Adam swung up on the roan’s back. “This blanket strapped on the back of this saddle is mine, and the Winchester I carried out of the woods with me belonged to my partner, William. He carved it. I just took it off the sorrel’s saddle a few minutes ago.”
“Reckon that makes it yours.” Luther slipped a foot into his stirrup.
“These four ain’t all the men. Four alone could never have taken us. There were at least twenty.” Adam gave the prisoners a contemptuous glare. “Back-shootin’ cowards, every one of ’em!”
“There were around twenty men in the posse that came after Cliff.” Sophie twisted in Clay’s strong arms to keep her eye on Adam. The look in his eyes frightened her.
Luther settled on his horse. “Four down, sixteen to go. We’d best hang around for a spell, Buff.”
Buff grunted.
Adam turned to Sophie. The icy rage faded from his eyes as he looked between her and Clay. She saw concern plain on his face. She had to hold back a smile.
“Clay is Cliff ’s twin.” Sophie patted her husband on the shoulder as if that would somehow convince Adam. “He came hunting news of his brother and stayed on to help me when he found out his brother was dead.”
“Cliff never had no family, Sophie girl.” Adam spoke soothingly as someone who was facing a lunatic with an ax might. “You ’member how he talked about it, what with wanting a son so all-fired bad?”
Clay tensed behind her, but Sophie didn’t think much about what Adam said. Cliff ’s wish for a son had been a lament made long and loud with no care for who might hear. She patted Clay’s arm to get him to relax and continued trying to persuade Adam. “Cliff and Clay were separated when they were very young. Cliff didn’t know he had a brother.”
Adam studied Clay for a long moment. “When I came into the area a few days ago, I scouted the lay of the land. I saw you from a distance. I took you to be other than Mr. Edwards by the way you sat a horse and worked the ranch, and I never got close enough to see different. Then, up close, I decided I’d been mistaken, and Mr. Edwards had just picked up Texas ways at last. But I was right all along. You’re not him.”
Sophie heard a snort from Adam that sounded. . .satisfied. She didn’t want to think about that, so she thought of her husband. He’d been stabbed. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten.
“Let me look at your arm, Clay.”
“Twenty men in a lynch mob chasing after him, and Clay has to stop to get a scratch looked at.” Luther tugged on his reins and the saddle creaked as he pointed his horse down the mountain. “This might be more fun than the Rockies after all.”
Buff chuckled and mounted up.
“With twenty men on our trail?” Adam asked shortly.
There was a second of silence. “Not twenty anymore,” Buff said.
Adam looked at the prisoners hanging across their horses. “Sixteen.”
“Sixteen to four,” Luther said. “That’s only four apiece.”
“Fair fight then.” Adam nodded.
Sophie was tearing at the blood-soaked slit in Clay’s sleeve. Clay pulled her away from it and started his horse moving ahead of the others. “I’ll keep.”
“Clay, don’t you think we should bandage it?” Sophie tried to squirm around to see the arm Clay was using to support her back. He’d lifted her on the horse and swung on himself, never showing a bit of pain.
Luther started to laugh.
Clay glared over his shoulder, and the laugh turned into a coughing fit. Then Clay squeezed her so tight it got her attention—and cut off her air. “Hush, woman.”
Sophie didn’t know what to make of Clay’s tone. It was very dictatorial for being so quiet. She hadn’t heard him talk like that much lately, not since he’d more or less ordered her to marry him. She considered that his friends might be an undue influence on him. Still, they’d saved her life. She’d have to make allowances.
“We should at least get the bleeding stopped.”
It was Buff ’s turn to cough, and even Adam cleared his throat for a bit too long.
“Sophie McClellen,” Clay said so grimly, it got her undivided attention.
“Yes, Clay?” She was surprised she had such an obedient tone at her disposal.
“If you can’t keep your mouth shut, what’s say we talk about what you were doing up here when I told you to stay in the house and rest!” He’d started out whispering, but by the time he was done, he’d built to a roar.
Sophie looked around to see how Adam and Clay’s friends were taking this. Clay had moved out first, so the others were strung out behind them. Clay’s broad shoulders blocked her view.
She sat up abruptly, ready to put him in his place. He had no right to speak to her—to humiliate her—like this in front of his friends and Adam. And she wasn’t about to lie placidly in his arms while he berated her. Clay didn’t let her go, and they had a very brief tussle that she was doomed to lose from the first instant.
Finally she subsided against his chest, exhausted and slightly dizzy from the effort. She had no intention of letting him talk to her like that, and she had no intention of going down to the house to rest. And she would have made that clear to this tyrant she’d married if she could just keep her heavy eyelids from dropping closed.
“Can we please talk about this later?” She didn’t mean to be pathetic. She had no respect for the tricks she’d seen women use against men. Her girls cried, but she wasn’t prone to it herself. And she didn’t bat her eyelashes or pout or nag. But she saw the anger leave Clay’s expression, replaced with worry.
“Are you all right? You’re not going to pass out again, are you?” His brow furrowed as he studied her face.
That’s when Sophie decided a few women’s wiles might just be the very thing. “I’m dizzy again. You were right, Clay. I need rest. I should never have gone out so far. I’m sorry I disobeyed you.” She looked up at him, and without really meaning to, she was sure she felt her eyelashes bat something fierce. It didn’t take much effort to make tears well up in her eyes. All she had to do was think of Clay’s wounded arm.
“Please don’t shout at me anymore.” Sophie buried her head in Clay’s chest and hugged him tight around the middle.
Clay’s arms closed around her. “I’m sorry I yelled. Just please don’t take such chances again. I’m glad you were there this time.” He tapped on her chin, and she raised her head to look at him. “You saved my life today, Sophie. Maybe Adam and Luther and Buff woulda come in time, but it woulda been a close thing. So I’m glad you were there. But thinking you might be shot by those men. . .” His arms tightened around her. “Sophie, I—I don’t think I could stand it if something happened to you. I want you to quit trying to do so much. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it for you. I want you to take care of yourself. Please promise me.”
Sophie didn’t have to fake any tears. They were just there. She reached up and kissed him. She was fully aware that, while she might fail to tell him the exact, whole, absolute, entire truth on occasion, giving a promise was something else again. She wasn’t a woman to break her word. Even knowing that, she didn’t hesitate to give it. “I promise, Clay. I’ll only do what chores you say I can do. I know you’ll take care of me.”
Clay looked down at her. He was so worried, so kind. Sophie was ashamed of the sneaking she’d been doing. She was going to have to tell the girls she’d been wrong and see that they didn’t learn any bad lessons from their ma. She was going to turn over a new leaf.
She turned her face up, looked at him squarely, and repeated firmly, “I’m going to do as you ask. I promise.”
She was going to give the sweet man the wife he deserved.
Clay was going to give his wife the spanking she deserved.
He pulled her close up against his chest so she couldn’t see his expression. He was pretty sure that what she’d see was disgust. He was disgusted with himself for tricking the poor, foolish, little female into promising to mind him by using such wily meth
ods as sweet talk and gentle touches.
He was finally figuring it out. Women weren’t really that much trouble to manage. They needed to be handled like a fractious horse for the most part. A firm hand mixed with patience, careful training, and a pat now and then.
He’d almost gotten the girls trained to the ways of ranch life. He was very satisfied with their progress working the herd. They’d been hopeless at first, but these last few days all three older girls had begun dropping their loops over running steers. They were coming along faster than he had dared hope.
Now he was starting to make some progress with their headstrong mother. At that moment, he was really glad Sophie was pulled up close because Clay couldn’t keep the smile off his face.
As they wound down the steep mountain path, the sun began to drop behind the trees. The night birds sang their songs, and the soft clop of the horses’ hooves lulled his mule-headed wife into relaxing. He glanced down and saw that avoiding her sharp gaze wasn’t necessary. She’d fallen asleep. She was resting just like he’d ordered.
His smiled widened until he almost chuckled out loud as he looked down at her. Her eyelashes brushed across a faint bloom on cheeks he thought were too pale. Her pink lips were slightly pursed until he was tempted to kiss them.
In sleep she was perfect innocence, perfect peace, perfect obedience. He suspected it wouldn’t last. But now he knew the trick. Now, today, finally, he’d learned how to handle her—his wife, the green-broke filly.
Clay didn’t wake her when he carried her into the house. The girls gave him anxious looks, but he held his finger to his lips and walked on into their bedroom, tiptoeing so his spurs didn’t jingle her awake. He lay her down and walked back out.
“We’ve got three extra men for supper, girls. But we won’t be ready to eat for a while. We’ve got business in Mosqueros.”
“Is there something wrong with Ma?” Beth wrung her hands and looked at the bedroom door. “You didn’t—I mean, were you upset to find her up there?”
“If you mean did I give your ma’s backside such a tanning when I found her on that mountainside that now she’s fainted dead away, the answer’s no.” Clay pulled his leather gloves from behind his belt buckle. “She was just tired and she fell asleep on the ride home.”
“Who were the men you brought back draped over the saddles?” Sally peeked out the window.
Mandy and Beth ran to the window and stared out.
Clay wondered why womenfolk had to talk over every little detail of what went on. “Those men tried to waylay me on the trail. The other men who road in with us helped us sort things out. Two of them are old friends of mine, and the other one is Adam. I know your ma has talked about him.”
“Ma always spoke kindly of Adam.” Sally turned back to Clay. “That’s him? The one with the black skin?”
“That’s him.” Clay tugged his gloves on.
“Was the sheriff up there with you, too, Pa?” Beth asked.
“No, the sheriff wasn’t there.” Clay needed to get moving to take the prisoners to town. He didn’t have time for chitchat. He struggled to speak calmly because he knew the girls were prone to tears, even with the new house rules. “We’ll see him when we take those men into the jailhouse.”
“We might be hard-pushed to find food for all of them,” Mandy said.
“You’ll figure something out.” Clay headed for the door.
“Do we need to feed the prisoners, too?” Beth glanced at the pot on the stove.
Clay turned back. “No, of course you don’t have to feed them. We’ll be leaving them in town.”
Sally stared curiously out the window. “What about the sheriff and the banker?”
“What about ’em?” Clay tried to follow their winding female thinking.
“Do we have to feed ’em?” Sally asked.
“Well why on earth would you have to feed them?”
“There’s more’n just them. That one’s a deputy, and the other’s. . .I don’t know. We’d best get to peeling taters.” Beth turned tiredly from the window.
“You don’t have to feed that many people. Just the three I told you about. The others aren’t here.”
“Yeah, they are, Pa. The sheriff and his deputy and Banker Badje. And a coupla other men.” Mandy pointed out the window.
Clay went quickly to the window and saw what had prompted the girls’ questions. Sheriff Everett was in the ranch yard, holding one of the dry-gulcher’s heads up while he studied his face.
“Why didn’t you tell me the sheriff was here?”
“I thought we just did.” Beth set the potato aside.
Clay clapped his hat back on his head. “I want your ma to rest, so keep the noise down.”
He strode across the yard to greet the newcomers, who were talking with Buff, Luther, and Adam. His ranch hands had started straggling out of the bunkhouse as they finished eating, interested in what was going on.
The sheriff turned as Clay walked up to him. “They told me what went on up on the mountaintop.”
“Only a Texan would call that anthill a mountain.” Luther shook his head in disgust.
Buff grunted.
The sheriff ignored them both. “These rangers came to town in answer to a telegraph I sent about another matter.”
Clay recognized one of the rangers. “Howdy, Tom, I’ve been meaning to get in touch with you but I haven’t had a chance. I’ve been keeping my eyes open, but I haven’t had anything to tell.”
Texas Ranger Tom Jackson reached out his hand. “Looks like you been busy.” He introduced the other ranger as Walt Mitchell.
“Busy don’t begin to describe it.” Clay shook both men’s hands. “Do any of you recognize these men?”
“I think I’ve got posters on a couple of ’em.” The sheriff studied the men. “I’ll take ’em into town and lock ’em up.”
Clay jerked his thumb at Percy. “That one threw a knife at me from cover when I was riding down the trail.” Clay glanced down at his blood-soaked sleeve. “He was trying to kill me plain and simple. And since he had a gun on him whilst he used his knife, I’ve got to figure he wanted to kill me quiet.”
The rangers’ sharp eyes went to the wound on Clay’s arm. Clay realized how much it hurt. He didn’t have time to fool with it now.
“I was aiming at a grouse,” Percy snarled from his awkward position over the saddle.
The whole group turned toward him. He’d pushed the gag out of his mouth, and now it rested between his upper lip and his nose.
“When you messed up my throw, I got mad for a minute,” Percy growled. “I wouldn’ta done nothin’ to you.”
“I reckon he used his knife so they could sneak on down to the house. They said right out loud they were after Sophie, too.” Adam crossed his arms and stared with cold eyes at Percy. “I heard it clear as day.”
“Percy was the one doing the knife throwing,” the man hanging over the horse next to Percy said around his loosened gag. “We didn’t know he’d tried to kill someone. We just came along and tried to help out our saddle partner.”
“Shut up, Jesse.” Percy awkwardly elbowed Jesse. “You’re in this just as deep as I am.”
“We were there, too, Sheriff.” Luther stepped up beside Adam. “It was as cold-blooded as it gets.”
“Heard it.” Buff nodded in agreement.
“His friends here backed him up all the way, even with Sophie. . .” Clay’s voice failed him for a moment as he thought of Sophie, standing in the middle of these cutthroats. He tried again. “Even with Sophie right in the middle of it.”
“Ain’t too many men low-down enough to kill a woman,” Adam said fiercely.
“They were planning to kill her even before I came down that trail,” Clay went on. “They said they were planning to see to her sooner or later, so it might as well be now. They said those very words to me before my friends here bought into the fight.”
“He”—Luther pointed toward Jesse—“said, ‘She’s
seen us now. We can’t let her walk away.’ ”
The sheriff looked at the men standing around Clay, and they all nodded.
Mr. Badje broke into the conversation. “None of these men was the one who wanted to buy McClellen’s land.”
“What do you mean buy my land?” Clay raised his eyebrows in surprise. “My land’s not for sale.”
“I reckon they know that, Clay.” Sheriff Everett jerked his head at the outlaws. “Why else would they think they needed to kill you?”
Clay pulled his hat off his head and whacked at his pants. His nostrils filled with the honest scent of sweat and trail dust—a smell he worked hard for and was proud of—while men sneaked around in the woods plotting his death to take what they couldn’t earn. “You’re saying you’re out here about some other man who wants to buy my land?”
“He came into my bank saying he heard the Mead spread was for sale.” Badje’s arms swung out from his sides. The banker’s black suit was wrinkled and dirty, completely out of place with the Western dress of the other men, and in utter contrast to the rough hides and leather clothing of Buff and Luther. “When I told him it had been sold, he went crazy. I thought he was going to attack me, he was so mad.”
“He tore up the Paradise about a week ago, too,” the sheriff added. “Big man by the name of Judd Mason.”
“Judd?” the feminine voice from the house behind them turned them all around in their tracks.
Clay groaned aloud and plunked his hat back on his head. His little filly had taken the bit in her teeth again.
S E V E N T E E N
Sophie strode toward the crowd of men. With the sheriff ’s group and the cowhands and the prisoners, it had grown to the size of a town meeting. She wasn’t sure it was safe to take her eyes off her cranky husband, but she had to. What Royce Badje had just said was too important.
“Royce, did I just hear you say his name was Judd?”
“Sophie, I told you to stay in the house and rest.” Clay tugged the brim of his hat down until Sophie couldn’t see his eyes. “I don’t want you out here listening to talk of a man who went crazy mad and tore up saloons. It ain’t fittin’.”
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