Much Ado About Mavericks

by Jacquie Rogers

  He’d never understand her. He’d never understand the satisfaction of herding cattle in the hot sun with alkali dirt sticking to his lips and sweat running down his back. And she’d never understand how a man with a ranch as fine as the Bar EL could even think about sitting behind a desk in some obnoxious, smelly big city.

  As she drifted off to sleep, she could feel Ben’s nearness. Instead of moving away, she let herself enjoy the soft tingles that settled where only a saddle had ever touched. He wouldn’t be in Henderson Flats for long, and after that, her life would be the same as always.

  At the clank of the pans, Jake bolted upright cursing herself for sleeping in. But the only light came from the moon, and in the next moment she realized there was someone in the camp. With slow, quiet movement, she eased her Colt out of its holster and pulled her feet under her in a squat, ready for action and watching for movement.

  A dog yipped and Jake heard someone shush it. She suspected the culprit was hiding behind the clump of sagebrush on the other side of Ben. She tapped him with the barrel of her pistol, then put her hand over his mouth to hush him. “We got a camp robber,” she whispered when he opened his eyes. “Cover me.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight against him, nuzzling her neck.

  “Wake up, Boston!”

  “Hmm?’ he grunted, then nibbled her earlobe.

  “Quit that or I’ll whap you up along side your head. There’s robbers. Now come on.”

  Finally awake, he pulled his boots on. “Where?”

  She pointed to the sagebrush. “Over there.”

  Satisfied that he’d follow, she crept behind a pile of boulders and waited for him to catch up. “You flush the rapscallion out--I’ll nick him once I get a clean shot.”

  “You can’t just shoot people without finding out why they’re here,” he whispered.

  “Watch me.”

  Ben sighed, but crept toward to the clump of sagebrush with the hope that she wasn’t too fast on the trigger. A flash of white caught his attention and he froze, keeping his gaze locked on the very spot he first saw it, then quietly inched nearer. When he was only a few feet away, he leapt and grabbed the culprit. “What the hell are you doing here?” he yelled.

  Ben could hear the air escaping from the weasel’s lungs, then realized he was wrestling with an extremely tiny ferocious body, kicking, clawing, and scratching. The dog growled, then Ben was nearly deafened by a WOOF not three inches from his ear.

  “Get. Off,” a shrill young voice pleaded.

  He eased up, but kept a strong hold on her arms so that those sharp elbows wouldn’t make contact again. “Hold your fire, Jake, and bring a lantern.” The dog chomped down on Ben’s pantleg, tugging and growling.

  While he waited for Jake, Ben had all he could do to keep the child’s feet from impaling themselves on his shins. “Calm down, kid. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Woof! His other ear was deafened. Nothing like a matched set.

  “You’re a man,” the wiggling child cried, and proceeded to kick the hell out of him all over again.

  He wondered how such a small creature could have a dozen arms and legs as he held both wrists in one hand and flailed around trying to catch the flying feet. “Stop it, or I’ll hog-tie you,” he grumbled. The dog ripped a chunk from his shirt.

  Just then, Jake brought the lantern, illuminated a squirmy, dirty little girl and her equally mangy dog. “Quiet!”

  The girl stilled. The dog looked at Jake and wagged its tail. Ben could have sworn the shaggy black mutt smiled.

  “Will you get off me now?” the girl said, pushing away from him.

  “Will you stop kicking me?”

  “All right,” Jake said sternly, “behave yourselves. The both of you.”

  Ben let go of the girl and she walloped him too close to his jewels for comfort, then ran. Jake grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. While he got his air back, Jake sat the girl on a rock and squatted beside her. “What’s your name?”

  “Ain’t saying.”

  Jake shrugged. “Well, it don’t make no mind to me. I guess I’ll just call you . . . Ruth.”

  “That ain’t my name.”

  “You best get used to it, ‘cause until you tell me your real name, I’m calling you Ruth.”

  “Let me go. Me’n Pokie gots somewhere to go.”

  “Not until you eat. You’re skin and bones, Ruth.”

  “I told you, I ain’t Ruth.”

  “And I told you, that’s what I’m calling you.” She led the girl over to the dying campfire. “Want some coffee?”

  “Kids don’t drink coffee.”

  “Now, there you go. Did I ever say you was a kid? No, I did not. Now do you want some coffee or not.” Jake saw her eyeing the biscuits and handed her one. She grabbed it and stuffed it in her mouth like a wild animal. “Been a while since you ate last?”

  The girl’s mouth was completely full, but she grabbed another biscuit and made ready to stuff it in.

  “Slow down there, Ruth.”

  “Ahm nah ruuuph!”

  Jake tossed a biscuit to the dog, who swallowed it in one gulp. “Well, tell me your name, then.” She offered the coffee again. “You’d better get a little liquid in you, or your guts’ll tie up in knots.”

  Ben stood back, marveling at Jake’s ability to tame the little hellion. Her dress was ragged and so dirty that he couldn’t even tell what color it was. Every square inch of her skin was covered with dirt, and her dark hair was tangled in clumps. She needed a lot of cleaning up--and so did her attitude. He wondered what could make a young child so bitter.

  Teddy crawled out of his bedroll. “Who’s that, Jake? Want me to shoot her?”

  “This here’s a stray. Her name’s Ruth and she don’t need shooting just yet. I’m about ask her if she wants to hire on with the Bar EL.”

  “Hell, no! We don’t need no more hands. You already got me and Homer.”

  “I ain’t Ruth!” The little girl’s gaze cast darts at Jake, then the boys.

  “No cussing till you’re twelve, young man.” Jake waggled her finger at Teddy. “You know the rule.” She turned to the girl. “Now Ruth, we don’t cotton to stinking cowhands. If you hire on with us, you’ve got to take a bath and comb that mop of yours.”

  Teddy eyed the girl up and down. “She’s too scrawny. ‘Sides, she ain’t got no name.”

  The girl glowered at him and held out her arm, bending it at the elbow. “I gots muscles. Lots of ‘em. And my name’s Henrietta, dumbshit, and if you don’t call me that, I’ll punch you in the nose.”

  Ben thought it wise to step in before Teddy and Henrietta came to blows. “Where are your parents?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Jake stepped between Ben and Henrietta. “She don’t need no parents. She can live with me and the strays at the Circle J.”

  “You can’t just take her, not knowing if her parents are looking for her.”

  Henrietta ran around Jake and stuck her lip out at Ben. “She ain’t.”

  “She?” He squatted beside her. “Do you only have a mama?”

  “Oh, I got a daddy, all right. Lots of ‘em.”

  “So where’s your mama? I bet she’s worried sick about you.”

  “Nope. She said Pokie couldn’t live there, so I said I didn’t want to live there, neither, and she said she couldn’t feed our hungry yaps and that I talk too damned much and that I bothered her menfolk when they came for a poke.” Folding her arms over her chest, Henrietta glowered at Ben. “So my doggie and me left and that’s that, and I ain’t going back. So there.”

  “No cussing till you’re twelve, Ruth,” Teddy said. “That’s Jake’s rule.”

  Henrietta flew at him, tackling him midair, punching and kicking. “I said my name’s Henrietta, and you better call me that, pipsqueak.” She bent his arm behind his back and Teddy howled. “Say it. Say ‘Henrietta’.”

  “Henry!” he croaked.

&nbs
p; The girl gave him one last kick and stood. “That’ll do.”

  Teddy got up and dusted himself off. “We don’t need her, Jake.”

  Jake brushed the dirt out of his hair. “There’s always something to do. You got more chores than you know what to do with. And she don’t have nowhere else to go. You can show her what to do.”

  She kneeled beside the girl. “Henry, you gotta tell me who your mama is or I can’t take you. I don’t want no mad mamas kicking my ass.”

  “Busty Birdie. But she won’t mind me going with you. She don’t want me’n Pokie.”

  Ben motioned for Jake to step out of hearing range of the children. “You can’t just take a child from her mother. It’s not legal.”

  “Maybe not legal, but it’s right.”

  “You can’t know that. She might have a nice home.”

  “She does. The Circle J.” Jake rolled her eyes. “Listen, Boston, if she had a ‘nice home,’ she wouldn’t be starved half to death out here in the middle of nowhere with her mangy dog. It don't make no sense a’tall that she’d run off if she was happy. And anyone can tell that she ain’t been fed or clothed right for a long time.”

  Ben couldn’t remember when he’d ever come across a more contrary woman. Or stubborn. “All right. You take her, but I’m going to visit her mother to see if she wants her back.”

  “Wanting and having are two different things. Henry’s staying with me.” She spun on her heel and headed back toward the kids. “Teddy, get back to bed--we got a big day tomorrow. Henry, come with me. You can sleep in my bedroll.”

  “My horse is up the hill. She’ll mope if I don’t sleep with her.”

  “I’ll go get her and hobble her with the rest of the horses.”

  “Oh, Trick don’t know she’s a horse. I’ll stay with her.”

  Jake pulled an extra pair of longjohns out of her saddlebag and tossed them to Henry. “Here, put these on and go to bed. That’s your first order as a cowhand on the Bar EL.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Teddy giggled from his bedroll. “You’re in trouble now. Ain’t no one what can get away with calling Jake a ma’am.”

  Henry glared at Jake. “Yes, sir.”

  Chuckling, Jake said, “That’s better. Now, git!”

  So much for the new stray’s first lesson, Ben thought. But no matter how much Jake wanted to keep Henry--and Pokie and Trick--he had sworn to uphold the law. As soon as they got the water in the creek flowing freely again, he’d find out where the girl’s mother lived and pay her a visit.

  * * * * *

  Jake woke to a horrible smell. She plugged her nose and sat up. Henry. That girl couldn’t have had more than two baths in her whole life. Careful not to wake her, Jake inched out of the bedroll. Hell, by now, she stank as bad as the stray.

  Jake went to the creek and washed her hands and face, but the smell was in her clothes and there was no help for that until they got back home. After she set the coffee pot to boil, Whip stirred, groaned, and got out of bed.

  He stretched and yawned. “I’m too damned old for this business.” He rolled and tied his blankets. “You go study that there rock. I’ll burn some pancakes and rouse these lazy yahoos.”

  “Careful of the new stray. She’s a might skittish, yet.” Jake took a shovel and headed to the creek. Why she carried the shovel, she had no idea. The easiest thing to do would be to blast the boulder into smithereens, then shovel out a path for the creek bed. She whacked the rock with the shovel, then went back to camp.

  “Whip, I want you to take everyone back to the Bar EL after breakfast.” She poured a cup of coffee and blew on it. “Send ten men back--only hard workers. Each one of ‘em needs a shovel, so you might have to go to town and buy some more. And bring some money—ten dollars oughta be enough. Tell Mabel we need to hire someone to help us.”

  He smiled a bit at the mention of Mabel’s name. “Aren’t you coming along?”

  “Naw, I’m headed up the creek to the mining camp and hire me a powder monkey. Gonna blow that sonuvabitchin’ rock all to hell.”

  “Busty Birdie ain’t there.” Henry rubbed her eyes and stuck her lip out poutily.

  Ben sat beside Jake, one eyebrow raised. She hadn’t even heard him get up, so he caught her unawares. “You’re certain of that?” he asked the girl.

  “Yup. So you don’t need to go there.”

  Jake patted the girl on the head, noting that the first order of business was to clean up the little urchin. “Don’t you worry none, Henry. You’re headed for the Bar EL, and you’ll be bunking with me at the Circle J. You’re a cowhand now.”

  Henry jumped and squealed. Jake supposed that little girls did such things, although she sure couldn’t remember doing anything so silly when she was young. Teddy and Homer would need to do some getting used to Henry--and they probably wouldn’t like it.

  By that time, everyone had awakened and Jake told them to get packed up so they could ride to the ranch as soon as breakfast was over. “Tell Suzanne to scrub this kid good,” she called out to Whip as they left.

  Ben stayed back, much to her dismay. “Mining camps can be rough places. I’m going with you.”

  Slapping her thigh, she groaned. “Skunk turds and snake spit! Can’t you do any damned thing you’re told?” That smirk needed to be slapped off his face.

  “No.” He got up and set to straightening up his bedroll.

  “Go with me then, Boston.”

  “My pleasure, madam,” he said with a sweeping bow. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “Just stay the hell out of my way.”

  Chapter 8

  The ride up the mountain to the mining camp took over an hour. Ben amused himself by acting like the perfect gentlemen, all the while watching Jake fight to decide whether she was frustrated of flattered.

  When they arrived at the camp, Ben hopped off his horse and offered to assist her dismount. As he figured she would, she swatted his hand away. “Oh, for God’s sake!” He chuckled over her indignation and stepped back as she slid off her mount, scowling.

  “Howdy there!” she hollered at a sweaty old man hauling a bag of beans over his shoulder. “Nice set up you got here.”

  The place looked like hell, Ben thought, but he figured she was sweetening him up a bit.

  The man grunted. “We ain’t got no work for you. Already got one whore.”

  She gasped, and Ben grabbed her arm so she couldn’t take after the old coot.

  A hollow eyed, half-dressed floozy stepped out of the tent and jammed her hands on her hips. “That’s right, honey. I take care of my men right nice.”

  Throwing the sack of beans to the ground, the old man sneered at Jake. “Told ya.” He doffed his hat at the whore. “Be ready. Soon’s these beans are cooking, I’ll be over.”

  “Not till you pay the dollar you owe me for last time. I don’t do freebies.” She spun back into her tent, pulling the flap in after her.

  Ben held his amusement in check. Judging by the storm in her eyes, Jake was still in a huff. One slip of a chuckle and he’d be in big trouble.

  “Are you done yet, you horny old goat?” she yelled. “I come to find a powder monkey.”

  “You ain’t a whore?”

  “Does a whore need a powder monkey?”

  “Busty Birdie does. She don’t care who pokes her.”

  Jake tackled the man and wrenched his arm behind his back before Ben could take two steps. “Listen here, pigshit,” she growled, “I’m here looking for a powder monkey.” She wrenched a little harder and the man groaned. “I ain’t interested in you or your dirty whores. Got it?” She pulled again and he hollered in pain. “Got it?” she repeated.

  “Yes!”

  “Yes what?” She kneed him in the back.

  “Yes, ma’am!”

  She kneed him again. “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, uh, uh . . .”

  Ben winced every time she yanked on the poor sucker’s arm. “Try ‘sir’.”
r />   Wild-eyed, he yelled, “Yes, sir!”

  She released his arm and got up, brushing her hands together. “Now, are we gonna talk, or are you as stupid as you look?” She kicked his filthy, floppy hat to him.

  He crawled to his knees, picked up the hat and jammed it on crooked, then stood, still shaking. “What d’ya want?” he muttered.

  “That’s better. Now, this here’s a mining camp, right?”

  He nodded.

  “And miners blow up rocks, right?”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “And them folks is called ‘powder monkeys,’ right?”

  He grimaced, but nodded again while backing up a step. Ben didn’t blame the fellow for keeping his distance. Jake could be difficult when riled.

  “So where the hell’s the powder monkey? I wanna talk to him.”

  The man looked blank, then his gaze darted from side to side.

  Jake took a threatening step toward him, and the old fellow backed up. “Well?” She rubbed her hands together. “I’m not a patient person, bucko.”

  “Uh.” He picked up the bag of beans and slung it over his shoulder again. “I gotta get supper on.”

  Puffing out her cheeks, she blew out a low whistle. “All right, come suppertime, you tell your powder monkey that Jake O’Keefe wants to see him. And I got twenty bucks just for talking.”

  Ben felt a tug on his arm. The whore, smelling of vanilla over sweat and man smell, stood there, batting her eyelashes at him. “It’s a long time till supper, big boy. How about a poke?”

  Jake whirled toward them. “You leave him alone, whore!”

  “Oh,” she said as she backed away. “He’s your man, huh?”

  “No, he is not.” Jake sounded adamant, but looked confused.

  With an idea that the whore might know of Henry’s mother, Ben said, “I might like to have a little talk with the pretty lady.” He winked, and Jake’s face turned red. He hustled the soiled dove into the tent before Jake could get hold of him. Not cowardly, he told himself, just smart.

  “It’ll be a dollar,” she announced, throwing her shawl on the bed and untying the string that held her dress on.

  “I just want to talk with you a while.” He took his hat off, but the ragged tent didn’t exactly qualify as indoors.