Chapter 5   

Good to see you again,” Mr. McClure said, shaking Rachel’s hand. “How are things at the ranch?”

“Going well, I think.” She smiled. “Perhaps you should ask Mr. Callen.”

“Oh?” McClure shot a questioning glance at the foreman, who stood behind her in the doorway to the attorney’s office.

“She’s doing great,” Jack said. “She’s putting in several hours every day, learning to ride and getting to know the ranch.”

“That’s wonderful.” Mr. McClure looked decidedly relieved, and he gave Rachel a playful smile. “You’ve lasted this long, young lady. Can I assume you plan to stay out your month?”

“I don’t have any plans otherwise,” she said. “If Mr. Callen and the other men can put up with me that long, I guess I’ll stay at least another nineteen days.”

McClure’s smile faded. “But not longer?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” she confessed. “There’s a lot to consider.”

“Of course.”

“But I wondered if you would think it appropriate to hire a few more men at the end of this month? Mr. Callen tells me they’ll be needed for the roundup in August and getting the cattle to the stockyards.”

Jack held out the book he’d brought. “I took the liberty of bringing along the ledger. I thought you might like to have a look at the numbers before answering that question.”

“All right.” McClure took it. “Will you be in town long?”

“We’re going to the post office and then to the general store,” Jack said. He glanced at Rachel. “We might get some lunch before we head back out.”

“Fine,” McClure said. “Stop in before you leave, and I’ll set aside a few minutes to talk about the ranch. I’ll try to look through this in the meantime.”

“Thank you,” Rachel said, and Jack nodded.

As they left the office, a boy ran up the walkway and pounded on the door. Mr. McClure opened it almost at once, and the boy said, “Telegram for Mr. McClure.”

Rachel arched her eyebrows at Jack.

“I s’pose he gets a lot of those in his business,” Jack said. “Post office?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Rachel accepted his hand to help her onto the wagon seat. Jack climbed up on the other side and took the reins. She enjoyed driving through the town with him.

At the post office, several items were in the box earmarked for the ranch. Jack glanced through them.

“I see Rusty’s got a letter from his sister.” He tucked two envelopes into his shirt pocket. “My mother,” he mumbled.

“How nice that you hear from her,” Rachel said.

“I don’t write to her often enough, I s’pose.” He handed her the last envelope. “That’s addressed to Mr. Hill.”

“Oh. Have there been others?”

“Yeah, mostly business.”

“What do you do with them?”

“I usually take them to McClure,” Jack said.

She nodded. “Then that’s what we’ll do, when we go back to pick up the ledger.”

They went on to the store, and Jack told her to pick out whatever she needed for supplies or to make her stay more comfortable. Rachel chose a few items to supplement her food, and a teapot and a pound of tea. She browsed the yard goods and housewares but didn’t buy anything in those departments. If she stayed and owned the ranch one day, there would be a few things she would want. She would sew a riding outfit that would replace Randolph’s old dungarees, for instance, and buy a wide-brimmed hat that wasn’t too big. Randolph’s hat wouldn’t stay on her head when her mount started to jog, and Rusty had poked holes in the brim and fitted a cord through them to keep the hat in place. It would be nice to have one that fit properly, without the cord. But for now the limited wardrobe she’d brought with her and the few things she’d borrowed met her needs.

Jack needed to pick up some salt blocks and several sacks of grain at the feed store. Rachel went in with him and met the owner. She was fascinated by the bins of different grains and the vast stacks of bagged feed.

They ate lunch at the same restaurant where the lawyer had taken her the day she arrived, and Rachel found the food tasty and filling. She ought to do more cooking at the ranch, but it seemed silly to prepare full meals for herself while the men cooked their own food in the bunkhouse.

“Where did Mr. Hill eat his meals?” she asked Jack when they were back in the wagon.

“Mostly with us.”

Rachel frowned. It wouldn’t be appropriate for her to eat in the bunkhouse.

“Reckon you could hire someone to cook for you if you stay,” Jack said slowly.

“Oh, I don’t need a cook,” she said quickly. “It just seems odd to cook meals for just me.”

“Still, you ought to eat well. I noticed you didn’t ask for any meat, other than what the boys and I have brought over.”

“What about the chickens?” she asked. “Do you ever eat them?” The small flock was kept penned behind the barn, and one of the men fed and watered the birds. Rusty brought her a couple of eggs every other morning.

“We ate all the roosters but one, and after the boss died, I wasn’t sure we should ask for more. There’s a few young ones that will be big enough soon.”

“I’ll speak to Mr. McClure. Maybe we can get a dozen more—a few eating birds and some hens. If he lets us hire more men, you’ll need extra eggs in the bunkhouse for sure.”

“That’d be good. I should have asked him sooner. The hens don’t lay very well in this hot weather.”

When they arrived back at Mr. McClure’s office, he showed them in and invited them to sit. He went around the desk and took a seat.

“Well, did you have a successful shopping expedition?” he asked after Rachel handed him the letter.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “We wondered if we could buy a few chickens.”

“Live chickens,” Jack added.

“I don’t see why not.” McClure nudged the ledger toward the edge of the desk. “I looked over the accounts. You haven’t spent much this month, Jack.”

Jack shrugged.

“You need to keep yourself and the men healthy, not to mention Miss Paxton.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack said.

“By all means, stop at the mercantile or wherever you can get them and pick up some birds. Anything else you need?”

“Well, if we’re going to hire more men to help with the roundup …,” Jack said, and left the sentence dangling.

“I suppose we won’t know exactly what will happen until Miss Paxton makes her decision, but in any event, you’ll need a full crew to drive some cattle.” McClure settled his gaze on Rachel. “Even if you decide to sell the whole ranch and its stock, some of the cattle will probably be sold in August or September.”

Both men’s eyes were fixed on her, and she knew she had to say something.

“I’d like another week or two to decide,” she said.

“Of course. Meanwhile, there’s another matter I should bring to your attention.”

“Yes, sir?” she said.

“A telegram arrived for me earlier, shortly after you left.”

“We saw the boy,” Jack said.

McClure nodded. “It was from Randolph Hill’s cousin.”

“His cousin?” Jack sounded awestruck.

Rachel had heard mention of the cousin when Mr. McClure went over the will with her, but she hadn’t expected to hear more about him.

“I thought his whereabouts were unknown,” she said.

“They were, but I sent several letters in an attempt to locate him. It was my duty, as executor of the will.”

“Even if he’s not getting anything?” Jack asked.

Rachel was surprised that he seemed to know the contents of the document, but maybe Mr. McClure had told him when he asked him to stay on as foreman. Or maybe Mr. Hill had told him in person when he had the will drawn up. After all, he and Jack had been friends.

“I just wanted you to be aware, in case he shows up here,” McClure said. “His name is Andrew Hill. I think he would come to see me first if he does travel here from San Francisco, but if he shows up at the ranch, send him to me.”

“We certainly will,” Rachel said, and Jack nodded. She found it comforting to have someone like Jack, who understood the circumstances fully, at her side.

McClure smiled. “All right then. I found the accounts in order. Just carry on as you are until you’re ready to make a decision, Miss Paxton. I’m here anytime you want to discuss any aspect of the ranch business.”

“Thank you,” she said.

She and Jack bought a dozen chickens and some extra feed. Jack loaded the two crates that held the birds into the wagon, and they headed for the ranch. On the way, Rachel thought about everything she’d learned since her arrival in Fort Worth.

“Jack, I think I need to know more about the operation of the ranch,” she said about halfway home.

“Sure. Like what?”

“Like how the hiring will work, for one thing. We’ll need to take on more men before my month is up. Will you handle that, or should I?”

“I can do it if you want. I know a lot of people around here. I have a few men in mind, ones who’ve worked for the ranch before. If you decide not to stay, we’ll take them on just long enough to get the necessary chores done. After we sell off the cattle we’ve got earmarked for the stockyards, we can let them go.”

“And if I’m staying on?”

His eyes flickered to meet her gaze, and then he looked ahead at the dusty road. “Then I’d say keep on at least three more men. I’ll handpick them, if you think that’s best. Hard workers who won’t drink a lot or cause trouble in town.”

She nodded slowly. “Perhaps when you begin hiring, you can tell those few that the job might become more permanent?”

“Sounds like a good plan.” His face was like stone, and he stared forward. Rachel wished she could read his mind, about the men for the outfit and several other things.

“Now, about the stock to sell,” she said. “I take it this is something Mr. Hill did every year?”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s the purpose of the ranch, to raise beeves to sell to the meat market.”

“So this fall roundup is the main source of income for the ranch.”

He hesitated then nodded. “There’s other things, other times, but mostly, yes. This is important to the well-being of the ranch.”

“Can you tell me more about the roundup? I’d like to know more before it gets here.”

Jack smiled then, and the rest of the way home, he talked about the job he loved.

Jack tried to figure out what was right. He wanted to be there for Rachel if she needed him, but he was afraid he was beginning to care about her too much. He answered her many questions on the way home from town, but the next day he asked Abe to take her out with him when he rode fence. Abe later reported that she asked him a lot of questions too, about Mr. Hill and about ranching in general.

“So long as she’s not asking questions about me,” Jack said.

“Oh no, not much,” Abe replied. “She really wants to learn though.” He grinned. “Smart lady.”

“I think so too.”

Jack went into town alone to spread the word that he’d be hiring a few hands at the Hill ranch soon. The day after that, he let Rachel watch Goldie shoe a couple of horses while he was busy elsewhere. Then he sent her with Rusty to herd a small bunch of cattle in from the range.

“Take your time,” he told Rusty. “Let Miss Paxton learn how to get them moving and keep them going in the right direction. They don’t have to get here fast, but you all have to get here in one piece.”

“Sure thing,” Rusty said.

After they left, Jack wondered if he should have sent Abe or Goldie with them. But they arrived a couple of hours later, safe and sound, with all the critters accounted for.

Rachel looked terrific. She’d made some kind of divided skirt out of a dress she’d brought with her, and her skin was starting to bronze from all her time out in the sun. He recognized the made-over cotton work shirt she wore, and he admitted privately that it looked better on her than it had on Randolph. Of course, he would never hint at such a thought.

Beyond that she had gained an assured air when it came to sitting in the saddle. Not overconfident but no longer afraid. And it seemed she’d learned a bit from Rusty about heading and driving the stock. A little pride welled up in him at the progress she’d made in two weeks.

But he’d best keep avoiding time alone with her. Her fair hair seemed lighter than it had when she arrived—he ought to have insisted she get herself a good hat in town. Next time. But that hair was pretty. Real pretty.

The next day, Jack took Goldie and Rusty with him to move a bigger band of cattle.

“Can’t I go?” Rachel asked when she heard what they were going to do.

“Aren’t you sore from yesterday?” Jack asked. “You spent several hours in the saddle.”

“I’m getting over that.” She gazed up at him with those hopeful blue eyes. “Please? Rusty said I did well yesterday.”

“Yes, he told me.” Jack looked out toward the far pastures, frowning. He couldn’t deny that the idea of having Rachel nearby for half a day appealed to him. And it wouldn’t be like they were alone. “All right, but—”

“Thank you!” She whirled and ran to the corral gate before he could finish. She seemed so happy. He felt good inside for having given her that. But he had fully intended to issue some strict warnings. Well, there’d be time on the trail.

She came out a couple of minutes later leading Patch.

Jack smiled. “Saddle him yourself?”

“I sure did.”

“Better check the cinch one more time.”

Her brow furrowed, but she halted the horse and flipped up the stirrup leather. She worked at the knot in the leather strap and tugged.

“Holding your breath on me?” she asked in a mock tone of shock.

Rusty and Goldie had mounted and were waiting nearby. Rusty caught Jack’s eye and grinned from ear to ear.

“We’ll make a first-class cowpuncher out of her yet,” he said.

Jack chuckled. Abe was staying near the home place today. He didn’t want to be a mile away and out of sight of the house if Randolph’s cousin showed up. Maybe it was best to take Rachel with them. She could hone her riding and herding skills, and overall she was probably safer with Jack.

But his heart was safe. He would make sure of that.

He tried not to pay too much attention to her as they rode out, but Rachel cut a figure that drew a man’s gaze. Besides, she kept Patch even with his horse until they reached a place where the trail narrowed. She plied him with questions about the coming roundup and how they would decide which steers to sell.

They rode along at a leisurely pace until they came to the first group Jack wanted to take in. He yelled to Rusty and Goldie, “Get them moving in. We’ll go get that other bunch that’s down on the flat by the river.”

Goldie waved in reply, and he and Rusty headed toward the bunch of twenty or so cattle.

“There’s some up ahead,” Jack said to Rachel. “A mixed lot—about a dozen cows with calves and twenty or thirty steers.”

“Do you want to separate them?” Rachel asked.

“No, let’s take them all in closer to home. I want to check them over, and then I’ll let the cows and the young’uns go.”

When they came in sight of the herd, it was larger than he’d thought. He did a quick estimate and came up with sixty head.

“That’s plenty,” he said to Rachel. “Let’s get behind ’em and start ’em moving slow.”

They guided their horses smoothly until he was slightly beyond the cattle and Rachel was to the side away from the river, to keep any from running out in a different direction.

Jack took out his rope and swung it slowly. “Let’s go! Up!”

The herd started moving languidly toward home, but then a yearling got excited and jostled an old cow, who took exception to his rudeness. She side-kicked the young steer, who bawled and took off running.

“Whoa,” Jack called. “Easy now!” But it was too late. A steer slammed into Patch’s hindquarters, and Rachel went flying.

Rachel grabbed at the saddle horn but too late. She flew over Patch’s head. With a thud, she landed on the ground, facedown, her forearms and knees taking the brunt of the landing. She lay panting for a moment, until something hard and pointy stabbed her side.

Cattle. All around her, lowing, grunting cows jogged with their awkward gait. Most dodged her prone form, but one planted a hoof on her shoulder.

She scrambled to her feet. Aching all over, she turned to face the herd. What had Jack told her? Look big. Make noise. Her arms shot up, though pain shrieked through her left forearm. She could almost hear Jack’s instructions now. “Look ’em in the eye. Make yourself big and loud. And don’t run.”

“Git on out of here, you mangy cows,” she yelled, flapping her arms up and down. She took a quick glance around but couldn’t spot Patch. When she looked back toward the oncoming cattle, they were mostly past her, but a crazed yearling steer thundered toward her. More than anything she wanted to run.

She stared right at it and screamed, “Don’t you dare, you lumbering sack of stew meat!”

The steer swerved and hurtled by in a spray of dirt.

Rachel bent over coughing as the pounding hoofbeats receded. Jack rode Brownie toward her and pulled up three feet away.

“Are you all right?”

“I think so.” She clutched her left wrist. “Got a real good look at the ground.”

He smiled and swung down from the saddle.

“Don’t we need to catch them?” She looked bleakly after the herd.

“They’re heading in the right direction,” Jack said. “They’ll cool down after a while.”

“Where’s Patch? Is he hurt?”

Jack frowned, looking toward the dust cloud left by the cattle. “Can’t be hurt too bad. He’s running with them now.”

Rachel felt tears coming on, the serious kind she couldn’t blink back. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Not your fault from what I could see. Come on. Brownie can carry us both.”

He was in the saddle so fast, Rachel stood there staring. She’d expected him to boost her.

“What do I do?” she asked.

He kicked off the left stirrup and eased his boot forward of the leather. “Put your foot in there and jump up. I’ll help you.”

He bent down and reached for her hand, but Rachel grimaced. “My wrist hurts.”

Concern flashed in Jack’s eyes. “All right, easy does it then. Give it a try.”

She managed to lift her foot high enough to get it into his stirrup and looked up at him helplessly. Jack stooped lower and got hold of her elbow.

“One, two, three,” he said.

She jumped up on three, trying to ignore the tearing pains in her shoulder and her side. Somehow she made it to a precarious perch behind the saddle. She couldn’t see past Jack’s broad shoulders. He got hold of her right hand and pulled it around his middle.

“Since you’re one-handed, you’ll have to hang on tight with this one.”

She tried to speak, but nothing came out. She cleared her throat. “Thanks.”

Jack’s plaid cotton shirt was warm, and she tried not to lean against him, but she was tempted. He started Brownie jogging quietly toward home in the wake of the herd, steering off to the side to avoid the dissipating cloud of dust. Rather than bounce to the side and down Brownie’s flank, she clung shamelessly to Jack around his stomach. He held her hand firmly and didn’t let go.

Rachel took it easy for a few days, babying her left arm. She’d decided it wasn’t broken, but she’d probably sprained her wrist. With the mirror’s aid, she could see some of the bruises on other parts of her body. They would take weeks to fade.

Abe wrapped her wrist for her, and she stayed out of the saddle and put off her shooting lessons. She tried to practice her roping, since that exercise mostly involved her right arm, but every muscle in her torso ached, and she tired quickly.

A week had passed when Abe drove Rachel into town for more groceries and supplies. She was a bit disappointed that Jack wasn’t driving her, but he claimed that he, Goldie, and Rusty were needed to tend to some problem with the water pump and see the two new hands Jack had hired settled in.

Abe was good company. She had no quarrel with him, but he wasn’t Jack. That thought surprised her and then annoyed her. She hadn’t come here to find a man. In fact, she’d rejected Mr. Hill’s proposal for that very reason. Sure, she hoped to marry one day, but she wasn’t about to go after the first agreeable man who came into her sights.

“How’s that wrist?” Abe looked pointedly at her arm. Rachel had left off the bandage for the first time, not wanting to cause comments in town.

“It’s a lot better,” she said. “Still a little sore but nothing like last week.” She didn’t mention the huge purple bruises that were finally starting to fade but still looked ugly.

“Well, don’t you go carrying any heavy parcels today. You let me do that.”

She and Abe were coming out of the post office when Mr. McClure hurried across the street toward their wagon.

“Miss Paxton! I thought I saw you drive by. Can you come into my office for a minute?”

Rachel looked to Abe, who nodded.

“Of course,” she said. “Abe, I won’t be long.”

She crossed the street on the lawyer’s arm and went inside with him. He showed her to the chair opposite his desk and sat down.

“Sorry to waylay you like that, but I thought you should know. In fact, I was thinking of riding out to the ranch this afternoon to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Rachel asked.

“Mr. Hill’s cousin is in town.”

“Oh.” She gulped.

“He wants to contest the will.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he’ll fight it. He believes he should get something from the estate.” Mr. McClure made a distasteful face. “That is, he believes he should get it all. Of course, he was only bequeathed half in the event you didn’t claim your own bequest. I set him straight on that.”

Rachel’s heart sank. Was her effort for nothing?

“He won’t get it, of course,” Mr. McClure said hastily. “I drew up that will, and it’s tighter than a fat man’s belt. But he might try.”

“So what do I do?” Rachel asked.

“Just what you’re doing. Continue to stay on the property and carry on the business of the ranch.”

“Mr. Callen hired two more men,” she said.

Mr. McClure nodded. “He told me. One’s a man who’s worked on the Hill ranch before, a good, steady hand. The other’s new, but he comes with a good work record. And Callen said he’ll probably hire two or three more in the next week so they can begin the roundup and get all the young stock branded.”

Rachel breathed a little easier. Mr. McClure didn’t seem worried. And Jack—she could count on Jack to handle anything complicated or unsuitable for a lady’s attention.

“If he comes out to the ranch, you should probably stay indoors,” Mr. McClure said.

Rachel’s attention whipped back to the problem of Andrew Hill.

“Wh–why?”

McClure’s gaze drifted away from hers. “He, uh, said some things. Wasn’t very happy to learn someone else was inheriting.”

“He didn’t know?” she asked.

“As required by the law, I’d sent him a letter saying his name was mentioned in his cousin’s will. I didn’t want to put the particulars down until we’d located him for certain. Well, instead of letting me send a letter, he simply sent that telegram last week. I wrote another letter, but he’d left California before it arrived. He got here being none the wiser.”

“And mad,” Rachel said.

“You might say that.” McClure extended a hand toward Rachel. “He wanted to know who you were, but I didn’t give him much. I had to give him a copy of the will, but it only states your name, not your relationship to Mr. Hill. I didn’t enlighten him. I only told him that you were the person Randolph had chosen to inherit his estate, and that you were now in residence on the ranch.”

Rachel’s pulse quickened and breathing became harder. “How much longer until it’s legal?”

“You mean until the estate is settled and the property is in your name?”

“Yes.”

“I make it eight more days. August third. You come into town that day, and we’ll sign the papers.”

She nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

Mr. McClure walked with her to the door. When he opened it, Abe was coming up the steps.

“Abe,” Rachel said, “it seems Mr. Hill’s cousin is in town, and he’s unhappy about the way the will is worded.”

Abe lifted his hat and scratched his head. He looked at Mr. McClure. “Can you keep him away from the ranch until next week?”

Mr. McClure drew in a deep breath. “I don’t see how. He may be out there now.”

Abe frowned. “Well, he won’t stay long. Jack will see to that.”

“We might meet him on our way home,” Rachel said. The thought frightened her.

“If you do, don’t speak to him,” McClure advised. “Just keep on driving and don’t tell him who you are.”

“We haven’t done our shopping yet.” Her head felt odd, as though it had lifted off her shoulders and was floating.

“Go and do your errands,” Mr. McClure said. “Do just as you would on any other shopping day. You can stop back here before you leave for home if you like, and I’ll tell you if I’ve heard anything more.”

“Could Miss Paxton ask the sheriff to keep him away from the ranch?” Abe asked.

“Maybe, but I don’t see a cause for that unless Hill makes some sort of disturbance.”

“All right,” Rachel said. “Abe, we’d better get going.” She turned but felt so unsteady that she reached for the cowboy’s arm. “Sorry, I …” She stood still and pulled in a deep breath.

Mr. McClure stepped forward and handed Abe a silver dollar. “Take Miss Paxton across to the hotel and get her some coffee and a piece of pie.” He smiled at Rachel. “You’ll feel better with something in your stomach, miss.”

Rachel wasn’t sure about that, but she let Abe escort her to the hotel dining room. It was only ten thirty. Breakfasters had left, and diners hadn’t come in yet for lunch. Two old men sat at a table arguing about the price of beef. She sank into a chair, and an aproned man appeared almost at once with two mugs and a coffeepot.

“Thanks, Jim,” Abe said. “Piece of apple pie for each of us.” He arched his eyebrows at Rachel, and she nodded.

“Thank you, Abe,” she said when she’d had her first sip of hot, strong coffee. “I hate to admit it, but I was feeling a little woozy.”

“No shame,” Abe replied. “We’ll just take our time with the pie and then go get the stuff at the stores.”

Abe had a long list for stocking up on extra groceries since the bunkhouse now had more hungry men to feed. Rachel decided to buy a few extra supplies for herself and prepare a surprise for the men.

“I thought I’d bake something for the bunkhouse tomorrow.” She managed a weak smile. “Sort of a welcome for the new hands. Pies maybe. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Abe said. “We’d all be tickled. So long as you don’t hurt your arm none.”

That was a consideration. Maybe rolling out piecrust wasn’t the best idea. “A cake then. We’ll see. But I’d also like to buy myself some boots.”

“Oh yeah?” Abe grinned at her. “Sounds like you’re planning to do more ridin’.”

“My wrist is nearly healed. I think I will be riding a lot in the future.”

He nodded. “You might just graduate from Patch to something a little spunkier.”

“Not yet, please.” She was just becoming comfortable in the saddle with the steady old gelding under her. She took another bite of pie. “This isn’t as good as yours.”

Abe smiled.

Mr. McClure was right. The short respite and food did wonders. She and Abe finished their shopping, which included a new hat that made her look like a true westerner. They stopped again at the lawyer’s office, but he had nothing new to report. Abe turned the wagon toward home. Rachel sat beside him with her feet on the footboard in front of her so she could admire her new leather boots. The tooled leather looked nice now, but she knew she’d take more pride in those boots when they looked well worn. She was learning new skills, and the changes in her wardrobe showed it. But she was daunted by the thought of a struggle to keep her inheritance.

About halfway to the ranch, she sighed. “Maybe I should just go back to Boston and let the cousin have the ranch.”

Abe looked at her sharply. “Don’t you do it, missy. Mr. Hill wanted you to have his place.”

“But why?” Tears pricked at her eyes. “I don’t understand it, Abe. Mr. Hill proposed to me in a letter, and I gave it a great deal of thought. And then I declined his offer.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t it?” She studied Abe’s leathery face. “I felt as though I let him down badly.”

“Well, maybe so, but he liked you. If he hadn’t, he never would have popped the question. And when he saw that he was dying, you were the only person he could think of who he wanted to do something for.”

“What about Jack?” she asked. “They were friends.”

“Yes, and if you hadn’t been in the picture, maybe he’d have left the ranch to Jack, I don’t know. I wasn’t as close to the boss as Jack was. I figure Mr. Hill knew you well enough to see that you’d keep Jack on.”

“But I only wrote him four letters, and I disappointed him.”

“Only in that one thing,” Abe said. “I think that in everything else, he admired you. Could be he even admired you for turning down a proposal you didn’t think was best for you.”

She frowned and looked out over the rolling, brown plains. She’d imagined that once she saw Texas, she would either love it or hate it. Why was this decision so difficult? Today she’d as good as told Mr. McClure she would accept the ranch and take ownership.

When had she become sure? And what had tipped the scales? Not the cattle, that was for sure. Maybe it was the land. No, she thought, it was the people. Abe, who had been so kind to her, and Rusty and Goldie, who worked so hard and were loyal to Mr. Hill, even though he was gone. And Jack. Mostly Jack. She couldn’t deny that anymore.

Was she counting on Jack always being there for her? Because she might be fooling herself. After she became owner of the ranch, Jack might decide to go work somewhere else. She had no claim on him. Would she still want to stay if Jack wasn’t part of the picture? She’d better make sure before she signed those papers. Was Jack the reason she still had doubts?

When the ranch house and the yard came in sight, Abe lifted his chin.

“Uh-oh.”

Rachel looked ahead and saw a knot of men and a couple of horses outside the corral fence. One man sat on his horse, while the rest were clustered around him.