High Desert Cowboy (High Sierra Book 2)

by G. L. Snodgrass

  Dusty laughed, “Either that, or I’m his. We’ve been arguing about it for five years and ain’t exactly worked it out.”

  She continued to look at him strangely. When they returned to the station. The porter that she had left with her bags let out a sigh of relief. The train was loaded and the conductor was looking at his watch.

  “Thank you,” she said to the porter as she handed him a coin. The man tipped his hat then hurried back to the train.

  Dusty looked down at the dozen suitcases and shook his head. “Maybe I should have had Frank hook up a freight wagon instead of the buckboard.

  She frowned at him, obviously unhappy with being teased. Her frown made him want to smile. The woman needed to be upset occasionally. It was good for her. Besides, he liked seeing the fire in her eyes. It pulled at some part of him deep inside.

  “Here you go, Dusty,” Frank said as he led the horse and buckboard to the edge of the platform. “No rush to get it back Ma’am. Don’t get much call for a buckboard around here. Have one of the boys drop it off the next time they come to town.”

  “Thank you,” she said as she gave him a bright smile. The old stableman actually blushed and kicked at the dirt.

  Dusty laughed to himself. A pretty smile and the world fell at her feet. Turning, he started loading her cases, stacking them up tight against the seat. When he’d loaded the last one, he reached out to help her up onto the seat.

  Miss Carson hesitated for but a moment, then placed her gloved hand in his and gave him a hesitant smile. What was going on in that pretty mind of hers? he wondered. That was the thing about beautiful women. It was impossible to get a read on them.

  A half-broke bronc. A mossy horned bull, even a crazy goat. Those he understood. Those he could deal with. But a woman like Rebecca Carson was just too unknowable.

  “Hold the horse,” he said to her as he handed up the reins. “I’ll get Prince and Red.”

  “And Billy,” she added with a teasing smile.

  He laughed and shook his head. See, that was what he meant. One second she’s looking all pensive and worried. The next teasing and smiling, looking prettier than a newborn calf the first day of spring. There was just no way to ever understand a woman like her.

  As he walked back to the stable, he couldn’t get the worry out of his gut. John Carson should have been there. He hadn’t planned on having to ride out to the C-Bar, but strangely, the thought of spending the next few hours alone with Miss Rebecca Carson held more interest than a poker game down at the Red Grove.

  Now, that was surprising.

  .o0o.

  Rebecca held tightly to the reins as she craned her neck to take in all the strange sights and sounds. Things looked grayer, rougher, she realized. Especially when compared to the green of Pennsylvania. The air tasted of dust and distant pine. A heavy freight wagon rattled as it passed. The train whistled and began to pull out of the station.

  She examined the street and its people. Hoping she would see her brother. Things would be so much better if she didn’t have to spend the next few hours sitting next to Mr. Rhodes. Her insides churned just thinking about it.

  Her mind flashed to that moment where he held her after the train lurched. Something had passed between them. A man-woman thing. A secret message between just the two of them.

  Sighing, she pushed away the memory and returned to scanning the street. But her brother was nowhere in sight. It seemed as if every man was dressed in rough work clothes, a wide-brimmed hat, and most had a gun on his hip. The few women she saw wore simple cotton dresses and bonnets.

  Glancing up at the sun, she winced. She was going to have to get her bonnets out of the bottom of her case. She despised them. They blocked her vision and felt confining. And in all honesty, a little frumpy.

  But the sun felt like a furnace, beating down with an intensity she wasn’t used to. If she wasn’t careful her skin would burn and turn to leather.

  Rebecca continued to inspect her surroundings. Trying desperately to learn as much as possible while she had the chance. Fashion, customs. What would be expected of her in this new land? A woman needed to know about her surroundings if she was to successfully navigate through the social world. That applied the world over. From Philadelphia parlors to hot, dry western towns.

  Her eyes continued to move up the street when she came to two women outside what appeared to be a saloon. Both of them leaning next to the front door. They were most definitely dressed differently, bright colors and frilly dresses that fell just below their knees.

  Rebecca sniffed and cringed. Such women shouldn’t be so blatant, she thought. The wives and mothers of Philadelphia would never have allowed it. At least not in public like this.

  A sound behind the buckboard drew her attention. Mr. Rhodes tossed his saddle up next to her cases then tied the two horses to the back of the buckboard. A big stockman’s saddle. Not one of the light leather saddles men used at home.

  She watched as he glanced down at the goat and rolled his eyes. She had to hold back a laugh when he bent and lifted the goat up.

  “I never thought I’d be a goatherd,” he mumbled to himself as he shook his head.

  She chose to remain quiet. Something told her that Mr. Rhodes would not enjoy being teased about the goat. If she was not careful, Billy might find himself walking all the way to the ranch.

  The buckboard rocked as he stepped up and sat down. Taking the reins from her hand their fingers touched just briefly. And even through her gloves, she felt a tingle travel up her arm to fill her entire body.

  What was it about this man that could launch a thousand butterflies in her stomach every time he was close?

  He gave her a quick smile then flicked the reins and they were off.

  She swallowed hard as she worried about a hundred different things. Where was her brother? Was he alright? What would it be like living on a ranch? Living in the desert? But most of all, she worried about the man next to her and what he thought of her.

  It was the kind of worry that could eat at a woman’s insides. Pull and tear at her until she got angry at his mere existence. If he wasn’t there then she wouldn’t be so torn up inside.

  As they pulled out of town and started for the mountains, an awkward silence fell over them like a heavy cloud. They were all alone, she realized. Really alone. The thought sent a new nervousness through her.

  She knew she needn’t worry about Mr. Rhode’s honor. Of that, there would never be any doubt. But that didn’t dismiss the fact that it was just the two of them. A man and a woman alone on the road.

  A strong man with wide shoulders and eyes that crinkled when he smiled. A very brave man who could take on the world if necessary. She swallowed hard as pictures and images danced into her head. Thoughts she shouldn’t be having.

  It was going to be a long day, she thought to herself as she fought to bring her fanciful thoughts back under control.

  Chapter Nine

  Rebecca absently pushed a stray strand of hair back up under her hat and stopped herself from shaking her head at him. Did the man know how to talk? They had been sitting next to each other for an hour and he hadn’t said a word to her.

  The horse pulling the wagon got a kind word every ten minutes or so. But her, nothing. It was enough to make a woman doubt herself.

  Sighing internally, she focused on the landscape around her. The distant mountains looked green and cool. Here in the foothills, the sagebrush was closer together with clumps of grass between them.

  A hawk hovered in the distance and small gray bird fluttered in amongst the cactus. The heat was getting better. It was dry, not as humid as back home. Everything was dry, she thought as she licked her chapped lips.

  Mr. Rhodes guided the horse onto a separate dirt path. He pointed off into the distance. It took her a moment to recognize the cows in the brush.

  “Those are your brother’s,” he said with a nod. “We’re on C-Bar range now.”

  Her heart jumped. Were t
hey close? As if reading her mind, he shook his head. “About another eight miles or so.”

  Her stomach fell. It was so far from anything. And it was going to be so much further.

  “How do they live out here?” she asked, indicating the distant cows.

  “The cows will eat the sagebrush if they can’t find enough grass. But your brother keeps the herd from overgrazing any one area. So that isn’t normally a problem. Donkeys, and some mules will eat the sagebrush. But never horses. They’ll just keep moving until they find grass.”

  “It is all so different,” she said.

  He nodded. “I forget this is all new to you.”

  Again, the silence threatened to drift over them. But she refused to allow it. Even if it meant demonstrating her lack of knowledge.

  “What kind of tree is that?” she said pointing to what was little more than a bush with long thin limbs sticking up.

  “Joshua tree,” he answered. “And that over there is a Juniper.”

  She nodded as she began to realize just how much she didn’t know. As she prepared to ask another question, she felt him stiffen next to her. Looking forward, she saw three men on horseback approaching.

  Her heart jumped as Mr. Rhodes shifted the reins to his left hand, freeing up his gun hand, she realized.

  “Ladder S,” he cursed beneath his breath as if that explained everything.

  The two outriders were typical cowboys, dusty shirts, bandanas, hats that looked like they’d been stomped on more than once. The man in the middle, however, was different. A mismatch of expectations. Big, thick chested, with a face that only a mother could love. A heavy scar down across his right cheek. A flattened nose broken more than once and a scowl that reminded her of an angry preacher. Yet, he was dressed in a gray suit and vest with a starched white shirt and a long black bow tie. He looked as out of place as she felt.

  As the men came to a stop in front of the wagon, she could feel an energy of dislike radiating off of Mr. Rhodes.

  “Rhodes,” the man said with a hint of distaste. As if he’d found a dog eating a dead animal in the middle of the trail.

  “Johnson,” Mr. Rhodes replied with an equal amount of distaste. “You’re a little off the Ladder S range?

  The man stared at Mr. Rhodes for a long second the shrugged. “Just taking a different way to town.”

  Mr. Rhodes scoffed as he continued to stare at the stranger. Some silent message was passed between them. A male language all their own. Then the man pulled his gaze away from Mr. Rhodes and focused on her.

  His eyes quickly ran over her, evaluating, cataloging. She knew that look. It was the look of a powerful man who liked what he saw. She had seen that look before. Men who were used to taking what they wanted. A cold chill ran down her spine.

  He tipped his hat, “Ma’am,” he said.

  A heavy silence hung in the air until she bumped Mr. Rhodes knee with hers.

  He sighed heavily. “This here is Miss Rebecca Carson. I’m taking her to her brother’s. This is Tad Johnson,” he told her. “Owns the Ladder S, further north.”

  She could feel the disdain dripping from every word. Why? she wondered. But her attention was pulled back to the stranger as he removed his hat and bowed slightly. A man trying to pretend he was civilized, she realized. But his eyes said otherwise.

  She remembered the eyes of a tiger she had seen in the New York Zoo. The eyes of a killer.

  “We had heard you were coming, Miss Carson,” he said as he placed his hat back on. “I must say, your brother never mentioned how beautiful you were. I must admonish him the next time I see him.”

  Rebecca felt her cheeks grow warm. She wasn’t a stranger to charming men. But something about this man rubbed her wrong. She shivered as if a snake had crawled into her bed.

  “It is always nice to meet a neighbor,” she replied, feeling that was the safest response she could come up with.

  The man’s eyes drifted off of her and to the stallion behind the buckboard. They grew big with appreciation.

  “And this is the famous Royal Prince.”

  Her insides tightened up. He was already past her and focused on the horse. He had cataloged her as nothing more than a pretty woman. Something to be pursued or not depending upon his whim for the day.

  The horse behind her, however, had ignited an avarice. She could see it in his eyes.

  “Well, we need to be going, if we’re going to get there before sundown,” Mr. Rhodes said as he stared at the three riders.

  Rebecca’s back stiffened at his rudeness. This man was a neighbor. Obviously powerful, A fellow ranch owner. He shouldn’t be dismissed so easily. But obviously, politics and social charm had never been Mr. Rhodes strong points so she shouldn’t be surprised.

  Mr. Johnson didn’t move. Instead, he studied Mr. Rhodes for a long moment. Rebecca wondered what was the cause of this animosity. It was tangible. Enough to send the hairs on the back of her neck to full attention.

  Finally, Mr. Johnson smiled at her. “It was nice meeting you, Miss Carson. Perhaps you and your brother will visit the Ladder S. I would love to have you.”

  The last few words hung in the air. The blatant flirtation seemed out of place. Next, to her, Mr. Rhodes shifted away slightly, suddenly she became terrified he was going to pull his gun.

  Without thinking, she reached over and laid a hand on his arm. It was like holding a solid bar of iron. But he didn’t move his hand. Instead, he flicked the reins and started the horse forward.

  “And tell your brother,” Mr. Johnson called after them. “My offer for the C-Bar still stands.”

  Rebecca gasped. Her brother had never mentioned selling the ranch. It had been his dream. The entire reason he had come west. He had always been burdened with a desire to get out from under their father’s thumb. To make a name for himself. The ranch was his way to achieving that.

  “What was that about?” she asked Mr. Rhodes once they were far enough away not to be heard.

  He scowled at her. “I don’t like the man. Never have.”

  She laughed. “That was rather obvious. But why.”

  His scowl softened as he shrugged. “I don’t like rabid coyotes either. And they’re pretty much the same thing in my book.”

  She sighed heavily. “Mr. Rhodes. Please remember that I am new to this place. I don’t understand all the nuance and underplay. You will have to be more explicit.”

  He turned and smiled slightly. “Well, you see. A rabid coyote …”

  “Mr. Rhodes,” she said with a huff.

  He laughed. “Too many rumors. Too many unknowns.”

  She raised an eyebrow, silently demanding more.

  “A friend of a friend, Ben Tarkington, was coming back from his mine with a heavy load of dust. Gold dust. He’d told Hank, a good friend that he was going to convert it at the bank and wire for his wife and daughter.”

  She nodded.

  “Tarkington disappeared along with all that gold dust. And a few days later, Johnson buys out old Murry. Ranch house, stock, everything.”

  “That could be just a coincidence.”

  Mr. Rhodes scoffed and shook his head. “Johnson said he’d struck a vein up by Tahoe. But that it petered out. Tad Johnson has never worked hard at anything in his life. Yet, he somehow got just enough to buy the ranch. Then. To make things worse. He changed the brand to Ladder S.”

  Her brow furrowed as she tried to understand.

  He sighed heavily. “Only a skunk would use the Ladder S for a brand. It’s a favorite for rustlers because it can be used to cover up almost any other brand.”

  Rebecca took a deep breath as she thought about the brand she had seen on their horse’s rump. An S above and overlapping the lower S. Yes, she could see how it might be used to cover a brand.

  There was so much to learn. So much she didn’t understand. Glancing over at Mr. Rhodes she felt something inside of her shift. He knew this land. The rules and expectations. He understood every nuance and had
no difficulty maneuvering.

  He’d have been lost with the inner-city politics of home. But here, he was a master.

  “That explains why you don’t like him,” she said. “But why does he find you so offensive.”

  Mr. Rhodes laughed then smiled at her. “Because he offered me a job once and I told him that I’d rather get a job cleaning spittoons than work for him.”

  Rebecca smiled to herself. She could see how a man like Mr. Johnson would never forgive him.

  As they continued to travel, once again an awkward silence fell over them. She was trying to think of something to break the tension when he pointed to the north and said, “Up that draw, to the right is a spring. Runs half the year or so.”

  He told her this as if he were giving her directions to the grocery store.

  They continued on when Royal Prince suddenly nickered. Rebecca glanced back. The stallion’s eyes were wide as he pulled at the rope tying him to the wagon, trying to break free.

  “Mares,” Mr. Rhodes said as he pointed to a far hill.

  A feeling of awe washed through her as a herd of two dozen wild horses crested a distant hill then wheeled as one and raced down into a canyon. They were pure majesty in motion. Rough coats, a mix of browns and grays. With three or four foals sticking close to their mothers.

  A lone dun-colored horse stood on the hill, pawing at the ground in challenge as he watched them pass.

  Royal Prince whinnied loudly. Desperate to race off and join them.

  “Careful boy,” Mr. Rhodes whispered, “that stallion will tear you to pieces.”

  Rebecca frowned, “Really, you believe a mustang could hold off a thoroughbred. Royal Prince Is two hands taller and several hundred pounds larger.”

  The cowboy next to her scoffed and shook his head. “That old boy out there has spent his life fighting. He had to defeat a dozen enemies to get where he’s at. And another dozen to stay there. It ain’t the size that matters. It’s the willingness to kill or be killed.”

  Rebecca watched the horse until he spun to rejoin his herd.

  “So typically male,” she said with a shake of her head. “Determined to be in charge.”