Cowboy Accomplice

by B. J Daniels

  Leaning down slowly, he shined the light under the cots. He could hear the men outside, talking among themselves, still sounding scared, high on adrenaline, all but Cotton glad it hadn’t been them.

  The light picked up a pair of eyes, prehistoric looking. The large greenish-colored snake was coiled in the corner behind a duffel bag.

  He stepped closer, shoving the cot and the bag aside. The tent filled with the sound of the deadly rattle as he moved nearer, the limb ready.

  The snake struck, lunging its long thick-scaled body at him. He dodged to the side and trapped the snake against the side of the wall tent with the limb.

  After several attempts, he was able to pin the snake’s head so he could reach down and grasp it behind the head.

  It was a big heavy prairie rattler, a good five feet long. Lifting it, he carried the snake out of the tent. The men all stepped back, giving him a wide berth as he took the snake deep into the woods. The beam of the flashlight bobbed ahead through the darkness, the snake growing heavy, his fingers fatigued from the pressure needed to keep the reptile from biting him.

  In the quiet darkness away from the camp, he finally released the snake. Someone had to have brought this snake up the mountain, kept it hidden outside of camp and then put it in the tent tonight. To what? Scare the men? Or scare him?

  J.T. swore. Well, he was scared and angry. He watched the snake slither away into the trees, following it with the flashlight beam, trying to understand what the hell was happening in his camp.

  Then slowly, he turned back, studying the ground in the thin light, looking for a sign that anyone was camped nearby. Any sign that they weren’t alone up here.

  But the only tracks in the soft earth were his own. When he’d ridden the perimeter of the camp, he hadn’t found anything either. All of which led him to believe the one thing he had feared from the beginning, that the trouble was coming from within his camp. One of his own men was doing this.

  He told himself that so far it had just been pranks. No one had been killed. At least as far as he knew. The men had ridden up separately to the line shack. Any one of them could have brought the snake, kept it hidden out in the woods in a container and then let it loose in the tent tonight. But if that was the case, the fool had taken the chance that he might be the one who was bitten. Only a crazy person would take a chance like that.

  J.T. thought of the only man he’d considered truly crazy. That man had died on this very mountain nine years ago. Killed by his own madness. Just the thought of Claude Ryan chilled J.T. to his marrow.

  Was that what this was about? Someone wanted him to relive that cattle roundup of nine years ago, re-creating it not exactly but just close enough that J.T. wouldn’t know what was going to happen next? That he couldn’t be sure it was really happening—until it was too late?

  Nevada was inspecting Cotton’s bite in the glow of the lantern inside the wall tent when J.T. returned. It was obvious the men had thoroughly searched the tent to make sure there were no more snakes, but no one was going back to sleep in the hours until daylight.

  “He needs to get to a doctor,” Nevada said, looking up as J.T. ducked in through the tent doorway.

  Isn’t this what J.T. had feared when the truck hadn’t run? The men were looking at him, waiting for him to tell him which one of them could drive Cotton to the hospital.

  “The truck doesn’t run,” he said. “Buck went down yesterday morning to get a part for the truck and bring back another vehicle.”

  Slim looked up in surprise. “What’s wrong with it?”

  J.T. sighed. “Someone took the distributor cap.”

  The men all looked at each other.

  “When is Buck coming back?” Will asked.

  Good question. “He should have been back by now,” J.T. said. He had to be straight with them. If he was right, they were in danger. No cattle roundup was worth getting men killed.

  “Any of you who want to leave, I understand,” he said. “We’ll round up what cattle we can this morning and then herd them down this afternoon for anyone who wants to stay.”

  “What about the strays?” Nevada asked. “There must be a good fifty head out there.”

  “We’ll have to leave them,” J.T. said, his mind made up. “We head out by ten. That way we can reach the ranch by early afternoon.” Unless someone tried to stop them. He just prayed that nothing else happened between now and then.

  Reggie would have to ride down. With her sprained ankle, it would make it difficult—and painful, but there was no other way. He just wished he had a horse up here that was more suitable for a rank beginner. But they would be trailing the cattle out, moving slow. And the woman had grit.

  He looked at Cotton. “You think you can ride out now?”

  Cotton nodded. Clearly he just wanted away from here—and to get medical attention, even though few people died of snakebites. But J.T. knew they were painful and could make a man really sick. He didn’t want to take any chances. He had a first-aid kit in the cabin, but nothing for rattlesnake bites. He hadn’t thought snakes would be a problem since there weren’t any poisonous snakes at this altitude.

  “I’ll go with him,” Slim said, sounding upset and scared.

  “What about the rest of you?” J.T. asked, studying the men’s faces in the lantern light. The rattlesnake hadn’t been an accident. Like him, they were probably wondering who’d put it in the tent and why. Was Cotton the intended victim or one of them?

  Will, Roy and Nevada looked at each other, suspicion in their expressions, but no one else appeared to be leaving.

  J.T. tried to hide his relief. Part of him wanted to send them all out with Cotton, but he suspected that whoever was doing this would just be waiting up the road for him. And then there was Reggie. She had no idea what she’d blundered into. These men would have at least heard about what had happened up here nine years ago and maybe suspect it was happening again. Reggie didn’t have a clue.

  “Make sure Cotton gets to the ranch,” he said to Slim. “One of my brothers will take him to the hospital from there and see that you are both paid.”

  Slim nodded and glanced around the tent, his fear almost palpable. J.T. understood a healthy fear of snakes, but clearly Slim was more afraid of the men with whom he’d been sharing the tent.

  J.T. watched Slim pick up both his gear and Cotton’s, then duck out the tent door to go saddle their horses. Slim was practically running to get out of camp.

  Is that what had happened to Luke? Had something scared him away as well? Something that reminded him of nine years ago and what had happened? But a man wouldn’t leave his gear or his saddle or his horse.

  J.T. glanced at his watch. “I’ll get breakfast going.” It would be light in a couple of hours and none of them would be able to get any sleep anyway. “Thanks for staying on.”

  He ducked out the tent door and walked to his own to finish getting dressed. He could hear the men rustling about in the other tent. No conversation now. They would all be leery of each other. Probably for the best, he thought. They would be watching each other like hawks, making it hard for one of them to pull another stunt like the snake.

  Outside again, J.T. walked up to the corral as Cotton and Slim were getting ready to leave. He pulled Cotton aside, the one cowhand he knew and thought he could trust. “When you get to the ranch, would you ask my father to send Cash up?”

  Cotton’s eyes widened a little at the mention of the sheriff’s name. He nodded and glanced warily over at Slim.

  “Good luck,” J.T. said, hoping neither of them needed it. As they rode away into the darkness, he fought the fear that neither of them would ever reach the ranch.

  If Buck had made it that far, even if he was injured, one of J.T.’s brothers would have driven up to make sure everyone was all right and give him the news about Buck.

  That meant Buck had never reached the ranch.

  With growing dread, J.T. headed for the cabin. Lantern light bled from the small
paned windows. He moved toward the light and Reggie, anxious to see her. He couldn’t help but think about what would have happened if the snake had been put in the cabin instead of the men’s wall tent.

  Chapter Ten

  Regina had the fire going in the stove when she heard J.T.’s footfalls on the porch. “Come in,” she said at his soft knock. He looked horrible. Her heart lurched at the sight of him. “What’s happened?”

  “There was an accident. Cotton was bit by a rattlesnake.”

  A rattlesnake? She shivered.

  “Slim is riding out with him.” He moved to the stove, warmed his hands. She could see that his hands were steady but he was obviously shaken. It had been one thing after another. First the truck not running, then Luke disappearing and Buck not returning. Now Cotton and Slim were leaving?

  “Someone put the snake in the tent,” he said, his voice so low she had to lean toward him to hear it.

  “Why would someone do that?” she asked horrified.

  “Maybe as a prank,” he said. “Maybe to sabotage the cattle roundup.” He shrugged. “I’ve decided to move the cattle down today.”

  “You’ll have them rounded up by then?”

  “Enough of them,” he said. He sounded weary. And worried. “I’m sorry about your ankle, but you’re going to have to ride a horse out of here, Regina.”

  Regina? He must be serious. She nodded. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

  He smiled at that as if he wished she’d done that in the beginning. So did she. Coming up here had been a mistake. McCall was right about that. She was no closer to signing him to the advertising contract than she’d been on the highway days ago.

  She would have to ride all fifteen miles down this mountain on a horse. She would have to return to L.A. defeated. She would never find another cowboy like J. T. MacCall even if she had the time to look. She’d failed. But right now she was even more worried about Buck. “Maybe Buck will get back before we leave,” she said, praying that would be the case.

  J.T.’s look said she shouldn’t count on that.

  Her heart fell. Unexpected tears blurred her vision. “What do you think happened to him?”

  McCall shook his head.

  What was going on? “Are the rest of the men staying?” she asked, wondering how J.T. would get the cattle down if they all left.

  “For the time being.”

  She reached for one of the large cast-iron skillets on the stove. “Should we start breakfast?” It wasn’t light out and, according to her watch, it wouldn’t be for several hours.

  He nodded. “We’ll get an early start, right at daybreak,” he said almost to himself. “I want you to be ready to ride as soon as I return,” he said to her.

  She looked around the cabin. “What about my suitcase, my clothes?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll come back for everything once you’re safe.”

  Safe.

  He took off his coat, hung it by the door and set about making breakfast. She helped, working beside him, trying hard not to think about Buck. What had happened to him? What was going to happen to all of them before they got out of here? Worse, would whoever was doing this let them leave?

  Will, Nevada and Roy came in and took their places at the table with barely a nod in her direction. They all ate, heads down, a jittery silence filling the room even though the food wasn’t burned. But she knew just the sight of the four empty chairs made them all solemn. That and the fear that more of them would be missing if they didn’t get out of here soon.

  “You want me to try to get some of the other strays we saw down in that ravine?” Nevada asked. “I can catch up if you move the herd out before I get back.”

  J.T. shook his head. “Once we get the main herd down, I can come back for the others.”

  Will was shaking his head. “In a day’s time you aren’t going to be able to get back up into this country.” He nodded at their surprised looks and motioned to his left leg, his hand going to his thigh. “A snowstorm is coming in. A big one. I have a bad leg. It’s never wrong. The weather’s about to change.”

  “Let’s just hope we can get the cattle out before it hits,” J.T. said.

  Roy was quiet as usual, but when he did look up, Regina thought he looked worried.

  She broke the awkward silence that followed by getting up to do the dishes. After a moment, the men all pushed back their chairs, brought their dishes over to her, then filed out. All except J.T.

  “I want you to stay here. Keep the door locked,” he said behind her.

  She nodded, scared by the fear she heard in his tone. She kept washing the dishes so he didn’t see that her hands were trembling. He’d warned her she was in over her head.

  “I’ll be back for you soon,” he said but seemed to hesitate. “Will you be all right until then?”

  “If you’re trying to scare me—”

  “I didn’t mean to.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “You just need to be careful.” He studied her face, looking worried that she might become hysterical at any moment. Not that she didn’t have the potential.

  “I’ll be fine.” But even as she said the words, she worried that she might be wrong about that. She wanted to throw herself into his arms. Just to be held for a moment and then she really would be fine. For the time she was wrapped in his arms anyway.

  “Regina?”

  Why didn’t he call her Reggie? That would have made her mad, made her not want to cry.

  He leaned in to look at her, his expression puzzled. He must have seen her trying hard not to cry. He made a face. “Don’t…”

  He put his arm around her awkwardly as if this man who could run a ranch, round up six hundred head of cattle and boss grown men around didn’t have a clue what to do with one five-foot-six-inch woman.

  She leaned into him, pressing against his broad solid chest. His arms came around her, pulling her to him with obvious reluctance.

  She didn’t care. She didn’t even like him most of the time but right now it felt wonderful just being held, being sheltered in all that warmth and strength, feeling safe, no longer feeling alone and scared.

  He seemed to soften, his arms molding her to him.

  He bent his head and she felt his breath in her hair. “Oh, Reggie,” he whispered. “What am I going to do with you?”

  He seemed to breathe her in, dropping his head to hers, his cheek against the top of her head. She was completely enclosed by his arms, his body, cocooned in his protective embrace. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so safe. She would have stayed there forever.

  But boots thumped across the porch outside. McCall opened his arms, took her shoulders in his big hands and held her in front of him at arm’s length.

  “Ready when you are,” Nevada called.

  “Give me a few minutes,” J.T. called back, then seemed to wait until he heard Nevada’s boots retreat back down the porch.

  His expression softened as he looked at her. “Sit down. Please,” he added. “I need to tell you something. I’m not trying to frighten you. But I think you should know this.”

  She nodded as she sat down, even more afraid of what he was going to tell her.

  “Nine years ago three men came up with a plan to rustle my cattle,” J.T. began, his jaw tight, his face pale. “The plan was to get rid of as many of my men as possible to make the odds better once we had the cattle down the mountain where they had semitrailers waiting.”

  She stared at him. This roundup had started with six men and was now down to three. “They killed them?”

  He shook his head. “Only the ones they couldn’t get rid of other ways. They camped nearby and hit us at night, taking out the men one at a time, scaring some off, killing several. I didn’t know what was happening. At first I thought the cowhands had just left.” Like Luke, he didn’t say but she heard it anyway. “The things that happened seemed like accidents,” he continued. “Until I realized they’d disabled the truck. I set up a trap, c
aught them in an old cabin down by the truck where we used to keep supplies.”

  She held her breath.

  “During the gunfight that ensued, a kerosene lantern inside the cabin was knocked over. The fire burned quickly, the cabin was old, the timbers dry. The men could have gotten out. But they wouldn’t give themselves up.”

  “They burned to death?” she asked, aghast at the thought of being trapped in a cabin that was on fire.

  “We found two bodies inside. The third man got away but we knew he was badly burned. We knew he couldn’t have made it off the mountain alone.”

  “You never found his body?”

  J.T. shook his head. “But we found some of his clothing and marks in the dirt where he’d been dragged off.”

  She grimaced. “By what?”

  “A bear. A grizzly. There were prints in the dirt near the scraps of clothing we found.”

  She thought she might be sick. “I thought you said there weren’t any grizzlies up here.”

  He shook his head. “I said the bear you fed pancakes to wasn’t a grizzly.” He stepped over to the woodstove to throw on another log. “There was an investigation nine years ago. My brother Cash was and still is sheriff so the state held the inquest. Legally, the case was closed because the three men were dead. There were semitrailers found near the county road on the way out of here where they’d planned to load the cattle.”

  She stared at his broad back. “Steal the cattle?”

  He nodded.

  “You think it’s happening again,” she said, shocked to realize that’s exactly what he had to be thinking—and with good reason.

  “The incidents are similar enough.”

  “But how, if the men are dead?”

  He turned to look at her. “Someone connected to that old incident could be trying to get revenge. It’s the only thing that makes any sense.”

  “But it wasn’t your fault.”

  “It was my roundup. I’m responsible for everyone under my hire.”

  Like her. Except he hadn’t hired her exactly and certainly didn’t want her up here. She was beginning to understand why he was so upset, so worried. This was no place for a woman.