Diane R. Jewkes

by The Heart You Own

  “If you wish to keep your job on this ranch, I suggest you remember that fact, and never approach me in such an untoward manner again.” She desperately pushed down the rapidly rising fear.

  Jeb dropped his hand to his side, face pale, a mixture of embarrassment and anger. “No ma’am,” he drawled slowly, leveling his unnerving gaze on her again. “I guess I overstepped myself. Of course those clothes could give a man the wrong idea.”

  Kara sucked in her breath.

  “Black … . Where are you?” Joe, the ranch foreman, walked into the barn. Kara saw his eyes go from her face to Black’s clenched fists. “What the hell are you doin’ in here, Black?” he yelled at the younger man. “You’re supposed to be out bringing in the horses. You were hired to break horses, not dilly-dally in the barn. Don’t let me catch you wasting time or bothering Miss Kara again, or you’ll be off this property so fast … do I make myself clear!” He leaned towards Jeb, anger clenching every muscle of his face.

  “I was just introducin’ myself to the lady,” Jeb said slowly, challenging the older man with an insolent stare. “Didn’t know it was a problem boss.” A slow, cold grin spread across his face. “Guess I’ll jest get on to work now.” Looking at Kara, eyes cold, Jeb tipped his hat. “Miss,” He turned and sauntered out of the barn.

  A long breath escaped her. Only then had she realized she’d been holding it in. “Thank you, Joe.” She grabbed his arm, grateful for the momentary support, afraid her knees might give out. “I’ve never met anyone who has made me feel so uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure what he might do.”

  “You stay clear of him, Miss Kara.” He put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick hug. “It appears that boy’s got some manners to learn. I’ll be sure the other men keep an eye on him and keep him clear of you. If he causes any trouble, he can just pack up. Bronc busters are a dime a dozen. I don’t allow troublemakers of any kind on this spread.” Turning to leave, he looked back. “You go on up to the north pasture with Henry and Lacy. They’ll keep you busy today. Don’t you worry about Jeb Black anymore.”

  She entered the stall, still shaken by the encounter. The dark red gelding pushed his nose into her chest in greeting. She hugged his neck, breathing in the warm, musky smell — a combination of horse, hay, and dust. “Oh Gally, I don’t understand? I certainly didn’t do anything to provoke him.” The big horse snuffled softly in her hair. Sighing raggedly, she took a deep breath and worked to calm her racing heart. Pushing back from the horse, she turned and picked up a brush from the ledge outside the stall and brushed him down. The steady strokes of the brush across her horse’s coat relaxed her.

  Sighing once again, she finished saddling her horse, led him from the barn into the bright, warm light of a spring morning, mounted, and went to work.

  Chapter 3

  The young woman looked up through her lashes at the two men sitting across from her on the train. God, but he’s magnificent, she thought, admiring the man seated directly across from her. The smooth fit of his tailored black jacket across broad shoulders, and the snug fit of his vest emphasized the lack of spare flesh on this man. Looking at his long, thickly muscled thighs in snug breeches tucked into tall, riding boots caused a flutter in her stomach and heat to race along her skin. I wonder where he’s going. She licked her lips, contemplating a long ride and a casual flirtation.

  A soft, deep chuckle caused her to jerk up her head. Face flaming with embarrassment; she realized the man had caught her looking him up and down and behaving like some common strumpet. Muttering an apology, she stood and hurried from her seat, exiting to the next car.

  • • •

  “Well, Hawke,” laughed the man next to him. “It looks like ye’ve done it again. Set another wee lassie’s heart to pittering. I’d think you would tire of the long looks and breathy sighs that have accompanied us on this interminably long journey.”

  “You’ve had more looks and propositions than me, my friend,” Hawke smiled. “In fact, I seem to remember twin sisters on the boat over here … . ”

  “Enough … enough,” laughed Alec MacCairn. “You win. I guess we’ve both had our share of attention from the ladies. But you, my friend, didn’t seem too interested in partaking of any offers. Not your usual style.”

  No, the ladies loved them both, and they both enjoyed pleasing the ladies. Hawke knew his reserve seemed to attract and intrigue women, not scare them off, just as much as Alec’s roguish charm drew them like bees to honey.

  “Well, I figured you were spreading your attentions around enough for both of us, Alec.”

  The two had been boyhood friends, growing up on adjoining estates in Scotland. They had gone through university together and spent their military service in India in the same regiment. Now his friend had agreed to accompany him to the American West for no other reason than the chance at a possible adventure.

  “You know,” said Alec seriously, the smile gone from his lips. “I still don’t understand what buying a partnership in a farm in this godforsaken wilderness has to do with your reason for coming out here.”

  “I believe they call them ranches out here. And it has nothing to do with my other business. Buying into the Jonston ranch … the Ladder J is purely a business decision. Coming out here to track down that worthless jackal is purely personal.”

  Hawke’s anger flared at the memory. Controlling the urge to put his fist through something, he felt the muscle in his jaw jump. When he had returned from service in India, he had learned Geoffrey Tompkins, a neighbor, had somehow hurt his younger sister, Bethany, causing her to go into a deep depression. When he went to confront Geoffrey, he found that Geoffrey’s father — the coward — had sent his son away to avoid scandal. Geoffrey’s brother, in an attempt to protect him from Hawke’s wrath, had concocted some absurd story about Bethany and Tompkins being in love, saying when his brother had asked her to run away with him, she had gone crazy. It was too outlandish to believe.

  It had broken his heart to see his once-vibrant sister lock herself in her room and refuse to leave the house. She never smiled anymore. She seemed caught in the grip of a black demon slowly draining her life away.

  “Just a coincidence,” he said, pushing the painful memories back. “The detectives tracking Tompkins found out he headed toward the same area this ranch is in. I wouldn’t care if he’s hundreds of miles from the ranch … he’s in this part of the world, and I’m going to find him.”

  He’d spent almost a year and a small fortune finding Tompkins’ whereabouts. It had been during this time the investment opportunity in the New Mexico Territory had appeared.

  “So, this ranch will be just a place for you to stay while you search … am I right?” Alec had also been shocked by what had happened to Bethany. “This venture of yours will give you someplace to search from, and a way to expend energy while you wait. It begins to make sense to me.”

  Taking a deep breath, Hawke forced himself back in control. He had always been the calm one, the logical one. He wasn’t about to change now.

  “In a way, but I am serious about my interest in the American agricultural systems. I see an opportunity to not only make changes in England and America.” His shoulders relaxed, and a small smile played around his mouth. “But also a fine opportunity to make money, too.”

  “As though you need any more,” laughed Alec.

  Making money had always been a special talent of Hawke’s. He could smell a good investment. Alec had begged him repeatedly to teach him his techniques. He had tried to teach him. Lord knows, he had tried. Being raised the eldest sons among the upper classes had taught them both a lot about living with money and the obligations wealth brought to a person, but they had seen greed destroy many men. Hawke handled his wealth with the same equanimity and control he handled everything in his life.

  Hawke turned his head, looking out the window thro
ugh the puffs of black smoke coming from the engine. He watched the landscape change once again. The flat, dry desert floor they had been traveling through changed to scrubby bushes, scattered trees, bound in the distance by blue and purple mountains clawing at the endless sky.

  He had been amazed at the vast openness of the country they had covered. It felt like they had been traveling endlessly since they left New York. He was awed at the openness of the prairie since leaving the Mississippi. He had never seen so much land with so little on it. A sea of grass.

  The towns had appeared like small scars in the endless green prairie, and telegraph lines stretched into the horizon like guidelines showing the way through the vastness. He wondered how he would ever track a man through this huge never-ending expanse.

  He remembered what Arthur Cove had told him when they met in London; this land would change a man. He was beginning to understand how the man might think so. Cove’s enthusiasm for the raw untamed West had played into his decision to correspond with Case Jonston.

  The rancher seemed to be not only surprisingly open to his suggestions, but also very forthright and honest, someone he could have a solid working relationship with.

  “Have you fallen asleep looking out at this unchanging brown nothingness?” Alec grumbled. “I thought you said this ranch was in the mountains. I see nothing but dry ground and scraggly trees all around.” The time it took to cross the country had astounded and wearied both of them. “Why would anyone want to live out here?”

  “There’s more here than you’re seeing,” Hawke said, pointing towards the mountains looming ahead. “This is not just dry ground, Alec. Look around. Don’t you see the river down there, the trees? Look at how tall the grass is. Don’t look at this land the same way you look at the manicured lawns of England, or the suffocating jungles of India, but more like the highlands of home. It’s vast, but it’s far from empty. Think of it, soil that hasn’t been depleted by over-planting and great areas yet to be developed. The possibilities are staggering.”

  Alec snorted. “I haven’t seen anything bigger than a rabbit since we left St. Louis. And dirt is dirt to me, laddie. I thought you said this place was full of game. You know I had hoped to do some hunting while here … guess it won’t happen.” He looked sullenly out the window. “It all looks the same to me … shades of brown.”

  The conductor came down the aisle, announcing they would arrive in Socorro in thirty minutes. He stopped by the two men.

  “Sirs,” he nodded, touching a finger to his cap. “I would venture this is your first trip out West. I hope you enjoy your stay. If you look out your window and to the left, you’ll see one of the many herds of pronghorn in this area, good eating should you be lucky enough to shoot one.” Tipping his hat again, the conductor continued down the aisle, calling out the upcoming station.

  The men spotted the group of tan-and-white pronghorns sprinting and hopping across the plain. Laughing, Hawke slapped his friend on the shoulder. “Those look like rather large rabbits to me.”

  • • •

  Stepping down from the train, the two men walked through the hissing steam from the locomotive’s brakes and headed for the freight cars to oversee the unloading of their gear and their livestock.

  “Excuse me, are you Mr. Stoneham?”

  A thin whip of a man in a brown western-style hat, blue shirt, leather vest, denim pants, and boots approached the two men.

  “It’s Lord Stoneham,” Alec replied arrogantly. “And who are you?”

  “I’m Joe Harding,” the man replied. “I’m the foreman for the Ladder J.”

  Hawke stepped forward, smiling, and extending his hand to the older man. “Mr. Harding, I’m Stoneham, and this is Alec MacCairn, Lord Peyton … but please, call us Hawke and Alec.” He shot a quelling look at his companion. “After all, this is America, and our titles mean little here. I’m glad you received my wire in time to meet us.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, sir. Where’s your baggage and the cattle you brung? I’ve got a wagon and a couple of the boys from the ranch here to help. It’s a long trip, and we need to git moving.” Turning, he spit a stream of tobacco juice on the wood platform. “Now do you have horses with you, or are you riding in the wagon?”

  Hawke heard Alec behind him mumbling something about impertinent Americans, but chose to ignore him. “We brought twenty cows and three bulls, and our horses.” He nodded towards the livestock cars, “Though fairly docile, the cattle are likely to be nervous after the long train trip.”

  “Well, let’s get to it.” Joe turned to the men standing by a wagon. “Secondino, you come get the luggage. Darcy! You and Eddie mount up and check those cattle being unloaded.” Turning to Hawke, “I trust you can get your own horses and gear.” The older man mounted a stout buckskin horse, spun the animal on its hocks, and headed toward the cattle car, shouting directions to his men.

  “I’m not sure,” Alec said, a hint of humor lacing his voice, “but I don’t think Mr. Harding holds a very high opinion of us.”

  “Remember, Alec, we are in America, where they could not care less if you are a peer of the realm or the lowliest pauper. Your arrogance and your title don’t impress people out here. Don’t forget.” He smiled wryly. “They won. Let’s get the horses and get going.”

  They untied their horses and led them down the wooden ramp past the holding pens where the cattle were being put as they came out of the livestock cars. Hawke’s gray stallion pranced at the end of his lead, tossing his head and flaring his nostrils at the strange scents and sounds. Jerking lightly on the reins, he caught the animal’s eye. “Settle down, you silly beast,” he said affectionately. The horse rolled his eyes, snorted, then calmed down.

  Joe, seeing the stallion, rode up to the two men, and whistled softly. “That’s a fine piece of horseflesh you’ve got there.” He looked admiringly at the big gray. “Bet he can run like a house afire.”

  “Aye, he can, and will jump anything he’s put to. I bred and trained him myself,” Hawke replied, patting the horse’s neck with pride.

  Joe looked surprised. “He ain’t no thoroughbred … too thick in the bone.” He looked up. “What breed is he?”

  “An Irish Hunter. I’m hoping there are some good mares at the ranch. I’d be interested to see the result of a cross with your working stock.”

  Joe dismounted and stroked the smooth shoulder of the gray. “We’ve got some fine quarter horse mares at the spread. Yep,” he said, moving towards the horse’s head, “might make a good cross. Course, you’ll have to talk to Case and Kara. I don’t get involved with the horse breeding.”

  “Who is Kara?” Alec walked up, leading his big bay behind him. “Is she the owner’s wife?”

  Joe chuckled. “His daughter. Kara is Case’s only child. She works the ranch alongside the hands. She works every bit as hard as they do, too.” There was pride in the foreman’s voice as he spoke.

  One of the hands came up to the men informing them the cattle were ready to be moved out.

  “It’s time to go, Mr. Stoneham, Mr. MacCairn.” A small smile crossed his face as Alec bristled at “mister.”

  • • •

  The sun was setting when they finally stopped and made camp. Joe set Eddie on the first watch over the cattle while Luis started the fire and prepared supper. The men set their gear on the ground near the crackling fire. The man named Darcy watched Hawke and Alec pull their flat English saddles from their horses.

  “Those look like cavalry saddles,” he said, grinning with tobacco-stained teeth. “Won’t do you no good workin’ cows.” Sitting on the ground and leaning against his western saddle, he patted the broad, worn leather seat and spat a stream of tobacco juice towards the fire. “Y’all are goin’ to need saddles like these if you plan on workin’ the ranch.”

  Joe looked at them. “Ever ridden in a wes
tern saddle? Ain’t too different from those pancake saddles.” He laughed, spreading out his bedroll, “Just more of it.”

  Hawke turned from brushing down his horse. “I guess we will need new saddles. Can we get them at the ranch or do we need to go somewhere to purchase them?”

  “Naw, we got extras at the ranch. Might have to add leather to the stirrups to accommodate yer long legs though.”

  Finished bedding down his horse, Hawke walked away from the camp to the top of a low hill. He watched as the sky turned from a deep clear blue to streaks of fiery red and orange, violet then midnight blue as the cloak of night covered the desert floor below. The air so dry and clear; he felt like he could reach up and touch the blazing colors spreading from horizon to horizon. The sun flashed its final gold brilliance in the sky, and the colors began to blend into the darkness.

  Although it was late April, it had felt incredibly hot during the day. Not the suffocating wet heat of the jungle, but a dry baking heat shimmering over the land, sending waves dancing through the air. The heat disappeared with the sun and the air cooled rapidly. Turning back towards the camp, he watched as Secondino cooked beans over the open fire, the tangy smell of the mesquite wood scenting the air. In the distance, he heard a sound like hundreds of dogs barking. A chorus of high-pitched yips and long mournful howls seemed to be all around them. Walking towards the camp, he heard Joe explaining to Alec.

  “Those ain’t dogs or wolves. It’s a pack of coyotes, worst scavengers in the desert. Seen ’em take down a full-grown bull. They just run ’em into the ground, rip out the leg muscles and overpower them by sheer numbers. When they yip and howl, they’re gettin’ ready to go huntin’. That’s what the boys are watchin’ for with yer cattle. You ever see ’em on the range, shoot. They’re nothin’ but worthless varmints.”

  “Tell me, Joe.” Hawke eased himself to the ground, leaning back on his elbows on his bedroll. “Have you lived all your life out here, or did you come after the War Between the States, like Mr. Jonston?”