A murmur of relief swept the room, even as Roscoe Cox spoke. “See that it is, young man. I didn’t work my hindquarters off to get my fifty-five just so I could lose it when some do-gooder decided some of my plans weren’t exactly moral. Just remember: you don’t have nearly as much to lose as the rest of us if this goes sour.”
William carefully kept his anger hidden. If he had fifty-five thousand acres, he wouldn’t trust someone else to save his land; he’d take matters into his own hands. But then he was a man of action, and most of these men had come into their money through inheritance, not hard work. He’d worked hard for anything he ever laid his hands on, and he didn’t plan to stop now.
His eyes traveled to Tom. Well okay, there was that one time when he’d been tempted to lay his hands on what he hadn’t worked for, and look where it had gotten him. “You have my assurance, Mr. Cox. And since Conner works for Mrs. Trent, I will make sure to convey our displeasure with his rebellion myself.” His voice was even, not betraying any of his thoughts.
Roland nodded. “We’ll make him wish he’d never bucked us!”
“Good. Then we don’t have any more to discuss. I hereby propose that this meeting come to a close.”
The motion was seconded and all the men filed somberly out of the room.
Nicki sat up and heaved into the basin she had been keeping by her bed. She had caught some kind of flu bug and, for the last two weeks since the funeral, she had been sick off and on, and tired constantly. Sawyer, his chubby baby cheeks flushed with sleep, turned over with a little moan but did not wake.
Easing herself out of bed, Nicki pressed one hand to the small of her back as she made her way to the stove to put on some water for tea. Picking up the basin and its gruesome contents, she headed outside…and almost stepped on a baby lying in the snow. She jerked to a halt. The baby had a knife protruding from its chest! Horror clawed at her throat, and she almost dropped the basin.
¡Querido Jesús! A scream died in her throat before it had time to escape. The fear left her just as quickly as it had come, taking the strength from her legs.
She sank to the ground, remembering William’s warning. “So, it has begun.” The “baby” was merely a bundle of burlap, shaped and tied with string to resemble a small child. The handle of a blade protruded from its chest, pinning a crudely written note there. Get off or pay. The message was clear.
Nicki rushed back inside to check on Sawyer before she could make herself go out to the creek. The morning breeze chilled her as she rinsed the basin in the creek, but at least the sun was out. She splashed water on her face, trying to ease her trembling. Anger set in. If they thought they could scare her off her land, they had a few things to learn about Dominique Noel Vasquez Trent! She’d go about business as usual.
Today, after feeding the chickens, she would continue her work on the huge pile of wood John had heaped by the bunkhouse. He had hauled in plenty of wood before his passing, but none of it had been cut up. It all lay in a mangled mess by the bunkhouse. Long pieces crossed with logs that had protruding branches, making it almost impossible to separate them from one another for chopping. But she had discussed things with Ron and Conner, and it had been decided that they and the two men William had sent over were needed out in the fields where the cattle were. Making sure no animals were bogged down in the unusually heavy snow, checking fall calves for frost bite, and keeping the fences free of drifts that would allow the cattle to cross them were all jobs that had to be seen to. So the job of wood chopper fell to Nicki. Ron had insisted that he could do the job by the light of a lantern at night but Nicki had nothing else pressing to do and felt that she should carry her share of the weight in this new endeavor. After this morning, she was more determined than ever.
Back in the shanty, after throwing the offensive dummy in the fire, she dressed in a pair of John’s pants, cinched at the waist with his old belt. She’d punched an extra hole in it. A shirt she’d bought, which had turned out to be too small for John, and her own riding boots completed her ensemble. Pulling her thick, black curls back and tying them high on her head with a string so they would be out of her way, she glanced down at herself. She looked baggy and rumpled but didn’t care. No one would see her dressed this way except for Tilly, who came every day to watch Sawyer, and of course Sawyer, but he loved his mama no matter how she was dressed. By the time Ron and Conner returned from the range she’d be properly dressed and fixing dinner.
She checked the fire. The dummy was nothing but a heap of ashes. Good. No one needed to know about this morning’s incident.
Tilly arrived minutes later with a basket of freshly baked cinnamon rolls her mother had sent. Nicki thanked her but insisted she wouldn’t be able to keep one down. “But they smell delicious.”
“Have you not been feeling well?” asked Tilly.
Nicki waved a hand of unconcern. “No, es nada grave. It is nothing serious. I just caught a flu bug of some sort. I haven’t been feeling well for the past couple of weeks, but I’ll be fine pretty soon.”
“All right. Don’t work too hard out there.” Tilly waved her out the door with a smile and moved to wake the still-sleeping toddler.
Jason bought a horse in Prineville, bid his brother-in-law good-bye, and headed for Farewell Bend and the Hanging T. He pulled the collar of his coat up around his ears to ward off the chill wind that swept across the snow-covered knolls. Low hills mounded up in the distance and, beyond them, he could see the vivid purple-shadowed peaks of the Cascade Range against the clear blue backdrop of the sky. Scraggly snow-covered juniper grew along the road, but other than their branches waving in the wind, nothing moved in the vast landscape except his horse.
Even the main street of Farewell Bend was deserted. Everyone is probably sitting by cozy fires wrapped in quilts with their feet propped on the hearth, he thought irritably as his breath puffed out in a cloud before him. He was still unconvinced that he had made the right decision.
Tinny music floated across the coldness from the depths of the Main Street Saloon and Jason swallowed against the sudden urge to have a drink. Lord, You’ve helped me this far. Don’t let me fall back now. Thank You for delivering me from that lifestyle. Help me to be a witness for You in this new place You have brought me to. He turned, instead, toward the mercantile.
A curtain fluttered in an upstairs window as he pulled his horse to a stop in front of the general store and he glanced up to the curious face of a pretty young woman. Her blue eyes became large for a moment as she looked down at him and then the curtain dropped back into place.
Jason removed his riding gloves as he pushed open the door and entered the spice-scented interior of the store. One glance around showed him that this store was run well. The shelves were neatly arranged, each item in its place, and all similar items grouped together on the shelves. Jason remembered being in one store where he’d had to pick up a shaving brush in one corner, the razor in a second corner, and the lathering bar in still a third area. He glanced around this well-lit room appreciatively. He would buy some supplies before he headed out to the Hanging T. It was the only smart thing to do, especially since he didn’t know if he would get the job or not.
Starting down an aisle, he halted, puzzled, as he encountered the flushed face of the young woman who had just been at the upstairs window. Her face stained to a pretty pink as she asked, “How may I help you, sir?” She was breathless from her apparent headlong rush down into the mercantile.
Jason slapped his gloves into the palm of one hand. “I need to pick up some things; then I’d like directions to the Hanging T, if you can give them.”
Her face became instantly serious. “Are you related to the Trents?”
“No.”
He could tell by the inquisitiveness in her cornflower blue eyes that she was not satisfied with his answer. “Do you know them?” She followed him down the aisle containing soaps and scented lotions.
“No.” He picked up a bar, sniffed it, and put it
back.
“You’re not going out to repossess their place, are you?” Genuine alarm rang in her voice.
He quirked an eyebrow at her persistence. “No Miss, I’m just after a job.”
“Oh.” She sighed. “That’s good. I was afraid, there for a minute, that you were going to be one of those terrible banking tycoons that come through from time to time. Why, just last month a man came in…he was so handsome! You should have seen him.”
Jason tried not to smirk.
“He came through here asking for directions to the Watson place, and I gave them to him just as nice as you please. And do you know that man had the audacity to go out there and kick those poor, hardworking people out of their home? Right off their land! Why, the meanness of some people I never will understand.” She inhaled. “But I knew the minute I laid eyes on you from the window upstairs that you wouldn’t be that kind of a man. No, sir, I said to myself, you would be a gentleman, plain and simple. I can see it by the way you carry yourself.” She paused to take another breath.
“I’ll take these,” Jason spoke quickly, dropping his selections on the counter at the front of the store.
“Oh dear, I’ve gone and talked your ear off, haven’t I? Ma is always telling me that I talk too much, but it’s so fun to talk, don’t you think? I mean, we wouldn’t be able to really get to know someone if we weren’t able to talk to them, so where would we be without talking? Lonely and ignorant, I say, because without talking we wouldn’t have been taught anything in school. Of course there’s reading, but don’t you think that reading is just an extension of talk—” She stopped, evidently noticing the large grin on Jason’s face. “Oh, I’m doing it again. Shut your trap, Janice. Next time I run off at the mouth, you can just tell me that. Well, you could maybe say it a little nicer so you don’t hurt my feel—”
“Janice!” Jason spoke the one word on a laugh. He found himself suddenly liking this talkative young woman.
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 rundown 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 rec
eived 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?”
High Desert Haven (The Shepherd's Heart) Page 7
