Love Finds You in Last Chance, California

by Miralee Ferrell

  Papa and Joe had been close friends since their early days of driving cattle to market. Joe had signed on at Papa’s struggling new horse ranch right after Papa had filed the homestead papers. Papa hadn’t met Mama yet, and Joe was a first-rate cook and horse wrangler. Over the years, the two men had grown closer than brothers.

  Had Joe encouraged Papa to take the loan or argued against it? Uncle Joe loved Alex, but he loved the ranch, too, and he wanted to see it grow and prosper as much as her papa had. But if he’d known and not told her? She shook her head, guilt swamping her for allowing even a spark of distrust to enter her mind. Uncle Joe would never betray her or her father. He and Martha would like nothing better than to see her settled, married, and happy. They were the only people she knew without a doubt that she could trust.

  Frowning, she tore at a clump of grass and twisted the blades, shredding them and watching them fall. There might be a man somewhere worth caring for—but if there was, she hadn’t met him. Decent men lived in these mountains, but none that set her heart pounding. Her parents had enjoyed a vibrant, special bond, but not all marriages were established on this sort of mutual love. Hers would be, if she ever married. She’d never settle for friendship and simple respect.

  There were one or two men whom she could tolerate, but let him take charge of her ranch and tell her what to do? While she tended the house, cooked meals, and sewed? Not likely.

  Alex pushed to her knees. She needed to get home. Now. No more foolishness.

  A light rain began to fall, spattering the dust on the trail. A gust of wind kicked up last year’s leaves pooled under the tree and sent them scattering from her side. She glanced at the sky, worried at the sudden shift in the weather. At this altitude, a fast-moving storm could transform the brightness of day into gloom in the space of a few minutes. A rumble of thunder sent a tingle of fear through her. Somewhere high up in the mountains, a serious storm brewed. Time to get home before she got soaked.

  The dapple-gray mare had inched away to the far edge of the grassy patch and looked to be heading for the stream. Alex hurried down the slope to the buggy as the rain turned from a soft drizzle to a steady downpour. She climbed up onto the seat and slapped the reins.

  “Let’s go, Glory. Time to get home.”

  Glory blew a soft, whiffling breath and moved forward, seemingly just as eager as her driver was to get home. Alex directed the mare to the water and looked upstream. It had surged to a higher level since she’d stepped out of the buggy. There was no time to lose—a flash flood could hit this gully and sweep everything in its path. She didn’t care to get caught in the oncoming water or to be stuck on the town side of the stream. No telling how long it would take to abate once it overflowed its banks.

  Alex clucked to the snorting mare and urged her forward, but Glory didn’t like the look of the fast-moving water.

  “Let’s go, girl. You’ve crossed hundreds of times.”

  Glory backed up a couple of steps. Alex tapped the reluctant mare with the tip of her whip, and she settled down and surged ahead. Alex felt a flood of alarm when she saw that the water had reached the mare’s belly, more than a foot higher at the center of the stream than when they’d crossed earlier.

  Just then a rumbling sound from around the bend caught Alex’s ears. Her breath caught in her throat and she lifted her whip, cracking it over the mare’s back.

  “Let’s go! Giddap!” Glory shook her head and emitted a loud whinny but kept the buggy moving toward the opposite shore. “You can do it, girl. Come on.” Alex spoke in a calm voice to the agitated mare and glanced upstream again.

  A hundred yards away, a wall of water rose, flinging small trees and debris in its wake. It bore down toward the buggy. The wheels felt mired in quicksand, so slow was their forward progress.

  “Hurry, Glory! Come on, girl, hurry!” Alex stood and plied the whip, a feeling of raw terror coursing through her veins.

  The mare bolted forward, her feet scrambling on the rocks of the streambed. Finding secure footing, she lunged up the slight incline on the other side. A few seconds later the buggy emerged safely on the water-soaked bank. Alex pushed the mare on, gaining higher ground before turning to look back. The wall of water swept just below, sending the roiling trees ahead of it like the blades of a windmill driven by a heavy wind.

  Alex sat for a moment, not caring about the rain blowing against her face. A few seconds longer and Martha and Uncle Joe would have been planning another funeral. Her body shook as she clutched the reins and stared at the churning water. Gratitude swept over her. God was indeed good.

  Again she slapped the reins on Glory’s back. This time, the mare didn’t hesitate but moved forward with a toss of her head. Minutes later the ranch came into sight, and Alex heaved a sigh of relief.

  Home. A sense of peace and safety filled her heart. She loved this place and could never turn it over to anyone else. The ranch would remain hers, whatever she had to do to keep it.

  Alex pulled the mare to a halt in front of the barn.

  “Frank? You in there?” She stepped down from the buggy and walked to Glory’s head, patting her sweaty neck.

  A burly man strode from the dark mouth of the barn and stopped a few feet away. He wiped a hand down his overalls and tipped his head. “Howdy, Miss Alex. Glad you made it back before supper. Miss Martha was startin’ to worry.”

  “It took longer in town than I expected, and I hit a patch of swift water at Grouse Creek.” Frank was a new hand, and she didn’t care to give him any details about the ranch’s business. “Unhitch Glory from the buggy, would you? She brought me through some high water and she’ll need a good rubdown.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of her.” He took the side rein and urged the mare into the cavernous barn.

  Alex would have normally dealt with the mare herself. She hated asking her men to do things she was capable of doing; they had enough work of their own. But she had one thing on her mind: finding Martha and Uncle Joe.

  She headed across the open space in front of the barn and onto the packed dirt surrounding the house. The structure wasn’t overly big, but it boasted a large wraparound porch on three sides. Martha’s green thumb was evident here, with the rows of flowers lining the ground in front of the porch and extending several feet into the smooth dirt area. A spreading oak that must have been three hundred years old cast its shade over the two-storied house, giving a welcome respite from the hot summer sun.

  Her papa’s touch showed in every board and shutter of the house. He had loved well-lit rooms, and while he’d paid dearly for them, he’d brought in a number of windows. A porch swing hung on the front veranda, a thoughtful gift from her papa to her mother years back. He’d brought his little daughter out in the cool of the evening and rocked her to sleep while telling her bedtime stories.

  A longing to feel his strong arms around her swelled in Alex’s chest. Why did God take him so soon? Didn’t he know she still needed her papa?

  A deep-throated bark sounded, and a huge black-and-tan form dashed around the corner of the house. Alex smiled and braced for the big dog’s greeting.

  “Hunter! Sit.”

  The massive animal immediately plopped himself onto the ground at her feet, but his expressive eyes clearly stated his desire to greet her in a more exuberant canine fashion. Alex laughed and hugged her friend.

  “It’s good to see you, too, Hunter.” She waved an arm. “We’ll play later.”

  He took off across the yard and immediately returned with a thick stick.

  “Not now. You’ll have to get one of the wranglers to throw it.” She watched the dog turn, hang his head, and cross the yard to the barn, the stick still gripped in his mouth.

  A movement caught the corner of her vision. One of the hired hands, Davis, stood just inside the barn door watching the interaction. She raised her hand in a brief wave, and the man stepped out into the sun. Something about his eyes didn’t look right, and Alex stepped closer and squint
ed. Bloodshot.

  Had Davis been drinking? Her thoughts flew back to the man she’d seen leaving the saloon. Could he have arrived here ahead of her? Yes—she’d stopped at the telegraph office before heading home.

  “Davis?”

  He pulled his hat from his head and looked at his feet. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Have you been at the ranch all day?”

  “Uh…” He glanced up and met her eyes. “I’ve been checkin’ the mares in the east pasture.”

  She folded her arms and tilted her head. “You haven’t been to town?”

  “No, ma’am. Not today.” He turned his hat in his hands. “Did you forget somethin’ you want that I should get for you?”

  “No. How were the mares?”

  The sudden shift in topic seemed to catch him off guard. He jerked his head up and met her stare. “Oh—fine—just fine, Miss Travers. No problems a’tall.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Checking on him might be an option, but she’d let it go this time. To her knowledge, Davis had never been dishonest or slacked in his work. Besides, the men had been working doubly hard since her father’s death. Maybe he just needed a break.

  The front door swung open and a tall, gray-haired woman stood on the stoop. “Alexia? I didn’t hear you ride in. You been home long?” Martha’s familiar voice sang across the lawn, its welcome tones warming the cold places her father’s passing had created.

  Alex swung away from Davis and crossed the gravel to the porch. “Hunter wanted to play, but I told him to wait.” She trotted up the steps. “I declare, only a year old and that dog’s as big as a pony. Is Uncle Joe in yet?”

  “Yep. He just finished his chores. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. I began to think you’d miss it.” Martha wiped floury hands on her apron and gave Alex a quick hug. “You all right?” She stepped back and examined the younger woman’s face, worry and love evident in her eyes and mouth.

  “Right enough, I guess.” Alex grasped Martha’s hand. “Come on, let’s have some of your famous coffee. After that drive, a cup sounds good.”

  They crossed the foyer and entered the parlor. A large fireplace lined one wall, with horsehair chairs and a sofa flanking the other. It opened into a dining area containing a wooden table large enough to seat twelve people. Flowers stood in a vase in the center, and three place settings sat at one end.

  Martha bustled to the stove in the nearby kitchen, lifted the coffeepot off the grate, and returned to the table with the pot and three steaming cups balanced on a tray. She hurried back to the stove, lifted a lid, and sniffed.

  “Stew’s ready. Help me dish up?”

  The two women carried the stew pot, a plate with big slices of bread, and a crock of home-churned butter to the table. Alex never failed to feel gratitude to their old friend Jonesy, who kept a milk cow. The thought of hot bread without butter seemed almost a sin.

  A door slammed and a whistle sounded at the rear of the house. Alex would know Uncle Joe’s special brand of music anywhere. A moment later, the short, lanky man stomped into sight. He leaned on a cane and moved with care, but his eyes lit when he spotted Alex. He removed his hat to reveal white hair badly in need of cutting, curling as it was over his collar.

  “Hi there, darlin’. How’d your meetin’ with the banker go?” He pulled out a chair and slipped into it.

  Alex loved the man, but in that moment her feelings toward Uncle Joe weren’t very charitable. From his guarded expression, she knew that her father had confided in him. To what extent, she didn’t know, but the truth would come out soon enough. “Mr. Elton was kindness itself, but I can’t say much good about his message.”

  “Uh-huh.” Uncle Joe leaned back and crossed his arms, but a compassionate look filled his faded blue eyes. “He told you about the note Benjamin took out.”

  Hurt shimmered from Alex’s voice. “So all this time you knew and didn’t tell me? Why?”

  Sorrow clouded his face. “Wasn’t my place. Your father was my best friend. I couldn’t betray his trust.”

  A gentle hand squeezed her shoulder and Alex looked up at Martha. “Honey, don’t you go blamin’ your uncle Joe. Your papa told him to keep quiet. He didn’t want you getting riled at Joe.”

  Alex sat up straight and felt her scalp bristle. “You both knew? I can’t believe this!”

  Martha sank into her chair and straightened her dress before answering. “Yes, and if he hadn’t died, it would’ve been your father’s place to tell you, not ours. Your papa was a strong man and once he’d made up his mind, one didn’t go against his wishes.”

  “Not even after he died? I went into Mr. Elton’s office blind. Felt like I’d been tossed into the creek in the middle of winter.” Alex laced her fingers around her mug of coffee but didn’t lift it to her lips.

  Joe fingered his mustache and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Martha and I discussed it, and we planned on tellin’ you. But then Clarence asked you to come and we knew you was about to find out.”

  Martha raised her hand. “We’d best pray and then eat. Joe, would you bless this food?”

  Joe uttered a short prayer and then raised piercing eyes that looked straight into Alex’s heart. “We didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Alex picked up her spoon, took a bite of stew, and sighed. “I’m not angry. Well, maybe I am a little, but I can’t stay angry at you two for long.” She smiled weakly. “But I’d like to know what Papa was thinking. It’s not like we need more breeding stock. We’re getting along fine.”

  Joe’s snow-white head shook from side to side. “He wanted more than just gettin’ along for you, darlin’. He wanted to make sure you’d be provided for proper-like, if’n anything should happen to him.”

  “And look where that’s gotten me.” Alex took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’m sorry. I hate this. Why couldn’t Papa have left things the way they were?”

  Joe stretched out his short, dusty legs and reached for his mug. “Life can’t stay the same forever, Alex. Ever’thing changes some time or other.”

  “But I don’t understand why he’d choose to go into debt. Papa meant the best, but this mortgage puts me in a tough position. I don’t know if the horses have been paid for, and Mr. Elton says Papa left the bank with a bag of gold the day before his accident. Did he leave it with either of you?”

  Martha sat upright and stared first at Alex, then at Joe. “Gold? I had no idea he was carrying gold.” She turned a distraught face to the quiet man. “Joe?”

  “Don’t remember seein’ or hearin’ about any gold. I reckon it’s possible he kept it on his person for safe keepin’. Your papa told me about the bank loan, but I figured he’d send payment straight to the breeder in Los Angeles.” He drummed his work-roughened fingers against the polished surface of the pine table. “There’s one more thing….”

  Alex leaned forward and narrowed her eyes, not liking his tone. “Yes? What else don’t I know?”

  “Your father was carryin’ ore samples to the assayer at Last Chance the day he died. He wasn’t seen in town, so it’s a safe bet he didn’t make it before he fell off his horse.” He scratched his whiskered chin and frowned. “Not sure why I didn’t think about that ’fore now.”

  Martha gasped and clasped her hands over her heart. “What you talkin’ about, Joe? Why would Ben have ore samples?”

  Joe scraped his spoon across the bottom of his bowl and then wiped up the broth with a slab of bread. He took a large bite, chewed, swallowed, and shook his head. “You know Ben’s had a hankerin’ to find gold. That’s what brought him to this country. Sure, he turned to ranchin’, but that didn’t keep him from hopin’. He told me the night before he died that he’d found what looked to be a likely spot somewhere on his land. Told me he’d show me where after he got the assay results.”

  Alex gripped Joe’s hand. “Do you have any idea where he found it, Uncle Joe? He didn’t tell you the general area?”

  Joe shook his head and squeezed her hand. “Nope, ’
fraid not. Guess somebody should check with Samuel at the assay office. Might be a false alarm.”

  “I’ll check.” Alex sighed and leaned back in her chair. “He raised me to help run this ranch, and I don’t understand why he kept this from me. I’m not a little girl anymore.”

  A loud thumping at the kitchen door interrupted the small group. Alex turned her head and Joe pushed to his feet, grasped his cane, and hobbled to the door. He swung it open and peered outside. “Tim. What can I do for you?”

  A rawboned cowboy stood holding his hat, spinning it round in his calloused hands. Alex slipped behind Joe in time to see Tim raise troubled eyes to the older man. “I need to give my notice.”

  Joe scowled. “What for?”

  Tim dropped his gaze to the floor. “Got me a better job offer.”

  “What d’ya mean? Don’t we pay fair wages?”

  “It’s not the wages, Joe.”

  “What’s the problem, then?” There was a pause. “Spit it out, son.”

  Tim hesitated and then glanced at Alex. “Since Ben died, things been gettin’ shaky around here.” He turned his attention back to Joe. “You’re stove up and can’t ride, and we got no boss.”

  Alex stepped forward and put her hand on Joe’s arm. “I’m taking Papa’s place.”

  “I know, ma’am, and that’s just it. I just don’t think I can work for a woman. No offense. Some of the other men feel the same. Foster offered me a job, and I told him I’d take it.”

  Alex sucked in her breath. “Carter Foster? He’s trying to hire our men behind our backs?”

  “No, ma’am. I ran into him at the saloon one night and we got to talkin’. I told him my concerns. He said you’d be a fair person to work for, but I told him I planned to move on. He’s runnin’ a few more head of horses and doin’ some mining, as well. He offered decent wages and said he’d put me in charge, if I do a good job.”