Dylan stood in the quiet of the early evening. His whole being urged him to ride down to the trading post. In the warm, still air he mopped his forehead with a handkerchief and silently cursed. He was bone tired. He had chased cattle out of the brush all day. He would no sooner drive a bunch out of the thickets than they’d turn around and run right back in. He’d be glad when he got the lot of them into one herd and could drive them to market.
Horses had more sense than to run through thorny brush.
Dylan dropped his cigarette into the dirt, then ground it out with his booted foot. He swung onto Devil’s back and headed him down the river road toward the post.
“Damm fool,” he mumbled to himself, “you knew all along that you’d be going there. You just can’t get those long legs out of your mind.”
As he rode through the willows, he kept his right hand on his thigh. It was only inches from the heavy Colt stuck in his belt. Not only were there renegade Indians roaming the mountains, but also outlaws. And that was to say nothing of the mean drunks riding home from the Grizzly Bear saloon.
Finally an illuminated window appeared in the gathering darkness. Dylan nudged the stallion into a trot. He pulled up in front of the hitching rail and swung to the ground. A moment later he pushed through the bat-wing doors into the Grizzly Bear saloon. He stepped to one side of the door and stood waiting for his eyes to adjust to the brightness inside the room.
An excited cry rang from the lips of three saloon women when they spotted him. They almost knocked each other over in their rush to get to him first.
“When did you come down from the mountains?” they wanted to know, grabbing him by the arms and squeezing them against their scarcely covered breasts.
“Girls, turn him loose!” John Jacob bellowed. “The man can’t walk with you hanging on him like a bunch of monkeys.”
The women loosened their holds somewhat, but still kept step with Dylan. It was easy to see that he was a favorite of theirs. If they were asked whether he paid them extra, they would vehemently deny the charge. When pressed to say why they all wanted his company, their answer was a sly grin that played havoc with a person’s imagination.
Dylan and the three women were crowded up against the bar, and Dylan had just ordered John Jacob to bring him a bottle when he felt an intense gaze on his back. He lifted his head and looked into the mirror over the bar and straight into Rachel’s face. His face grew fiery red at the contempt in her gray eyes. At that moment one of the women slid her hand down the front of his buckskins. He jerked her hand away so fast, she let out an angry squeal.
“What’s wrong with you, Dylan?” she exclaimed. “You’ve never objected to my hands down your pants before.”
The few men in the saloon guffawed. “Tell him, Gracie. We’ve seen you do that lots of times.”
“Go to hell, all of you,” Dylan grated, and flinging some money on the bar, he stepped into the next room to play poker.
He hardly knew what cards he held in his hand. His mind was on how he’d like to break Gracie’s neck.
He remembered then the many times the girl had done the same thing before. He had never objected. He had only followed her to her room. It wasn’t right for him to suddenly act as if her touch was poison. He’d have to apologize to her the next time he got a chance.
After losing several hands, he threw down his cards. There was no point hanging around any longer. He’d hoped to get a chance to talk to Rachel, but after the incident in the bar, she’d want nothing to do with him. And somehow, the other women held no appeal for him tonight.
Dylan walked toward the door. He was about to step outside when he saw a fat man waddle past the window. Dylan didn’t know him and paid him little attention.
Dylan was nearing the spot where Devil was hitched when he heard the soft voice of a woman talking to the stallion. Alarm jumped in his chest. Devil was a mean one who wouldn’t let anyone but his owner approach him. Dylan was afraid to think how Devil would react to a stranger, and a woman at that.
He stopped suddenly when he was a few feet away from the horse and just stared. It was Rachel speaking to the stallion. And Devil, that scamp, was nudging his head into her shoulder as if he had known and loved her all his life.
Dylan slid his hat to the back of his head and asked himself what he should do. Should he just stand here in the shadows and wait for the girl to leave? If he walked up to them, he might startle Devil, and Lord knew what the testy animal might do.
Dylan decided that he would sit down under a tree and wait out of the pair. He was just about to turn away when from the corner of his eye he saw the shadowy figure of a man slipping up on Rachel and the stallion. He recognized the rounded shape of the fat man he’d seen out of the saloon window. Dylan had already taken a step forward when he realized by the man’s furtiveness that he was up to no good. He opened his mouth to shout a warning to Rachel, but a split second before he could utter a sound, the man had grabbed her and clamped his hand over her mouth. Dylan let loose a thunderous yell, which startled the stallion. He reared up on his hind legs, screaming his fury.
Rachel was no passive victim. She was kicking her assailant in the legs, aiming for his crotch and clawing her nails at his face. Dylan sprinted across the short distance to where they struggled. He lunged at a broad back that looked the size of a small mountain.
The man was driven to his knees by Dylan’s charge. He scrambled to his feet and Dylan waded into him. His fists battered the fat face until the man’s lips were cut and one eye swollen shut.
The fat man was blubbering and begging for mercy when the post door flew open and John Jacob came flying down the path, roaring like a mad bull.
“Did I hear Rachel cry out?” he puffed, out of breath.
Dylan had just caught Rachel in his arms to steady her, and he didn’t know how Andrews would take it. He eased her to her feet, and she went flying into John Jacob’s arms. Dylan frowned when the post owner clasped her tight against his chest and pressed her face against his shoulder. He stroked her back as he whispered to her.
So that’s how it is, Dylan thought bitterly. He’d never have a chance in hell against Andrews. The older man obviously had money, and he’d taken Rachel in when she was sick, been kind to her. No doubt she thought Dylan a beast for the way he’d treated her, and tonight he’d appeared the worst kind of woman chaser.
He was about to climb into the saddle when he saw John Jacob and Rachel coming toward him. He paused and waited, wondering what was on the man’s mind.
“Quade,” John Jacob began, his arm still around Rachel’s waist, “I want to thank you for what you did for Rachel. I only wish you’d shot the bastard.”
Dylan shrugged and drawled, “I was having too much fun beating the hell out of him.”
John Jacob grinned. “I can understand that. I feel like throwing a bucket of water on him so that I can beat the hell out of him, too.”
The big man held his hand out to Dylan. “Maybe I’ve been too hard on you. What do you say we let bygones be bygones?”
“Sounds good to me,” Dylan said and glanced covertly at Rachel. His heart lurched a bit when she smiled shyly at him. Maybe all wasn’t lost after all.
“Will you come back to the post and have a drink with me?” John Jacob asked.
Nothing would have suited Dylan better, but he didn’t want to press his luck with Rachel. She had given him a smile; he’d better be satisfied with that.
“Thank you, John, but I’ll take you up on that another time. I have a mare ready to foal at any time,” he lied. “I want to be close by in case she has any trouble dropping her baby.”
“The offer stands,” John Jacob said, and taking Rachel by the arm, he led her toward the post.
With a bleak sigh, Dylan mounted the stallion and headed for the ranch. He was so deep in thoughts of Rachel, asking himself if she would ever care for him, that he was nearly thrown from the saddle when an owl swooped by the stallion’s head.
When Dylan had calmed the animal, he sat Devil awhile, catching his breath and telling himself what a damn fool he was to go mooning over a female who cared nothing for him. He was going to stop it right now. Dylan Quade didn’t have to beg any woman for anything.
He picked up the reins and nudged Devil on down the trail.