by Danni Roan
Swallowing nervously, he walked to the stairs, placed a hand on the railing and counted each step as he climbed to his doom.
Clayton reached the top of the thirteenth stare. “What ninny did that?” he grumbled looking along the long hallway at the doors on either side of the plank floor. He suddenly realized he didn’t even know which room was Meg’s. Swallowing the lump in his throat he glances first one way and then the other. There were two doors to the right of him on this side of the hall and two doors to the left. Across the corridor itself four more doors gazed at him like accusing eyes. He was just about to turn around again when one of the twins popped out of a room at the end of the hall and smiled then pointed to the door to his right with a wink.
The cowpuncher nodded in acknowledgement realizing with a shock he hadn’t removed his hat this whole time. Lifting a hand that was inexplicable steady he snatched the Stetson from his head and turned to face the music. In his head his own voice kept explaining what he needed to say when he saw Meg. He’d put this right, let things die down and then they could get an annulment. His hand fell on the cool latch of the door and silently he stepped into the still room. A dark form, outlined by moon light, lay face down on the double bed.
“Meg?” he whispered not wanting to startle her.
“You!” she bellowed jumping to her feet. “Why did you do it? Why did you tell Pa you’d marry me? You’ve ruined everything.” She ended on a sob but her eyes flashed like lightening. “You’re nothing but a cad, a coward!” She leaned toward him, hands balled into fists, eyes wild.
Anger rose in Clayton’s chest and for a moment blind rage washed over him. This girl had never given him a chance, had never even taken the time to get to know him. Who was she to blame him for her own foolishness? His finger slipped into his vest pocket as if of their own will, withdrawing the coin and clamping it hard in his hand, causing it to bite into his palm. Somehow, the cold sharp edge gave him the ability to push his rage aside.
“Seems to me like you been proddin’ me in one way or another since I drew rein on this ranch.” He drawled, his smooth smile dangerous on his handsome face.
His eyes glowed in the moonlight giving him a feral vulpine look and for just one moment Meg shivered as the breath left her lungs in a rush. She thought she’d been playing with a pup but a he wolf had stepped into the room and her knees quivered.
Stiffening her spine Meg stood straight, tears still sparkled in her eyes but anger heated her blood. “This is all your fault.” She flared again. “You could have explained. You could have done something.”
Every statement hit Clayton like a blow. The coin in his hand grew warm, its sharp edges folding in on themselves.
Meg’s voice rose on her final comment as she tossed a pillow at his feet. “And you can just sleep on the floor.”
All of the stress, all of the drama of the day, of the week rolled over Clayton like a wave of the Atlantic Ocean, crashing on him like icy breakers beating the shore and he reacted in a way he never could have expected. He threw back his head and laughed.
He roared with laughter that poured from the deepest part of his soul, the part that somehow despite his losses, despite his pain and anger believed that tomorrow was a new day.
“I don’t think so.” He chortled around his laughter. “I’ve spent enough time sleepin’ rough. That bed looks nice and comfy.” and without batting an eye he began unbuckling his belt. Meg gasped and turned her back to him. With a chuckle he stripped out of his gear and crawled into the bed with the squeak of springs.
Meg stood with her back to her bed trying to pull her tattered emotions together. She was a James she would get through this. She listened as the man she was legally bound to, at least until she could figure things out, climbed into her well-ticked bed. She took another deep breath. She would not back down from this arrogant man; she would not give in. Never. With a twitch of her lips she reached behind her and began to unbutton the back of her pale cinnamon dress. She would not hide in a corner in her own room.
Clayton lay in the warm comfortable bed and watched the fiery woman that he could legally call wife unbuttoning her dress. He knew the gentlemanly thing to do would be to close his eyes but he didn’t. She sure was a pretty thing. He’d planned on telling her that they could see a judge in Casper but he’d let her stew. She was still as certain as always that she was right and that she’d done nothing to put herself in this situation. She would learn.
Meg was down to her petty coat now and he wondered if she’d keep going. Her fingers unlaced her corset and he squeezed his eyes shut. He could only take so much. A minute later the slim form of the girl he knew as Meg slipped under the quilts, turned her back to him and moved to the farthest edge of the bed.
Joshua James lay in his large bed each word coming from the room above piercing his head like a hot brand. White light dashed at his eyes with each sound. The pain was unbearable. He couldn't think, couldn't comprehend, rolling to his side he emptied his stomach onto the old rug by his bed, then merciful blackness took him.
Chapter 10
Meg gasped as a strong arm wrapped around her slim waist snapping her awake in an instant. Schooling herself to stillness she waited for the man called Clayton Allen to move again, to try something he'd regret but he didn't move. He just lay there pressed again her back, his warm breath soft and even. She realized he was a sleep.
For long moments she lay there wondering if she should wake him. Everything in her wanted to strike out. From the first day he'd arrived on the Broken J he'd been a bur under her saddle. He'd provoked her, teased her, mocked her. He had no honor, no code of chivalry. She hated him. A soft sound whispered from his lips and she strained to hear what he said.
"Mama." his voice was strained, anguished. Was he dreaming? "I can't." his voice was so soft she didn't breathe. "Don't leave me mama." his words came out a near croak, then he rolled away again.
Something in Meg wriggled. Something buried deep beneath her pride and romantic ideals flickered to life. Had she ever really given the puncher a chance. Something akin to guilt smoldered in her soul. Gritting her teeth, she pushed the feeling away.
"He started it." echoed in her mind. If only he'd been a true gentleman. Closing her eyes, she pulled the quilt more tightly around her as the nights chill replaced Clayton's warmth. Slowly she willed herself to sleep.
Breakfast the next morning was beyond awkward. No one knew what to say or how to react to the strange happenings of the night before. To make things worse for the first time that anyone could remember Joshua James was too ill to leave his bed.
In soft whispers, Nona had explained that she'd taken him some willow bark tea and that he was resting now but that everyone needed to be as still and quiet as possible.
The girls all exchanged worried glances with each other and Meg herself went as white as a sheet as she sat toying with the food on the plate. Clayton sitting beside her gently placed a hand at her back when she swayed. She ignored him.
"What have you done to your hand?" the matron of the Broken J asked the raven-haired cow hunter as he reached across the table for butter.
Clayton looked down at the red welt carved into his hand. "I must have picked something up wrong ma'am." He drawled without reaction. "I'm sure it will be fine." he added as he placed the butter back on the table.
"You let me fix it up for you before you go out today then." the woman said with a nod that indicated she'd have no arguments.
From the other side of the table Isadoro laid out the plan for the day as if it were any other ordinary day. He and Hank would finish the work in the new house while the other men started the branding.
Will picked up the conversation from there. "We'll need to get the branding done in the next three or four days so we can get to Casper with the rest of the cows. Deeks will work the fire, the rest of us will be on round up." He looked at Katie who smiled at him. "You're not working this one Katie." he added his eyes steady. Katie opened h
er mouth to argue, then looked across the table at her grandmother who shook her head. The girl slumped in her seat but didn't argue. "We'll need all other hands." Will continued looking at the rest of the girls.
Clayton Allen scratched his head in bewilderment. He knew he was missing something but he didn't know what it was. Over the past two weeks they'd been pushing cattle down to the valley floor and closer to the ranch. The round up wouldn't be that hard but with only four hands it would take some more than four days to get the calves branded and separate the animals for market. Maybe the young foreman knew something that he didn't so he'd just keep his mouth shut and get on with the work.
As the early light of morning began to spill across the ranch, the family and hands finished breakfast and quietly slipped out of the house on silent feet.
"Clay you grab that chestnut there an' throw a saddle on the big gray." Walt said as he walked into the barn. "We'll need enough horses ready. Once we get these ones geared up I'll ride out an' push the Remuda in to the brandin' area."
Clayton did as he was told but wondered why they needed four extra horses saddled, his unasked question was soon answered as Meg, Fiona, and the twins walked out dressed in loose fitting denims, chaps, and thick flannel shirts. The young cowboy simply gaped as the girls took the reins of the extra horses from Walt with a thank you and mounted up.
Meg's eyes flashed at him with a satisfied smirk, as she turned her flashy red horse toward the gate. He was just about ready to throw a leg over the back of the tall gray gelding he'd been given when The Duke came to the corral fence, and whinnied.
"Don't like being' left out of things do ya'?" He drawled at the black horse who snorted and pranced toward the gate. "Alright ya' old goose." Clayton laughed and stripping the tack from the gray threw it on his black horse and then laying spurs to his long time working partner raced to catch up with the women and the other hands.
"Meg, I don't want any arguments from you." Will's heated voice carried in the clear air. "Your Pa's not here to make the call and I'm the foreman. This is my call and you'll do as I say or go home." The lean dark haired cowboy glared at his sister-in-law until she agreed with a twist of her lips.
"Issy, Lexi" you work the outer edge of the range working your way in toward the branding fire. Watch yourselves as some of these cows are young and might be more skittish than others."
"Fiona, you stick with Walt." he looked at the rest of the riders to confirm they all understood what they were doing then kicked his big bay horse into a slow canter.
Clayton headed toward the distant hills where he'd seen cattle earlier in the week and pushed Duke into an easy lope. He'd drive the small groups of cows toward the branding fires and let the others get the calves to Deeks and Steve. He was surprised when Meg kicked her chestnut cow pony in to step with him, but couldn't help but smile. He now understood why she was shooting dagger glares at her brother-in-law.
The first crack of his long black whip made Meg's horse dance and roll its eyes but she pulled the horse into check and patting its neck, soothed it. It took some horses time to adjust to the Florida way of driving cows but soon the bright red gelding with three white socks settled and fell to working alongside him.
The Duke, an old hand at driving cows, the Cracker way. was soon darting around the wild eyed cows who jumped at the icy crack of the whip in his hand. Between them he and Meg had gathered about thirty cows and their calves and were pushing them toward the smoke of the branding fires.
Meg sat her horse well and Clayton caught himself revising his concepts of her as a spoiled rancher’s daughter. The woman sat her horse like a top hand and watched for any signs of the cows trying to turn. She chased stragglers pushing them back into the main bunch as she dodged, and danced her pony to turn mavericks back inline. Her small-gloved hands held tight to the long reins of her pony pushing the cattle in with the ever-growing herd. Deftly she shook out a loop and dallied it around the neck of the nearest calf, dragging it to the branding fire where the two older men, quickly tossed the small creature, slapped a brand on its hip and returned it bawling to its mother.
On their first run to the fire. Clayton was surprised to see most of the riders, hands stop what they were doing, and turn to watch him as he, along with Meg, drove the cattle across the freshening grass of the flat land. He didn't have much time to observe what they were all looking at though as a mossy horn cow tried to break from the herd and his black whip flashed out touching her on the shoulder to turn her back. A tiny bead of blood pooling where the tip had struck. The old cow bellowed but turned toward the safety of the herd.
Will's bay danced as a sharp crack, crack echoed across the prairie. He settled the horse, struggling to keep the rope taunt as the calf he'd dragged to the fire received its Broken J brand. As Deeks released the animal, all of the men turned toward the sound that had drawn their attention.
Riding down a small rise toward them at a gentle lope the Florida boy, Clayton pushed a large group of cows, calves, and steers toward the branding fire. In his hand a long whip, perhaps sixteen feet long swirled through the crisp morning air producing a sharp snap of sound that reverberated in the spring day. The men stood spell bound, jobs forgotten, as they watched the cow hunter turn a large long horned cow back with a flick of his wrist then turned the whole mass of beef on the hoof toward the main herd of cows who milled and bawled among the dust and sun of the prairie.
Meg rode along to the other side of the group of cows a bemused look on her face. He might be an arrogant cur but the man could work cows and as her eyes flicked toward his handsome face, set in a determined scowl, her respect for him began to grow. Her mind carried to her father's face the night before, and for the first time in her life she realized he was getting old.
Whether she liked it or not he needed men like Clayton Allen to keep this ranch working and to make it a paying prospect for the future. That something wriggled in her belly again as her father's eyes danced before her. Shaking her head, she kicked her chestnut horse Riker into a gallop.
***
Bianca Leone' walked back into the darkened room of her son-in-law and quietly sat the cup of willow bark tea on the rough wood table by his bed. The damp cloth she'd placed there earlier still lay across his eyes. She'd cleaned up the rug in the wee hours of the morning after Iss had checked on him.
Her worried eyes raked his sallow face. "Josh?" her words were barely audible.
The tall rancher stirred in his bed. He hadn't even changed out of his clothes from the night before and he looked rumpled and uncomfortable but every time he moved his head the room spun.
Bianca gently removed the cloth from his eyes. "You need to try to drink this." she whispered again gently, holding the cup toward him.
Through sheer will power Joshua James pushed himself up against his pillows and with eyes closed tight let his mother-in-law dribble the bitter brew down his throat. It was foul but it seemed to help. He got most of it down before moaning with the pain. It did seem to be fading though and he hoped by tomorrow he'd feel better.
Bianca dipped the cloth in a warm basin and wringing it out again eased it over Joshua's eyes. before silently letting herself out of the room.
"Is Grandpa still sick." Eric asked quietly as she entered the kitchen.
"Yes, that's why we're being as quiet as possible." She smiled at the boy hoping to easy his worries.
"I'll say a prayer for him like I did for Scooter." the boy said, his voice soft and sweet. "That's why Scooter's getting' better so quick."
The woman that most everyone at the Broken J ranch called Nona, bent and pulled the boy into her arms. What a comfort the boy was. Someone knew that he and Hank were meant to be there on the Broken J. She cast her eyes out the window at the bright sky and let her heart whisper its own prayer.
Billy drove the chuck wagon out across the range while Katie rode along beside him on her palomino horse. "Don't you worry none," He was saying, “your Pa'll be alright in
a bit." He looked the other direction toward Mae who was keeping her calico gelding at a pace to match his slow moving team. Beside him on the seat Eric sat next to the old man gazing around at the prairie and watching the dust cloud that indicated the herd ahead.
"He'll be alright the boy." chimed in. "Nona said he's feelin' better already but his head hurts."
The girls smiled at their young nephew. His cheerful disposition lifting their spirits.
"What's a round up like?" the boy then asked looking out across the plains, excitement in his voice.
"Oh, it's just dirt and grime, and sweat." Old Billy groused from his bench, as the boy's eyes grew round. Billy chuckled and pointed. "Just watch and you'll see."
"Hey!" the boy called. "There's Mr. Clayton." he pointed to the slight rise off to the left of the main herd and everyone turned to watch the black horse darting along behind the cows to the sound of the lightning crack of the long cow whip.
"Boy howdy." Billy called as he clicked to his team. "I reckon that boy'll be ready for some grub." He laughed making his grizzled beard waggle on his chin.
The whole crew was indeed ready for lunch and quickly left their stations to sit around a quickly assembled fire where a large blackened enameled coffee pot was set to perking. Lunch was served having been sent from the house and once fed most of the men started heading back to the jobs at hand.
"Billy?" Eric whispered from his perch on a box.
"Yeah?" the old man asked, adjusting his red suspenders over his dark blue shirt then shrugging into his warm jacket again.
"It smells bad out here." the boy looked at him seriously. "Like burned hair."
"Yep, brandin' is a smelly job." He grinned at the boy. "It just has to be done so we do it, smell or not. Now you help me git ever'thing organized for supper. Some of these fella's will be here all night and they deserve a good feed."
