“I don’t think we’ve got one of those fancy sidesaddles and I know we ain’t got a horse trained to use one.”
Again, she sighed as she put down her fork and sat up straight. “I will ride astride.”
He paused for a second as he looked at her, she was serious. “Listen…” he began.
“Dusty,” she interrupted, “I have to learn. The best way is with you. I can’t be a rancher and never ride over my land.”
He nodded. Unfortunately, she was right. But astride? Granted, a lot of women out here did it. But this was Rebecca Carson. Philadelphia high born. “I don’t know. Walking into the saloons like you work there. Riding astride. What will people think?”
“I tell you what,” she said with a bit of a smile, “when I go to town, it will be on a wagon. But here, on my land. I will do what is necessary.”
Dusty thought for a long moment then sighed inside. This was a battle he wasn’t going to win. He nodded. “Be ready at sunup, I’ll ask Consuela to pack us a lunch. We won’t be home until late.”
She smiled broadly, obviously very pleased. His insides uncurled just a bit. He liked making her happy. He liked the way her eyes shined when she got something she wanted. A man could get used to making her happy.
Chapter Fourteen
Rebecca woke up well before sunrise. Her heart filled with excitement at the thought of spending the day with Dusty exploring her ranch. A sense of hope and adventure washed over her followed almost immediately by a sad guilt at the thought of her brother John.
Sighing heavily, she swallowed her guilt and rose to face the day.
She made sure to dress in her brown riding habit with calfskin boots. The dress was designed to be extra-long to cover her legs when she was riding sidesaddle. But it would work just as well astride. She tied her hair back with a brown ribbon to match her dress.
At the last moment, she returned to her bedside table and removed the knife and sheath Dusty had given to her. It wouldn’t protect her from a bear, but she felt safer with it.
She found Dusty already at the breakfast table, He looked up at her, quickly examining her outfit.
“I told Tom to saddle up that small pinto,” he said around a mouthful of frijoles. “He’s going to take him out for a quick run and then bring him back. Just enough to knock the fight out of him.”
She nodded. These were working horses she reminded herself. Half tame mustangs with an attitude. They weren’t born and raised in a stable. Taken out for occasional jaunts through the park.
As she sat down, Consuela came in with a plate of eggs and shot her a concerned look.
“I will be fine,” Rebecca told the woman.
“You listen to Mr. Dusty,” the older woman said as she turned and left them. All Rebecca could do was glance at the man across from her and try not to laugh.
Consuela stepped back into the dining room and placed a cloth-wrapped package next to Dusty. Their lunch, Rebecca assumed. “You,” the older woman said forcibly as she poked at his shoulders. “Remember, Miss Rebecca is not from here. You don’t push too hard.”
Dusty stared up at the older woman for a second then said, “Yes Ma’am.”
Rebecca felt a mix of emotions flow through her. She despised the idea of being thought of as not up to a simple ride. But she liked the way Consuela cared about her.
Once they had finished their meal in silence, they both stepped out to the courtyard. A very dark-skinned man in a worn blue army shirt and a white hat faded to dirty gray stood with his horse. Dusty smiled widely.
The man raised an eyebrow. “A small mountain told me you were looking for hands,” the man said. Obviously referring to Mr. Richards, Rebecca thought.
“Can’t pay you until we get the herd in, six weeks or so,” Dusty said.
The man nodded, “Fair wages?” he asked. Rebecca knew he was wondering if he would be paid the same as a white cowboy.
“Of course,” Dusty said.
The man nodded his acceptance.
“This is Miss Rebecca Carson, the C-Bar owner,” Dusty said as he indicated her. “This is Sam Hopper,” he told her. “That fella I was telling you about.”
Rebecca smiled and held out her hand. “Welcome. I have been informed about your ability with horses. I do look forward to your opinion when it comes time to select breeding stock for Royal Prince.”
Hopper’s eyes grew very big as he glanced down at her hand then over at Dusty.
Dusty simply raised an eyebrow as if saying, she isn’t from around here. Rebecca understood his surprise, but her family had been ardent abolitionist for years. Mr. Rhodes might think she was snooty, but she refused to treat another human being with disrespect.
Mr. Hopper wiped his hand on his pants, hesitated for a moment, then reached out and shook her hand. “Been hearing about this horse for the last two weeks.”
“Take a few minutes to look him over in the stable,” Dusty told him. “Then start off to the north. Start pushing stock towards the creek.”
Mr. Hopper nodded that he understood. Then started for the stables.
“And while you’re out there,” Dusty added after him; “keep an eye out for a mob of mostly mares. After we get the herd delivered, we’re going to want to cut out a few of the better ones.”
Mr. Hopper nodded then led his horse to the corral.
Rebecca took a deep breath as she wondered about the man’s life story. Something she would never be able to grasp, she was sure.
Pulling her mind back to the present, she looked to the east. The sun had just risen above the horizon. She felt a sense of excitement. Young Tom held both horses, looking as if he hoped to be invited.
Dusty had stopped though and was frowning as he looked up at the sky and then at her and again up at the sky.
He shook his head then pulled the hat off Young Tom’s head and plopped it on hers.
“You won’t need it today,” he said to the boy. “But Miss Rebecca will. There’s an old battered one in the corner of the bunkhouse. You can use that until we get to town and can get her a proper hat.”
Her heart fell. She was already causing problems for other people. Granted, they were her employees. But this was different. These were people that mattered to her.
The young cowboy nodded. Rebecca told him thank you as she adjusted the hat on her head. Once again, Dusty was right, she would need protection from the sun. And the high desert wasn’t the place for a parasol.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped to the horse and froze. She was used to a mounting block. It was the only way for a lady to get up onto a horse.
Dusty’s brow furrowed at her hesitation, then she saw the awareness fill his eyes.
“Here,” he said as his hands formed a step for her. “Swing your leg over the back when I lift you up.”
She hesitated a moment then took a deep breath as she placed her boot in his hand. It was like falling upward. Effortless, she barely remembered to swing her leg over so that she could come to rest in the big western saddle astride. The horse sidestepped, obviously not knowing what to do about all this extra fabric hanging on its sides. She tucked the dress in around her legs to give them some protection.
“His name’s Bob,” young Tom said as he handed her the reins.
“Of course, it is,” she thought as she rolled her eyes. Just what she needed, another Robert.
Dusty swung into the saddle then turned back to Tom and pointed to the bunkhouse.
“You listen to that man. Get him to tell you stories and you’ll learn more in a week than you would a year anywhere else.
“Yes sir,” the boy said as he looked up at Dusty with what Rebecca could only describe as hero worship. Of course, he did, she thought. Dusty Rhodes was every young boy’s idea of perfection. Strong, competent in everything he did, and tougher than boot leather.
“Go up and clear the brush away from the spring,” Dusty told the boy. “And keep a gun close to hand. I don’t want the place left alone for th
e next few days.”
The boy’s eyes grew very big as he gulped and nodded. Rebecca’s heart went out to him. A man’s responsibility was being placed on someone so young.
Dusty shot her a quick glance then pulled his horse and started away. No word of warning. No instructions about what she should and should not do. No, he just assumed she would follow and know enough to keep out of trouble.
She didn’t know whether to be pleased that he trusted her or concerned that he didn’t think she was valuable enough to worry about.
Clicking her tongue, she urged her horse to catch up. Immediately she realized just how much more sense it was to ride astride. The feeling of security was amazing. When she pulled up next to Dusty, he glanced over, obviously appraising her ability.
Once he was sure that she wasn’t about to fall off the horse, he nodded then gently kicked his horse into a lope. Rebecca swallowed hard and followed his example.
She smiled to herself at the feeling of freedom as the air rushed past her.
The air smelled of pine and dust. A feeling of clean washed over her, surprising her. But that was how it felt. So different than back east with its moist air, mud and muck in the cities. Thick brush and trees everywhere. No, the desert felt cleaner for some reason. Especially up here in the High Desert in the foothills to the Sierra.
After about a mile, he slowed his big red horse to a walk. When she pulled up next to him, he nodded to a draw to their right then guided his horse up the small canyon.
“Cows like to wander up there. Good grass.”
She nodded, there were so many details. Would she ever learn them all? But before she could catalog the new information, he interrupted her thoughts.
“Keep an eye out for snakes,” he said, sending a shiver down her spine. “You won’t see them. But your horse will. Listen to him. If he balks, don’t force him.”
She swallowed hard as she nodded.
They continued to ride up the draw, passing a couple of steers. But that was all she saw. Surely, they hadn’t made this detour for just two animals.
Dusty followed the trail up through the middle of the draw until he reached the end of a boxed canyon. A high sloping cliff rose in front of them.
“Stay back a ways,” Dusty said as he untied his lariat and shook it out.
Rebecca bit her lip to stop from asking a dozen questions. Now was not the time. Now she should just shut up for a change, she told herself.
He gave her a quick glance to make sure she was doing what he told her, then started weaving back and forth between the canyon walls. Without warning, a tawny shape jumped from behind a bush. An angry steer gave Dusty and the big red horse an angry snort then turned and started down the canyon.
Repeatedly, Dusty pushed cows out of the brush and from under the trees. Occasionally, his lariat would shoot out to snap at a recalcitrant steer. But they all submitted and started down the draw until an old cow shot out from behind a tree and refused to move.
The big horse pulled to a quick halt and faced off with the cow. The two of them looked at each other like mortal enemies. Dusty simply sat there, waiting.
Obviously upset with the game, the cow lunged to the left hoping to get back up the canyon. Red jumped to stay in front of her. Refusing to let her back up the draw. The cow shifted to the right. Again, Red jumped to the side.
Rebecca’s mouth dropped open in amazement. It was like watching a well-trained collie work a flock of sheep. It seemed as if the horse moved before Dusty could give him a command. Back and forth, always keeping between the cow and freedom. Dusty seemed to flow with the animal he rode. Like a sailor on a ship in a storm. Always centered, always stable.
The cow lowered her horns and charged. But instead of backing off, Big Red bared his teeth and jumped towards the cow. Rebecca held her breath until the cow turned at the last moment. Then, it was over. As if it had never happened as the cow joined the others and slowly walked out of the canyon.
Once they exited, Dusty pointed to the left. “You take that side. We’ll work them southwest to the creek.”
“Me?” she asked with surprise.
He laughed. “The horse will do the work. He’s done it a hundred times. You just hang on.”
A feeling of dread and excitement filled her. He trusted her. Yet, what if she made a mistake? What if she let the cows get away from her? The thought of him rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disappointment terrified her to her very core.
But he was right, the horse did the work. Keeping the cows bunched and moving. A sense of pride filled her. When two steers broke free at the same time, she quickly guided the horse to the farthest, got him back with the herd then jumped to get the other one.
Who would ever have thought that Rebecca Carson would be herding cows? Her heart swelled and her back straightened.
As they moved the animals, she thought about the man across from her. He seemed so confident. So sure of himself. Yet he never treated her as unintelligent. He simply told her what to do and expected her to do it. The knowledge sent her spirits soaring.
They picked up another two dozen mix of steers and cows as they moved them towards the creek. Twice more they had to go up side canyons and flush out the stock inside.
As they worked, her legs began to ache. The sun beat down like a hot hammer. The clean fresh air of the morning was turning over to a mix of horse, cow, and dusty heat.
She desperately wanted to ask to stop for a moment and let her stretch out the ache in her legs. But she remembered his stories about people being judged by how they acted. She’d die before she asked for any special consideration.
Just as she was once again swallowing her pain, Dusty pulled up on a small rise and leaned forward to rest an arm on his saddle horn. He frowned, as he studied the small herd they had gathered, working their way down to the small creek.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I would have expected a few more stock. Did your brother sell any the last few months? Anything in his ledgers?”
Her heart fell. Talk of her brother was always like that. Reminding her of what she had lost.
“No,” she said. “There was nothing in his books.”
Dusty continued to grimace, then shook it off and turned to look up the creek to the mountains.
“Why are we moving the cows in addition to the steers?” she asked. “Aren’t only steers taken to market?”
The man next to her shook his head. “We’ll gather them all, then cut out the good cows. The older ones we’ll sell with the steers. You’re going to need every head you can spare if you’re going to make that loan.”
“But we have to keep enough for the future,” she said. “It doesn’t do us any good to succeed today only to fail next year.”
He smiled and nodded, “We’ll make a rancher out of you yet.”
A wave of happiness flowed through her. Turning so he wouldn’t see how much his words had meant, she looked out over the range and sighed.
“What next?” she asked.
“Thought it would be a good time to meet your neighbors,” he replied.
Her stomach fell, she hadn’t prepared for this. She wasn’t exactly dressed for a social call. And, after a morning of hot work, she didn’t feel very presentable.
“We can’t just show up unannounced. You should have told me. I didn’t bring anything. Besides, I look ridiculous. This hat does not go with this dress.”
His brow furrowed as he studied her, obviously trying to work out why she was so nervous. He turned and patted his saddlebags. “I had Consuela pack a jar of her pickles. I know how you women don’t like showing up empty-handed.”
She let out a breath, one disaster avoided.
“Besides,” he continued, “it’s Jenny and Jack. Jenny will be happy to see you. I know that her being so far back drags at her. Having another woman to talk to will make her month.”
Rebecca swallowed as she nodded. Re
ally, she didn’t have much of a choice. He was in charge and if he thought it was important to meet their neighbors then they probably should. But that didn’t mean her insides were happy with the idea.
Chapter Fifteen
Rebecca gasped as they entered the valley. They had followed the creek up until the pair of them had passed through a tight canyon and broke free into a beautiful green valley that stretched up into the snowcapped mountains.
“It’s beautiful,” Rebecca said without taking her eyes away from the valley.
Dusty grunted his agreement then urged his horse forward. “They use the LV brand. But our stock doesn’t mix much. That canyon between us is too sparse. Cows ain’t real explorer types. Not when they’ve got good grass and water.
“Why the LV brand?” she asked.
Dusty nodded to their surroundings. “Lonesome Valley Ranch. They run about two hundred head. Jack keeps it small. But it’s a single man operation so their expenses are smaller.”
Rebecca nodded as she examined her surroundings.
A dog barked in the distance.
“We need to get a dog,” Dusty said. “Help at night.”
Rebecca could only nod. One more thing she never would have thought of. But he was right.
The log cabin was located up on a bench above the creek. L shaped with a new addition added recently it appeared. A barn and corral across the yard with a chicken coop attached to the barn. Things were smaller, tighter than the C-Bar. But the view, she thought. It was priceless.
As they rode into the yard, a tall lean cowboy stepped out of the barn. A two-year-old boy at his knee.
“Unca Dusty,” the little boy yelled as he ran towards them.
“Hew squirt,” Dusty said to him with a large smile as he got down from the horse and ruffled the boy’s hair. “You helping your pa?”
The little boy looked up with large eyes and nodded vigorously.
The tall cowboy smiled and scooped up his son to put him up on his shoulders. “He’s helping me shoe the horses. He’s got more questions than I know what to do with.”
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