Chapter 8   

Jack sat in the chair opposite Donald McClure and sipped the coffee the lawyer had offered him.

“That’s all I know at this point,” McClure said. “I went over to the Cattlemen’s Hotel last night, where Hill said he was going to stay. Made a point of having supper there, but I didn’t see him. I asked at the front desk after, and they said he is registered there. The clerk checked Hill’s room for me and said he wasn’t in.”

Jack grunted. He wished they had a handle on that guy. He could be anywhere, getting into mischief.

“Well, I’m taking on a couple more men, both with good recommendations. They’ll start tomorrow. That’ll give us eight men. We’re getting ready to sell off a bunch of steers, but mostly I want to make sure Miss Paxton is safe until this legal stuff is over with.”

“I appreciate that. I don’t really have a reason to think Hill would do anything, but I admit I’ll feel easier knowing you’ve got some steady men out there protecting her.” McClure rubbed his jaw. “I’ve thought about suggesting she move into town until we settle this business with Hill, but he’s in town, and she might be in more danger if she was here.”

“Wouldn’t that violate the terms of the will?” Jack asked.

“She’d have to start over with the thirty days, after we took care of Andrew Hill and made sure he understood he’s getting no part of the estate.”

Jack flipped his hat against his knee, thinking about it. “No, I don’t think she’d want to do that. She’s so close now.”

“I think you’re right. And she shouldn’t have to change her plans.”

“You don’t expect him to hire men to go out there with him and menace her, do you?”

McClure’s mouth tightened. “I certainly hope not. I’ve spoken to the marshal, and he said he’d look into it, but until Hill does something illegal, there’s not much the law can do.”

Jack didn’t like it, but he figured McClure was right. He stood and put on his hat. “I’ll move along. Thanks.”

“Oh Mr. Callen,” the lawyer called after him.

Jack turned. “Yes, sir?”

“I’ve put a lot of thought into this, and I think Miss Paxton ought to sign a will of her own when she takes possession. She can name any beneficiary she wants, but it would seem wise to get the document in place the minute she owns that ranch.”

Jack thought about that, and it seemed smart to him as well. “I believe she has a brother back east.”

McClure nodded. “She might want to name him as her heir. Or someone else. But if she should pass on without a will …”

“I get your drift. I’ll try to get her to see to it without making it too morbid.”

McClure smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “I appreciate it. Young ladies often don’t want to think about such things, but it’s wise to do so. She can see me anytime she’s in town and tell me her wishes so I’ve got it ready for her to sign the day we transfer the property.”

Jack shook McClure’s hand and strolled back toward where he’d left his horse tied in front of the post office. He wasn’t far from the hotel where Andrew Hill was staying, according to McClure. He decided to pop in there and ask for him.

“Mr. Hill isn’t in,” the desk clerk told him. “He left a couple of hours ago.”

Jack tried his best to sound friendly but casual. “Know where I can find him? There’s something I wanted to discuss with him.”

“No, but I think he was going to rent a horse.” A livery stable was only a couple of blocks away, and the clerk mentioned it to Jack. “That’s the one we usually tell our customers about when they ask where they can get transportation.”

“Much obliged.”

Jack left the hotel, collected his horse, and rode to the stable. The ostler was willing to stop working and shoot the breeze for a minute.

“Yeah, he hired a hoss this mornin’,” he told Jack.

“Do you know where he’s at? I was hoping to see him today.”

“Nope. He didn’t say. But he said he expected to be back before dark.”

“Hmm. Thanks.”

Jack had planned to fetch a few items for the bunkhouse pantry, but he decided that could wait another day. If all was well at the ranch, he could send Rusty and one of the new men in tomorrow with the wagon. He turned Brownie toward home, and as soon as he was beyond the crowded streets, he urged the gelding into a lope.

He thought he heard a hail from behind him, and he pulled Brownie up. One of the men he’d just hired, an eighteen-year-old kid named Wade Darnell, was riding up on him. Wade’s father was a telegraph operator, but Wade aspired to be a rancher, and he’d gotten in a few months’ experience the previous summer. Jack waited, and when Wade reached him, he saw that the kid had his bedroll and a rucksack tied to the back of his saddle.

“I decided to come out to the ranch today if that’s all right with you,” Wade said. “Then I can start bright and early with the rest of your crew.”

“No problem,” Jack told him. “Glad to have you along.”

They started off side by side, their mounts jogging companionably.

“I told you about the ranch’s new owner,” Jack said after they’d gone half a mile.

Wade nodded. “You said. Woman owner.”

“Yes, but that’s not a problem. She’s a smart lady, and she wants to run a tight outfit. I think once she gets used to things, she’ll do a good job.”

“Glad to hear that,” Wade said.

“You knew the old owner, from when you helped us with our roundup and drive to the stockyards last summer,” Jack went on.

“Yeah. Too bad what happened to Mr. Hill. Is this lady a relative?”

Jack ignored that question. “There’s a possibility that one of his cousins, a man who did not inherit the land, might make some trouble.”

“You said that earlier, when you took me on.”

Jack had made sure to mention the possible problem to the men who expressed interest in working on the Hill ranch, but not in detail. He’d downplayed it so they wouldn’t think they were getting into a range war. But now that Wade was actually moving to the ranch, he deserved to know there was a slim chance things could get ugly. And he was so young. Jack hoped he wouldn’t regret hiring the kid.

“Well, I hope it doesn’t come to anything,” he said. “This fella came out to the ranch a couple days ago. We had to run him off, and he left pretty riled.”

“What, he wants to claim the ranch?” Wade asked.

“Yup. Thinks he should have inherited it, not Miss Paxton. But I’ve seen Mr. Hill’s will. It’s clear and simple. Miss Paxton becomes the legal owner in six more days. If this cousin wants to try anything, he’ll have to do it before then. I was going to wait a couple of weeks to hire men for the roundup, but we need to have plenty of manpower showing when strangers come around—for the next week anyhow.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Wade said.

“Well, I wanted to make sure you understood. We’ve started bringing the herd in close and separating the ones we’re going to sell. We’ll keep on with that. I don’t think lead’s going to fly, but we just don’t know right now.”

Wade patted the Colt revolver strapped to his thigh. “I’m with you, Callen. Happy to stand up with you and your outfit.”

“Good. We’ve got a hundred or so spring calves we’ll be branding.” As they rode along, Jack gave Wade a rundown on the ranch’s routine for payday and days off.

They came within sight of the home place, and Jack pointed out the cattle they had sorted into different pastures. He spotted a man on watch on the rise behind the well house and waved his hat. The man waved back, and he was sure it was Abe from the color of the horse he was riding. The compact dun gelding was Abe’s personal mount.

A movement near one of the corrals, closer to the barn, caught his eye. He frowned at the figure that seemed intent on something near one of the gates. He was pretty sure the man was hidden from Abe’s view by the roof of the ranch house.

“Heads up,” Jack said to Wade.

“What is it?”

“That man by the corral with the high fence.”

Wade squinted toward where Jack pointed. “I see him. What’s he doing?”

“I don’t know. That’s the corral we built special for the new bull. Shouldn’t nobody be fooling with that gate unless it’s feed time or we’re moving him someplace.”

They rode a few more steps while Jack mulled it over.

“Hey, there’s a horse down there.” They’d topped a rise, and Wade pointed to a riderless horse tied to a fence post in the dip below them.

“That’s bad.” Jack was certain the rider had left his saddled horse out of sight of the house, where he could reach it in a hurry and light out for town. “Come on!”

He dug his heels into Brownie’s sides, but the corral gate swung open. They were too far out to do much good. He pushed his horse toward the corral, and Wade’s mount pounded along close behind him.

Rachel heard a shout outside and looked out the kitchen window. The huge bull tore out of its corral with a bellow and charged into the barnyard.

Her heart raced. What was happening? How could Ol’ Grumps get loose? The men had been so careful.

She leaned to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the ranch hands. Near the bull’s corral, she saw a man running along the fence away from the gate. She couldn’t tell which man it was, but maybe it was Chris or Joe. In a flash, she registered that this man wasn’t as tall as Chris, and Joe had gone with Goldie to ride fence. Andrew Hill, she thought.

She wiped flour from her hands on her red apron as she raced into the next room. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t good. Where were Abe, Rusty, and Chris, the men who should be on guard?

She seized the revolver she’d used for practice, knowing it was loaded and ready for the next session. With a quick prayer, she yanked open the front door. Not knowing exactly what she could do to help, she stepped out onto the stoop.

The bull had run beyond the house, past the barn and bunkhouse, toward the pasture, and then came up against a barbed wire fence. Rachel thought it would stop, but the bull lowered its head and crashed into the fence, tearing down wire and posts for a stretch of fifty feet. As he roared his rage and plowed on, trying to disentangle himself, more posts pulled out of the ground. The cattle that had been grazing placidly scattered and ran for the far reaches of the pasture.

Abe and Rusty suddenly appeared on the sloped land behind the well house, whooping and yelling as their horses ran toward the barnyard. The bull checked its stride, and Rusty whipped past him, getting between Ol’ Grumps and the range, while Abe rode into the yard. Rachel ran out to meet them.

“Can I help?” she yelled.

Rusty scowled at her. “Get inside!”

Abe, however, glanced her way and shouted, “Open the gate.”

She understood at once, laid the revolver on the step, and ran to the pasture gate. She fumbled with the chain that held it to a fence post and swung the eight-foot-long board gate on its hinges until it was wide open. Abe galloped through it, entering the big pasture quickly, without having to take his horse near the writhing, tangled fence the bull had pulled down. Rusty whirled his horse into position on the near side of the mess. He took his rope from the saddle and began twirling a loop over his head.

Rachel held her breath. What would Rusty do if he lassoed that bull? Surely his horse couldn’t hold the angry animal at bay. Then she saw that Abe was also working a loop on his rope. If they could both catch the bull at the same time, she supposed they might control it. She balled up her apron in her clenched hands.

With a furious bellow, Ol’ Grumps lunged against the wires that held him and broke free, plunging toward Abe. The cowboy yelled and swung his rope. The bull darted to the side, and Abe’s loop slapped its near horn and fell as Ol’ Grumps sprang away and darted toward the gate.

Rachel’s heart leaped into her throat. She should have shut the wide gate after Abe rode through. No time now! She ducked to the side, at least putting a sturdy fence post between her and the bull. But she’d just seen what the enraged beast could do to fence posts. She cringed away as it charged through the opening and headed straight for Rusty.

Jack and a horseman she didn’t recognize galloped into the barnyard, flanking Rusty and yelling at the bull. Ol’ Grumps pulled up short. He stood for a moment, snorting and pawing the ground.

Rachel held her breath. She had no way to retreat to the house without endangering herself further, so she stuck near the gate, trying to remember the things Jack had taught her. If the bull ran this way, she could try to herd him through the gate, but she was on foot. And she knew the men didn’t really want him in the pasture, but she supposed that would be better than being loose, where he might tear out for town or across the range.

What if he threatened her?

Make yourself look big, she thought. Make noise. Don’t run! She crumpled her apron, and something else she’d heard flitted through her mind. Bulls hated red, didn’t they? Would Ol’ Grumps attack her because of her colorful apron? She reached behind her and tore at her apron strings.

Jack, Rusty, and the new man all had their ropes swinging. She looked over her shoulder as she balled up the apron and dropped it in the grass. Abe was hanging back. He probably didn’t want to be smack in the gate when the others pushed the bull toward it.

In an instant, Ol’ Grumps whirled and plunged toward Rachel. If only he would lumber through the gateway! But no, he put his head down and ran straight at her, like a locomotive on its track.

She let out a yell, trying to keep it from becoming a shriek.

“No! You awful thing, get away!” She threw up her hands and jumped up tall, as huge and fierce as she could make herself.

The bull hesitated for a fraction of a second. It was enough. Three ropes snaked out. Two settled over the mad creature’s massive head, and as Ol’ Grumps plunged on, the third one neatly circled his hind hoof.

The next thing she knew, the bull was stretched out between the horses, and Abe rode through the gate to join Jack, the heeler.

“Get inside, Rachel,” Jack barked at her. “Now!”

He was angry with her. She sobbed as she ran for the kitchen door.

Jack wearily pulled his saddle off Brownie and carried it to the harness room. Every muscle ached from their effort at wrestling Ol’ Grumps back into his enclosure. At least that despicable bull was back in his pen now, and Jack had ordered Abe to watch the corral constantly. He hung up his bridle and turned.

Rusty had followed him into the barn.

“What do we do now?” Rusty asked.

“Get that fence back up,” Jack said.

“Chris is getting the tools.”

Jack nodded. Chris had been the rover, checking things farther from the home place, but he’d ridden up as they finally got the bull into the pen. “You remember Wade from last summer. He’s staying. Put him to helping, but all of you keep your eyes open. I’ve got to talk to Miss Paxton.”

“You reckon Hill will come back?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not today, but probably sometime.”

“We could chase him.”

Jack shook his head. “He’s got too big a start. After we get the fence fixed, I’ll send a couple of you into town to talk to the marshal. Let him handle it.”

“Awright.”

Rusty strode out into the sunlight, and Jack followed more slowly.

What could he say to Rachel? She could have been killed, running out there like that. Except for Joe and Goldie, who were still out somewhere riding fence, all the men were busy repairing the gap Ol’ Grumps had torn in the wire near the yard. Jack turned toward the house. He felt wrung out like a dishrag.

Rachel opened the kitchen door before he could even knock. Her mouth was a tight line, and her eyes were huge. She stepped back to let him in. Jack walked over to the table and put his hands on the back of a chair, leaning on it a little.

“Everything’s all right. I’ll send a couple boys in to talk to the marshal. Maybe he can rout Hill out when he goes back to his hotel.”

Unless he was mistaken, Rachel’s lips were trembling. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

“What for? No, don’t answer that. I know what for. You almost got yourself gored and trampled.”

She swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course not.” Jack hauled off his hat and slapped it onto the table. “What were you thinking, running out into the middle of that?”

“Abe said to open the pasture gate, so I did.”

He’d have something to say to Abe about that. He pulled in a deep breath.

She said, “When Ol’ Grumps came my way, I didn’t know what to do.”

“You did just right.”

“Really?” She didn’t look as though she believed him. “I tried to do like you said—look big. Make noise.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t counting on you going head-to-head with a furious bull when I said that. They can be unpredictable.” He sighed and shook his head. “You got coffee?”

Rachel blinked. “Yes. You want some?”

“I’m drier than the Mojave.”

She hesitated. “Sit down.” She went to the stove and gave the coffeepot a swift tap. “It’s still hot.” She brought him a mugful a moment later, then poured a cup for herself and sat down opposite him. “Maybe I need a lesson on how to face a bull.”

“No. I told you, you did fine. What you did actually helped, but … well, if it happens again, just stay inside and don’t go near him, no matter what Abe says.”

“I had the revolver out, but when Abe said to open the gate, I left it on the steps.”

Jack stared at her for a moment. If she’d fired at the bull, she probably would have just made the beast madder. He hated to think what the result would have been.

“A revolver isn’t a good match for an angry bull.”

She nodded. “I wasn’t really thinking of shooting at him,” she said. “I grabbed it because I saw another man out there. The one who opened the corral. I think it was Andrew Hill, and I didn’t know what else he would do.”

“It was Hill.” Jack made himself take a sip of his coffee. “He didn’t stick around to see what happened. Wade and I passed him coming in, and he was streaking it for town.”

“Who’s Wade? I mean, I saw him, but—”

“A new hand. And there’ll be one more here tomorrow morning.”

She nodded and took a drink of her coffee.

“Look, Miss Paxton—” He broke off, unsure of his ground. He didn’t want her to think he was angry with her, but seeing her in danger had shaken him. It was one thing for him and the other men to face Ol’ Grumps, or even that sidewinder, Hill. But Rachel … He took a gulp of coffee.

“You want to say something else, Jack?”

He set down his mug and brushed some dust off his cuff. “Yeah.”

“I’m listening.”

She sat there looking at him, her hands curled around her coffee mug. She looked beautiful and—not innocent exactly—vulnerable. His lungs squeezed.

“You gotta be careful, Miss Paxton.”

She nodded, never shifting her gaze away from his.

“I’m serious,” he said.

“I know. Thank you for—for caring about me. I’m sorry I upset you.”

“Hill didn’t come all the way from California just to do mischief.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I don’t like to say it, but if you think on it, letting Ol’ Grumps out wouldn’t do him much good in itself.”

Rachel frowned. “That’s right. If he ran off or got killed, that wouldn’t help Mr. Hill at all. You said yourself, Ol’ Grumps is a valuable asset to the ranch.”

“He is.”

“So why did Andrew Hill let him loose?”

“I think it was just a distraction.”

“From what?”

He hated to say it, but he wanted to keep her alive. “From you.”

She breathed twice before she responded. “Because the only way he can get the ranch is if I walk away from it or else die before I sign those papers.”

“That’s right. I figure he rode out here this morning and looked around. Saw one or two of the men on watch and figured he needed to keep them busy. Had to get them worried about something else while he—”

Her eyes widened. “While he came after me.”

“That’s all I can figure. Wade and I surprised him when we came tearing down the road, and he knew he had to make tracks. Rode right past us because we were concentrating on that bull. But by then there were four of us—five when Chris heard the commotion and rode in. The odds of him getting you and living to tell about it were slim to none, so he lit out. And we let him get away.”

“But you think he’ll try again.”

“I do,” Jack said. “So, like I say, be careful. If there’s a ruckus in the yard, don’t go running outside. Don’t show your face. Just sit tight until we handle it, whatever it is.”

“All right.”

They sat there a moment longer, staring at each other. She’d acted foolishly, running out of the house like that, but he couldn’t be angry. Not with Rachel. The thought of losing her scared him, but he was mad at Andrew Hill, not at her.

A shock of guilt jolted him. Did he care too much for the woman Randolph had loved? But Randolph was gone. Still, it seemed a bit traitorous.

She’d turned down Randolph though, and he’d had a ranch and some money. Jack didn’t have anything except a plug named Brownie and a beat-up saddle. He could never expect a woman like Rachel to care anything about him, except as an employee who could run things for her. Make money for her. Maybe protect her from her own impulsive actions.

He shook his head. “I’m not upset. I’m just glad you’re all right. And I’d have been mighty sorry if you got hurt.”

Seemed like a good time to leave, or he might give away how strongly he felt about her. He wasn’t used to this jumpy feeling he got every time she was near, or the terror that had seized him when he’d seen her in the bull’s path.

“Well, I’d best get out there and see how the boys are coming on that fence.” He shoved back his chair. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.”

He got as far as the door before remembering McClure’s message. He turned back toward her.

“Almost forgot. Mr. McClure wants you to make a will.”

She blinked those mesmerizing eyes. “As in, a last will and testament?”

“Yeah. Just in case. He says if you tell him who you want to be your heir, he’ll draw it up for you to sign when you get the deed to the ranch.”

He left with her sitting there like a statue, staring at him.