“The Hardens get snowed in, but the hands that helped with the drive don’t live at their ranch. Silas and Belle handle the ranch themselves except at branding and when they run cattle to market. A good share of the drovers who were with them spend the winter in Divide, and a few of them hired on to my outfit at the Double L. I was interested in the little guy. I always go visit foals of my black sires.”
Linscott heard the soft whinny of a horse and turned to look over his stallion’s tall shoulders toward the corral. “There he is.” He spoke like a prayer. He had eyes for nothing but the baby frolicking at its mama’s side. Then suddenly, as if he couldn’t hold himself back, he strode toward the barn without another word.
Mandy felt like a fool standing there with her rifle aimed at nothing. “Mr. Linscott, I insist that you ride on. I don’t want …”
The man wasn’t even close enough to hear what she was saying anymore.
Mandy lowered the rifle. With a quick motion that she’d made a thousand times before, she slung it over her shoulder by its strap and hung it angled across her back, muzzle hanging down on her right, gun butt up on her left. Then she followed after her visitor, pausing to pat the cranky stallion on the nose as she passed him.
The horse tried to bite her hand off. She laughed and rounded him, giving his iron-shod heels their due respect.
As she tagged along after Mr. Linscott, it crossed her mind to threaten him with her husband. It might be wise to cloud the issue of how alone she was here. She could say her man would come a’runnin’ if she gave a shout, but Tom Linscott had a solid look to him. Trail wise and straightforward, she doubted he’d bluff easy. And since Sidney was in town, all it’d be was a bluff. She kept herself away from Linscott but went up to the fence to watch the beautiful little colt.
Whistling softly, Mr. Linscott said, “He’s perfect. A pure imitation of his papa.” Linscott pulled off a worn glove, tucked it behind his belt buckle, and fished around in the pocket of his fringed, buckskin jacket. He crouched low and reached a hand through the split-rail fence. He opened his hand to reveal a chunk of carrot.
The colt noticed and froze, staring at that hand. The more civilized mare wandered slowly toward the offered treat.
“C’mon, good girl. You got yourself a prize of a baby, didn’t you, lucky lady? Good girl. Good girl.”
Mandy almost went for the carrot herself. She was amazed at Mr. Linscott’s voice. It was familiar. She’d heard those soothing tones from cattlemen all her life as they gentled a nervous horse and fractious cattle that needed doctoring.
A lot of ranching was done with pure muscle and a sturdy rope, containing the animals for whatever purpose. But when a body needed to handle the critter, to break a horse or to doctor one, most good cowpokes could croon to them, ease their fears. No one was better at it than Beth. She had as much of a gift with animals as she did with people. This man wasn’t in her league but he was good, very good.
The mare was obviously an old, well-trained cowpony. Belle had said she was too old to make the long trek home so soon after foaling. The mare didn’t hesitate to approach a human hand attached to Linscott’s gentle voice.
The foal danced and skittered, his wide black eyes showed white around his pupils as he watched his mother approach that dangerous hand. He pranced forward, then turned and ran a few paces away, then wheeled and rushed toward the security of his mama again. The baby pawed the dirt and shook its short mane.
Mandy crouched so she could look through the railing on eye level with the colt. She used her own animal soothing tones. “You are your father’s son, sure enough.”
The foal heard her voice and calmed and gamboled forward. She’d talked with him every day since his birth, while she’d tended his mother and the other two horses.
The mare nipped at the carrot, and Tom reached through and ruffled her ears. He looked sideways at Mandy. “The little guy knows you.”
“I’ve been introducing myself to him every day when I feed the mare and brush her coat. He’s a long way from tame, but he’s not too afraid.”
The foal came as far as his mother’s hindquarters and ducked low to steal a comforting sip of milk.
Mr. Linscott’s low chuckle deepened Mandy’s enjoyment of the little colt. He slowly rose from where he crouched and the mare stayed close, letting him pet her, a reward for the carrot.
Mandy stood, too, realizing just how tall Mr. Linscott was—as oversized as his stallion.
Mr. Linscott turned to look at her while he caressed the mare.
Mandy recognized his type, right down to the ground. A cowboy. A man who fought nature every day and won, or at least survived to fight again the next day. A man like her pa.
Her eyes traveled from where he touched the mare up his long, strong arm to his square shoulders, and she looked straight into his eyes.
And he looked back.
Their gazes held for a second as she looked into those eyes. Blue eyes. As blue as hers. As blue as the heart of a flame.
Why had she thought she wanted a city man like Sidney? The moment that thought fully formed, she turned away and gripped the fence, riveting her gaze on the little colt.
Think of something to say. Think. Think.
Suddenly what had been pleasant and familiar was awkward and the silence, before companionable, was uncomfortable. “So, uh—B–Belle, um … said you’d try and get her to pay stud fees. Is that right?” There, a safe subject.
“Oh, I’ll try.” His voice called to her. She almost glanced over to see if he was offering her a carrot. “I got a reputation for guardin’ that stallion like he was made of pure gold. But I know Belle Tanner, uh, Harden, I mean. Gotta learn that woman’s new name, I reckon.” Mr. Linscott chuckled again.
“I won’t get anywhere with Belle. She’s a tough one. And truth be told, my stallion probably lured this little lady into breakin’ her reins and runnin’ off with him. Belle don’t owe me nothin’. But I won’t admit that right up front. I’ll be surprised if that confounded woman don’t try and charge me money for the lost use of her mare over the winter.” Mr. Linscott laughed harder. “But that woman sure got herself a rare little foal. My stallion breeds true, but I don’t know as I’ve seen a prettier little baby born from him.”
Mandy made a point not to turn and smile at the invitation Mr. Linscott gave her with his good-natured talk.
A touch on her shoulder brought her around and backed her about five feet down the corral fence. She fumbled again to speak. “Well, I—I need to get on with—with my—”
“Let me split that firewood there.” Mr. Linscott still had his hand raised where he’d touched her, to draw her attention to where he was looking. He nodded toward the mountain of firewood the Harden clan had left behind. A little of it split but plenty left that wasn’t.
Mandy glanced up and saw those eyes again. She looked quickly away. “There’s no need of that. Thanks for offering. But no, I have a busy day laid out, so I’ll say good-bye now and—”
“And I heard you needed to daub your house again. When I rode in, I saw a patch of clay soil, not far from here. That works faster and better than mud. I’ll go dig up a supply and do some chinking. I need to thank you for takin’ care of this little guy.”
Mr. Linscott leaned his elbow on the fence. “Belle owes you, but my hands said they helped you … uh, you and—and your man get settled.” Mr. Linscott straightened, and out of the corner of her eye, Mandy saw him adjust his hat. “They said your … uh … h–husband …” There was a few seconds of silence then Tom went on. “He isn’t used to ranch life and maybe he’d be willing to accept some neighborly help. I like knowing my black’s offspring are well cared for, and I can see that this one is. To my way of thinking, I owe you for that, and I pay what I owe.”
Mr. Linscott turned away from her, and finally she felt free to turn and watch him. He headed straight for the woodpile. “Splittin’ wood is heavy work for a woman. I can take some of that weight off your
shoulders.”
It was the honest truth that of all the chores that needed doing before winter landed hard on Mandy’s head, splitting that mountain of cord wood was the most daunting. She could do it, but it would be long hours of hard labor just to keep even with what they needed to burn, and she needed to do more than keep even. She needed to get ahead and store up the wood before winter made that work impossible. And the chance of Sidney splitting all that wood was slim. “There’s no need for that, Mr. Linscott.”
“Call me Tom.” He grabbed the ax, checked the edge with his thumb, then pulled the glove he’d shed back on. “And I’m doing it. Even a sharpshootin’ cowgirl like you can’t stop me.”
He caught a length of wood, about three feet long, and up and settled it on the log used for a cutting block. He hefted the ax, testing the weight of it in his hands. Then taking a firm grip, he swung the ax with a single, smooth motion, and the log split in half. He set one of the three-foot-long halves back on the block and split it again.
Mandy watched his well-oiled movements, envying him his strength. She wasn’t really thinking about much except the hard work Tom made look so easy, until he stopped in midswing and looked up at her, glaring. “Did you need something?”
Mandy realized she was staring. “No, no, I’m sorry. I—I have chores.” She turned and almost ran to the cabin. Slipping inside, she hesitated to remove her gun from her back. Then knowing Linscott was no danger—not only was he no danger, he’d protect her—she hung her gun on its pegs and went back to building her bedstead. She was fully conscious of the steady music of the swinging ax and the presence of a man who was not her husband doing a husband’s job.
She remembered the way Tom had assumed that the job was hers. It struck her like a blow that somehow he knew Sidney wasn’t going to help. What had the cowpokes he’d talked to said that gave him that impression?
She didn’t have to wonder though. She knew exactly what they’d said, nothing she didn’t already know. Sidney was a city boy with no skills necessary to survive in the West.
Dismayed, Mandy forced herself to stay inside and work, alone, on the bed she shared with Sidney. It damaged something fragile, deep in her heart, to admit that she was ashamed of her husband.
Twenty – six
Beth was so proud of Alex she could hardly speak.
She also was sorely tempted to bash him over the head.
She suspected that made theirs a marriage like most.
They’d pushed hard all day up a trail and down. Beth kept a lookout for signs of a ranch or a larger trail—one that led them away from Fort Union.
Beth had found a skinny stream and they’d had plenty to drink. She’d gathered pinecones and carried them in her skirt. They could get nuts out of them if nothing easier and tastier showed itself. The nuts needed to be baked to crack out of their shells so that meant a fire and too much time. It had to wait until they camped for the night.
So they’d had no food all day and the front of Beth’s stomach was rubbing against her backbone. They needed energy to keep up a good pace, so meager though the nuts were, they’d eat them.
Beth had done her best to dry out the firearms and she thought the bullets looked useable. They’d never really know until she fired the gun, but she wondered if they were being pursued, and gunshots sounded for miles. So she hoped for the best and decided to set a rabbit snare and hope they snagged something bigger for breakfast.
The sun was dropping in the sky and Beth had begun scouting for a place to sleep when she heard a twig snap. Beth grabbed Alex’s arm, jerked him off the trail, and dove behind a bank of mesquite trees.
“What—”
“Shh!” Beth cut him off as she looked back and saw nothing. Someone was coming. She had no doubt. If it looked like the someone was friendly, she’d go out and ask for help. If it was the bounty hunter—
Beth lifted the Winchester off Alex’s shoulder. He’d carried the heavy gun and her loaded doctor’s bag all day. She quickly and as silently as possible loaded the rifle then did the same with the Colt. She’d left the chambers empty so they’d dry thoroughly. Hopefully one of them would fire. To be prepared in case one didn’t, she eased her knife out of her boot and set it close to hand. She didn’t offer one of the weapons to Alex, and he didn’t ask.
Minutes ticked by and the rider or riders didn’t come along. A thrill of fear climbed Beth’s neck. Someone was riding carefully. Maybe even hunting.
Catching Alex’s arm, she dropped back farther off the trail, not wanting to let anyone get behind them. The trail sloped upward into a wooded area and Beth saw some heavy boulders that would give them protection while affording her a good field of fire. She did her best to not make a sound, no twigs snapping for Beth. Alex was trying, too. And Beth appreciated it. She finally reached the rocks and ducked behind them.
“Beth, honey, it’s Pa.”
“Pa?” Beth shot to her feet. Pa and Ma came out from behind a bank of scrub pines. Both had their pistols drawn. Ma had her trusty Spencer repeating rifle hanging from her back. Pa toted his Winchester 73 the same way. They’d left their horses hidden somewhere.
“Ma!” Beth rushed around the boulders, barely aware of Alex rising to his feet as she dashed away. She flung herself into her mother’s arms, and Ma holstered her gun and hugged her so tight it hurt. Beth had never felt anything better.
“Howdy, Clay. We’re glad to see you two.” Beth glanced sideways to see Alex shaking hands with her pa. Pa clapped her husband on the back and smiled.
“How’d you find us?” Beth liked thinking her pa had some affection for her husband.
“We’ve been following your trail all day. We knew you’d have to climb out of that arroyo to the west side. It’s the only low spot. We crossed the arroyo north of where you jumped in and headed south to meet up with you heading home. But we went south a far piece before we crossed your trail. You’re heading northwest instead of northeast toward Mosqueros.”
Beth grinned at Ma, then turned and threw herself into her father’s arms.
“I’m happy to see you’re both alive and well.” Ma gave Alex a quick hug. “Mostly well.”
Alex pointed to the bedraggled bandage on his head. “I had a run-in with some rocks, but Beth took care of me. She’s a fine doctor.”
Beth heard Alex’s generous words and turned to smile at him. She really did love this man.
“So’d you get lost? What are you headed this way for?” Pa lifted his hat and scratched his head.
All the excitement went out of the reunion.
Beth went into Alex’s arms and wondered how hard it’d be to kidnap the stubborn man.
“Clay, Sophie, we were heading to—”
The sharp crack of rifle fire split the air.
Pa staggered forward. “Get down.” Vivid red bloomed on his shirt. “Everyone! Get behind those rocks.”
He fell against Beth, reaching out his arm to grab Ma, then slammed into Alex as he fell, taking them all to the ground. As they landed, another shot ricocheted off the boulder nearest at hand. Pa was conscious and the four of them crawled and dragged themselves to shelter.
The rifle fired again. Bits of stone exploded into the air but the rocks were a solid shield.
“How many?” Pa gasped and pulled his Colt from his holster.
Beth knelt beside Pa, tearing his shirt open to see where he’d been hit. High on the shoulder. Maybe a broken collarbone.
Ma had her Spencer out, her head down but listening for movement. There were no more shots fired. “What’s going on, Beth?”
“There’s one man out there. A man came to us last night. No, two nights ago now, I guess.”
“It was just last night.” Ma said quietly, her attention riveted on any noise from beyond their shelter.
Beth shook her head and didn’t bother trying to sort it out. The sickening wound pouring blood from her father’s chest was too much to deal with and count back days, too. “He told us he had
a sick brother. We followed him, then he started shooting and we’ve been on the run ever since.”
“We saw signs of him. Only one man?” Ma asked.
“Yep.”
“Why didn’t you just shoot him like a hydrophobic skunk?”
Beth dragged her doctor’s bag off her arm and jerked it open.
Please, God, give me enough of the healing gift to save Pa.
“Thought of it, but he was a crack shot, and once he got above us on that cliff we had no place to lie in wait for him. We just headed out as fast as we could. Then we reached that arroyo and it was flooded. The shooter was still on our trail so we jumped in.”
Ma glanced over. “Let Alex take care of your pa. You get over here and help me keep an eye out. If we pinpoint him, I can slip around and get a drop on him.”
“Don’t you dare, Sophie,” Pa gasped as Alex pressed on the gushing wound.
“Lie still, Clay.” Alex moved up to the side opposite Beth. “You’re losing too much blood. You’ll be passed out in a few minute if I don’t get the bleeding stopped, and then you won’t be able to give orders to anyone.” Alex pushed hard, his arms straight, as much weight as he could muster on the wound. “Beth, stay right here. I need two hands.”
“No, Alex. You’ll have to do this one on your own.” Beth leaned over and jerked Pa’s Colt from its holster and scooted to the far end of the boulders. They were unprotected on both ends but had a rock wall behind them, which curved around and made it impossible for someone to sneak up or come at them from above.
Beth nearly fell backward when Alex grabbed her arm and pulled. “I’m not asking because I need you to encourage me. I’m asking because I need two hands to save your Pa’s life. Get over here.”
Beth exchanged a look with Ma.
“Help him, girl. I won’t go slipping out. I’ll just keep us covered.”
With a jerk of her chin, Beth went back to Alex’s side. Together they fought a short, brutal fight for her Pa’s life.
Sophie's Daughters Trilogy Page 21
