Tossing her reins over the top rail of the corral, she went to her gelding’s side and unfastened the leather ties securing her saddlebags to the saddle. She was about to heft them off when a hand reached over her shoulder and grabbed the bags before she had the chance.
Startled, she whirled to find Dustin standing behind her, his tall frame blocking the sun. “I can do that,” she threw out, more surprised than angry.
“I know you can. Just thought you’d get your saddle off more quickly if I took your bags to the porch.” He glanced at the saddle behind her head. “You got that?”
“Of course. I’ve been ranching almost as long as you have.”
“Fine, then.”
That was a phrase she was coming to know Dustin said often. He sauntered away with her saddlebag, his, and another that must have been Chaim’s, so he wasn’t treating her any differently. Good.
Turning back to her horse, she tossed up the stirrup, worked the supple cinch, and watched her brother over the top of her horse do the same with his mount.
Chaim finished unsaddling first and led both his and Dustin’s horse into the corral and turned them out. He went to the tank at the base of the windmill on the outside of the enclosure and dipped a couple of buckets, rationing the amount of water to give the hot animals.
Chaim’s gelding drank and then dropped to the ground. He rolled until he had both sweaty sides covered in dirt before he stood and shook off in a cloud of dust.
She turned her horse into the corral, watered him, and went in search of food.
Up the steep incline, Jackson barked and then let out a yip of surprise.
Not another snake!
Sidney whistled and turned for the cabin, not waiting for his return. That dog was always into something.
Chapter Ten
Dustin found three workable chairs inside the shack and brought them out to the porch, where an almost unnoticeable breeze kept the area cooler than inside the stuffy room. He arranged them in a semicircle, and then strode over to the four-foot-high holding tank beside the windmill.
After removing his Stetson, he held his breath and dipped his head in the water all the way to his shoulders, and let the coolness ease over his tight nerves. He stayed that way for a good ten seconds. Straightening, he dried with the cloth he’d brought, enjoying how the air briskly nipped at his skin. He felt fresher than he had in hours. Halfway back to the shack, he met Chaim.
“That’s a darn good idea,” Chaim said, heading for the windmill himself. “I’m glad we refilled our canteens as soon as we dismounted.”
Sidney paced back and forth on the porch as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. A bit of grime smudged her cheek, and her face was covered with the shiny film of sweat.
That was a feeling he knew all too well. Why should she suffer when he felt as fresh as a spring rose? Her brother, finishing up at the corral gate, headed off with one of the water buckets in hand. Dustin couldn’t stop a smile when she looked his way.
He held out his towel. “The water feels mighty nice. You might give it a go.”
Without a reply, she reached into her saddlebags he’d hung over the back of one of the chairs, withdrew her own small towel, and headed off for the windmill.
As hungry as he was, even his food couldn’t tempt him away from watching what she was about to do next. His sisters wouldn’t be caught dead sticking their head in a water tank. Madeline and Becky were a rancher’s daughters, but they still stuck to the norms of society. Modesty was their middle name.
Would Sidney actually do it?
Chaim, his hair soaking wet, turned and followed Dustin’s gaze when he reached the porch. “Is she actually gonna—”
His words were cut short when Sidney, without missing a beat, swept off her hat and plunged her head into the tank up to her shoulders. She stayed like that for a good five seconds.
Amazed, Dustin elbowed Chaim in the side.
Noah chose that second to join them. He turned to see what they were looking at and was presented with the back side of his sister as she toweled off her head. A moment passed before he realized what she’d done.
“Quit gawking at my sister before I—”
He didn’t finish his sentence, just launched himself at Dustin’s throat.
Dustin caught his wrist before he had a chance to throw any punches, and he bent Noah’s arm around his back, forcing his face toward the ground.
“You better think twice the next time you take me on, Calhoun, because I’ll not be holding back on you again. I didn’t ask for the privilege of watching your every move,” Dustin growled, his attention now on the youth. “If your sister didn’t want to put on a show, she didn’t have to go sticking her head in the tank.”
Sidney approached with a shiny clean face as she finger combed her long hair, now wet and free from its constraint. As soon as she saw his hold on Noah, she scowled and hurried her last few steps.
“What’s this?”
When Dustin shoved Noah away, the young Calhoun stumbled forward, off the porch and into the dirt, producing a cloud of dust. Sidney rushed to his side, but he shook her off when she tried to help him stand.
Turning, she glared at Dustin. “I asked you a question!”
“They were staring at you!” Noah threw out. “Making a spectacle of yourself. You should be ashamed.”
“Let ’em stare! Maybe the bumpkins have never seen a woman before.” Her jaw worked angrily as if she were holding back. “I don’t know. You can’t blame a person for wanting to cool off.”
Noah’s face flushed, and Dustin laughed at her attempt to rile him.
“And just so you know,” she went on, her hair dripping down over her soaked shoulders to her back and front, “I’m not ashamed of anything I do. I’m hot and filthy. I may strip down, dive in, and take a bath. That sure would feel good.”
Lord Almighty! Sidney Calhoun was one hell of a woman! He was sure not just anyone could take her on and live to tell about it.
Noah glared at her but held his tongue. He tromped to his saddlebag, and then eyeing the three chairs, plopped onto the edge of the porch with his back to the rest of them, gazing across the arid lands in silence.
Sidney took her saddlebag off the back of one chair and sat, settling the cumbersome leather in her lap. She rummaged through one side until she brought out a hunk of meat and bread wrapped in a cloth.
Her dog appeared and whined for a handout as he sat eye to eye next to Noah on the side of the porch. Sidney tossed him several strips of jerky and the heel of her bread.
The meal passed in silence, except for the dog that had started pacing the porch after he’d been fed.
Finished, Dustin brushed off his fingers and dropped his leather bags to the ground. “So, what kind of a name is Sidney, anyway? I always thought you were a boy.”
Chaim straightened and shot him a walk softly look.
Sidney’s brow arched. “It can go either way,” she said, totally unperturbed. “I’d rather sound like a boy than a dog or a broken-down old gelding.”
“She’s got you there, Dustin,” Chaim said on the tail end of a chortle. He tipped back his chair on its rear legs and rested against the building, looking at him with drowsy eyes.
Too relaxed to take any offense, especially since he’d started it, Dustin felt a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “How come you’re not married, Miss Calhoun? Usually by your age, a woman has a passel of children.”
She fumbled the last of the bread in her hands, but quickly recovered. “My age? How old do you think I am?” Her face was as stoic as an Indian’s.
His marital question had started out as payment for her name-calling. Now, though, her cool demeanor challenged him further. She thought he couldn’t get under her skin.
Dustin looked at her for a good ten seconds, as if taking stock, and color blossomed in her cheeks. “Past thirty.”
Chaim held his tongue, not giving him away. They had plenty of pr
actice teasing Madeline and Becky at home.
Her lips instantly flattened out, and her nostrils flared the tiniest bit. “What business is my age to you, McCutcheon?” she snapped.
She busied her hands inside her saddlebags, pulling out a withered apple that had seen better days. She took a healthy bite and glared out across the scenery as she chewed.
“Absolutely none,” he replied lazily. “Just passing the time. Thought we could get a little better acquainted.”
Noah spun, his mouth a hard, straight line. Looked as if the kid was ready to explode with want of defense of the sister he clearly loved.
“She’ll be twenty-five on her next birthday,” he gritted out. “Has had several offers by the richest men in Santa Fe. Just this July, Gibson Harp, owner of the hotel, mercantile, and livery, came asking for her hand. He’s still waiting on her—”
“Noah!” Sidney glowered at her brother, swallowing down a large mouthful of apple before she could respond.
Her bloodless face was pinched tight. Dustin noted a few light-colored freckles he hadn’t seen before scattered across the bridge of her nose.
“If you feel the need to run your mouth, then blather about yourself or any of the rest of the Calhouns, but not me! I’d think you knew better than that.”
Thoroughly chastised, Noah returned to his previous position and rested his chin on his palm.
Amused, Dustin glanced at Chaim, but his brother already had his eyes closed, so he tipped his hat forward. Crossing his arms over his chest, he slouched down in the chair, intending to have a brief nap. As soon as he’d settled, the dog jumped to his feet and let out a fierce bark.
Instantly, everyone was wide-awake. Without standing to draw attention, Dustin took a quick survey of the surrounding landscape. Sidney grabbed Jackson’s collar and pulled him to her side, keeping him from sounding any more alarms.
Seeing nothing, Dustin stood, signaling the others to stay put and keep acting like nothing had spooked them. He glanced toward the back of the building, past the corral and the rock outcroppings some fifty feet away. Close to the top, amid the craggy boulders, several riders sat on horses.
“We’ve got company,” he said under his breath, not turning from the men he watched.
“Comancheros?” Chaim asked.
“Thought you said they leave you alone,” Noah said.
“They do,” Chaim replied. “Usually. Maybe they’re just looking. Or maybe they’re outcasts, the very worst kind. They don’t hold by any rules, and certainly not their own.”
“Don’t look like Comancheros to me,” Dustin said. “Too well fed and mounted. But they’re outlaws of some sort.”
Sidney stood and slowly made her way to Dustin’s side, keeping a secure hold on her dog. She glanced up the rise. “Are they after our horses?”
“That would be my guess,” Dustin replied. “And our money, and anything else of value we have.”
He didn’t mention they’d want her too, but that was a given. He wanted to push her back, keep her out of view, but he knew better than to try.
Noah climbed to his feet. “I feel naked without a gun. You can’t leave me defenseless.”
“You’re right,” Dustin agreed, turning to face him. “Only thing, Sidney’s rifle is still in its scabbard on her saddle, as are ours.” He gestured to the corral fence where all the rigs hung, baking in the sun.
Noah took a step. “I’ll get it. I can be there and back in five seconds.”
Dustin grasped the young man’s shoulder as he was about to leave the building’s protective overhang and go out to the corral. “Let’s not do that quite yet.”
Chaim stepped close. “What’re ya thinking?”
“I say we go about our business of resting the animals. It’s more prudent now than ever if we have to make a run for it. If they meant to attack before we mounted up, they would’ve by now without coming out into the open. They’d want to take us by surprise.”
Sidney nodded. “Besides, there’s not much else we can do. But we don’t want to get trapped down here after dark. They’d have the advantage of height, and knowing the land.”
He watched her gaze drift to her brother and soften, a protective light moving across her face. She probably felt about Noah as he did about Chaim. Chaim might be a man, but he was still his little brother. One set to be married in little over a month. Dustin was determined not to let anything happen to him, or either of the Calhouns.
Another look at Sidney’s profile, as businesslike as any man’s and yet beautiful and soft, made him reach for his canteen. She wouldn’t like him thinking those thoughts about her, any thoughts, for that matter—and neither would his pa.
“Let’s all just sit back down and finish our rest. Your dog will let us know if they come any closer. When it’s time, we’ll ride right out of here.”
Chapter Eleven
The hour came and went faster than Sidney thought possible. Jackson slept at her feet, seeming unaware now of the danger. She unscrewed her canteen and wet her parched mouth, watching the men as they sat in silence.
It was time to saddle up and get moving, and she was glad. The waiting was killing her.
She wasn’t embarrassed to admit she was scared as hell. Her father always said a man dumb enough not to recognize danger when it looked him in the face was one stupid enough to get you killed. If a fight broke out, she’d rather it happened on the run, where they had a chance, where they could split up if needed. Here they’d be trapped like rats in this hot box, easy enough to be slaughtered.
Glancing about, she took in the dry land that stretched as far as the eye could see. If only Jock Jr. were here.
Her oldest brother had stepped into her father’s boots when the patriarch of the Calhoun clan seemed unable to lift the load any longer. Oh, he let Pa think he was making the decisions and such, but her brother was the one orchestrating things to his liking. Jock Jr. was smart and hard, and he could get them out of any situation. She trusted him implicitly.
She glanced at Dustin and then at Chaim, her doubt growing in leaps and bounds. Were they good shots? Expert horsemen? Would they know what to do in a sticky situation where the decision of each moment could mean life or death? In a matter of minutes, she’d find out.
Dustin stood, and Jackson climbed to his feet and wagged his tail.
She was worried about her dog, as well. He’d have a better chance on the ground, and not as a target as each of the riders would be. The forty-pound animal was too bulky to try to hold in front of her saddle at a dead run.
Bad choice of words.
She scratched him under his chin and stroked his head several times, smiling into his face. Jackson was smart and tough. If he couldn’t keep up, he’d find his way by scent.
When Chaim stood and stretched his back, she and Noah followed suit, her brother’s uncertain glance making her stomach sour. Time might have arrived, but she’d not leave her brother defenseless.
“Noah’s good with a six-shooter.” She lifted her gun from its holster and checked the chambers. “At a run, a handgun would be better than the rifle. Do either of you have an extra?”
Dustin strode to the side of the porch and scanned the hill where he’d first seen the Comancheros. His wide shoulders filled his tan shirt. The fabric stretched across his back. She jerked her gaze away to rest on the black hat he held in his hands.
The older McCutcheon nodded. “Yeah. I’d already intended on giving him the one in my saddlebag.” He withdrew the gun and handed it to Noah. “Don’t make me regret this,” he said, his steely voice pitched low.
Noah checked the chambers and then stuck the Colt in his waistband. “Thanks.”
His tone could have been nicer, but at least the attitude was a far cry from his petulance before trouble arrived. For that, Sidney was glad. Like it or not, she and Noah needed the McCutcheons now more than ever.
Chaim opened the left side of his saddlebag. “Let’s divvy up this ammunition.”
Sidney hadn’t planned on more than a few days in Santa Fe, just long enough to get Noah out of jail and head back home. She’d brought her gun, as she always did, but only packed a handful of shells. After learning Noah’s fate in San Antonio and that they’d be riding on to Rio Wells, she’d purchased a box at a local gun shop. Still, the amount wasn’t near enough if they got into a shootout. Helping herself to several large handfuls, she dropped them into her bag. Noah did the same.
Dustin screwed his hat down tight. He pointed out across the arid land, filled with brown blowing grass and boulders. A few lone trees dotted the landscape, and a copse here and there broke up the horizon.
“See that slight rise, where the skyline looks like the curve of a hawk’s beak leaning on its side?” he asked, never taking his gaze from the direction he was looking.
Several moments passed as she struggled to find the spot he intended.
“Under the only dark cloud in the sky,” he bit out.
“Yeah,” she replied, ignoring the pinching sensation in her gut.
Her father wouldn’t bear it if his youngest son was killed. Noah was the only Calhoun that resembled their mother, having the same eyes and hair. Him dying now would finish off her pa, especially if his demise happened in the presence of a McCutcheon.
Noah nodded. “Yeah, I see the mark.”
“Good. Beyond that’s Draper Bottom, a small community, and beyond that is Rio Wells. If we get split up, head there and wait. At a gallop, the crossing will take about an hour. Between here and there are a few places to hide out, rocks, a copse or two, but not much more. Ride hard and make for that town.”
He turned and gave them all a hard look. The muscle in his jaw worked several times before he added, “I don’t believe the situation will come to that. If they were planning to make a play, they would’ve by now, or before we had our horses under us.”
Texas Lonesome Page 7
