“Where we hauling the gear?” he asked when he was back at the trailer.
“Put your stuff in my truck,” Rocky said. “You can ride up with me. Come and meet the Chisholms.”
Trevor nodded, surprised that the entire crew was ready to move out. Rocky placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him to a tall, wiry man about fifty years old.
“Lee, this is Trevor, my temporary foreman.”
Trevor gripped the weathered hand of Lee Chisholm. “It’s a pleasure.”
“Howdy. That’s my boy, Steve.” He nodded to a brawny man leaning against the truck smoking a cigarette. “Everyone round these parts calls him, Stucky.”
Trevor jutted his chin in acknowledgment. Stucky returned the gesture.
“Rocky tells me you grew up around here. You ever been up the mountain?” Lee asked.
“Not in a very long time. Looking forward to it.”
Stucky ground the butt of his cigarette with the heel of his boot then got behind the wheel of a beat-up pick-up. “Y’all get in.”
Rocky and Trevor climbed into Rocky’s truck. The rest of the men scrambled into the bed of the Chisholm truck. “Hopefully the rain’ll hold off until we get unloaded at least,” Rocky said.
Trevor squinted up at the fast-moving charcoal-tinged clouds. “Doesn’t look too promising.”
Stucky and Lee waved as they drove by. Silas followed, Briggs next to him in the passenger seat. Briggs would rather ride with the other wranglers, but Rocky insisted that everybody work in pairs. Someone needed to team with Silas. At least he was able to sit in a soft seat inside a warm truck cab, a luxury not available to the other cowboys.
“Ready?” Rocky asked.
Trevor cast a quick glance towards Ketra’s house and chewed his bottom lip before responding. “Let’s do it.”
Rocky started the engine and slid the vehicle into gear. “What happened last night with you and Ket?”
Trevor stilled at his accusatory tone. The delicious memory of Ketra in the shower warmed his skin. He wondered if Rocky suspected he had behaved in a manner unbefitting a gentleman. He also wondered if Rocky and Ketra had spoken this morning and if so, what she might have said?
Chapter Eighteen
Ketra eyed the gun, unable to think of any reason she’d need it, yet comforted by its presence nonetheless. She finished her coffee and set the empty mug on her kitchen counter. With a light heart, she donned boots and a jacket then headed to the arena to feed her horses.
Although the heavens promised rain, she decided to ride anyway. Trevor took her favorite mare, so she chose another, a sturdy brown mustang with a golden mane and tail. She spent several minutes brushing the mare and cleaning her feet before settling the leather saddle on her back.
Breathing in the cold damp air, she pulled her hat lower and directed the horse east, toward the meadow where the last of the wildflowers drooped, begging for a taste of sunshine. Autumn had finally squeezed the life out of Indian summer. She rode with no particular direction in mind, enjoying the freedom of the open range.
Fall colors surrounded her as she climbed higher onto a plateau studded with pinon-juniper, Ponderosa Pine, fir, and other evergreen varieties common in the Coconino National Forest. The twelve-thousand-foot summit of Mount Eldon towered above her. Bristlecone Pines twisted their gnarled limbs outward, daring any living thing to grow beyond their barrier. Below, golden aspens shimmered, their white peeling bark glowing eerily in the gray-green post-dawn light.
As she wandered across the sandy volcanic soil, Ketra allowed herself to think about Trevor. Despite her efforts to the contrary, she admitted her attraction to him. From all appearances, he cared for her. While that bothered her to some extent, it was also oddly exhilarating to know that he would be her friend, or more, if she let him. She missed the companionship of friends. She hadn’t made any new friends in over two years. Nor had she contacted any of her former so-called friends, all of whom had abandoned her when she needed them most. After last night’s ordeal, however, she craved the closeness of a true friend, someone to listen and comfort her instead of judging. Someone like Trevor.
After about an hour, a heavy mist dampened her clothing. She spurred the mare into a canter when rain began to pelt the ground.
Back at the barn, she rubbed down the mustang and fed her a few hands full of sweet grain. With an affectionate pat on the nose, she closed the stall door and dashed toward home. A police cruiser crept down the driveway from Rocky’s house. Leery of being alone with any man, she unlocked her door and pulled the screen door shut behind her. Although flimsy, the door provided a barrier between herself and the approaching deputy.
“Morning, Ms. Weston. I’m Deputy Atkins. Is Rocky around?”
“No. He’ll be here in about an hour or so.”
“I’ve got Brooks McCall in the car. Found him wandering along Highway 66. Said he spent the night at Sadie Russell’s but was on his way back here. Seemed a little confused…something about needing to apologize for hurting you. You know anything about that?”
Ketra squeezed her lips together and shook her head.
“Mind if I come in a minute? Ask you a couple of questions? Like how you got that gash on your head?” He reached for the handle of the screen door.
She was pretty sure he didn’t have the right to barge in, but she allowed him entry. As the middle-aged deputy with thinning blond hair slipped past her into the house, she stole a quick glance at Brooks in the backseat of the sheriff’s car.
A fluttering began in her belly. She sucked in her stomach to staunch the unwelcome sensation. She didn’t want the man in her house, but neither did she want to keep looking past him on the porch at Brooks. With a deep breath she focused on the floor instead of facing the intense, questioning gaze of Deputy Atkins.
“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Atkins asked.
“I had a little accident in the tack room. I’m fine.”
“Uh huh.” The deputy continued to scrutinize her. “Why was Brooks at the Russell house last night and why does he feel the need to apologize to you?”
Her eyes slid back outside to the parked car. “Sadie said she needed some help around her place for a couple of days. Rocky dropped him off last night. All the other guys are on round-up.”
“All right. He have anything to do with your little accident in the tack room?”
Ketra shook her head. She swallowed wishing she could get rid of the feeling that stinging nettle had invaded her digestive system. “I made a mistake is all. Everything’s fine.”
“So, it’s okay that I brought him back here then?”
“No. He’s supposed to stay at Sadie’s until, until…ah, until Rocky picks him up. Later. Tomorrow.”
After an awkward silence, she added, “He can’t stay here.” She peered through the rain at the police car and shuddered. “Take him back to Sadie’s.”
Deputy Atkins rested his palm on the grip of his gun and thrummed his fingers across the holster at his right hip “Why does a tiny little thing like you have a 9mm Sig?”
Ketra glanced between the deputy and the table where Trevor had left his gun earlier that morning.
“A lot of cops carry that model these days.”
Her heart raced. She stuffed her hands into her pockets so her fidgety fingers wouldn’t telegraph her nervousness.
“You got a license for that?”
“It’s not mine.”
“Whose is it?”
“It…ah…it belongs to a friend. He was here last night, and he forgot to take it with him when he left.”
“Do all of your friends bring firearms when they visit?”
Silence.
“Your friend got a name?”
She hated to be bullied. She couldn’t fathom why Trevor had a gun favored by the police, but for some reason she f
elt the need to protect him. At least until she learned the truth. She forced an exaggerated smile and false bravado. “I’ve got some phone calls to make, so…if we’re done—”
“What time did you say Rocky would be back?”
“Sometime after noon. I’ll tell him you stopped by.” Ketra held the screen door open.
“I’ll take Brooks back to the Russell place. Ask a few questions. Can’t guarantee he won’t wander back this direction though. So, if there’s anything I need to know, anything at all, now would be the time to tell me. Later might be too late.” With raised brows, he slanted his head toward Trevor’s gun on the table.
“Yeah. No. There’s nothing.”
Deputy Atkins ambled past her. “Tell Rocky I’ll be by later.”
She closed the door and leaned her forehead against it, trying to block out images of last night’s encounter with Brooks. When the cruiser drove away, she heaved a sigh of relief. On wobbly legs she walked to the sofa, sank into the cushions and closed her eyes. Her relaxing morning had morphed into one of confusion and worry. What if Sadie wasn’t home when the deputy took Brooks back? What if she told him a different story? Ketra hadn’t out right lied, just withheld a little information. But, she didn’t know what her uncle had told Sadie about needing to relocate Brooks. Rocky was too discreet to mention the assault.
She opened her eyes and frowned at the gun. Deputy Atkins said it was the same model law enforcement agencies favored. Why had Trevor chosen that particular gun? If the police used it, it must be a good one. Maybe expensive, too. Why does Trevor have a police gun? The deputy had asked about a license. Does Trevor have a license?
What if he’s a criminal hiding out? He was evasive when questioned. Rocky told her to trust him. He wouldn’t tell her to trust a criminal! He’d also said she’d be even safer with Trevor here. Is that because Trevor’s a cop? He sometimes acts a lot like Deputy Atkins had acted. Why is he here pretending to be the foreman?
She sucked in a huge breath. The hair framing her face ruffled when she blew it back out. She and Rocky would chat tonight. Chat about the real Trevor Donaldson. Because, even though he knows his way around a barn and is comfortable on a horse, something didn’t jibe.
Chapter Nineteen
The cattle were easier to locate than anticipated and, despite the miserable weather, the cold and rain turned out to be a blessing. Most were huddled under trees in three different ravines. Lee and Stuckey drove the first group east while Carter and Jaret covered the higher regions, running strays back toward the growing herd. The Fargo brothers worked their way west from the initial drop-off point. Trevor rode with them until noon, when everyone assembled at the central location where Silas and Briggs had lunch waiting.
Although soaked through, no one complained about the dreary conditions. Only Silas had taken precautions against the elements, dressing in oilskin outerwear. A canvas tarp, which extended about eight feet beyond where it attached to the side of his pick-up, covered his work area.
The guys gathered under the canvas to eat sandwiches and drink hot coffee. Trevor inhaled the mingled aromas of wood smoke and coffee, a blessed change from the wet horse and cattle dung stench he’d been breathing all morning.
“With the exception of this lousy rain, looks like things are going pretty good,” Silas commented to the water-logged cowboys.
“It’s almost like the beeves know they’re going to greener pastures. They’re just trotting along like eager puppies,” remarked Lee between swigs of coffee.
“Maybe they’re hoping they’re going to get out of this rain,” Clint said.
Stucky lit a cigarette. Several others joined him after finishing their lunch.
“Go on away from the food if you’re gonna smoke. Can’t stand your gull durned tobaka smoke.” Silas shooed the smokers out from under the tarp. They ducked under a cluster of trees away from the truck.
“So, how far you think we’re gonna get this afternoon?” Trevor directed his question to Lee. “Looks like we’re in for a miserable night. Unless one of you has a higher connection than me to get this shower turned off.”
Clint chuckled. “I think we’re all gonna be pretty insufferable by morning.”
“Usually July and August are monsoon season around here, but I guess with Indian summer everything got out of whack,” Milo added.
Jagged lightning rent the blackened sky overhead. Trevor wrapped his fingers around his coffee cup for warmth. “Great,” he muttered. Please don’t let the lightning spook the herd. That’s all we need is a stampede.
Silas interrupted his musings. “When we’re done here, I’ll go on ahead and set up the tents. At least you’ll have someplace reasonably dry to lie down tonight. There’s a gully on down a ways that collects runoff. Just up the bank on the south side there’s some natural rock outcroppings big enough to hold a few tents. It should be a lot drier up there and there’s some shelter for the horses. The herd’ll have water. It’s only a couple of hours drive from there in the morning. I’ll break down camp and go home from that point after breakfast.”
“Best get ‘em movin’ again,” Lee said. “Silas, keep Briggs with you. He won’t like it, but I don’t want anyone out alone in this downpour. It’s safer up here if we work in pairs.”
Silas nodded. The men finished their coffee, mumbling thanks for the meal.
The men worked in silence all afternoon, fanning around and behind the cattle, keeping them grouped together down the mountain. As the afternoon progressed, the skies darkened, and the rain worsened. The pace became excruciating. Trevor guessed it’d be pretty late before they reached camp.
Lee approached from Trevor’s left. “We need to drive them across the water tonight. If this rain keeps up all night, the water’ll be way too high to cross tomorrow. We’ll be lucky if we make it now.”
“Let’s get a move on then,” Trevor said.
“This mud’s sucking the animals down something terrible. I don’t think we can go much faster, but I’ll put the word out.”
Lee rode to the left, urging the men to move the cattle faster. Trevor rode to the right. After a few minutes they developed a faster, but still cautious pace. Because the horses were reluctant to accelerate, the riders had to keep constant pressure on them, making the ride miserable for both man and beast.
About an hour later the gully Silas mentioned came into site. Not the peaceful scene Silas had described. Gushing muddy water gained strength with each passing minute. The cattle balked, stopping and spreading out along the slippery banks.
“Keep ‘em movin’,” Stucky bellowed.
Carter and Jaret whistled and hollered, kicking their horses into action. They drove the bawling bovines into the swirling brown mire. Matt and Lucas followed with whistles and cracking whips. The Fargo brothers joined. Trevor instructed Razor, Trik, Tannon, and Cullen to stay along either side of the herd to prevent any spooked strays from running off. Trevor, Lee and Stucky brought up the rear, pushing the reluctant herd toward the churning water.
A frightened calf broke away and ran upstream, dodging around Razor. Trik gave chase, his horse slipping along the muddy banks of the roaring water. After a few tense minutes the panicked calf plunged into the water, bawling as it was swept downstream toward the rest of the herd. Trik’s horse faltered in the pursuit, sliding sideways into the angry brown water. The horse scrambled for a foothold, losing its rider in the process. Trik flailed and bobbed in the murky rapids.
Trevor spurred his horse toward the churning water. Carter raced from the opposite side, both urging their horses into the water at the same time. Carter reached him first, yanking his arm around the saddle pommel. Carter’s horse fought the current, but despite having two riders on its back, managed to scramble up the muddy bank on the far side. Trik fell off, gasping and coughing out thick brown water. Carter flew out of the saddle and pulled him farther up
the bank. After much back-slapping, Trik managed to expel most of the sludge he’d inhaled.
Trevor and his horse floated downstream until the river widened. At a shallow spot, his mare gained her footing and scrambled out of the water. Most of the herd was now on the south side. Razor and Cullen were still in the water, pushing the stragglers to the south bank. Tannon, Lee and Stucky were the last to reach the south side when all the cattle were safe.
Trevor ambled toward Carter and Trik, still on the ground. He dismounted and tipped his hat back. Matt had retrieved Trik’s frightened horse and approached the small group.
“You okay?” Trevor asked.
Trik nodded but continued coughing. Carter banged him on the back again. More muck spewed out of his mouth.
“I’m fine.” Trik struggled to stand, elbowing Carter away from him. “Stop hitting me and let me breathe.”
Carter stood, threw up his hands and mounted his horse. “Next time I’ll let you drown you dumb shit.” He wheeled his horse around and trotted toward the herd bunching together in a nearby meadow.
“Can you ride?” Matt asked.
“Of course, I can ride. Jesus Christ, give me my damn horse.” Trik tried to sound annoyed, but Trevor heard deep-seated fear and humiliation in the words.
After two attempts, Trik sat atop of his fidgety horse. When he had the animal under control, Trevor swung into the saddle and nodded for Matt to follow Trik. Glancing back, relief washed over him like soft butter on warm bread. Lee and Stucky drove the last of the herd to the distant meadow. Silas’s suggestion to camp here for the night made perfect sense. Natural rock outcroppings and small groves of trees surrounded the clearing, forming an enclosure, but not a box canyon. The rocks and trees on the east side afforded plenty of shelter for the riders and animals. The hands fanned out away from herd, allowing the cattle sufficient space to settle down and rest from their water ordeal.
“I should have anticipated a flash flood with this much water pouring down,” Lee said with disgust. “I thought we were done with the damn monsoons.”
On Common Ground Page 12
