“You mean a manager?”
“Yes’m, I reckon.”
Nicki sipped her coffee, thinking. “William was here this morning. He warned me that he’s heard there are some men who want this land. Things could get dangerous. I’d hate to bring a stranger into that. In fact, I wanted both of you to know as well. You’re free to leave anytime.”
Silence hung thick in the room as both men merely looked at her.
Nicki took in their silence with gratitude but decided not to comment on it. Instead, she continued, “William also offered to send over a couple of his men. Do you think one of them might do as a manager?”
Ron cleared his throat and Conner fidgeted in his chair and looked down at the floor.
“I’m not so sure that would work.” Ron scratched the stubble on his chin. “I reckon the men William sends will be good help, but they’re employed by William, and I doubt we’d be able to pay ’em what they are getting now. Whoever you get would need to be here all the time and will have to be willin’ to work for very little pay at first.”
Nicki thought for a moment. “Ron, why is William’s ranch doing so well when ours isn’t?”
Ron didn’t reply.
“You can be honest with me.”
“I don’t rightly know, except that John—he just didn’t like to part with his money none too much. Seems to me that improvements have to be made to a place if you want to keep it workin’ smooth-like. Not meaning to offend, ma’am, but the only improvements that John made to this place in all the years I’ve worked here was to fix the perimeter fences.”
Nicki nodded and thought back over the past two-and-a-half years.
When she had first met John, he had spent money like it would never run out. First, his unaccountable purchase of her and then this ranch and several horses that even Nicki had been able to see were very fine animals. They had cost a hundred dollars apiece when a good horse was going for about forty. John had kept the horses in the barn for one day. Then he’d ridden off, leading them all in a string, and she’d never seen them again.
After that, John had changed his ways and refused to pay for even the most necessary updates, like the chinking that needed to be done to the bunkhouse. His source of the funds seemed to have dried up.
Where had John gotten the money in the first place? She had never asked him, and he had never talked about it. It was clear now that John did not have the gift for making money. In fact she had suspected him of gambling in the Farewell Bend saloon on more than one occasion. Perhaps gambling was where he had gotten the money. She didn’t think he could have earned enough at the tables to buy this piece of property, though.
I don’t suppose I’ll ever find out now. She blinked back tears. Had his death really been an accident? She shook the suspicion off again. William had been with John. He’d seen the accident happen. It couldn’t have been murder.
Her thoughts turned back to the ranch and Nicki nodded to herself, agreeing with Ron’s assessment of the situation as she considered its rundown state. Things were definitely falling apart. Yes, things would have to change if she expected to keep this ranch from dying, and there was no time like the present to start. “All right then. Ron if you will hitch up the wagon, I’ll just bundle Sawyer up and we’ll head into Prineville.”
“Into Prineville?”
“Yes. I’ll place an ad for a manager in the papers. I need some supplies anyhow. I have a little money from the eggs and butter I have been taking to Farewell Bend every time I go.”
Ron nodded, and he and Connor headed to get the wagon. And as Nicki bundled up Sawyer, she prayed that God would send them just the man they needed for the job.
Nicki pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as they finally crested the last ridge and looked down over the sprawling town. Prineville lay thirty miles to the northeast of Nicki’s land. The largest town in the county, it was a hard-bitten place with more saloons than horses. Well, almost.
She sat on the wagon seat to Ron’s right, Sawyer in her lap. Thankful for the mild, windless weather, she took in the countryside around her. Miles of rolling hills stretched to the horizon. Here and there a Juniper tree broke through the white, snow-covered plain like a jagged finger pointing at the sky. She shielded her eyes against the glistening vastness. The sun’s reflection glimmered off the snow in radiant beams.
Below them, as they took the black strip of road down the hill, lay the weather-grayed buildings of the town. Smoke wafted in lazy trails from the chimneys, casting a hazy pallor over the valley below.
Nicki grinned at Conner, who took in the sights of the town like a starving man who’d stumbled into a cantina. He had ridden his black-brown-and-white paint mare and now urged his horse to a trot pulling up beside her.
“I see Sid Snow over by the livery. I’ll ride over and have a talk with him, if that’s all right by you, ma’am?”
Nicki nodded. Sid Snow, Tilly’s brother, was the closest friend Conner had. “Sure, Conner. We will be ready to head home in about two hours. Until then, you are free to see who you will.”
He tipped his hat at her and urged his mare into a canter, heading for the corral, where several men milled about in seemingly serious conversations.
Sid Snow had one boot propped up on the bottom rail of the corral and a blade of grass protruding from his mouth.
Conner slid from the back of his mare and looped her reins around the top pole of the corral as Sid looked up and gave him a hearty hale.
Grinning, Conner accepted Sid’s handshake. “Whatcha doin’?”
Sid shrugged. “Jus’ killin’ grass.”
Conner laughed as he took in the mud beneath Sid’s feet. “No grass to kill around here, Sid.”
Sid lifted his boots, one at a time. “Guess it worked.” Conner laughed.
“You’re just the guy I’d hoped to see, though,” Sid said.
“Oh?”
“Some of the fellows was thinkin’ this’d be a mighty fine day for a race.”
Conner’s heartbeat quickened. The last time they’d raced he’d beat Sid by head and shoulders only. This time he’d beat him by a full length. “You sure your ego can handle another race against me and my mare?”
Sid tipped his head back for a quick laugh before arching a brow in Conner’s direction. “You sure you can handle losing to me in front of my sister?”
Conner swallowed. So Tilly was in town. He’d wondered about that.
Hands resting on his hips, he scuffed the toe of one boot through the mud of the street. “Maybe when I beat you, she’ll finally notice that I exist.” He looked up hopefully at Sid.
Sid chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. “She knows you exist, pal, believe me. I’ve seen the way she looks at you and it’s not a look she offers to any other guys who’ve come callin’.”
Conner’s movements stilled. “Other guys have come calling?”
Sid didn’t answer that. “I’ll let everyone know the race is on. Plenty of ’em will want to lay money against you.”
Conner snorted.
Sid grinned. “Meet me at the stand of spruce trees the other side of the hill. Finish line will be drawn in front of The Bucket of Blood.”
Conner nodded and, as Sid walked off, he looked across the street. Tilly Snow stood in front of Hahn and Freid’s General Store, her dark eyes drilling into him. He could have sworn a lasso had just snagged his heart and given it a good tug. Standing there in her summer yellow dress, she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. He allowed a slow grin to spread across his face and pushed the brim of his hat further back on his head with one finger. She smiled softly, looked down at the boardwalk, then glanced back up at him.
At his elbow, someone cleared their throat. Conner glanced over his shoulder. It was Tom Roland, the banker. He looked back to the store front. Tilly was just disappearing inside. He sighed and turned toward the man. “Hello, Mr. Roland. How are you today?”
“Well now, that will depend a lot
on you, son.”
Conner’s insides curled. What could this be about? There was no doubt that Roland held clout in the area, but Conner was nobody. What could Roland want with him? He waited in silence.
“Odds are three to one in your favor.”
That didn’t surprise Conner. He’d beat Sid’s horse several times, and that news was sure to have made its way amongst the gamblers. He didn’t care about the odds. In fact, his dad would skin his hide if he ever heard that Conner had run in a race where bets were being placed. He said nothing.
“Couldn’t hurt for you to just slow up a little. Let Sid take this one. Sure would make several of us happy, and I’m sure there’d be a little something in it for you.”
Conner felt revulsion coil up inside him. He spit on the ground, glanced up at Roland’s fleshy face, and without a word gathered up his mare and stalked off toward the starting line. He didn’t care how powerful the man was; his integrity wasn’t for sale.
At the starting line, he swung into the saddle and stretched his hand out to Sid with a grin.
Sid arched his brows as he clasped his hand. “Someone told me Tom Roland’s got 2,000 dollars ridin’ on this race. And he bet it on me. Now ain’t that strange? He ain’t the only one either. Cox is in town, and word has it he’s been braggin’ about how he’s soon gonna have the money to buy up half the county.”
Conner swallowed hard. Neither man was one to make an enemy of. Still, it went against every fiber of his being to give into bullying. And then there was Tilly. He smiled suddenly, decision made. “Don’t let her tail hit you in the face now.” He bent and patted his mare’s neck affectionately.
Sid laughed good-naturedly. “I’ll be waitin’ for you at the finish line,” he said. But there was worry in his eyes.
Conner knew the feeling.
The gun sounded, and he dug his heels into the horse’s side, leaning forward with practiced ease. He loosened his grip on the reins and let her have her head. The wind slashed past his face. Oh, how he loved the feel of the power rippling beneath him. His mare’s breath puffed out in white clouds as he urged her onward. Heartbeat and hoof-beat pulsed as one.
Sid’s horse lagged a full length behind as they rounded the corner onto Main Street and headed for The Bucket of Blood at the far end. The thud of each hoof against the hard-packed ground felt like a shout of victory! Sid gave it his all. Conner could hear him urging his horse onward.
But when they crossed the line, Conner’s paint was a full stride ahead.
Conner slowed his mare, his breath frosting the air before him as he laughed with the exhilaration of the win. He turned back toward the crowd gathered at the finish line. Tilly’s eyes twinkled as she glanced back and forth between him and Sid. He tossed her a bold wink. Her face reddened and she looked down. A man stepped in front of her, blocking Conner’s view. He scanned the rest of the crowd.
Mrs. Trent was there, her lips pressed together, one hand clutched to her throat. He guessed she was none too happy with him racing.
Ron stood next to her, his arms crossed, an expression on his face that Conner couldn’t quite read. He was staring across the crowd. Conner pulled to a stop and followed Ron’s gaze. Roland. Face red and fleshy jowls flapping as he snapped at the man next to him. A tall, slim man with a handlebar mustache that Conner remembered seeing with William Harpster on the day Mr. Trent had died.
Conner sighed and glanced back at Mrs. Trent, for the first time realizing there might be consequences to others besides himself because of a little horse race, his cursed pride, and the beautiful Tilly Snow.
5
Jason smiled at Gram as he helped her rise from her seat at Sky and Brooke’s table. She raised a shaky hand to his cheek and her faded blue eyes glistened as she spoke. “It is so good to have you home, my boy.”
Jason pulled her into a gentle embrace, knowing she meant more than just his physical presence. It had broken her heart when he had turned his back on the Lord. She had prayed every day that he would return to the loving arms of his Savior and now that he had, Jason knew she prayed for him still.
It was Sunday, and the family had all gathered at Sky and Brooke’s place. Crowded was an understatement in their tiny home, but the fellowship was wonderful. Remembering the long, lonely hours riding herd as the trail boss to Dodge City, Jason felt especially blessed to sit in the company of loved ones.
He dropped a kiss on the top of Gram’s gray hair. “It’s good to be home, Gram. And it’s great to be at peace with Jesus again.”
Gram patted his arm and gripped the handle of her cane more firmly as she tottered toward the sitting room where the others had already gone.
“Come on. Let’s go sit with the others. You won’t be here long, so you better enjoy everyone’s company while you can.”
Jason smiled as he moved slowly beside her. “I won’t be here long?”
“No.” She sounded self-assured. “You’re young, and there is nothing to keep you here now that Marquis has her Jeff.”
“Well, I thought I might stay here and take care of you for a while.”
Gram stopped abruptly and banged her cane forcefully on the wooden floor. “Don’t you dare waste your life on this old woman! I can take care of myself just fine.” Her mouth set into a stubborn line as she narrowed her snapping blue eyes in his direction.
Worry tightened Jason’s chest as he took in Gram leaning heavily on her cane. He wished he could believe her, but it seemed she had weakened even in the last couple of months while he’d been gone. “Well, let’s not worry about that today.”
Gram waved a hand at him as she continued her shuffling gait into the living room. “Today’s as good a day to worry about it as any. Besides, you need a wife, and there is no one in this little town for you.”
Jason decided to bait her. “There’s Julia Nickerson. She’s fine looking.” He winked at Sky, who was seated next to Brooke on the couch. Rachel and Sharyah, Sky’s mother and sister, had insisted that she sit and relax while they cleaned up after the meal.
Sky grinned while Brooke shook her finger at him as though he were a naughty little boy.
Gram, halfway down onto the couch, struggled back up to her feet. Her pallid eyes sparked a darker blue as she looked up at her grandson. “Don’t you even tease this old woman about something like that! I didn’t pour my life into you so you could grow up and marry that heathen Julia Nickerson.” A twinkle jumped into her eyes as she added, “Poor girl.”
Everyone in the room laughed out loud. Julia Nickerson was anything but penniless. Her parents owned half of the businesses in town, and she was just about as spoiled as could be. She’d had her eye on the Jordan boys since they were in grade school. Whenever Jason wanted to get Gram’s goat, he would bring up Julia.
“Julia Nickerson, hmmph,” Gram huffed as she and Jason sat down. “Hand me a section of that newspaper.” When Jason complied, she snapped it open with venom and lifted it to her face, but not before Jason saw the smile she was trying to hide.
Jason eased his legs out in front of him and leaned back, closing his eyes in relaxation. Rachel and Sharyah entered the already crowded room and found seats. Jason listened contentedly to the gentle buzz of conversation around him. Sky and his brother, Rocky, were discussing the arrest they’d made earlier in the week with their father, Sean. Rachel, Sharyah, and Brooke chatted about the latest dress fashions and whether or not Brooke and Sky had decided on baby names yet. And Marquis and Jeff sat in the corner talking and laughing in whispers. Jason smiled…now able, after having recovered from his initial shock, to be happy for his sister. She deserved someone wonderful in her life.
Slowly the buzz of conversation became a distant murmur and Jason settled deeper into the cushions, intending to take a nap. But Gram took a sharp breath and started mumbling to herself.
Jason slowly opened his eyes and glanced at her.
She pulled the print closer to her face, read something, and then dropped the pape
r into her lap, staring out the window for a minute.
Jason had just decided that whatever had caught her interest must not be too important and closed his eyes again when she jabbed him with her elbow.
“I’ve found you the perfect job.”
With a sigh of regret over his foiled afternoon nap, Jason sat up, rubbed his face, and stretched his arms over his head. “What?” he asked on a yawn.
“Look here.” She jabbed a gnarled finger at an ad in the paper.
Jason took it from her and read the short blurb she’d indicated.
Spouse deceased. Need ranch manager willing to work for little pay until ranch gets back on its feet.
Contact Nicki Trent of the Hanging T, Farewell Bend, Oregon.
“Farewell Bend? Gram, that’s on the other side of the Cascades.” The paper rustled as he handed it back to her.
Gram patted his arm. “You pray about it, my boy. If God wants you there, He will make a way.”
“What’s on the other side of the Cascades?” Suddenly the whole room was listening to his and Gram’s conversation.
Gram’s voice held a tremor of excitement when she answered, “There is an advertisement for a ranch manager in the paper today. Somewhere near Farewell Bend. I was just telling Jason that I think he should take the job.”
Jason settled back into the cushions, refusing to give up on the prospect of catching a little sleep, yet knowing he was bucking the odds. He spoke with his eyes closed, hoping everyone would get the hint. “I wouldn’t be able to go until the spring thaw, Gram. And by then someone from that side of the mountains will already have the job.”
Jeff, sitting across the room, cleared his throat. “Maybe not.”
Every eye in the room turned on him in question. Jeff glanced at Marquis and put his arm around her protectively before he spoke. “I haven’t even spoken to Marquis about this yet, but late last evening I received a wire from the school in Portland. They want me to personally see to it that a noctograph reaches Prineville, which if I remember correctly is only about thirty miles from Farewell Bend.”
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