Frowning, he stepped in front of her and rested his fingers on her forearm.
She sucked in a breath. He’d broken their agreement about letting her touch first.
“But a gun isn’t the solution. I’ve handled weapons of all kinds for years. People think they’re a solution, but a stronger person will always win. Crane could have grabbed it away and turned it against you.” He huffed out a breath. “Then where’s your defense?”
“I’ll get a rifle and keep everyone five feet away.”
His mouth twitched then firmed. “Not practical.”
Did he dare laugh at her? She shook off his touch. “So, you’re saying my only defense is a husband? Well, buddy, I can do that. Apparently, weddings come easy for me. Maybe after you’re gone for long enough, this marriage we have won’t count anymore. I’ll find and marry a man who is willing to share himself and agrees to stick around to make the ranch profitable.” She spun and marched into the house.
g
What happened to that sweet animal lover he first met? He started after her but when his boot landed on the first step, he stopped. What can I say? Am I willing be the man she needs and stick around? The skin between his shoulder blades itched, and he rolled them to relieve the annoying sensation. All he could do was finish the last repairs and build up her woodpile. Grabbing a chain from the barn, he rode Blackie into the treeline and chopped down a sapling that wouldn’t strain the horse.
Before the ranch was in sight, he heard a horrible wailing. Standing tall in the stirrups, he looked around for signs of a coyote pack with a fresh kill. He urged Blackie forward until they reached the back of the barn.
“Brice, where are you?”
Hazelanne. With his heart in his throat, he charged into the darkened barn. “What’s wrong?”
She stood from the stall where she’d been kneeling and stumbled in his direction. “It’s horrible. I couldn’t do anything.”
Blood dredged her apron and coated her hands and arms. As he closed the distance, he checked her exposed skin for signs of wounds. “Where did all this blood come from? Are you hurt?”
She fell against him and sobbed.
Her attempts at an explanation were intelligible, but between hiccups and gasps came a “no.” Argument unresolved or not, he drew her close and whispered stupid words of consolation about an event he didn’t understand. “Shh, sweetheart.” He stroked her back and took deep breaths, hoping she’d catch the rhythm. “You have to calm down.” Brushing kisses on her temple, he dared to cradle the back of her head and hoped his secure hold let her know she was safe from whatever happened. Listening to her heartbreak was tough. He had no experience and had to rely on his instincts. When he judged she’d cried long enough, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the house.
A glance into the stall as he passed told him what caused her distress. A ewe went into labor while he was in the forest. Both the mother and baby died, and Hazelanne probably blamed herself. In the bedroom, he talked to her in a soft voice as he removed her soiled clothes and washed off the blood.
He slipped her onto the bed and started pulling up the quilt.
“Don’t go.” She roused enough to hold out her arms.
Thinking of the animal corpses and poor Blackie standing at the back of barn still chained to the log made him hesitate.
“Stay with me, Brice.”
He stripped off his bloodied clothes and lay beside her, gathering her close. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that awfulness alone.”
“I meant to read the book you bought me, but I got so busy. I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll be better…” Her breaths whooshed out long and slow.
Long after she fell asleep, he held her tight, savoring the specialness of being close and sharing the same air in this space he didn’t have the right to claim. He pondered this mess they’d put themselves in. An unresolved issue that he hadn’t made peace with in nine long years surfaced. Running away from his father also meant he’d left behind his mother to fend for herself. As a teen, he hadn’t realized the bigger implications. But as a grown man, he’d vowed never to leave a female defenseless if he had any power to help. The money he’d had sent from his Park City bank should be waiting at the Wells Fargo office. His penance for deserting his mother might be assuaged a bit by giving Hazelanne the funds to pay off the mortgage.
With his heart at ease with his decision, he rolled out of the bed to deal with the sheep tragedy so she wouldn’t have to face this one. His steps were heavy as he trudged out into the dark. Once that debt was settled, he had no reason to stick around.
g
The next morning, Hazelanne rolled over on the mattress and caught Brice’s scent, a pleasant mix of fresh air, spicy citrus, and working man. She hugged the cold pillow close then popped up and glanced around, remembering the reason why his scent would be in her bed. Was he gone again? Oh, the sheep. Tears threatened, but she swallowed them back.
Starting today, she would learn everything she could so that particular tragedy wouldn’t happen again. As she dressed, she reassured herself that she could manage the ranch on her own. Gaining the skills might take a while, but she’d learned to run a household when she was only thirteen. Books are great resources, and what they didn’t tell her she’d ask around and find something who did know. If the animals are all she’ll have to love, then she’ll do everything possible to keep and nurture them. Her pleasure would come from seeing them prosper. She didn’t need much, just shelter somewhere and enough food for her and the animals.
Exiting the bedroom, she glanced toward the settee where a folded quilt was the only evidence Brice had slept there. The scent of fresh coffee tickled her nose, drawing her toward the kitchen.
Brice was still here. Her heart skipped a beat. He stood, leaning a hip against the counter, a mug poised at his mouth.
“Good morning.” Something was different but she couldn’t tell what. “Coffee smells good.”
“Morning. I have something to tell you. Get your coffee first.”
Wariness crept through her body, but she moved to the stove, poured coffee, and carried her mug to the table.
“I’m glad you remembered the amount.” He reversed a chair and straddled it, resting his forearms on the top. “I’m giving you the money to pay off the mortgage.”
Her heart raced. The ranch could be hers…theirs. “Thank you, Brice. Of course, you can claim whatever part of the ranch that amount buys.”
“No. I don’t want it. Take the money for the mortgage and Crane won’t have a thing to hold over your head.”
“I don’t want to tie you down, Brice.” Those words were hard to speak, because she did want him to see the ranch as his home. “You gave me your name for my protection. So, prove it. Confront Crane at my side and sign your name on the deed. Then he can’t refute my claim to the land. Your signature will keep me warmer than cordwood in the winter.”
“Signing a deed is an entanglement I hadn’t counted on.”
Her hands shook too much to hold the mug. “Brice, I was raised not to think of myself first so this demand is hard for me to make.” She stood and walked to his side. When he didn’t move from staring off into the distance, she cupped his cheeks and turned his head until their gazes met. “I need you with me until the transaction is completed. Do this one act, and I won’t ask you for anything more.” She could look into his eyes forever, but she dropped her hands and stepped back.
For a long while, he focused on the view of the prairie and the forest through the window. He stood and tucked the chair under the table. “We leave for town in twenty minutes.”
In town, Hazelanne sat in the judge’s foyer with hands clasped tight in her lap, sure somehow the transaction wouldn’t work. Someone would tell them of another impossible requirement they had to meet. Hiram Jakes left fifteen minutes earlier to collect Mortimer Crane. The waiting was tortuous. Just when she’d readied herself to dash out of the office, she’d feel a slide of a boot
against her shoe or a brush of Brice’s forearm against her dress sleeve, and she’d calm. Oh, how would she face the future without him?
Finally, all the involved parties stood before the judge’s desk.
From the chair behind his desk, the judge reviewed the mortgage paper and asked questions about certain details. “All right, I’m satisfied the loan was handled properly. Payment of ninety dollars and fifty cents is due.”
Brice stepped forward and handed over a bank draft. “Here is the full payment, sir.”
Mortimer Crane waved a hand. “I expected cash to settle this loan.”
“I don’t see that stipulation on the loan document.” Judge Vaile stood and leaned his hands on the desk. “Am I to understand that you, Mister Crane, who is acknowledged as the owner of this town’s bank won’t accept a bank draft as legal tender?”
“Well, I, um…” He leaned over to glance at the paper on the desk. “This draft is drawn on an out-of-town bank. How do I know this man has sufficient funds there?”
Hazelanne stepped forward and stared. “Because his bank wouldn’t have issued the draft if he didn’t.”
The judge turned a squinted glare at the banker. “Satisfied, sir?”
Crane picked up the draft and studied it. “I accept the payment.” He stuffed it in his jacket pocket and planted his cane.
“You’ll leave when I say this transaction is done, Crane.” The judge indicated the pen in a stand. “Sign the bottom of the mortgage and mark it paid in full.” He slid open a drawer and lifted out a wooden box.
Huffing with each move, Mortimer did as the judge bade. “There, it’s done.”
“Now, you may leave.”
Everyone remained silent until the latch clicked into place.
“Normally, I encourage handshakes to seal the deal, but that man is no gentleman.” He glanced between them. “I’ll bet you’re glad to have that transaction completed.” From the box, he removed a metal gadget and fit the edge of the mortgage between two pieces then squeezed. An imprint remained and he wrote his signature over the irregular paper.
Hazelanne could barely contain her anticipation. “I am. But I’m most excited about receiving the signed deed.”
“Ah, yes, the land deed.” He set the mortgage aside and moved the pre-printed deed to the center. “Who’s signing first?”
She glanced at Brice who had paled so she stepped forward. “I will.” With precise moves, she dipped the nip in the inkwell and then wrote with her best penmanship, Hazelanne Asta MacAndrew, on the line with Owner printed beneath. The thrill of signing her name to the document that guaranteed no one could take away her land infused her with a sense of power. The biggest hurdle had been crossed. Even if she couldn’t fulfill the Army contract, she would find other buyers for the wool or locations to sell the products she would make. The ranch would succeed.
Filled with hope, she turned and rested a hand on Brice’s forearm then gazed into his so-blue eyes. “You don’t have to sign the deed. If you think doing so ties you down, then don’t. That obligation is not what I want for you. Your generosity has solved my problem.” She glanced at the judge who could obviously hear their conversation but had to speak what was in her heart. “Leave for your next adventure knowing I’ll be just fine. You can stop by any time for as long as you want, and I’ll welcome you with open arms. Take Blackie as my belated wedding gift. Having him will make traveling to your next job easier.” At least, she could repay him in part for saving her, even if she wanted to give him so much more.
g
Since seeing the official document, Brice had trouble catching a full breath. Writing his name on that deed would make his ties to the ten acres of physical land a reality and provide him with a permanent address. No more ‘in care of’ notations on envelopes. A simple signature would give him the roots he’d forgotten he needed. This particular spot outside of Wildcat Ridge was one he wanted to inhabit only because of the one special lady who lived there, too. Her words releasing him from any obligation shook his belief that wandering is true freedom. He reached for the pen. “I’ll sign because I know my name beside yours makes the claim stronger.”
The ride to the ranch stretched out in silence. After making the biggest commitment of his life, he couldn’t think of what to say. Better to remain mute than to say the wrong thing and maybe lose the sweetest and most loyal person he’d ever known. The best he could hope for was to leave on good terms.
As soon as the buckboard stopped, Hazelanne turned and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “I can’t watch you leave. Travel safe, Brice. My heart goes with you.” Then she ran across the yard and disappeared into the house.
An hour later, he turned in the saddle and took a long look at the little cabin and barn. Urging Blackie forward, Brice rubbed at the tightness in his chest, wondering if he wasn’t leaving behind the best part of who he’d become.
Chapter Ten
H
eading east to places he’d never been, Brice took on jobs that left him so exhausted at the end of the day that he couldn’t think. Work, eat, and sleep became his routine. The weeks passed in a blur. On lonely nights in whatever bunkhouse or hotel room or boardinghouse or campfire he laid his weary head, one moment emerged when he compared his current circumstance with the cabin, its cozy fire, and a tasty meal—even of the dishes she put in front of him with names he couldn’t pronounce.
If he wasn’t tired enough, then he remembered her threat to marry again to someone who didn’t mind being stuck on the ranch. His ranch. He suspected she’d spoken in anger, but he still hated the idea of another man being there, caring for the animals…and her. Until he was done wandering, she was better off without him.
But each day, as he kept dogging cattle, he had plenty of time for memories. How Hazelanne treated the animals like they were her children. Her determination to learn how to weave or birth lambs from a book. Her smile. The sparkle in her amber eyes. The sweet smell of her skin.
One evening while working a cattle drive in western Colorado, Brice perched on his saddle, eating yet another plate of beans, bacon, and biscuits.
A couple of other cowhands settled into places around the campfire.
“Did you hear about that big horse auction happening next week? The place’s not far away in Utah Territory.” Rawlins took a bite of biscuit.
Brice paused and listened.
“What’s so special about a horse auction? I’m sure you can find one closer.” Jerry scratched his whiskers. “Besides, what do I need with another horse?
“It’s in a town called Wildcat Ridge.”
His appetite fled, and Brice set down his plate. A horse auction that was known a couple hundred miles away must be big.
“Yeah, so?”
Rawlins slapped Jerry on the shoulder. “Don’t you read the newspaper? A big mine explosion killed most of the men a while back, and the town has a whole lot of lonely widows.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Think of it. A few of those widows must have a farm or a ranch. What a deal to exchange land and livestock for just a little sweet talk.”
Brice clamped his jaw tight to keep from lambasting the man. When he realized his clenched fingers ached, he flexed his hand until the blood returned. The man’s words had snapped his fuzzy thinking into clarity. Hazelanne and the ranch were a pretty package that many men would covet. He hadn’t protected her by making sure she could hold onto her land—he’d made her a target.
Several days later in mid-June, Brice trotted Blackie up Front Street. He acknowledged the few people who recognized him with an answering wave, but he didn’t slow to talk. Out of habit, he checked if the black-and-white mutt that joined him at a campfire one night tagged along. Still there. Over the Moose Creek bridge, they went. When he reached the edge of the familiar fence that he’d seen as a constricting enclosure, he reined in Blackie and took in his fill. The pasture burst with lambs that ran and chased. Biscuit stood in the corral, looking a bit lonely, but that situation would s
oon be remedied.
The last hundred yards were the hardest. He still didn’t know how to start the conversation that he knew they needed to have. Nearly to the cabin where he’d spotted her picking wildflowers, he paused, waiting for her to turn. When she did, the smile he’d been waiting for didn’t appear. He dismounted and dropped Blackie’s reins to the ground. From the corner of his eye, he saw the dog drop next to them. Then he pulled off his hat and ran a hand through his damp, shaggy locks. “I came to check on the place.” He gestured toward the front cabin wall. “I see the shutters are still straight.”
An eyebrow arched, but her lips remained tight.
“You look well, Hazelanne.” Uncertainty swirling in his belly, he took one step forward. “I saw all the lambs in the pasture. Guess that book helped.” Another step closer. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. While I was keeping ornery cattle in line and eating their dust, I thought of the ranch and how much satisfaction I got from the repairs I did around the place. Then I wondered what you would say about some funny animal antic. Or I’d wonder what you cooked for supper and what you decided about the Army blankets.”
Both eyebrows rose.
“Finally, I remembered I’d left without giving you a wedding present.” He reached into his shirt pocket where he’d carried this special item, next to his heart, for more than a hundred miles. The metal warmed as he cupped it in his palm. “I wasn’t ready to offer this symbol when we stood before the judge and spoke our vows, but I am now. Those days I spent with you on the ranch were the best of my life. Hazelanne, I don’t want to spend another day without you.” He unfurled his fingers to display a gold wedding band. “I was stupid. I had to go away to understand that you are the real center of my life. All I want now is this permanent address shared with you and the roots I haven’t had for so long. Can I stay, sweetheart?”
Hazelanne (Widows of Wildcat Ridge Book 15) Page 11
