“Yes.” She grinned. “As a matter of fact, I do. The beans and peas need to be picked and the carrots need to be thinned. Think you can manage that?”
Gabe grabbed her glass back playfully. “I’ve been picking beans longer than you’ve been alive, Miss Kinley.”
“Good,” she said. “Then get to work!” She tossed a bowl at him and retrieved her hoe.
They worked in relative silence for a while, Gabe stealing furtive glances at her while she plain out watched him with unabashed pleasure. Every so often she had to stop to adjust the huge hat, and whenever she did, Gabe’s gut cinched tighter. Women hated dirt. Hell, even Rosa cursed quietly when she weeded the garden, but not Tess. Her amber eyes twinkled brightly every time she caught him watching her.
“Why don’t you get along with Bart?” she asked, catching them both off guard.
Gabe stood up, sighed, and shook his head. “Bart and I have learned it’s best if we agree to disagree.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
“But he’s your brother. Surely you have something in common with him.”
Gabe snorted. “We have the same parents, that’s about it.”
They both returned to their work, a twinge of regret lingering in Gabe’s heart.
“He seemed like a nice enough fellow to me.”
“Of course he did. You’re a woman who expected nothing from him.” Gabe sighed. “Bart has never known responsibility his whole life. He’s done whatever he wanted whenever he wanted and never bothered to consider the consequences.”
“Why didn’t your father do something about that?”
“My old man wasn’t exactly a pillar of the community, and after Mama died he pretty much left the rearing of Bart and me to Rosa.”
“It must have been hard for him to lose your mother and the baby the way he did.”
Gabe stopped picking and turned to look at her. “It was his fault they died,” he said. “If she’d been in the city where she belonged, where there were doctors readily available, she wouldn’t have died. The baby neither.”
“You don’t know that, Gabriel.” Her voice was compassionate yet firm. “Women die during childbirth all the time and there’s nothing anyone can do about it; you don’t know a doctor could have prevented anything. I’m sure your father did all he could for her.”
Gabe’s mind raced back to the day, twenty-five years earlier, when his father took Gabe and Bart outside, in the mud and downpour, and the three of them fell to their knees, begging God to spare the lives of Emma Calloway and her newborn baby girl; a baby who had been born too early, who would never take a breath on her own. Their prayers went unanswered. Clayton was left with two young boys he had no idea what to do with and a ranch he no longer had the heart to run.
The last sober decision Clayton Calloway made was to hire Miguel and Rosa to work the ranch with him. Miguel pretty much took over all the decision making of the land and herd, while Rosa took complete charge of the house and the raising of the boys. Clayton came and went as he pleased, a whiskey bottle in one hand and his beloved Emma’s picture in the other.
It wasn’t long before he no longer commanded or deserved the respect of the other ranchers in town. He spent his days sleeping and his nights drinking and carousing with Dottie Shelton down at the saloon. For her part, Dottie seemed to honestly love Clayton, despite his condition, but he either didn’t see it or pretended not to. Miguel did his best to run the ranch single-handedly but to his own detriment—he was too smart of a businessman, and the place grew faster than anyone could have anticipated. He soon began to depend on young Gabe to help out and put in a grown man’s days’ worth of work, even after other ranch hands were hired.
Bart was still too young to do much, so he spent most of his time in the house being spoiled by Rosa who doted on el pobrecito, “the poor thing.” As such, he was never expected to take on any more responsibility than was absolutely necessary—and even that was minimal because between Gabe and Miguel, there wasn’t much left to look after.
Miguel was an excellent teacher and role model. He taught Gabe everything there was to learn about being a rancher and about being a man. Honor, respect, and integrity were ingrained in him from the start, and nothing was more important than a man’s word and his handshake.
“So Bart was never actually given any responsibility around here,” Tess said, her head still bent over her work.
“What?” Had he been thinking out loud that whole time?
“Bart,” she said, “between you, Miguel, and Rosa, everything was taken care of, so Bart didn’t really have to do anything, did he? There was nothing left.”
“There was plenty for him to do!” He insisted, though not quite as adamantly as he would have liked.
“Like what?”
“Well, I can’t think of anything right now,” he snapped, “but there were things.”
Tess smiled. “Did you ever think maybe he wanted to be part of things here but you and Miguel were so busy running everything yourselves you didn’t give him a chance?”
Gabe shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m not saying you or Miguel were wrong in what you did or how you did it,” she explained. “You were doing what you had to do to keep this place running and pay the bills.”
“Damn right.”
“But maybe it’s time you took a step back and had another look at your little brother. Maybe he felt as though he never really belonged here, that he was simply in the way.”
“Really?” Sarcasm dripped like acid from his lips. “And what makes you an expert on my brother all of a sudden?”
“Nothing.” She spoke gently, but Gabe’s back was already up. “You obviously know him better than I, but family is family, Gabriel, and he’s the only family you have left. The ranch is yours to do with as you please, and Bart has had to go out and make a different life for himself.”
“That’s not a life—chasing fugitives all over hell’s half acre—that’s a death wish.”
Tess shrugged. “Maybe he’s waiting for you to ask him to come home.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“Have you asked?”
“No!”
“Maybe you should.”
Gabe stared at her in silence for a long while. She continued to pull weeds as she spoke, and not once in the entire exchange had she sounded accusing or judgmental. She had simply pointed out some things perhaps Gabe had been unable—or unwilling—to see. Maybe she was right. Maybe.
A flicker of amusement danced across his face.
“He’d probably be lynched by every girl’s father within fifty miles.”
“Broke a few hearts, did he?” Tess asked. She smiled, adjusting the hat again.
“More than a few, I’m afraid. Got himself a bit of a reputation before he up and left.”
Tess stopped working and looked him straight in the eye.
“What about you, Gabriel? How many hearts have you broken?”
Gabe chuckled. “I’m more of the ‘breakee’ type than the ‘breaker.’”
Tess’s smile faded from her lips. “Who was she?”
“Tess . . .”
“Did you love her?” When he didn’t answer right away, her face clouded. “Do you still love her?”
The fear in her eyes stabbed straight at his heart.
“I thought I did,” he sighed. “But now I’m not so sure.”
“Why?”
He couldn’t very well tell her the truth—he’d never get her back on the stage if he did. He settled for avoiding the direct question.
“Things change, Tess, people change. It’s the way life is.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “They do. Sometimes for the better.”
“And sometimes for the worse.”
“Oh, Gabriel,” she said quietly. “You don’t really feel that way. Look at it this way—if it wasn’t for change, we never would have met.�
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“Yeah,” he scoffed, gesturing around the piles of weeds. “And look where that’s got us.”
Tess laughed lightly and threw a handful of dirt at him.
“What about you, Miss Kinley?” he asked, sobering slightly. “Are you a breakee or a breaker?”
“Neither,” she said. “I’ve never even been courted.”
Gabe just about choked. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Father decided years ago I would marry Harmon. I wasn’t permitted to take any gentleman callers.”
“So I guess that makes you a breaker.”
Tess paused. “No, not really. In all the time Father spent planning my marriage, I never agreed to it, nor did I pretend to. I told Harmon as much the one and only time we were ever alone.” A mighty shudder rocked her spine.
“But poor ol’ Harm still must have been heartbroken,” Gabe said. He forced his arms to his sides to keep them from pulling her into his embrace. He certainly didn’t want to have her in his arms, he only wanted to stop her from trembling the way she did. Or so he told himself.
“No. The only thing broken was poor ol’ Harm’s ego. He refused to believe me when I told him I would not marry him; he assumed I would eventually go along with it. Especially after . . .” She stopped, racked by another shudder.
“After what?”
Tess shook her head. “Nothing. He thought he could convince me in his own little way. That’s when I knew I had to leave Boston.”
Bile rose in Gabe’s throat. “What did he do to you?”
She smiled through the fear that lingered in her voice. “Nothing worse than what I did to him I suppose.”
“Did he . . .”
“It’s in the past, Gabriel, let’s not dwell on it.”
God help him if they should ever meet, Gabe fumed. His fist would dwell on ol’ Harm’s face for a while. He swiped the back of his hand across his brow and ran his fingers through his hair.
“Come on,” he said. “That’s enough for today. I’m hungry.”
“I’m about half starved myself.” Tess laughed, the talk of Harmon Stiles left in the dirt.
“Good,” Gabe said. He lifted the overflowing bowl of beans with one hand and reached for her hand with the other. “Let’s go see what we can rustle up for supper.”
Chapter 10
“Bart’s here,” Gabe announced before taking another bite of his cold ham sandwich.
Tess’s gaze flew to the window. “What? I don’t see him.”
“You always hear Bart first,” Gabe explained. “Listen.”
Tess strained to pick out the distant whistle. She could barely hear it, and if Gabe hadn’t said otherwise, she would have dismissed it as wind.
“What is he whistling?” she asked.
“‘Old Dan Tucker.’”
“I don’t think I’m familiar with that song.”
Gabe shook his head. “Just as well. We’d best make more sandwiches—he’ll be hungry.”
Tess hurried to gather the bread and ham, her stomach lurching with every passing second. She hardly had time to catch her breath before Bart was at the door, scowling in her direction.
“Howlin’ Leonard, woman—did you have to come all the way out here? I been on the road damn near a week.”
“Hello, Bart,” Tess squeaked. “Yes, I’m sorry. I should have told you where I was going, that was very wrong of me, but I had to get away. You understand, don’t you? I didn’t think you’d mind, although I have to admit I rather expected you to be upset with me for taking your money. I apologize for that too.” Her words tumbled out faster than she could breathe. “I see you’re still wearing your gun belt. Did you have a hard time finding me? I didn’t think you would since I told you I was headed west and you filled me with the notion of how wonderful El Cielo was and, oh dear, you didn’t have the ill fortune of staying in that horrid little town called Hidden Valley, did you? It’s really no wonder it’s called Hidden Valley—it should be hidden from the whole world. I made the mistake of actually taking a meal there in the rat’s nest they call a restaurant. I hope you didn’t make the same grave error.”
Gabe had not so much as raised his head from his plate through the entire exchange, but a huge grin spread wider and wider across his face with every word that flew from her lips.
Bart pulled out the straight-backed chair beside Gabe’s, turned it backward and sat astride it, his arms crossed over the back.
“Does she always go on like this?” he asked, reaching for a sandwich.
Gabe shrugged. “Only when she’s nervous.”
“Why’s she nervous? You being your usual prickly self?”
Gabe shook his head and grinned more. “It’s you. She’s afraid you’re going to turn her over to the sheriff or take her back to Butte with you.”
“Hello, gentlemen,” Tess interrupted, more than a little annoyed. “I’m standing right here you know. I would appreciate it if you spoke to me instead of about me.”
“You heard the lady,” Gabe chuckled. “Talk to her.”
Bart leaned in closer, whispering loudly into his brother’s ear. “If she’s gonna go on like that again, I’d really rather not.”
“I know what you mean—it’s enough to test Job, isn’t it?” He shot Tess a teasing wink and went back to his supper. “Took you long enough to get here.”
“Hell, Gabe,” Bart snorted. “I wouldn’t even be here at all if it weren’t for her.”
“Yes,” Tess interrupted again. “You’ve come for your money, then, is that right? I don’t have it all to give back to you yet, Bart, but as soon as I get the rest, I will pay you back—with interest. I used what I needed to get me out here on the stage, and believe you me, if I’d have known what kind of a trip I was in for, I would have seriously considered staying in Butte with you. Of course, I would have had you bring me here eventually, but that is neither here nor there right now, is it? Shall I go get your money now, or will you be staying with us for a while? It’s up in the bed . . . it’s upstairs. Your money.”
“What in tarnation are you goin’ on about, woman? I ain’t here for my money—although now that you mention it, damn right I want it back—all of it!”
He’d barely finished the sentence when Tess scurried from the room to fetch his money. Bart rubbed his forehead with filthy fingers.
“Do you get this dizzy talkin’ to her?” he asked.
“Hell,” Gabe muttered. “I get dizzy just lookin’ at her.”
The minute he heard Bart snort, Gabe realized he’d spoken a little louder than he’d intended. His face flamed, his shoulders tensed, waiting for the ribbing his brother was sure to give him.
“You and her?” Bart laughed. “Hot damn, Gabe, that didn’t take you long. Never figured you for a lady’s man—especially after Catarina. Figured you’d settle down with a big ol’ farm girl and have yerself a whole passel of kids by now.”
Gabe’s face darkened. “Well, as you can see, you figured wrong.”
“Yeah.” Bart chuckled again. “But you and her? She’s so . . . so . . .”
“She’s not staying.” Gabe pushed himself away from the table and deposited his dishes on the sideboard. “If you don’t take her back with you, she’ll be on Friday’s stage.”
“Where the hell am I supposed to be goin’? And why the hell would I take her with me?” Bart almost shouted.
Gabe stopped and turned to face his brother. “Why wouldn’t you? Isn’t she why you’re here?”
Bart’s head bobbed between a half-nod and a half-shrug. “Yes and no,” he said.
“Damnation,” Gabe snapped. “Why can’t anything—anything—be easy with her? This isn’t going to be a great long-winded story, is it?”
“Hey,” Bart said, holding his hand up defensively. “I ain’t her. I’ll tell you straight out why I’m here. First off, the reason I chased her all the way out here is on account that no good Gribbs broke outta jail and I reckon he’ll be hot on her hee
ls, too. So I come out here to warn her. Second reason—”
“Hold on,” Gabe interrupted. “Who’s Gribbs?”
“Eli Gribbs.” When Gabe didn’t respond, Bart let out a low curse. “She didn’t tell you ’bout him? The poker game . . . ?”
“She said the fella’s name was Simms or something.”
Bart nodded slowly. “Right, she don’t even know the truth herself.”
“What truth?”
“Turns out Gribbs killed Simms some months back an’ just up an’ took over the man’s life—everything he owned—includin’ his name and Tess.”
“Why?”
“Who the hell knows?” Bart shrugged. “Fact is, Gribbs’s killed more ’n a few times.”
Gabe rubbed his weary eyes with the heel of his hand.
“I should’ve known it’d be complicated,” he grumbled. “What’s the other reason you’re here?”
Bart swallowed hard. “I’m here ’cause of somethin’ she said to me back there in Butte that got me to thinkin’.”
“Which was?”
Bart took another deep breath before he continued. “Well, it would seem Miss Tess thinks maybe I bin too hard on you and we should talk it out—man to man.”
It was Gabe’s turn to laugh now.
“Well I’ll be buggered,” he said. “I got the same lecture myself not more than a few hours ago. ‘Family is family’ and all that crap.”
“Yup,” Bart nodded. “Same lecture.”
They sat in silence for a moment, each lost in thought, fighting to find the next words. It was Gabe who spoke first.
“She does have a point, though, I reckon.”
“I reckon.” Another pregnant pause, then, “She sure don’t waste any time gettin’ under a body’s skin, does she?”
Gabe’s neck prickled, his jaw clenched. “Are you saying . . . ?”
“Take it easy, Gabe,” Bart chuckled. “I ain’t talkin’ ’bout that. All I’m sayin’ is she sure ain’t like the rest of the womenfolk in this sorry little town. There’s somethin’ different ’bout her; she’s got real grit.”
“She’s headstrong.” Gabe’s eyes stared blankly.
“She’s got spirit.”
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