“No.”
Nicki shook her head at his independent spirit. If she hadn’t asked for a repeat performance, he probably would have contented himself with doing the same thing over and over all morning. But since it had been her suggestion to do it again, it no longer seemed like fun.
A knock sounded on the door.
Tilly moved to open it as Nicki seated herself at the table, trying to compose her thoughts. What questions do I need to ask? I don’t know the first thing about running a ranch, so how do I know what to ask him? He might not even want the job after what he’s seen.
Jason was taller than John had been. For where there had been plenty of room for John’s head, even in this low-ceilinged building, Jason’s hair almost touched. He curled the brim of his hat into one hand, tapping it against his leg. Tilly traded him the hat for a cup of coffee, and he thanked her warmly. A blush skittered across her cheeks, but he didn’t seem to notice. His gaze was fixed on the little boy playing on the braided rug, a sudden tenderness in his eyes.
Nicki watched as his sorrow-filled glance flickered from Sawyer, to the floor, into his coffee, and then back to the baby, finally settling on her face. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Trent.”
Nicki could barely speak around the lump that suddenly formed in her throat. “Thank you.”
Jason looked back to Sawyer. “I lost my father when I was just a little older than he is, my mother a few years later.”
“I’m sorry.”
A sad light was still in his eyes as he pulled out a chair and seated himself. “It worked out. I don’t know if I would ever have come to serve the Lord if I hadn’t been raised by my grandmother.”
Nicki heard Tilly give a little gasp from where she stood by the stove. So the glitter might have a little gold in it. “Well, I’ll be the first to admit that it eases my mind knowing you are a fellow Christian, but tell me what you know about ranching, Señor.” She hurried on. “That is, if you are still interested in this job?”
“I’m still interested if you’ll have me, ma’am.”
She nodded. “Fine. Why don’t you tell me what qualifies you, Señor?”
“First, ma’am, please just call me Jason. You’re making me feel old calling me ‘Señor’ all the time.” His eyes twinkled.
Nicki sipped her coffee as Tilly placed thick sandwiches before them and carried a little plate to Sawyer. They said grace, and then Nicki responded to his comment. “That’s fine, Jason.” She almost added that he could call her Nicki, but she needed to keep an element of formality in their relationship if the attraction she felt for him was anything near mutual.
Taking a bite of her sandwich, Nicki tried to quash the guilt she felt at being attracted to this man so soon after the death of her husband. True, she had not loved John, but she missed him now that he was gone, and it felt disloyal to be having these unfamiliar feelings.
Her next question came out more caustically than she intended. “So, do you have any experience in ranching, Jason?”
He swallowed his bite of bread and steak and nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve just come home from bossing a herd from down near Salem, Oregon, to Dodge City. I’d only been home for a couple of days when I saw the ad for this job.”
Nicki softened her tone. “Where is home?”
“Shilo, Oregon. Over in the Willamette Valley. Are you originally from around here?”
“No. I was born and raised in California.”
“How did you come to be living here, Mrs. Trent?”
Nicki debated between telling him to mind his own business and wondering how much of the truth she should tell him. She settled on, “My husband bought this place after we were married.”
“Well, from what I saw of the place, it could be a fine spread. It just needs a little work is all. There is plenty of water and good access to it so the cattle should do well in the spring and summer. I can see why someone would want the place. How many cattle do you run?”
Nicki was chagrined. “I don’t know, Señ—” She caught herself. “Jason.”
“That’s all right.” He waved a hand. “There will be plenty of time for counting in the spring. How many acres do you own?”
“Five thousand.”
“How many hands work here?”
“Two.”
He blinked. His sandwich halted halfway to his mouth. Setting it back down on his plate, he wiped his mouth with his fingers and asked, “Two?”
She nodded. “A neighbor, one of my husband’s good friends, has lent me a couple of men to help us make it through the winter, but I only have two hands of my own.”
“Has the ranch always run on only two hands?”
“No. In the summer months we usually have up to fifteen, but it gets cold during the winters here and none of the others were willing to—” She felt the blush of regret on her cheeks. Then she threw back her shoulders and raised her chin, meeting his steady gaze. After all, it was not her fault John had let this ranch run into the ground. “None of the others were willing to live in the bunkhouse through the winter.”
Jason took up his coffee and sat back. Crossing the ankle of one leg over the knee of the other, he sipped the hot liquid glancing into its depths for a moment before he said, “Well, if you give me the job, I will want to make some specific changes, especially to these central buildings. The workings of a ranch run from the main buildings outward, and if you don’t have a functioning barn, corral, or bunkhouse, you don’t have a ranch.”
Nicki nodded. “I agree with you, Señor.” Recognizing her slip, she darted him a glance, then pressed on. “I would have started on the bunkhouse already except for the fact that it is winter and the chinking that needs to be done would never dry.”
He went on as though she had not spoken, his concerned eyes drilling into hers. “But the first thing I’ll do is ride into town and see the sheriff about this harassment you’ve been getting.”
Nicki didn’t have time to ponder the implications of his concern, for Sawyer suddenly pulled on her sleeve. “Mama, come pway.”
Nicki looked down and tousled his hair, “I can’t play right now, Son. Mama is busy.”
Stomping one foot and folding chubby arms across his chest, he repeated, “Come pway!”
“Sawyer. Mama is busy now.” When she turned back to resume her conversation with Jason, Sawyer threw his head back and let out a blood-curdling scream, throwing in a few stomps of his feet for good measure. Wide-eyed, Nicki turned to stare at the little tyrant before her.
Tilly set her plate aside and came over, attempting to pick him up, but he arched his back and threw his hands in the air, squirming and writhing and making it almost impossible to do so.
Jason set his cup down and stood, picking up the rest of his sandwich as he hollered over the din, “I’ll just go cut and chop some of that wood for you. When you’ve gotten him settled, you can let me know your decision.”
As Nicki tried to calm Sawyer, she realized with exasperation that Jason had been the one who asked most of the questions.
7
An hour later when Nicki had finally rocked Sawyer to sleep, she laid him gently on the bed and made her way outside to finish conducting her interview with Jason.
She stared at the wood pile in amazement as she moved across the yard. He had reduced it by at least half, cutting more in an hour’s time than she had been able to cut in the last three days.
Glancing past him, she saw that he had set up a three-sided screen for his horse, using the wind-sheltered end of the bunkhouse and several bales of hay, which she had not even known she had. He must have found them under the collapsed roof of the barn. She could see where he had dug down, removing sections of the roof to get at what was underneath.
She gestured to the animal and then folded her arms against the cold as she spoke. “There might be some feed under that mess.” She motioned to the barn. “I haven’t been in there since before John’s accident. But if you can find some, you’re
welcome to it.”
“Thank you. I’ll go look as soon as I’m done with this wood. Where would you like it stacked?”
“Um.” She glanced around. They had always had only enough cut up to burn for one day so there was no set place to stack it. “You can put half of it here by the bunkhouse and half over there by the soddy.”
He nodded and went back to work chopping as he asked, “So is there anything else you want to ask me?”
“Well, I find myself in an awkward position. You see I don’t really know the first thing about running a ranch, so I don’t know what questions I should ask you. You said you were the trail boss on a drive, so I suppose that you know something about cattle. Where did you learn that information?”
Jason set another log up on its end, swinging the ax high and chopping it in half before he leaned on the handle and replied, “My uncle’s best friend owns a ranch. His name is Smith Bennett, and his son, Cade, and I were pretty good friends growing up. Every summer until I was seventeen I worked on their ranch with my cousins, helping do all sorts of odd jobs. I also sometimes helped my uncle with his work. He is the sheriff back home in Shilo. I learned cattle from Smith Bennett, and I learned about horses from Uncle Sean.”
“And organizing and running a ranch, what do you know about that?”
“Well, I’ll be honest with you on that. I have never had to run a ranch. But,” he glanced around at the rundown buildings, “I have some ideas that I think will work. At least improve your situation.”
Nicki was about to ask something else when she heard a rider approaching and turned to see who it was.
“Nicki? I heard there were some shots over in this direction?” William swung down from the saddle, his mouth thinning as he took in Nicki’s attire.
She glanced down. She had forgotten about her clothes. Heat warmed her cheeks.
Jason didn’t miss the way Nicki’s cheeks tinted as she self-consciously smoothed a hand over the front of her baggy pants. The newcomer eyed him in a decidedly unfriendly fashion, then turned his eyes back on Nicki, waiting for her reply.
“Hello, William. You heard right. Your fears the other day were justified. Someone wants me off this land.”
“Someone with a .44 caliber,” Jason added, his eyes casually taking in the Winchester of the same caliber that rested in the scabbard of William’s saddle. He had taken a few moments to check out the rounds that struck the bunkhouse and had even meandered over the hill to look at the area where the shots had originated. The shooter had been on foot, and Jason knew he wouldn’t soon forget his tracks.
“Who is this?” The man’s accusing tone hung thickly in the air.
Nicki gestured toward Jason. “I’d like you to meet Jason Jordan. Jason, this is William Harpster, my neighbor and friend.”
Jason stepped toward William, nodding as they shook hands. Nicki continued, “Jason is my new ranch foreman.”
Jason relaxed inwardly, although he didn’t let his relief show. After their fiasco of an introduction, he had wondered if she would even consider hiring him, yet somehow even while they were being shot at, he’d known this was where he suddenly wanted to be. He’d ridden down the hill grumbling about this God-forsaken ranch in the middle of nowhere. But one glimpse of his new boss’s pretty eyes, and suddenly he felt right at home.
His eyes flickered toward Nicki as he picked the ax back up. She was very beautiful. He suppressed a snort of disgust with himself. He was as shallow as the neighbor who had stepped very close to Nicki in a protective gesture. Nicki folded her arms and stiffened. Interesting.
He swiped his cheek against one shoulder, grabbed a log, and set it up on the chopping block. Lord, help me to serve this woman for the right reasons and not just because she is beautiful.
Jason eyed the newcomer even as he continued to chop wood. He sensed that this man was not happy with his presence here and wondered what caused his displeasure. His eyes dropped once again to the man’s rifle, suspicion darkening his thoughts.
“A ranch foreman, Nicki?” William lowered his voice, “If you would accept my offer, you wouldn’t need a foreman.” He touched her arm, trailing his fingers from her shoulder to her elbow and looking deeply into her eyes. The hushed words were not meant to reach Jason, but he heard them, nonetheless, and understanding dawned.
She has a suitor this soon after the death of her husband? Something seemed odd about that, but remembering his own reaction to her beauty, Jason was not surprised.
William turned and stared at Jason, who continued calmly chopping wood, his swing of the ax rhythmic and smooth. “Nicki, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you,” he said, his eyes still on Jason, his voice raised a notch.
“You are not going to need a ranch foreman.”
Jason heard Nicki give a dry chuckle as she turned on William. “Look around you! This place is literally falling apart. I need someone to help me put it back together; get it organized. I’ll not be frightened off this place.” There was an edge of iron in her tone.
Good girl.
“Nicki, don’t do this. Please. Listen to reason. You aren’t qualified to run this place.”
“Which is why I’ve hired a foreman.”
William took Nicki’s elbow. “Listen to me.” He led her a few steps away, paused, then started talking.
Jason, now unable to hear what he said, watched as William handed her a yellow paper that could only be a telegram. Nicki frowned and glanced down at it. Jason’s eyes stayed on Nicki as he set another round of wood on the chopping block. She read the telegram, dropped it to her side, and raked the fingers of her other hand back through the dark, loose strands of hair by her face. It was a gesture of defeat. William pulled her into his embrace and Jason saw her shoulders slump as she leaned into his arms.
Lord, help her. Give her the strength to go on. That little boy in there is going to need her. And don’t let her fall into the temptation to give up, like Mom did. He swallowed a lump in his throat. Keep her strong. Show her she needs to keep her eyes on You.
William and Nicki exchanged some more words, then William turned and mounted his horse. Riding away, he cast one more frown in Jason’s direction.
Nicki stood still, staring at the snow-covered peaks of the Three Sisters that could be seen in the distance. Turning, she headed toward the house and then, apparently remembering him, she turned back, the telegram clutched in her trembling fist. She didn’t once meet his eyes as she said, “You are welcome to stay for dinner but—” She ended in a choked whisper, “I’m sorry you came all the way out here. I will have Tilly pack you a grub stake for your trip home.” With that, she turned dejectedly for the house.
Jason sank the ax deep into the chopping block and swiped his temple against the shoulder of his shirt as he watched Nicki make her way into the house. “Lord?” He spoke the prayer out loud but heard no reply.
Conner and Ron rode toward home as the sun began to set. Conner rolled his shoulders and dropped his head from one side to the other, stretching out his neck. It had been a long day in the saddle. They would have been home by now if it weren’t for the heifer and her calf that had gotten bogged down and then tangled in the barbed wire where a drift had mounded up against the fence.
Oh, how he was looking forward to a hot cup of strong black coffee! His stomach grumbled at the mere thought.
Dusk glazed the countryside with a film of gray. Only black shapes indicated trees, bushes, and the strip of trail that lay before them. Off to their right a cow lowed and another responded. The wind picked up and Conner shivered, reaching to adjust his sheepskin coat. Ron’s horse tossed its head, the bit clanking against its teeth, and Conner felt the muscles of his mare bunch even as her ears swiveled forward.
“Ron!”
The warning came too late. A lasso sailed out of the darkness toward Ron, a black snake slithering against the twilight sky. Ron’s horse reared up, pawing the air, even as the loop settled around his shoulders and jerked him from
the saddle. He landed with a thud and a groan against the embankment.
Conner scrambled from his saddle and rushed to Ron’s side. He knelt in the snow by him. “Ron!” He was out cold.
A footfall sounded behind him. A blade pricked his throat.
Conner froze, a tingle of fear prickling his tongue with a metallic taste.
The breath from a throaty laugh heated his ear and the stench of stale beer assaulted his nostrils. “Turn around and you’re a dead man, boy.”
Conner swallowed and kept still.
“You should have tossed that race like Roland wanted you to, son.”
Squinting into the darkness, Conner willed his heart to quit beating so loudly in his ears. Did he know that voice? He willed himself to breathe normally and tuned in carefully to the sounds around him, straining to hear if there were any other people with this half-drunk foe.
Off in the distance he could hear the rush of the Deschutes River. And somewhere a cricket chirped happily, uncaring of the drama being played out at its back door. His mare stamped her foot and snorted impatiently. But he heard nothing except the breathing of the man behind him and a soft moan from Ron.
The man chuckled and pressed the knife deeper into his throat, twisting the blade slightly. “Bet you wish now that you’d just slowed up a little, huh?” he whispered. “Wouldn’t o’ been so hard now, would it?”
Conner swallowed hard but said nothing. He might have one chance to make it out of this alive. And he would bide his time, waiting for the right moment before he acted.
Another chuckle. “You got nerve, I’ll give you that much, but it ain’t gonna do you a whole lot a good where you’re going.”
The pressure on the blade eased up slightly as the man raised it for the plunge.
With a feral yell, Conner snapped his head back, smashing it into the nose of the man behind him. He felt the satisfying crunch as it gave.
The man yelped, sprawling over backwards.
Lurching to his feet, Conner spun, then immediately realized his mistake. The blood rushing to leave his head left him blind and light-headed. He stretched his hands out in front of him as he staggered sideways.
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