Winning Over the Wrangler

by Linda Ford

  “I would like that. If you think he’s up to it.”

  “I figure he’s up to a few steps.” Half a dozen, likely, but he might be persuaded to make it as far as the trees overhanging the river, where Brand and Sybil could enjoy a few moments of privacy.

  And what, you crazy man, do you intend to do with such?

  He realized he was grinning like a crazy man, and forced his mouth into a more moderate smile.

  She ducked her head. “I’ll come back later, shall I?”

  Her shyness made him feel ten feet tall. “I’ll meet you at the barn.” He forced his attention back to the task at hand.

  When he deemed the sun was in the right position, he hustled to the barn to duck his head in the water trough, and clean his hands and face well. Then he trotted inside and pulled out a clean shirt. Nothing fancy. Just a brown striped cotton shirt that could have used a woman’s touch to iron out the wrinkles. Lacking that, he smoothed the fabric as best he could before he pulled it over his head and buttoned it.

  He scrubbed a spot in the window over the workbench and tried to see his reflection. He’d have done better to stare in the water trough, but someone might notice him.

  Straightening, he warned himself, as he had done all day, this was only a small treat he was stealing, to carry with him the rest of his life.

  A warning thunder filled his thoughts. He was taking an awful chance, with his pa so close. But one afternoon. Only one. Was it too much to ask of life? If he was the praying man his ma had hoped to raise, he would ask God to give him this afternoon, to bless it with sunshine and kisses and make it last forever.

  Knowing Sybil would soon join him, Brand stepped outside to wait. Just in time. She sauntered down the hill, her golden curls beneath a bonnet of blue. He strode from the pen and went toward her. As they drew closer, her eyes seemed to gather up the blue of her bonnet and the sky and hold it. His eyes watered at how striking she was.

  He reached her side. “You look like a sunny sky.”

  Pink stained her cheeks. “Thank you...you do mean it as a compliment?”

  He’d spoken without thinking, but replied, “Yes, it’s a compliment.”

  She smiled. “It’s a fine afternoon, isn’t it?”

  Finer by the moment, but all he said was, “Very nice.”

  He whistled for Dawg and they waited as the animal limped toward them. The way his tail tipped to the side in a wag, Brand knew Dawg was eager for this outing.

  Not half as eager as his owner.

  He turned toward the river, his eyes on the goal of that little copse of trees. Their progress was slow as Dawg limped along, encouraged by both Sybil and Brand.

  Finally, they reached the river, and stepped into the shelter of the gold-dappled branches.

  Dawg lapped up the cool water and lay down on the leafy carpet.

  Brand had waited for this moment all day, but now his tongue lay motionless in his mouth. What could he say? “Trees are pretty.” Yeah, that was brilliant.

  She nodded. “Mercy, Jayne and I walked along the river yesterday and saw a wonderful display of color.”

  A bronze leaf fluttered from the tree and landed on her shoulder.

  He plucked it off. Felt her start at his touch, and he jerked back, crushing the leaf in his palm. He would never have the right to touch her.

  “Shall we sit?” She waved toward a tree and they sat side by side, their backs against the trunk. “Eddie’s anxious to get the cows rounded up and moved to lower pastures.”

  Brand didn’t care about Eddie’s cows. Not with Sybil at his side. If only he could stop time and stay right here. Build a cabin next to the water. Forget he was a Duggan.

  Except he couldn’t forget, not with news of the gang nearby. Every day made discovery more possible. Not only possible but impending. If he had any guts he would leave this minute. But he sat in the shade beside a pretty woman and discussed the weather, determinedly ignoring the increasingly loud warning bells.

  She patted his hand as it lay on his knee. “If you stayed here, you might find you like it.”

  Liking it was the problem. It had kept him from doing what he always did and must continue to do. Ride away. Disappear. Don’t look back.

  Dawg rose and whined, looking toward the barn.

  Sybil laughed. “Do you think he’s trying to tell us something? As in he’d like to go back home?” She got to her feet. “I guess we better do as he suggests.”

  Thus ended his stolen afternoon.

  As he gained his feet, he heard a quail cooing across the river.

  Every nerve in his body fired hot lava. His heart took off at a mad gallop.

  It could possibly be a quail, but Cyrus used to make that sound to signal to Brand.

  Had Cyrus and Pa had found him?

  He had delayed too long.

  Sybil didn’t seem to notice his hurry to return to the barn, and left them at the gate, saying she must get back and help Linette.

  He waited until she was out of earshot before he turned to Dawg. “Dawg, we’re leaving.”

  The dog didn’t protest, but Brand’s heart pounded against his ribs as if trying to get free.

  Freedom was not an option for him. Either he ran or he hanged.

  Chapter Ten

  Brand gathered his stuff together. If that was Cyrus and Pa he’d heard, they would be watching the place. He’d slip away under cover of darkness. So he sank back on the hay-covered floor to wait, as Dawg slept. Brand planted his hat on his head, tipped it over his eyes and crossed his arms on his chest. Anyone caring to check on him would assume he slept, though the tension coursing through him made that impossible.

  He woke from his pretend sleep for only one thing: Sybil delivering supper.

  She sat beside him as he choked down the food.

  She would be hurt that he simply disappeared. Several times he opened his mouth, and closed it again without saying the words he longed to speak. He wanted to tell her he must leave that very night. But he couldn’t face an argument to stay. Nor could he risk having her try and stop him. He had no choice but to keep his plans secret.

  She chattered on about Linette’s intended trip to town in a few days. “She’s hoping for letters from home and something from Grady’s father. She is convinced the boy won’t ever be happy unless that relationship is mended.”

  Brand had removed his hat when she joined him, and sat back at an angle so he could watch her. He had avoided developing feelings for anyone since May had made him see how dangerous that was. Even before, he’d learned to be guarded in his friendships. It was a lesson hard learned in his youth and one he should have heeded. But he regretted for less than a second the exception he’d made in this case. Yes, he had to leave. Hopefully, he could escape his brother and Pa. He’d hole up someplace for the winter as was his habit. But this winter he’d have a heart full of both regret and pleasure at this memory.

  “Oh, goodness. I have talked on and on, haven’t I?”

  “Not a problem.”

  “But I must be going.” She rose in a graceful move.

  He scrambled to his feet and stared down at her, hoping his eyes did not reveal how thoroughly he studied every feature, knowing this would be his last time to drink in the details.

  She touched the back of his hand, sending warmth racing to his heart. It took every ounce of his self-control to keep his arms crossed, his hand pressed to himself, when he ached to hold her close. Enjoy one brief moment of joy before taking up his old life again.

  Perhaps sensing the hardness he must force into his heart, she stepped back. “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night,” he murmured. He waited until she left the pen before turning to watch and listen to her leave the barn. Then he hurried t
o the workbench and watched her through the clean spot in the window.

  Not until she reached the house and stepped inside did he return to the stall.

  He waited until the last of the sunset faded and stars began to pepper the sky before he led his horse from the barn, keeping carefully to soft bits of ground to muffle the sound of his departure. He carried Dawg. Any direction he took would necessitate passing an occupied building, so he must proceed with caution, but once away from the ranch he meant to ride hard in a westerly direction. He made his way past the foreman’s house and up the hill. Not until he deemed he was beyond hearing did he swing into the saddle, let Dawg get comfortable in his arms. Then he galloped down the dark thread that indicated the trail.

  Deepening darkness enfolded him and he had to pull the horse to a walk to see his way. He continued on for the better part of an hour. With each passing mile, his lungs filled more easily. He planned to ride through the night as long as he could make out enough of the path before him to prevent his horse from stumbling. With every step, he expected to be stopped by the Duggan gang, but he rode onward without any sign of them. Had he been mistaken in thinking they’d found him? Not that he meant to hang about and wait for that to happen.

  He settled into the saddle, prepared for a long ride.

  Did he hear a horse whinny? He reined in and strained to listen. It came again. Was someone camped nearby? He waited, straining to hear any sound above the heavy thump of his heart.

  Suddenly a horse and rider appeared before him, a dim shadow in the darkness.

  Brand’s hand stole toward his gun belt and he gripped the handle of his pistol.

  “We been waiting for you.” Cyrus’s low voice broke the fearful silence.

  Brand’s hand relaxed at the same time his insides clenched.

  Cyrus rode closer, reined in to press close to Brand’s side. “Pa said I should bring you to visit.”

  “Like I said before, I ain’t interested.”

  “Now, ain’t that downright unforgivin’ of you. After all we done.”

  Yeah, like make my life unbearable. Force me to be on the run. But Brand kept his opinion to himself. He’d said it all since he was a kid. His protests had earned him a smack across the head and accusations of being ungrateful. As an adult, he’d tried again to say he wanted nothing to do with the gang. Pa had voiced his displeasure at Brand’s lack of loyalty, and Cyrus had threatened to tie a licking on him. Only seeing the anger in Brand’s face and his clenched fists had convinced him Brand was no longer a little brother who couldn’t or wouldn’t defend himself.

  Cyrus pushed the horses forward. Brand considered reining away and riding until they couldn’t find him. But he knew Cyrus would chase him until both horses collapsed. The man had a stubborn streak as wide as the sky.

  So he let his brother edge them along. “Care to tell me where we’re going?”

  “I think it’s time you showed Pa a little respect. I’m plumb tired of your high-and-mighty attitude. Your ma was no better than my ma, despite what she taught you.”

  “She never taught me anything of the sort. ’Sides, it wasn’t either of our mothers who robbed innocent people. It’s our pa.”

  “Don’t you think he done it for you and your ma?”

  Brand did not think so, but he knew arguing would only add fuel to the fire of Cyrus’s bad attitude.

  “We leave the trail here,” his brother said, grabbing the reins of Brand’s horse. “Just to ensure you don’t change your mind,” he explained, his voice full of sneering mockery.

  “I don’t plan to change my mind.” Ever.

  They crashed through the bushes with little regard for the amount of noise they made. And Cyrus certainly had no concern for the branches he pushed aside and released so that they whipped at Brand, stinging his face, bruising his arms, almost unseating him. He did what he could to protect Dawg.

  Dawg hated Cyrus, but knew better than to growl at him. Cyrus wouldn’t hesitate to kick Dawg, saying the animal needed to learn some respect.

  Brand finally saw a campfire ahead. Made out half a dozen men lounging around it. None of them showed any concern at the approach of riders.

  Only Pa rose to greet them. “Howdy, son,” he said, as Brand and Cyrus rode into the circle of light. “Nice to see you again.”

  “Hi, Pa. Sure wish we could meet under better circumstances.”

  Cyrus gave a mocking laugh and ordered him off his horse.

  Brand struggled to get down while still holding Dawg.

  “See you still got that mangy mutt.”

  Dawg barred his teeth as Brand set him on the ground at his feet.

  The fire flared, throwing grotesque shadows.

  Cyrus saw the stitches on Dawg’s side and whooped with harsh laughter. “He looks like a crazy quilt.” He laughed some more.

  Brand wanted nothing more than to silence that laugh with a fist to Cyrus’s mouth. But he was outnumbered seven to one, and didn’t trust Cyrus not to shoot Dawg out of spite, so he ignored his brother and studied his pa.

  “You’ve lost weight,” he said. The man was downright gaunt. “Don’t you eat?”

  “We eat real good,” Cyrus answered. “Pa looks fit as a fiddle and don’t you say otherwise.”

  The men around the fire shuffled and tried to appear disinterested.

  Brand figured he didn’t need to say anything more about the subject. Anyone with eyes could see how Pa’s hide hung from his frame. His skin had a peculiar pale hue to it. Could he be ill? Despite the differences between them, Brand ached to think of his father dying. A man lost and on the run. Please, God, give me a chance to speak to him. Perhaps Brand could persuade him to stop running.

  A shudder snaked across Brand’s shoulders. That would mean Pa turning himself over to the authorities. He’d hang. More than once the Duggan gang had left death in the wake of their activities.

  “Got any coffee?” Brand nodded toward the enamel pot hanging near the fire.

  “Cyrus, get your brother some.” Pa made it sound all loving and familial, even though Cyrus growled a protest as he sloshed steaming coffee into a tin mug.

  Brand took it without comment. Experience told him Cyrus would object to anything, from a word of thanks to a kick in the shins. Seems he viewed every word and action with the same yellowed opinion.

  One of the men took Brand’s horse away, leaving him feeling exposed and helpless. But he would never reveal weakness to this brood, and he hunkered down on his heels to nurse his coffee. Dawg pressed close, keeping Brand between him and the others.

  Cyrus perched on a tree stump nearby, his boots swinging back and forth inches from Brand’s face.

  Brand ignored him. Like Dawg, he knew better than to rise to Cyrus’s invitations to trouble.

  Pa sank to the ground nearby. “Hear you been doing all right fer yerself lately.”

  “I’ve been doing all right by myself most of my life.” He kept all rancor from his tone, just as Pa had made his words a simple comment, when Brand knew they held a whole lot more.

  “You always was ungrateful,” Cyrus growled.

  Pa signaled for his elder son to be still. “We been looking about, asking questions and learning lots.”

  “Uh-huh.” Brand knew the sort of things they would be learning—who kept a stash of money in their mattress, who had valuables in the house, when the stagecoach carried a heavy strongbox.

  “Some interesting things have come to light.” Pa inched closer. “This Eddie Gardiner you been working for is one of the biggest ranchers in the territory.” He waited for Brand to say something. When he didn’t, Pa continued. “And he comes from a rich family back in England. From what I hear they practically roll in money.”

  “Do tell.” Guess it took a certain amount of backing to g
et a ranch like Eden Valley going, but from what Brand had seen, Eddie and his family lived simply enough. Why, his sister, Jayne, lived in a tiny, two-room cabin with her new husband. Didn’t sound like stinking rich to him.

  But he knew the futility of trying to make Pa see reason.

  His skin twitched to think of his pa spying on the ranch. Had he watched Sybil? Brand clenched his teeth so hard they creaked. If he’d seen them... Well, family or not, he would have shown his objection.

  “You’ve been there some time. Guess you’ve learned a lot about the goings on of the ranch.”

  “I broke a few horses. That’s all.”

  Pa shook his head and wagged a finger. “Ain’t how I saw it.”

  Brand dared not react. He knew from the leer on Pa’s face they’d seen him with Sybil. His head threatened to explode. His presence had put her in danger. He had known all along he should move on. But had he listened to the warning inside his head? Nope. Foolish feelings had been allowed to rule.

  Cyrus laughed mockingly, his voice jarring across Brand’s nerves like loud discordant music.

  Pa grinned at Cyrus, sending the jarring feeling deep into Brand’s gut. He knew what they would ask next. They always asked the same thing.

  Could he hope to delay them? Brand set the empty cup down and yawned widely. “I’m tired.”

  Cyrus’s boot connected to Brand’s knee. “Guess that’s what happens when you spend your time courting. Don’t get ’nough sleep.”

  Brand’s fists curled so tight the knuckles cracked. He saw red spots that did not come from the fire, but from the anger rolling inside him. How dare Cyrus violate an innocent friendship with his crude insinuations? But Brand would not let him know he’d touched a raw nerve. Ignoring both the nudge and the comment, he yawned again.

  Cyrus bolted from his post and squatted before him, almost nose to nose. “Little brother, you can stop playing the sweet innocent boy with us. We’ve been watching you. What’s more, we know you and that boss man were friendly.” His spit spattered on Brand’s face. Brand wiped at it with his sleeve.