by Jane Corrie
On pushing the bell, and hearing no answering
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echo within the house, Josie knocked on the door. Her mouth was dry, and all kinds of emotions were washing over her at that moment. Her grandfather must be ill, must have been for a long time to have let things get in this state�might even be dead! She swallowed. No, he couldn't be�the man in the store would have said so, wouldn't he? He wouldn't have let her come here without knowing that, would he? The thought somewhat calmed her, and on receiving no answer to her knocking, she left her cases on the front porch and walked round to the back of the house.
Passing along the side of the house, she heard voices coming from the back, and felt a surge of relief flow through ^ier. The back of the house used to have a balcony that looked over the acres of land her grandfather owned, she recalled, and he was probably resting there.
The voices were louder as she approached the bend that led to the balcony, and Josie could hear what was being said, for one of the men talking had a vibrant voice, and a furious one. Her steps faltered to a stop, and she wasn't sure whether to wait or go on.
'I'm giving you one more chance,' bit out that cold voice. 'And it's more than you're entitled to. I'm sick and tired of cattle straying over that damned line. Before you know it, you won't have a root over your head; it would take far less than a few steers to rock this place off its hinges. Okay, if that's the way you want to live, that's up to you. But don't come whining to me when you find yourself surrounded by several hundred herd. You've only yourself to blame. Why don't you do
l6 THE TEXAN RANCHER
yourself a favour and sell up? Name your price;
you won't find me quibbling over it. I'll give you a
fair deal for the house as well, just as I did for the
rest of the land. What do you say?'
Josie could not hear what her grandfather's
reply had been, for it must have been her grand
father, but whatever it was, it didn't please his
visitor. 'Then you'll just have to take the con
sequences,' he bit out furiously. 'But I'm warning you, if any of my herd gets poisoned on those blasted weeds you're too damned mean to pay someone to clear for you, then you'll be putting your hand into that long stocking of yours sooner
than you think I'
The next minute the man had rounded the
corner and almost cannoned into Josie, and she
caught a glimpse of blazing grey eyes under a wide
stetson before the man suddenly saw her and stop
ped dead in his tracks. 'Who the devil are you?' he
rasped out, and before Josie had sufficiently recovered, went on bitingly, 'If you're selling anything, you've come to the wrong address. That old skinflint won't even give you the time of day!'
With eyes bright with indignation, Josie drew herself up to her full five feet two and met the blazing grey ones. 'I happen to be his granddaughter,' she said furiously. 'And I'll thank you to remember your manners in future! I heard what you said back there, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself, bullying an old man like that!' and with head held high, she brushed past the staring man as if he were of no consequence.
CHAPTER TWO
WHEN Josie got to the back porch, there was no sign of her grandfather. The balcony was still there, she noticed, but like the rest of the house, badly needing urgent repairs, with paintwork peel
ing off the rotting wood.
Slipping through the trench windows that led to
the balcony, she blinked a little as she entered the shaded room, then she saw him, sitting in what she remembered had been his favourite chair all those
years ago. 'Gramps?' she said in a soft voice that threatened to choke into a sob, and as he turned towards her she saw that his sight was slightly impaired, foi he had some difficulty in focusing on her. The threatened sob escaped as she covered the distance between them, and flinging herself down beside him, she caught hold of his hand, murmuring brokenly, 'I didn't know, Gramps�I didn't know ...' and burst into tears. It took a second or two for the old man to realise that it was indeed Josie, and his hand tightened on hers. 'It's okay, girl. it's okay,' he muttered as he passed a shaky hand over her hair. 'Guess vou remembered me after all, huh?' A little while later, when Josie was composed enough to speak coherently, she tried to tell him
'7
l8 THE TEXAN RANCHER
why she hadn't written, telling him of the kind of life she had led, praying he would understand how it had been. 'Aunt Babs never mentioned you, you see,' she said, swallowing the lump in her throat that seemed to get larger each time she looked at her grandfather, remembering how he had looked all those years ago; upright and proud, and with eyes as keen as a hawk's�now misty with age. 'I kept asking about you at first. I was so miserable at being sent away, and I never heard from you ...' she gulped. 'But you did write, didn't you? I found the letters afterwards. And all the time I thought you'd forgotten me ...' her voice petered out slowly.
His gnarled hand squeezed hers. 'So that's what happened,' he said half to himself, then sighed. 'They say pne shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but by heaven, I wish she was here now 1' he ground out. 'I wrote, child; each time I sent ...' he hesitated, and Josie guessed what he had been about to say�'the money'; however he changed it to 'wrote', and stared down at Josie's tear-stained face. 'I thought you'd forgotten me,' he said dryly, adding fiercely, 'Might have known that woman wouldn't keep her side of the bargain.'
Josie's eyes met his sad ones. 'Why did she do it, Gramps?' she asked quietly.
He shrugged his gaunt shoulders. 'Never forgave your mother, I guess; even though they were sisters. She loved your dad, too, see? Went sour with jealousy, and took off for England afore they were wed. Couldn't bear to see it happen.' He sighed. 'I thought that maybe after all those years she'd come round to it�but I guess she didn't.'
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Josie held his hand to her wet cheek. 'If I hadn't had to go through her papers after she'd died. I wouldn't have known the truth,' she said, giving him a tremulous smile; and added fervently, 'Oh
I'm so glad I did! She'd kept your letters, you see, and I knew then that you hadn't forgotten me. She gave him an accusing look. 'You stopped writing, and I was so afraid ...' She gulped; there was no need to go on, he knew what she meant.
Giving her a lopsided grin, he said, 'Oh, there's life in the old dog yet,' then sobered. 'Saw no point in asking after you,' he stated gruffly. 'Couldn't get any replies, and as soon as ...' He stopped again, and this time Josie finished the sentence for
him. 'As I was twenty-one,' she said softly, firmi meeting his eyes telling him she knew he had sent her some money�money which he must now know she had never received. He shrugged, 'I guess so,' he muttered, and gave her a searching look. 'Was it bad, girl? I'd nevel forgive myself if vou was unhappy. Thought I was doing the right thing, see? Teacher said you were bright, and I knew you'd never get anywhere staying around here.' He gave her a look she well remembered from the old days. 'Bit too attached to the place, you were. I knew if I sent you to one of the state schools, you'd get back here somehow even if it meant walking all the way. 'Sides,' he growled, "tis no place to bring up a young lad. You needed a woman to make you mind your p's and q's, show you what's what, like.' Josie looked away quickly, and studied the worn
-carpet on the floor. She knew her grandfather was
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right in what he had said about her being attached
to Carella�but it was not so much the place as him�although he hadn't said so. He was also right about her running away from wherever he had sent her and homing it Tight back to him. She sighed softly. So he had made sure by sending her
all those miles away.
'Was it bad, girl?' he asked, breaking into her musings. Josie looked back at him swiftly, 'Not really,' she
said with a sad smile. 'I suppose I h
ad all I needed�except tor affection,' and seeing his swift scowl at this brief but telling statement, she added hastily, 'But I did learn to mind my p's and q's. And what's more, I'm a qualified teacher.' Her
eyes softened as she met the still searching ones of her grandfather. 'I owe it all to you, Gramps,' she said quietly. 'I know everything now�how you paid for my education�oh, and tor everything! Now don't your dare deny it,' she said half-scoldingly. 'I saw those letters�I also saw her bank account,' she added fiercely, 'and I only wish I'd had the power to give most of that money back, but she made sure I wouldn't get it by willing it elsewhere.'
He said nothing for a moment or so, then growled half to himself, as if searching-his memory, 'Had a photo of you. You must have-been about fifteen. All dolled up you was, in riding kit. Newspaper photo. She sent me that, so I knew you was okay.' He shook his head. 'Didn't think ...'
Again Josie's eyes centred on the carpet, not wanting him to see the swift flash of anger these words produced. She knew which photo he was
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21
talking about, and could guess the reason he had been supplied with one. Her riding fees! Not that any were paid. She had had to work for what riding lessons she was given, doing the mucking out and endless grooming of the horses in the stable. As for the riding kit, it had been borrowed for that one occasion from the daughter of the owner of the stables who had gone down with a heavy cold, and Josie had been pulled into action to take her place in a pony team competing for county honours. Her aunt hadn't, Josie thought bitterly, missed a trick, and she -wondered what else she had stung her grandfather for. She sighed inwardly; there was no point in telling the truth now, in any case, her grandfather had probably worked it out for himself; he was never slow to
read between the lines. Breaking in on her musings, he said slowly as his gaze went round the dusty room and faded furnishings, 'Guess it's not much of a home now, girl, but you're welcome, anyway.' A tiny silence followed, and then he cleared his throat. 'Had a bit of bad luck. Crops failed two years running, and that was that,' he said with a hint of an apology in his voice. Josie swallowed convulsively. It would take more than a couple of years to bring things to this pass. Precisely twelve years, she thought miserably. How could he have let her aunt bleed him to bankruptcy? And it wasn't as if Josie could repay him, she had seen to that. She drew in a shuddering breath. There was so much she wanted to ask him, but wasn't sure how to go about it. 'I suppose Mr
� Muntrose has left?' she queried idly.
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Her grandfather nodded abruptly. 'Had a family
to keep. I had to push him out at that; no sense
in keeping him on. My fault,' he said harshly,
'them sprinklers ought to have been replaced years
ago, Dan mentioned it often enough. As it was,
they packed up at a time when they were most
needed, and that was that.'
Josie glanced up at him swiftly, hoping her
sympathy did not show in her eyes. He was trying
to tell her it was a case of bad management, but
she knew better. The money was not there to
replace the sprinkler system, so the business had
collapsed.
'Guess it would have happened sooner or later,'
he went on wearily. 'Not so young as I was. Dan
was doing more than his share as it was. He's up at
Blue Mount now. Got a good job, too.'
'Blue Mount?' echoed Josie, searching in her memory, but failing to identify the name. 'Kade Boston's place/ answered Joseph, a trifle drily. 'Course, you wouldn't remember the name,
he came long after you left. Used to be Sam Laton's place. Boston bought it up about three years ago, and most of the land hereabouts.' He gave Josie a quick searching look as if wondering how much to tell her. 'Bought most of my land, too. No sense in hanging on to it. My working days were over.'
A sudden vision of a tall, hard man came into Josie's mind, and she wrinkled her nose when recalling the way he had spoken to her. 'Was that Kade Boston I met when I arrived?' she queried indignantly.
Her grandfather started, and on her next words relaxed slightly. 'He seemed a very rude man,' she
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complained, and looked at him. 'He wasn't in i
very good mood, I gathered.'
Joseph West grinned and rubbed a hand over
his chin. 'Guess he'd plenty to be sore about,' he
replied, and then grew serious again. 'Think I
might take him up on his offer, though.' he mut
tered. 'He's about right in what he said. 'Specialb
if you're set on staying,' he added, giving her an
interrogative look.
Josie met his eyes squarely. 'Of course I'm stay ing!' she answered swiftly. 'But do you have to sell up, Gramps?' she asked pleadingly. 'Couldn't we
keep the house, and some of the land? I can get a job, and keep us,' she added coaxingly, and hei spirits dropped to zero as she saw his jaw tighten
and knew she had hurt that fierce pride of his.
When he spoke, however, she was immediate!^ relieved of this conjecture, for he had not been listening to the latter part of her speech. 'So vou heard, then?' he said harshly.
Josie nodded slowly. 'I couldn't help hearing. she said softly. 'So you'd better tell me everything. hadn't you?' she added.
Her grandfather was quiet for a few seconds as if marshalling his thoughts, then he began with 'Well, you heard what he said about his cattle.' He moved restlessly. 'Them fences want repairing." He sighed. 'Guess they want more than repairing. replacing more likely.' He looked down at Josie and ruffled her hair. 'Well, if that's the way you want it, we might just be able to hold off selling� I'm not promising, mind you. It depends, like Kade Boston ain't a patient man, and this isn't the first time he's complained.'
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'He doesn't look a patient man,' Josie said dryly. 'But I gathered you'd already said no to his "proposal, and that was why he was in such a temper.'
Joseph West gave a slow grin. 'Guess I was feeling ornery,' he replied. 'Knew I'd have to give in one day; didn't feel like obliging him at the time.
�s for that long stocking'he thinks I'm hiding, he's in for a surprise if he tries to make me pay out for any lost stock�and he ain't the only one,' he added in a soft voice. Josie heard but said nothing, and waited for him to go on, but he seemed tired of the subject, and changed it by demanding to know everything about her, where she had gone to school, and where she had qualified. The rest of that day was taken up by Josie filling in the gaps of the years.
1'he following morning, Josie awoke to a brilliantly sunny morning, and lay for a while planning her day. The most important item on the agenda was a job for herself. It had taken a little ' while for her grandfather to accept the fact that she intended to provide for him, and Josie had had to be very careful, not to mention tactful, in offering this intention. As she had told him, if she had still been in England, she would have had to work anyway, and what was the use of-having a diploma if one never used it? This argument eventually won the day, but posed another problem, for the local school was small, and only required the services of one teacher, which it had, and according to her grandfather, was likely to have for some years to come, as the last teacher had recently retired,
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25
and a younger woman had taken over the appoint
ment.
There must, thought Josie, be something else she could do. She had no intention of moving away to a larger town in order to obtain employment. She meant to stay near to her grandfather, come
what may, and she couldn't look after him if she had to dash off each morning to catch a bus, and return late in the evening, for distances here were on a greater scale than at home, and the chance of her obtaining a teaching post in a ne
arby township was non-existent. A slight sigh escaped her on this thought; it would have been nice to have done the work she was trained for, but if it meant separation from her beloved Gramps, then it was out of
the question. . As she dressed later, her mind went over the previous evening's conversation, and how her grandfather adroitly changed the subject each time it veered back to him, arid what had happened to the market garden. Lack of money had played a big part in its collapse, but knowing her grandfather, Josie simply couldn't understand why he had let things get to this pass. He had always been a fighter, and in the old days would have welcomed the challenge, and would have somehow got back on top. She sighed as she left her room and went ^ down to start the breakfast. He was old, of course, but even so, it didn't gell with what Josie knew of 1 him; he had never been one to bow down to fate. ; Within a few hours, she was given the answers to I these vexing questions. Having taken an inventory S of the contents of the larder, and finding it sadly I lacking in even the barest essentials, she saw that
26 THE TEXAN RANCHER ;
her grandfather had lived mainly off tinned food, when he remembered to feed himself, and that. Josie suspected, was not on a regular basis. This state of affairs she intended to put straight right away, and was grateful that she had some mone^ by her, that would enable her to purchase what she required.
When she had washed up the breakfast dishes, she sat down and compiled a list of her requirements, and after calling out to her grandfather who had settled himself on the back porch, that she wouldn't be long, she set off for the town.
A tiny smile played round her lips as she left the house, recalling her grandfather's anxious query as to whether she remembered the way. In his eyes she was still a small girl, she thought, but she had sensed an underlying worry of his that she might not return, and at this thought her smile faded. It had taken him some time to realise that she was back, and meant to stay, and he had been pathetically pleased to see her at breakfast, although he had done his best to hide this fact from her, and
had been a little on the grumpy side, but Josie hadn't been fooled by this camouflage.
