by Stacy Henrie
“Those are the tracks the cows and calves made when they separated them from the herd.” She pointed to a wobbly line of crushed grass that led west. “With all those new calves to slow them down, they can’t be more than a few miles away. They’ll have to stay near the prairie grass, too.”
Caleb rode beside her as they followed the trail, but the tracks disappeared soon after in a thick patch of sagebrush.
“That can’t be the end of the trail,” Jennie said with a groan.
“We’ll find them. Why don’t you head that way?” He pointed due north. “I’ll go this way.”
Caleb led Saul to the right. Every few feet he stopped his horse and scrutinized the ground for signs the cows had passed this way. Soon he found what he wanted—several new hoofprints in a patch of sand among the brush. A little farther on he discovered some fresh cow dung.
“Jennie!” He stood in the stirrups and waved her over with his hat.
“Did you find something?”
“Here’s their trail. The rustlers took them west, this way.”
Jennie glanced from the ground to Caleb, respect evident in her eyes. “I didn’t know you were a tracker.”
“My uncle taught me more than just how to shoot a gun.”
When the trail faded a second time, Jennie waited for him to find it again before they continued on. Caleb appreciated her trust in his skills, and for the first time since coming to the ranch, he felt useful, competent. Perhaps the abilities he’d honed as a bounty hunter could be put to good use and not just as triggers for memories he’d sooner forget.
They came to a small stream, and Jennie stopped him. Still in their saddles, they watered the horses and ate some of the jerky and bread she had brought along in her saddlebag. The setting sun changed the sky overhead to a dark blue and stole the warmth of the day.
Caleb paused and slipped on the coat he’d brought along when he caught the smell of smoke. “Can you smell that?”
Jennie drew Dandy to a stop and sniffed the air. “It’s got to be a campfire. We must be close.”
“If we are then we’re also more likely to be seen, too,” he cautioned.
Twisting in his saddle, Caleb surveyed the surrounding country. The scent of smoke came strongest toward his left, probably on the other side of the steep incline just ahead of them. Several patches of junipers stood nearby, and to the south, Caleb thought he spied a ravine.
“Let’s tie the horses in those trees over there,” he said, pointing, “then we’ll move on foot up that ravine to see if we can get a better view of who we’re dealing with.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Jennie nudged Dandy toward the trees.
“I think that’s a first.”
She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “Things are never dull with you around, are they, Caleb Johnson?”
“I could say the same for you, Jennie Jones.”
Once the horses had been tied up, Caleb led Jennie toward the ravine. To his relief, she didn’t put up a fuss about following. If she had, he might have refused to help her. He wasn’t about to let her lead the way right through trouble’s door, not if he could help it.
At the edge of the bank, he peered down. A trickle of water ran between the rocks and bushes scattered along the bottom.
“I’ll go first,” he offered, jumping down and landing with a soft thud beside the stream. He turned back to assist Jennie, but she maneuvered the jump on her own. With an amused shake of his head, he watched her brush the dust from her trousers and fix her skewed hat.
With Jennie close behind him, Caleb stepped as softly as he could up the ravine. He figured they’d come about a hundred yards when he smelled the smoke even stronger. This time it was mingled with the scent of stewing meat. Caleb’s stomach grumbled in response. Their cold supper hadn’t been enough to fully satisfy his hunger.
Putting a finger to his lips, he motioned for Jennie to stop. “They’ve got to be right above us,” he whispered. “We need to be able to see.”
He pointed at a large rock that jutted out above the stream. Scaling the rock, he turned and offered his hand to Jennie. To his surprise, she accepted this time. He pulled her up beside him and lifted his head above the bank.
Three cowboys sat around the fire, their backs to the ravine. Beyond them to the north, the cattle milled about in the bushes. Caleb studied the cattle and the men. How would he and Jennie get her cows back without anybody getting killed?
“I know what we can do,” Jennie whispered.
He indicated she should jump down from the rock, and he followed after her. In hushed tones, Jennie outlined her strategy for stealing back her cows. When she finished, she stepped back, her eyes bright with expectation.
Caleb regarded her with a frown. “Most of your plan hangs on my theatrical abilities?”
“You did so well playing the part of the sheriff when we met on the trail.”
“That was different. We weren’t trying to rustle fifty head of cattle then.” He blew out his breath. He didn’t like her idea, but he’d failed to come up with an acceptable one himself. Anything they did would be dangerous, but Jennie didn’t have a ranch without those cows. “All right. I’ll do it.”
“Good. Let’s go back for the horses, then you can ride into their camp.”
Caleb forced a nod.
This time he allowed Jennie to take the lead as they hiked back up the streambed to the place where they’d entered the ravine. Using his hand as a cradle, he hoisted Jennie up and over the bank. Once she gained her footing, she turned and pulled on his arm with surprising strength, until Caleb managed to get himself out. When they returned to the horses, Jennie transferred the saddlebag to Saul.
“Are your revolvers loaded?” she asked as she readied her pistol.
“I’ve got them,” he said, dodging her question. He tapped the butt of one of the guns beneath his coat.
“So they’re already loaded?”
He frowned at her bent head. “No, they aren’t.”
Jennie shot him an impatient look. “How are you supposed to protect yourself riding around with unloaded guns? You’d better load them quick.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“What?” She returned her pistol to its place at the waistband of her breeches. “These men are likely armed—”
“I’m aware of that, Jennie.” The words came out harsher than he’d meant. “I don’t usually keep them loaded,” he added in a lower voice.
An expression of bewilderment settled onto her face. “Why ever not? You know how to handle a gun. I saw you.”
“I have my reasons.”
“And I have mine—for wanting you to load them. You’re no good to me dead.”
He growled, ready to argue with her—he wasn’t likely to be the one who ended up dead in a gunfight against the rustlers—but he thought better of it. He could tell from her mulish expression that she wouldn’t let him walk away without a loaded weapon. “If I load one, will that satisfy you?”
Her brow creased with irritation, but she nodded.
Caleb removed the bullets he’d brought along and hurried to load one of the revolvers before stowing it in his holster. He slipped the rest of the bullets into his coat pocket.
“You know the plan, right?” Jennie walked over to him.
“I divert their attention,” he said, untying Saul’s reins, “while you lead the cattle away. Then I catch up with you as soon as I can.”
“I’ll move fast.”
“Right.” The plan sounded easy enough, but carrying it out would likely prove to be much trickier. Caleb swallowed hard, hoping to push back the dread rising into his throat. He turned around to mount his horse, but Jennie stopped him with a hand to his arm.
“Wait.”
He faced her again, raising his eyebrows in question. “Did you change your mind?” Part of him wished she would.
“No...” She still gripped his sleeve. “If you don’t want to do th
is, I’ll go on alone.”
He forced a laugh. “You can’t do this by yourself. You need those cows, and as your cowhand, so do I. That means it’s my job to help. Let’s just say assisting a pretty girl is becoming a weakness—”
Without warning, she went up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.
Too stunned to think, Caleb didn’t draw away. Her kiss felt warm and wonderful. Then Liza’s face appeared in his mind’s eye, and he realized what he was doing. He’d sworn off love and courting. It only meant loss and pain and doing crazy things, like kissing his employer.
He stepped back. Jennie peered up at him, her face more vulnerable and open than he’d seen yet. But what was she doing?
“Jennie. I...”
She silenced him with a finger to his mouth. “Don’t say anything. Not now. We need to get going.”
He climbed into the saddle and cleared his throat. “I’ll be watching for you,” he said, more to the tree near her than to her face.
“Be careful,” she said, grabbing Dandy’s reins.
“I will.”
Caleb pointed Saul toward the hill. He twisted around to see Jennie watching him from atop her horse. He felt the memory of her kiss, but he clenched his jaw to squash it. He could think more about it later. Right now he had to concentrate before he ended up doing something else foolish. He had a job to do.
He waved to her, hoping to inspire her with confidence he didn’t quite feel, and she returned the gesture. As he guided Saul between the hill and the ravine, he let out a long breath that became a whispered prayer. Please keep her safe, God. Help us be successful.
The knot of nerves in his stomach didn’t go away, but he felt a little better. Keeping his face pointed straight ahead, he braced himself for the moment when he would arrive at the thieves’ camp.
* * *
Jennie watched him disappear behind the hill, half relieved after her blunder, half fearful for his life. Would Caleb be safe? What had she been thinking to kiss him? She hadn’t, not clearly anyway. One remark about her being pretty and a moment of staring too long at those blue eyes and the arch in his lips, and she’d been lost.
She gripped Dandy’s reins tighter, her cheeks hot. At least she’d managed to feign indifference when he’d stepped away. Inside, though, she felt her heart drop to her boots. She’d never kissed a man on the lips before. Had Caleb thought it a weak kiss? Could he tell it was her first? Or was there some other reason he’d looked almost frightened afterward? Jennie thought of what he’d said about his fiancée. What had she been like? Was she pretty? Did he mourn her death as much as the sadness behind his words implied?
Enough, she scolded herself. Caleb was riding into danger to help her and protect the ranch. She didn’t want to imagine what she’d tell his parents if something happened to him. What would she do if he didn’t make it back? What would her life be like without him in it? The thought left her feeling lonely, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Caleb wasn’t just a good hired hand—he was the first friend she’d had in years.
Lowering her chin, hardly aware of the gesture, she shut her eyes and offered a quick prayer for his safety. The words felt awkward, even in her mind, but her fear eased a little as she finished. Wheeling Dandy around, she headed in the opposite direction. It was time to get her cattle back.
Chapter Nine
Quicker than he wanted, Caleb rounded the hill, placing him twenty yards from the thieves’ campsite. He approached slowly, leisurely, but all three men jumped to their feet at the sound of his horse.
“Howdy, fellows,” he called, lifting his arm in greeting.
They eyed him with plain suspicion, their hands already on the guns at their waists. One cowboy stood much shorter than the rest, but the other two—one skinny and one with a drooping mustache—regarded him as though he were the leader.
“Evening.” He tipped his hat in Caleb’s direction.
“Mind if I join you at your fire?” Caleb asked.
The short cowboy flicked his gaze to the others and nodded. “Sure thing. Have a seat.”
Caleb dropped to the ground. He pulled a hobble from his saddlebag and put it on Saul’s legs, purposely keeping his horse away from the others. He strode over to the three men, carrying the saddlebag with him. They’d resumed their seats.
“Care for some stew?” The short cowboy waved to a pot hung over the fire.
“Much obliged,” Caleb said, though the smell wasn’t as tantalizing as it had been before.
He sat in the dirt and accepted the full tin cup and a spoon. “You from around here?” he asked as he took a bite of food. Despite his earlier hunger, he wasn’t sure how much he could stomach right now.
“We work not too far away,” the leader said. “You?”
Caleb shook his head. “Naw. I’m from up north. I’m down here looking for a job.”
Their tense postures relaxed, dispelling the strain in the air, though Caleb felt as edgy as ever.
“You might be able to get work with Marshall King,” the skinny one said. “We work for him.”
Caleb made a note of their employer’s name for Jennie. “Maybe I’ll do that. You roundin’ up the calves for spring branding?” He was glad he’d learned a thing or two in the past week, enough to pass as a real cowboy.
The three exchanged a meaningful glance. “Just pickin’ up the strays,” the short one said toward the fire. His light tone sounded forced.
In the ensuing silence, Caleb watched the cattle milling about among the brush. He couldn’t see Jennie yet, but she’d be coming soon. He had to get these men talking, distracted. “Name’s Johnson, by the way.”
“I’m Gunner,” the short cowboy said. “That’s Haws.” He pointed at the skinny fellow. “The other fellow is Smith.” The man with the mustache lifted a hand.
A movement out of the corner of his eye caught Caleb’s attention, and he turned toward it. In the soft light of the evening, he could see the cattle starting to lumber through the brush. It was his signal.
“So,” Caleb said, louder than he intended. He cleared his tight throat before continuing. “What’s it like working for King?”
Haws shrugged. “Not bad. He pays better than anywhere else in these parts.”
“How much?” Caleb feigned interest in Haws’s lengthy answer. He only had another minute or two before the three noticed the moving cattle.
His mind raced for a way to distract the cowhands without having to shoot anyone, if he could help it. Caleb leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and the heaviness in his right pocket reminded him of the bullets he’d stuck inside. They gave him an idea. He slipped one hand into his pocket and scooped up the bullets.
“Mind if I have a little more stew?” he asked as he stood.
Gunner took his cup, and while he filled it from the pot near the fire, Caleb edged closer and let the bullets slip from his hand into the flames.
Accepting the cup from Gunner, he took a few steps backward as if to sit back down, his muscles tensed.
Gunner glanced in the direction of the cattle and jumped to his feet. “Where’d the—”
Before he could finish his question, the bullets exploded in a terrific boom. The three cowhands tripped over themselves to get away from the fire and flying ash. Not waiting a second, Caleb dove at Smith. He wrestled the man’s revolver from its holster and pointed it at the stunned cowhands.
“Sorry I can’t stick around, boys,” he said, enjoying the perplexity on their faces. Jennie’s plan was going better than he’d expected. “Appreciate the supper, but I think I’ll just be takin’ back these here cattle. ’Cause I know they don’t belong to you. Now drop your guns.”
Gunner and Haws obeyed, setting their guns in the dirt. Caleb kept the gun in his grip aimed at them as he walked over and knelt to collect the others. As he reached down to grab one of the guns, someone plowed into him from behind.
“Go get the cattle,” Smith said from above him.
&nb
sp; Caleb scrambled to get up off the ground, but Smith landed a punch to his lower jaw that knocked him back down. From the corner of his eye, he saw Haws and Gunner scoop up their guns and sprint toward their horses.
For one awful moment he froze—images from his nightmare flooding his thoughts and making his heart leap in fear. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—use his gun that way again.
But what about Jennie?
The possibility of the other two rustlers, who were armed again, reaching her first fueled Caleb’s numb body with new energy. Pretending to be hurt, he waited for Smith to come at him again. When the cowhand approached, Caleb kicked out with his boot, connecting with the man’s leg.
Smith cursed and stumbled backward, giving Caleb time to come to his feet. He lunged at Smith and planted a hard fist into the cowboy’s belly. Groaning, Smith twisted away, but not before throwing a wild punch that connected with Caleb’s right cheek.
Ignoring the taste of blood and the momentary ringing in his head, Caleb pounded a blow at the man’s jaw. Smith fell back into the dirt, moaning loudly.
Caleb grabbed Smith’s gun from where he’d dropped it and ran to Saul. He threw off the horse’s hobble and mounted.
“Yaw,” he hollered, driving his heels into Saul’s flanks.
When he rounded the hill, he saw the cattle running hard a quarter of a mile away. He couldn’t spot Jennie, but the other two cowboys were racing to head off the herd.
Urging Saul faster, Caleb headed for Haws. The sound of pounding hooves matched his heartbeat as he drew closer.
Where’s Jennie? Concern pulsed through him. Then he spied her to the left of the cattle, doing her best to turn the stampeding group in the direction of the ranch.
Caleb drew alongside Haws. The gap between them was less than thirty feet when the cowboy suddenly turned and fired his gun. Caleb bent in the saddle to avoid a direct hit from the shot, but a wave of pain and fire still pierced his right ear. He reached up and found to his relief that the bullet had only grazed the skin, tearing off a small piece of flesh.
He pushed his horse back toward the herd, leaning low in the saddle. It was time to put his gun skills to work. He aimed Smith’s gun at Haws’s hand and pulled the trigger. A second later, the cowboy screamed and dropped his own gun to the ground.