Warmth suffused the room as she sat down. People went back to talking.
Smoke settled into his chair and leaned over to say quietly to his wife, “We’re mighty lucky folks, you know.”
She smile. “I’ve never doubted it for a second.”
* * *
Even though the long journey from England, by steamship and then by train, had been tiring, the brisk mountain air worked wonders to restore Denny’s energy. She woke up early the next morning in her old room—with new curtains—and got dressed in denim trousers, a butternut shirt, and a dark brown vest that she took from the big wardrobe on the other side of the room. She reached into it and pulled out boots and a hat as well. She put on socks and worked her feet into the boots, then stood in front of the mirror attached to the dressing table as she piled her hair on top of her head and then stuffed the cream-colored hat down over it. A few curls tried to escape, but she poked them back into place.
A glance out the window, through a gap in those new, lacy curtains, told her the sun wasn’t up yet, but a gray, predawn light was creeping across the sky. She had intended to be up even earlier. The hands were probably eating their breakfast already. They might even be out on the range. She didn’t want to miss out on anything and hurried downstairs and into the kitchen.
No one was there, but a pot of coffee sat on the stove along with a pan of biscuits. Denny got a cup from the cabinet, poured some of the strong black brew in it, and picked up two biscuits from the pan. She had started toward the back door when a footstep sounded behind her.
“Señor Louis, wait,” Inez said as she came into the kitchen. “I will fix you a proper breakfast—” She stopped short as Denny looked back over her shoulder and grinned.
“Not Louis, Inez, sorry. And I don’t really have time for breakfast. I have to get out to the corral and see about a horse—”
Smoke walked into the kitchen in time to hear what Denny was saying. “Sit down and eat. No ranch hand passes up a chance for grub.”
“But the crew’s probably getting ready to start out on the day’s chores, if they haven’t already.”
“They rode out just a little while ago.”
Denny rolled her eyes. “See? That’s what I was afraid of! I just want to be part of the crew, and already I’m late to work!”
Smoke pointed at the kitchen table and said again, “Sit.”
She heaved a dramatic sigh and pulled out a chair.
Smoke took the cup of coffee that Inez handed him and sat down opposite Denny. “There’s something you need to get through your head,” he told her. “You’re never going to be just another ranch hand.”
“Don’t you think I can handle the job?”
“That’s not it,” Smoke said. “There are two reasons. One is that your pa owns the spread.”
“And the other?” Denny asked in a challenging tone.
“You know it as well as I do. You’re a young woman, and a pretty one at that.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s no law saying a woman can’t rope and ride and shoot, but I can ask Louis to look it up for you if you want.”
“Don’t sass me too much, young lady, and don’t make fun of your brother.”
Denny shrugged. “Sorry. And I wasn’t trying to make fun of Louis. He’s a demon when it comes to looking things up.”
“Maybe so. The law I’m talking about is a natural law, the one that says young cowboys are going to sit up and take notice any time there’s a pretty girl around.”
“I just want them to treat me like one of them.”
“They won’t do it,” Smoke said. “They can’t do it. It’s just not in their nature.”
“So you’re saying I can’t work here on the ranch after all.”
Smoke shook his head. “Not at all. Just take it easy and don’t be in such an all-fired hurry to do everything at once. It’s been a while since you were here. I figured this morning you and I would just ride some of the range and have a look around.”
“I don’t think the valley and the mountains have changed much since I was here last,” Denny said. “They tend not to do that.”
“You might not remember every detail about them, though.” Smoke gestured toward the plate of bacon and fried eggs Inez put in front of Denny. “Now dig in, and after you’ve eaten, we’ll go saddle up.”
Denny hesitated, then said, “If this didn’t smell so good, I might argue with you.”
“It probably tastes even better than it smells.”
A grin broke out across Denny’s face as she reached for the fork Inez set beside the plate. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt anything to find out.”
* * *
“That dun’s a good horse,” Smoke said as he leaned on the corral fence. He nodded toward the animal he was talking about.
“How about that buckskin?” Denny asked, indicating a rangy horse with a darker mane, tail, and legs.
Smoke cocked his head a little to the side. “I don’t know. He’s pretty spirited.”
“So am I, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Don’t see how I could have missed that,” Smoke said with a chuckle. “If you really want to give it a try, I’ll throw a saddle on that buckskin cayuse for you.”
“I can saddle my own horses,” Denny said as she started for the barn.
Ten minutes later, she had cut out the buckskin, lassoed it, led it to a snubbing post, tied it securely, and then put on the saddle blanket and saddle she brought from the barn. The saddle was a double-cinched rig. Denny tightened it, then got the headstall and bit in place. So far the buckskin had been as cooperative as it could be.
“I thought you said this horse was spirited,” she said to Smoke, who was saddling a big gray gelding.
“Maybe he takes to you,” Smoke said. “Or maybe he’s just working up to it.”
“Well, he certainly doesn’t act like he’s going to give me any trouble.” Denny loosened the lasso and slipped the loop over the buckskin’s head. She kept a good grip on the reins with her other hand just in case the horse got any ideas. The buckskin still stood there calmly. She gripped the saddle horn, put her left foot in the stirrup, and stepped up, swinging her right leg over the horse’s back and then settling down in the saddle.
Her right foot had just gone in the stirrup when the buckskin sunfished.
The horse arched its back in that violent buck. Denny let out a startled yell as she came up out of the saddle. She still had hold of the horn and her feet didn’t leave the stirrups, so she wasn’t thrown, but she came down hard. The buckskin crowhopped toward the corral fence, pounding at her with each spasmodic jerk. Denny hung on as best she could.
Smoke watched anxiously. He hadn’t mounted up yet and was ready to dash in, grab the buckskin’s reins, and help her bring the animal under control if he needed to, but he saw the angry grimace of determination on his daughter’s face and hung back to give her room. She had been startled at first but had settled down, and the contest of wills between horse and rider had commenced.
“Get right with me, will you, you jughead!” she yelled at the horse as she tightened her grip on the reins.
The buckskin tried sunfishing again, but Denny was ready with her knees clamped firmly to the horse’s sides. She didn’t budge in the saddle. Smoke grinned. She was stuck to that buckskin like a tick.
The horse jumped again, then raced straight at the corral fence as if it intended to crash into the poles at full speed. Suddenly, it stiffened its legs and lowered its head. That move sometimes made experienced cowboys fly forward out of the saddle.
Not Denny. She stayed right where she was, and as she pulled the buckskin’s head up sharply, she said, “Don’t try that again, you loco horse, or you’ll be sorry!”
The buckskin stood still, trembling a little. Then it gave an all-over shake and let out a disgusted snort.
“Why don’t you sigh?” Denny said. “I won.”
The buckskin just stood there. But when she clucked to it
and pulled its head around, the horse followed her commands willingly enough.
“Reckon you showed it who’s boss,” Smoke said.
“Maybe it’ll remember next time.” Denny patted the buckskin’s shoulder. “Seems like a pretty good horse.”
Smoke laughed again and swung up into his saddle. He opened the corral gate and they rode out. Denny headed the buckskin toward the house while Smoke closed the gate.
When he looked around, he called after her, “Where are you going?”
“Back in a minute,” she said as she drew up in front of the porch. She dismounted, looped the reins around the hitching post there, and went quickly into the house.
When she came back out a minute later, she was carrying a Winchester carbine and a box of cartridges. She slid the carbine into the sheath strapped underneath the fender on the right side, tucked the shells into one of the saddlebags, and mounted again.
She rode to Smoke and told him, “Now I’m ready.”
CHAPTER 12
They rode north up the valley away from the ranch house. Towering, rocky, snowcapped peaks stood to the west and smaller, tree-covered slopes to the east. The sun was up, casting its golden light over the landscape as it climbed, but the air was still crisp and cool. Denny had never felt more like she was where she was supposed to be, where she belonged.
Smoke started pointing out landmarks.
Denny told him, “I know, Pa. I’ve been here before.”
“Yeah, I know you have, but it doesn’t hurt to refresh your memory.”
“Where was it you had that shoot-out with those rustlers?”
Smoke slanted a look at her. “Where’d you hear about that?”
“I overheard some of the hands talking about it last night at the dinner table.” Denny’s face was solemn as she added, “You lost a man.”
“We did,” Smoke said with a nod. “Sid MacDowell. I don’t think you ever knew him. He signed on after you and Louis were here the last time.”
“I don’t recognize the name. I’m sure he was a good man, though, if he rode for the Sugarloaf. Cal wouldn’t have hired him otherwise, and you wouldn’t have let him stay around the place.”
“He was a fine fella. Young and raw, but a hard worker. He would’ve made a top hand one of these days, if he’d gotten the chance.”
“Did you manage to round up all the rustlers?”
“One got away,” Smoke said. “We don’t know what happened to him. Cal and some of the boys tracked him for a ways, but his trail petered out.”
“I hope he went off somewhere to die.”
The viciousness in his daughter’s voice made Smoke look at her again. “I don’t feel any sympathy for rustlers and killers, but that doesn’t sound like you, Denny.”
“This is still a hard land, isn’t it, Pa?”
“It can be,” Smoke admitted.
“Then if I’m going to live here, I’ve got to be hard sometimes, too.”
After a moment, Smoke nodded. “I don’t reckon I can argue with that. An hombre’s just not used to hearing it come from his daughter, I reckon.”
“Ma fought side by side with you several times, didn’t she?”
“She sure did,” Smoke said.
“Well, any time you need me, I will, too.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Smoke said dryly. “I figure on handling any of the rustling or other lawbreaking problems around here, though. And if it gets too bad, it’ll be Monte Carson’s job to step in as sheriff.”
“Just remember what I said,” Denny declared.
“I’m not likely to forget.”
They continued riding the range all morning, seeing a number of cattle and some of the Sugarloaf crew. Inez had packed sandwiches for them, using some of the roast beef left from supper the night before. Smoke and Denny stopped beside a creek for lunch, washing down the food with cold, sparkling clear water from the stream.
Afterward, Smoke stretched out on the grass underneath a tree and tipped his hat down over his eyes. “I think I’ll doze for a while. I’m not as young as I once was, you know.”
Denny let out an unladylike snort. “You could stay in the saddle longer and work harder than any of those twenty-year-old cowboys, and you know it.”
“Well, it’s a good day for a nap anyway. Reckon you can find something to occupy yourself with for a spell?”
“You trust me to wander around by my lonesome?”
“You know how to use that Winchester carbine you brought along, don’t you?”
“You know I do,” she said.
“Then I don’t suppose you’ll run into any trouble you can’t handle,” Smoke said. “If you do, though, fire three shots in the air. Won’t take me too long to get there, wherever you are.”
Denny nodded. “All right.”
“I really am craving a nap, though,” Smoke said, “so don’t get spooked for no reason.”
Denny blew out a disgusted breath as she walked to her horse. “That’ll be the day.”
She rode on north, following the creek. The buckskin had been cooperative ever since leaving the corral, but she could tell that he was eager to run. When she came to a long, flat stretch beside the stream, she reined in long enough to take her hat off and shake her hair down.
She put the hat back on and tightened the chin strap. “All right, horse. If you’re hankering to stretch your legs, get to it.” With that, she kneed the buckskin into a run.
The horse surged forward, legs flashing as it galloped along the creek bank. Denny’s thick blond hair streamed out behind her from the wind of their speed.
It was an exhilarating ride, but it was over too soon. Denny slowed the buckskin and gradually brought it to a halt. Horse and rider were both breathing harder.
She leaned forward and patted the horse on the shoulder. “You’re a good saddle mount. You just had to figure out who’s boss.”
The buckskin tossed its head as if to argue that point.
Denny laughed. “Oh, you’re just tolerating me, is that it?”
She grew serious as she spotted movement from the corner of her eye. Across the creek, the ground sloped up sharply to a flat ridge where a thick stand of pine grew. Denny wasn’t sure, but she thought she had seen someone up there in those trees. Without being obvious about it, she looked closer. She continued talking softly and stroking and patting the buckskin’s sleek shoulder so that if she really was being spied upon, the lurker wouldn’t realize that she was on to him.
Nothing. Maybe she had seen a bird flitting from branch to branch or a squirrel making a daring leap from one tree to another, she told herself.
Some instinct told her it wasn’t something that innocent. She turned the horse and rode back the direction she had come from, although that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle. She had put her back to the unknown, and she didn’t like it. Even though it was very unlikely anyone would threaten her on her father’s ranch, there was no guarantee of that.
Somebody could be drawing a bead on her. She felt like there was a nice, fat target painted on the middle of her back . . .
“You’re being silly,” she muttered to herself.
That might well be true—but when she reached the next bend in the creek and had gone around it, out of sight of that wooded ridge, she turned the buckskin and rode across the stream. The water was only about a foot deep and the creek bed was rocky, so the horse had no trouble fording it.
Now that she was on the east side of the creek, Denny headed north again. The trees and brush were thicker away from the stream, so she angled into that cover as she rode. She pulled the carbine from its scabbard, levered a shell into its chamber, and rode with the weapon in front of her, across the saddle.
She didn’t get in any hurry. Rushing headlong into trouble was a stupid thing to do. She paralleled the creek and stayed out of sight in the trees as much as possible, stopping now and then to listen intently. She didn’t hear anything, not even the tiny sounds made
by birds and small animals, but it was possible they had fallen silent because of her approach.
They might have quieted down because somebody else was skulking around, too, Denny reminded herself. She pushed on until the ground began to rise. She was climbing onto that ridge.
If somebody had been watching her, she hadn’t run into them so far. She wondered again if she had been mistaken, or even just imagined the whole thing. She had come home halfway expecting adventure. Maybe she was trying to manufacture some.
No, she decided, she was too levelheaded for that. At least, she liked to think she was.
The piney growth became denser. Denny reined in and dismounted. Leading the buckskin, she went forward on foot. She reached a spot where she could look down and see the open bank on the far side of the creek where she had let the horse run. It was some forty feet lower than where she stood. It was a perfect place for someone to spy on her, she realized.
She wrapped the buckskin’s reins around a sapling. Holding the carbine in both hands, she eased along the ridge. Her keen eyes searched the ground, looking for any signs of the watcher she suspected. After a few yards, she came to a spot where the carpet of pine needles was disturbed. Some of them had been kicked aside, leaving scuff marks.
Someone had walked up and stood there, she thought. She looked across the creek again and compared her position on the ridge to where she had been earlier and was sure she was standing where she had seen that faint movement.
Somebody had been spying on her! She had no doubt of that now.
The question was . . . who?
She thought about what her father had said about young cowboys and pretty girls. Denny wasn’t afflicted with false modesty. She knew she was an attractive young woman. It was entirely possible one of the Sugarloaf hands had spotted her riding along the creek and decided to get a better look. They might be risking Smoke Jensen’s wrath by sneaking around like that, but they could have decided it was worth it.
Denny wasn’t satisfied with that assumption, though. She hunkered beside the tracks and studied them, trying to see if anything was distinctive about them.
The Jensen Brand Page 8
