Janice looked sheepish, opened her mouth to respond, and then determinedly clenched her jaw. “Three dollars and a quarter,” she said, placing his purchases into a bag.
Jason was still chuckling as he counted out the money. “Do I dare ask for directions?”
“Out the door. Take a left. Follow the road for three-quarters of a mile until you come to a fork in the road and take the fork to the left. The Hanging T is about five miles down that road.” Her eyes glinted with satisfaction as she ended without adding even one extra sentence. She folded her arms and cocked an eyebrow at him, as though to challenge his perception of her.
“My, but your self-control is amazing,” he teased her again, causing another blush to tinge her creamy cheeks watermelon pink. “Thank you.” He tipped his hat and moved out the door with a genuine smile.
Janice gave good directions and Jason soon rode under a crooked sign that read Hanging T in dim letters. As he topped the rise above the main buildings of the spread, his heart dropped in his chest. The place was even more rundown than he had imagined. He pulled his horse to a stop and surveyed the dilapidated buildings.
The barn roof had collapsed under the weight of the snow and sagged almost to the ground. Splintered beams and boards protruded in all directions from under the mound of snow that covered it. At least the walls are still standing.
He didn’t see a ranch house, but when he spied smoke rising from the side of a hill across the valley he realized that the main dwelling must be a sod shanty. When he looked more carefully, he could see there was a low door and even what appeared to be a window in the hillside. But even from this distance he could tell that the inside had to be small at best.
The corral was nothing but scattered poles that lay in heaps covered by snow. The bunkhouse, far from inviting, lay to the south of the soddy. Its roof, though in better condition than the barn’s, sagged to the point of danger. The door hung awkwardly on its hinges and flapped in the chill wind. Next to it lay a snarled pile of wood. Someone was trying to extract a log from the jumbled pile and, by the looks of things, not having much success. The wood should have been cut, chopped, and properly stacked when it was brought in.
Jason ran a hand over his jaw, the day-old stubble rasping as his fingers scraped over it. This is really where You want me, Lord?
The only reply was the moaning of the bitter wind rushing across the juniper, sagebrush, and snow-covered hills. Jason sighed and urged his mount forward through the drifts, heading down the hill toward the run-down buildings.
6
Nicki eyed a long thick branch on the top of the mangled heap. The log was the biggest one she had tackled so far, and it lay in such a position that she had to move it before she could get to any of the smaller wood underneath.
She stepped back and rested her hands on her hips, walking back and forth, contemplating the pile in frustration. She blew a loose curl out of her face, cocked her head, and squatted down to see a different angle. “Well I suppose there’s nothing to do but just pull and hope it will come out.” She grasped the end of the log and pulled.
Snow showered down through the pile, as branches cracked and snapped. Nicki pressed one foot against a smaller log for traction and gave a mighty heave. The log didn’t budge.
“Excuse me,” a man spoke from directly behind her.
Nicki gasped and spun around. Her mind filled with the same terror she had felt that morning when she’d stepped out her door and caught the first glimpse of the fake baby. The log dropped on her foot and she let out a yelp. Was this one of the men who wanted her off her land?
The rider did not speak, only raised blond eyebrows.
She reached for the ax, gripping the handle with both hands. If this man had anything to do with that burlap dummy, he was most probably dangerous.
The stranger raised his hands, one still holding the reins, indicating that he meant her no harm.
Raising her chin, she eyed him warily, heart pounding in her chest. She licked her lips and tried to take a step back, but her foot was still pinned securely under the end of the log. Keeping her focus on him, she tried to extract her foot, yet keep him from knowing that she would be helpless to escape if he chose to act aggressively.
Irritation flooded her as she suddenly noted that the man before her appeared amused. He glanced down at the ground, composing his features, then spoke quietly. “Sorry to startle you, ma’am. I was wondering if you could tell me where Mr. Trent might be?”
Confusion kept her from answering right away. He had to mean John. A little relief eased her mind. He must be a business associate of John’s and doesn’t know of his passing yet. Still she should clarify just to be certain. “Who?” In her flustered state she spoke the word in Spanish. She leaned the ax against a snowy log, keeping it close to hand just in case. Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, she bent and tried to lift the log off her foot.
The man swung down from the saddle and moved to help her. He lifted the log slightly and she pulled her foot loose. Setting it back down, he stepped back but didn’t take his attention from her face. Nicki looked away and then back again. He watched her, hands resting casually on his hips, blue eyes roving over her face as though he were seeing a woman for the first time in his life.
In those first moments of fear she hadn’t noticed how handsome he was. Blond hair curled out from under his black Stetson. A day’s worth of stubble accented the pleasant angle of his jaw. And there was fire in his ice-blue eyes.
A tingle of heat started at the back of her neck and worked its way up into her cheeks. Annoyed with herself for allowing his stare to affect her, she stepped back and folded her arms.
Like a little boy caught staring at his beautiful, young teacher, he looked away, kicked at a patch of snow, and ran a hand over his jaw. “Do you speak English?” he asked, his voice deep and resonant.
“Sí, Señor.” To her chagrin, the words again came out in her native tongue, and he looked up. Her eyes locked with his, and she held her breath.
She’d received her share of admiring looks, but this man....
Something intense resonated between them. Never had she been so affected by a man’s attention. Her heart thundered, yet she felt disconcerted. Didn’t he know it was impolite to stare? She averted her eyes from his penetrating blue gaze.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him glance around the yard. He was apparently looking for someone who could understand him, but Nicki couldn’t find her tongue.
“Great,” he mumbled, “I’m out here in the middle of nowhere chasing a job that is probably already taken and the only person around, beautiful as she may be, can’t understand a word I’m saying.”
Nicki’s heart lurched at his words but she pulled herself together, resting her hands on her hips, throwing her shoulders back and raising her chin. “I can understand you, Señor.”
He spun toward her. “You speak English?”
The full force of his blue eyes once again made her forget her well-versed command of the English language. “Sí.” She cleared her throat and stared at his boots, bringing her hands together in front of her in exasperation. “Yes.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “So you understood everything I said?”
She nodded, pushing a stray curl off her forehead and fixing her embarrassed gaze on the side of the collapsing barn several yards away.
“I didn’t mean any offense, ma’am. I apologize.”
Nicki heard true contrition in his voice and knew that he meant what he’d said. He was definitely not the kind of man who would leave that frightening threat on her doorstep.
She raised her eyes to his, humor tingeing her words. “For calling me beautiful, Señor?”
He grinned. Shrugging, he responded in kind. “I don’t normally tell a woman how beautiful she is until I’ve known her for at least five minutes.”
“I see.” A lady chaser. I will have to watch this one. Nicki extended her hand, the smile she felt in her
heart not quite reaching her mouth. “I am Dominique Trent. How may I help you, Señor?”
The man took her hand. “Jason Jordan.”
Nicki quickly pulled her hand from his, trying to ignore the jolt that traveled up her arm at his touch.
He motioned downward. “Is your foot all right?”
“I am fine.”
He nodded. “Good. I am looking for your father. Is he around?”
Nicki frowned, her confusion growing. “My father?”
Jason walked to his saddle bag and pulled out a rumpled newspaper. Folding the paper open he tapped the print and handed it to her. “I am responding to this ad. I’ve come for the job, if it’s not yet taken.”
Nicki glanced at the paper and then back into his face, realization dawning. “I placed this ad, Señor. I am Nicki Trent.”
Jason stepped back and examined her small frame, bringing a blush to her face once again. “You run this ranch, ma’am?”
“Sí.” She again reverted to Spanish and inwardly berated herself for allowing this man to have such an unsettling effect on her. “But not of my own choice, Señor.”
“Of course.” Jason scuffed an arc in the snow with the toe of his boot.
“Well, I’ve blundered into this rather badly, haven’t I?” He raised his eyes to hers.
Nicki smiled.
“Is the job taken?”
She shook her head. Then, folding her hands in the awkward silence that followed, she said, “Why don’t we go inside out of the cold so I can ask you a few questions?”
Jason stepped back. “That would be fine. Is there someplace I can put my horse?” He glanced at the barn as though hoping she would not ask him to put the poor animal anywhere near such a death trap.
Embarrassment heated her cheeks. “The barn roof collapsed earlier this year under the weight of the snow. My husband didn’t get around to fixing it before...”
“I understand, ma’am. If you give me a couple of minutes, I’ll rig something up.” He glanced at the sky. “It looks like there might be a snowstorm blowing in, and I would hate to leave him out in it.”
“That would be fine. I’ll be in the soddy over there. Have you had lunch?”
“No, ma’am, not yet.”
“I’ll have some waiting then. Come on over when you are done.”
“Thanks.”
Whap! A bullet struck the side of the bunkhouse not a yard from Nicki’s head as she took a step toward the house. The report of the rifle came only after she heard the distinct sound of the bullet shattering wood. Another shot quickly followed.
Jason squelched the curse that leapt to his lips as he dove for cover behind the slot-sided bunkhouse. He hoped a bullet didn’t happen to hit one of the large gaps and make its way clean to the other side.
The woman had only been a couple of steps away from him, and he turned toward her. “Any idea who would be shoot—what!” This time an oath did slip out before he could stop it.
She still stood brazenly in the yard. Hands on her hips, she glared passionately at the hill from which the hail of bullets emanated.
Lord, forgive me. And please protect her! What should I do? Fear for her life made his mouth dry as a desert stone. For one frozen second, his alarm paralyzed him.
His only chance was to dive on her and tackle her down behind the partially frozen water trough.
As he lunged out from the relative safety of the bunkhouse, a verse from the ninety-first psalm washed over him. “You shall not be afraid of the terror by night, nor of the arrow that flies by day, nor of the pestilence that walks in darkness, nor of the destruction that lays waste at noonday.” Still, he couldn't help but voice a question toward the sky. “Lord, You brought me across the state to work for a crazy woman?”
He hit her torso with a long clean dive, and they landed with a thud on the snow-covered ground behind the trough.
“Are you crazy?” he yelled at her.
She opened her mouth to reply, but his tackle had apparently knocked the wind out of her, and she could only gulp for air.
“Here.” He turned her on her side, placing his body on the outside, but scooting as close to her as he could so he couldn’t be seen over the top of the trough. For all her seeming bravery, he could feel her body trembling. The bullets stopped a moment later, and thick, ringing silence descended.
His heart rate beginning to return to a more normal pace, a low chuckle escaped his chest. “Last I was told, it’s probably best to duck for cover when someone opens fire on you. But then maybe no one ever told you that?”
She tried to laugh with him, but it came out more like a whimper.
He remained silent for a time, allowing her to gather her composure. Then he asked, “Any idea who might be shooting at us?”
“They are trying to frighten me off this land.” She told him about the morning’s incident with the burlap, child-sized dummy.
“Who’s ‘they’?”
“I don’t know. My neighbor warned me that, since my husband’s death two weeks ago, he’s heard some talk of men who would like my land.”
“And you were standing out there staring them down because...?”
“I will not let them frighten me, Señor.”
He laid a hand on her still-trembling arm. “But you are frightened.”
She sat up quickly before he could stop her, her head and shoulders clearly visible above the rim of the trough. He reached quickly to pull her back down but stopped when there was no shot.
“They do not need to know that, Señor.” She stood, brushing snow off her clothes. “I will go see about lunch now.”
As Nicki made her way toward the house she rubbed her upper arms and stared up at the hill. Who would be shooting at her? Why not just approach her and offer to buy her out? Her thoughts turned to Sawyer, and she shivered with the knowledge of what her pride could have cost him. Thank You, Lord, for watching over me.
Opening the door to the soddy, she slipped inside and wrapped her hands around the warmth of the coffee cup that a shaking Tilly passed her. “I was so worried. What was that all about?”
“Someone wants to scare me off this land.”
“God have mercy!”
“I think maybe He already has.” Nicki cocked an eyebrow at her over the rim of the cup and tipped her head in the direction of the man outside.
“Are you talking about that man who dove on you?”
Nicki nodded.
“What were you doing anyway, Nicki Trent? I’ll shoot you myself if you ever do something like that again! You had me scared witless! If that man hadn’t tackled you down, you would have—you could have—Oh! Are you crazy?”
Nicki sipped the dark brew, meeting Tilly’s furious gaze with what she hoped was calm assurance.
Tilly sank into a chair, clasping quaking hands in her lap. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t yell at you like that. Just don’t do that again, okay?”
Nicki remained silent, intently studying the ebony liquid in her cup.
Stooping, Tilly rubbed a fresh circle on the frosted window, and asked, “Who is he?”
Nicki was unsure how to respond, so held her silence.
“He’s awfully good looking!” The gleam in Tilly's eyes indicated she was attempting to lighten the mood.
Nicki smirked and sipped from her cup, following suit. “Not quite as good looking as Conner, though?”
Tilly waved a hand. “Well, that goes without saying.” She grinned.
Nicki smiled at her fondly, knowing that her young baby-sitter had developed a crush on her handsome cowhand since he’d been picking her up in the mornings and driving her home at night. And having seen the way Conner stole looks at Tilly when he thought no one was looking, the feeling was certainly mutual.
“So? Who is he?” Tilly got back to the subject at hand, gesturing out the window.
“He has come to apply for the foreman job.”
Tilly peered out the little circle again. “Wait until I tell Jan
ice. He’s just her type. She always goes for those blond-haired, blue-eyed men.” She spoke of her best friend, the daughter of Ryan and Peggy Sanders, owners of Farewell Bend’s mercantile. Then Tilly giggled. “If he stopped in town, I bet she talked him into a corner. She always talks too much when she gets nervous.” She glanced at the man out the window one more time. “He does have blue eyes, doesn’t he?” Tilly’s nervousness over the gunfire was making her own tongue run from the middle.
“Sí.” Nicki took another sip of coffee, trying to push the thought of those alluring blue eyes from her mind. “Pero, no es oro todo lo que reluce.”
Tilly turned toward her with a puckered brow. “What?”
“All is not gold that glitters. You don’t have any idea what he is like. Just because he is fine-looking doesn’t mean that he is kind and loving. Nor that he loves our Savior, no?” Nicki spoke the words to Tilly but inwardly realized she was preaching herself a sermon.
Tilly wrinkled her nose. “I suppose you’re right.” But she quickly returned to high spirits. Her face brightened and she said animatedly, “It will give Janice and me something to talk about, though. It’s not often that strangers come through town, much less ones as good-looking as him. And the very day he arrives, you are shot at and he saves you!”
Nicki smirked at Tilly’s adolescent romanticism. “Better than me being shot at and him not saving me, yes?”
Tilly chuckled.
Stepping over to the rag rug where Sawyer played with his pile of blocks, Nicki squatted down, ruffling his hair. For a time she closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his little head beneath her hand, thanking God she was still here to enjoy it. When she opened her eyes he was staring up at her. “How is Mama’s big boy this morning?”
The eighteen-month-old grinned at her, banging two blocks together.“Mama! Watch dis.” He stacked the two blocks on top of each other, adding a third, his tongue held between his teeth in concentration, then joyfully knocked over the tower.
“Wow!” Nicki said enthusiastically. “Can you do it again?”
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