize her own strengths, which lay in character rather than in physical constitution.
"I wonder where Wes Powell is?" Sheriff Chambers mused aloud, interrupting Delilah's musing. When she looked at him questioningly, he added by way of explanation, "The foreman."
"Powell is the man who was supposed to meet me in Red Rock," Delilah commented. "He didn't show up."
The sheriff stared off toward the corral and said nothing. Delilah was beginning to know him, though, and she believed he appeared thoughtful. In the next instant he said, "Looks like Eagle Shadow has finally decided to acknowledge our presence."
Delilah followed his gaze and saw a dark-skinned man, his long black hair secured in two braids which hung over his shoulders, raise an arm in greeting. "An Indian?" she asked, though she was reasonably certain the man had to be of native ancestry.
Sheriff Chambers nodded. "Jim Eagle Shadow.” He looked over at her. "You don't have a problem with Indians, do you, Mrs. Sterne?"
She frowned slightly. "If you're asking if I have reason to hate them, the answer is no, Sheriff. The Indians I've encountered always remained rather distant. Neither threatening, nor particularly cordial. Although I must say that, having heard the same tales as everyone else, I am naturally wary."
"Best advice I can give is to ignore the stories you've heard as much as possible, and make up your own mind about Jim when you meet him."
Delilah nodded without meeting his gaze. "I fully intend to, Sheriff."
At that moment, a cattle dog who'd just discerned their presence commenced a raucous barking and raced toward them. His proprietary attitude immediately set Poopsy off. Never one to back down from a disagreement with another canine, no matter the difference in size, she began to yap ferociously while squirming to escape the saddlebag. She was certain, no doubt, that she could set this disrespectful hound straight if only she could get at him. However, the only obvious result of her indignation was that she unnerved Jackpot and completely confused the cattle dog, which stopped short to eye, with a rather startled expression, the big horse from which the high-pitched barking erupted.
Delilah grinned, and then, hearing her name shouted, looked toward the corral to see Eve standing at Jim Eagle Shadow's side. Her sister waved and began to run in her direction. If the Indian had been the one to apprise Eve of her arrival, thus hastening their reunion, Delilah decided she liked him already.
Dismounting, scarcely taking her eyes from her sister, Delilah secured Jackpot to the rail of the corral fence and began to move along it, closing the distance between them. It seemed like an eternity until Eve slipped through the railing to throw her arms around her. Delilah, in turn, wrapped her arms around Eve's slender form, closed her eyes and simply held on. Lord, she'd missed her.
Though Eve was only a little more than two years younger than herself, after their father's death, Delilah had raised her sister. Or perhaps they'd raised each other. Regardless, they'd grown extraordinarily close. Now, heedless of the tears rolling unchecked down her cheeks, she pulled back. "Let me look at you."
Eve obediently stepped back. With the sparkle of joyous tears in her own eyes and a trembling smile on her lips she stood waiting for Delilah's impression. Delilah saw the newly developed strength of character in the set of her sister's jaw. She saw the confidence in her stance. Saw the light of determination in her eyes and knew, without a doubt, that Eve had come into her own.
Delilah smiled tremulously. "Oh, Evie, you've grown up."
Eve smiled. "It's about time, wouldn't you say?"
Delilah spread her arms and swept her sister into another embrace. "I've missed you."
"Not half as much as I've missed you. Why didn't you telegraph that you were coming? I would have met you in town."
"I did," Delilah assured her. "I received a reply saying that Wes Powell would meet me and provide an escort, but he didn't show. So I decided to set out."
Eve pivoted slightly, sliding her arm around Delilah's waist to stand at her side. Her expression sobered considerably. "Wes Powell quit a few days ago," she explained. "He never said anything about receiving or answering a telegram.” She shrugged. "I'm glad you were able to ride with the sheriff."
Delilah opened her mouth to point out that she'd ridden over a lot of wild country without the benefit of the sheriff's protection, or anybody else's for that matter. But before she could get the words out, Eve read her expression and raised a conciliat
ory hand to halt her. "I know. I know," she said. "I have little doubt that you could have found this place based on the descriptions in my letters, but it's dangerous country just the same.” She scowled. "Blast that Wes Powell. He makes me so angry. But I guess I should have expected that from him."
Delilah studied her sister's solemn expression. "What's wrong, Eve?"
Eve forced a smile. "Nothing I'm going to burden you with before you've even had a chance to refresh yourself.” She looked toward the sheriff, and Delilah followed her gaze.
Sheriff Chambers had dismounted and was now talking to Jim Eagle Shadow and another hand. The dark blonde hair that spilled over this cowhand's ears from beneath the brim of his hat made him easily recognizable as being a white man though he was well tanned.
"Come on," Eve said as she began moving toward the men. They stopped to one side of the group. As soon as the men paused in conversation and looked toward them, she spoke. "Mr. Eagle Shadow. . . Mr. Wright. . . I'd like to introduce you to my sister, Mrs. Delilah Sterne. She'll be staying with us for a while. Delilah, this is Mr. Jim Eagle Shadow."
Eagle Shadow tipped his black felt hat to her just as any white man would have, though his copper-skinned face remained solemn as he said, "Ma'am."
"Mr. Eagle Shadow," Delilah nodded in acknowledgement as she studied the man curiously.
"And this is Mr. Steve Wright," Eve continued, gesturing to the man with the long dark blonde hair.
Wright offered Delilah his hand, a gesture that not all men made when introduced to women, and spoke in a deep bass voice that seemed at odds with his stature. "Always pleased to meet a lady, Mrs. Sterne."
Delilah accepted his calloused hand, met his kind brown-eyed gaze and smiled. "A pleasure, Mr. Wright."
Eve turned toward Matt. "Sheriff Chambers," she said, extending her right hand to him. "I can't thank you enough for escorting my sister to me."
Delilah felt Matt's gaze touch on her before returning to Eve, but did her best to ignore her awareness of him. Studiously avoiding eye contact, she focused instead on the exchange taking place between him and Eve. Matt accepted her sister's hand, his much larger one virtually swallowing Eve's. "Don't mention it, ma'am," he said.
And then, with a glance toward the man with whom he'd been speaking earlier, he took the conversation in another direction. "Steve tells me Powell quit.” Eve nodded but didn't have the opportunity to respond before Matt continued. "With Tom still laid up, it's going to be pretty tough going for you, isn't it?"
"I'm a lot stronger than I look, Sheriff. I'll be fine. But thank you for your concern."
Chambers studied her for a moment with the same dark steely gaze that so easily disrupted Delilah's equilibrium. Eve seemed remarkably unaffected, and Delilah's respect for her sister's new found inner strength rose another notch. With a sharp nod, Matt finally accepted her assertion and said, "Jim tells me you haven't had any more problems with rustlers recently?"
Eve shook her head. "The additional twenty head we lost last week was the last straw. All totaled, we've lost more than half the herd we had left. I ordered the few head we still have herded into the corrals every night for safety. I can't afford to lose any more."
I can't? Delilah studied her sister, wondering at the solitary nature of her statement.
"Have you made any progress in finding out who's behind it?" Eve asked.
"Some, ma'am. But I'm sorry to say not enough. This isn't just a few drovers out to make themselves some easy money.” Matt stared thoughtfully down the valley. "I wanted to speak with Powell," he said a moment later. "Don't suppose you could tell me where I might find him?"
"Jim?" Eve looked toward the Indian.
"Last I heard he was workin' at the Lazy M," Eagle Shadow said. His words positively dripped ice. Then, without another word, he turned and vaulted over the corral railing, apparently deciding to return to his work. After favoring the sheriff with a brief wave, Steve Wright followed in his wake.
Chambers looked at Eve. "What's goin' on here, Mrs. Cameron?"
"Well, Sheriff, it's pretty simple really. There are a lot of things that Powell doesn't like, and he seemed to find most of those things on my ranch."
"And what might those be."
Eve shrugged. "Indians. Chinese people. And women who can give orders when necessary."
Sheriff Chambers nodded. "I see."
"Oh, my," Eve suddenly said. "In the excitement, I've forgotten my manners. Would you like a glass of lemonade, Sheriff? Fong usually keeps a couple of jars cooling in the well."
"That sounds real good, ma'am, but McTaggart lost some head the other night, so I still have some business to do over at the Lazy M. I want to get back to Red Rock by tonight. I appreciate the offer just the same."
"In that case, you'll probably be riding by here right about supper time," Eve deduced. "Why don't you at least let me offer you the hospitality of our supper table?"
The sheriff flicked a glance Delilah's way before responding. "I'd like that, ma'am," he said with a nod. "If I happen to be goin' by about that time, I'd sure like to take you up on it."
"Good.” Eve smiled. "Then we'll be expecting you."
Delilah frowned inwardly. She sincerely wished Eve had not invited the sheriff to supper. She'd hoped to be free of his disturbing presence for a time. Still, she could always pray he wouldn't show.
Chambers doffed his hat to Eve, then turned his potent gaze on Delilah. "It was a pleasure riding with you, ma'am," he said, tipping his hat respectfully.
"Sheriff.” Delilah favored him with a dignified nod. "I do hope you catch those rustlers. And, thank you for your escort."
"My pleasure ma'am," he said as he turned to Goliath.
He winced slightly as he mounted and concern made her speak without thinking, calling, "Sheriff. . ." just as he was about to turn his horse. He halted, and she felt his gaze on her from beneath the shadowed brim of his hat as he waited for her to continue. Suddenly, however, she didn't know what to say. She couldn't very well demand to see his ribs again now. "Take care of those ribs," she concluded weakly.
He acknowledged her statement with a sharp nod, before reining Goliath around and urging him into a gallop.
"What happened to his ribs?" Eve asked, drawing Delilah's eyes from the rapidly dwindling figure.
"He was attacked by a mountain lion early this morning.” Seeing the expression of dawning horror in Eve's eyes, and interpreting it, Delilah hastened to reassure her. "It happened before we met. I was in no danger."
"Well, thank goodness for that," she breathed.
Eve looked toward Jackpot. "I'll just have Mr. Wright take care of your horse, and then I'll take you on up to the house.” Suiting action to words, she turned and shouted her request.
"Sure thing, ma'am," Wright replied.
That taken care of, Eve threaded her arm through Delilah's and began moving toward the house. Delilah took only two steps before she was brought up short by a sharp yap. "Oh, heavens! I forgot Poochie."
"Poochie?" Eve echoed as they turned. Poopsy was dividing her attention between the mistress who'd almost forgotten her, and the cattle dog which, having now discovered the origin of the barking that had momentarily made him question the world he knew, sat gazing up at her. "When did you get a dog?"
"It's a long story," Delilah replied as they walked back to Jackpot. "I'll tell you later.” Liberating Poopsy, she retrieved her saddlebags, settled them over her shoulder, and pulled the Winchester from its scabbard. "There, that should do it."
Minutes later, she and Eve were ensconced at a large, scarred, wooden table sharing glasses of cool lemonade while the Chinese gentleman that Eve had introduced as Fong bustled around Eve's kitchen preparing what looked to be a huge meal in a large wood-burning stove. Fong was quite small for a man, scarcely five feet tall—if that—with ageless skin, sharp-sighted, almond-shaped black eyes and short gunmetal grey hair. Clothed entirely in black, he sported a wispy goatee' on his chin, sandals
on otherwise bare feet, and a singing voice that sounded like nothing so much as rusty hinges. Still, he didn't seem to notice his melodic deficiency for he sang, hummed, or talked to himself almost continuously as he worked.
Poopsy having drunk her fill of water and been fed some scraps by Fong, lay on the floor beneath the table, sound asleep.
Delilah looked around. Since her previous visit with Eve had taken place in Jackson, Wyoming where Delilah had been living briefly, this was the first time she'd seen Eve's home. She decided she rather liked the rustic charm of the log house.
In the center of the table, a canning jar performed the function of a vase, brightening the small house with a profusion of spring wildflowers. A large hewn stone fireplace occupied the wall opposite the kitchen stove so that in winter the home could be heated from both sides of the room. A rocking chair, sewing basket, and pile of mending rested on a rag rug before the fireplace. Above the fireplace an old Springfield rifle, no doubt brought home from the Civil War by one of Tom's relatives, rested on the mantle.
To the right of the fireplace was the front door, leading to the forward veranda that stretched the entire width of the house. A back door, located next to the stove, exited onto a large enclosed porch which doubled as a pantry and a place to wash up before meals. The porch was even equipped with the convenience of an indoor pump to bring cold water directly from the well.
Access to the bedrooms was gained through either of two doors in the wall at Delilah's back. Though she'd seen neither chamber as yet, she decided that, all in all, it was a very nice home.
"So," Eve said, smiling across the table at her. "Oh, Delilah, I'm so glad you're here.” But Delilah noted that the smile trembled on her lips and didn't quite reach her eyes. In fact, she looked on the verge of tears.
And instead of offering her solace, Delilah had to tell her that she didn't yet have the funds to help her. The thought made her want to weep herself, but instead she returned Eve's smile and said nothing. She dared not speak freely, for she didn't know how much Fong knew, nor how much Tom might overhear. "Where is Tom?" she asked by way of making conversation. "I haven't hugged the man who stole my sister's heart yet."
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