Heart of a Lawman

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Moon-Eye was the only hand who hadn’t come over to the main house for a big breakfast. Most mornings, he liked to eat in his own quarters—“the only time a hired hand has to himself to think,” he often said.

  “I didn’t hear anything this morning,” Bart admitted. He’d tossed and turned for hours, his mind troubled with thoughts of Josie, before he’d drifted off. And then he must have been sleeping like the dead. “But why would the kid come out here so early?”

  No one seemed to have an opinion on that one.

  “Where’s Juniper?” Josie asked suddenly. “Did you pasture her last night?”

  “No,” Bart said, scanning the loose horses who were wandering around, picking at the wisps of smashed grass underfoot. “She was still loose when I got home from supper. Ought to be around here somewhere.”

  Josie shook her head. “I don’t see her…oh, no! Hang on.”

  Taking off like a shot for the tack shed, which sat alongside the barn, she was inside in a minute. Another minute and she was back out and looking worried.

  “One of the saddles is gone!” she cried. “I told Peter he couldn’t ride Juniper in no uncertain terms,” she said, voice ripe with rising panic. “I told him she’s only green-broke.”

  “If the kid gets dumped,” Moon-Eye said darkly, “he asked for his own trouble.”

  “I’m more worried about his doing something stupid with Juniper. He doesn’t have a clue about horses. What if he ruins her as a cattle horse?”

  Or worse? Knowing how Josie felt about animals, Bart was certain more dire issues had crossed her mind. He wasn’t going to let her go off, half-cocked with worry over the horse.

  He held her gaze. “Then, Josie, I trust you to undo whatever it is.”

  BART QUARRELS HAD SAID he trusted her.

  Hours later, as she followed the herd, Josie was still reeling from the admission.

  Wearing a pair of borrowed chinks—someone’s old “high water” fringed chaps that hit her midshin when she stood—Josie was riding drag alongside Moon-Eye, who drove one of the ranch pickups. In his vehicle, he was nearly as effective as anyone on horseback, if not quite as agile. While he kept pushing the herd forward, she was the one who had to bring the stubborn stragglers back in line, a bandanna over her lower face so she wouldn’t choke on the dust they kicked up.

  Moon-Eye drove with the window open and sans bandanna. She could hear his radio and his off-key singing as red dust floated through his cabin. The best part of his being along was that a big cooler of food—which meant a substantial lunch—was perched on the bed of his pickup.

  The herd fanned out ahead of them in a long line, five and six abreast. Frank and Will were the swing riders—keeping crafty cows and their progeny from swinging wide and creating chaos by trying for a different direction. A.C. and D.C. took noisy pleasure in helping the cowboys.

  And at the head of the long column, making sure those critters in the lead moved steadily toward the ungraded path cut in the rimrock that would take them up to the flats, Bart rode point.

  Bart trusted her, she marveled again.

  That is, he trusted her to fix any possible problem with Juniper, Josie analyzed, if she took his words at face value only. But the way he’d said it—with the emphasis on trust— she was certain he’d put a wealth of meaning behind his simple statement.

  Josie was feeling touched and guilty and giddy all at once. Not to mention worried—about Peter and Juniper, that was.

  Where had the kid gotten himself to?

  It was nearly noon now, and no word. Bart had brought the cell phone along so that Felice could call him if she spotted either teenager or mare.

  Josie had meant to ride out looking for them, but Bart had insisted he needed her for the drive. He needed them both, really, and now he’d lost his newest hand for good. She knew Bart would fire Peter the moment he set eyes on the kid.

  That something was really wrong either with horse or rider sat heavily on her mind.

  They reached the base of the rimrock and Bart pushed the lead cows up the path. Both Frank and Will hung back at the base until most of the herd was on its way up.

  They’d made it with time to spare. Only one more gate to drive the herd through and that about a half mile in on the flats. And enough time for that lunch before doing so, she thought, her stomach growling.

  She was hanging back, away from the truck, watching the herd’s progress, when a set of hoofbeats back the way they’d come alerted her. Standing in the saddle, she turned to see a cloud of red dust, the head of a blue roan enveloped in the swirling center.

  “Hey, there’s Peter!” she shouted to Moon-Eye.

  “I only see the mare!”

  As did she, Josie realized, knowing she was going to have to intercept the panicked horse before she did herself some damage. She pressed Phantom to cut off the other mare. But the cloud of dust accompanying the roan was too extensive to be raised by her hooves alone.

  Pounding down on the foaming mare, she saw Peter at last, bouncing and flipping along the ground, his right foot somehow still jammed into that stirrup.

  “Oh, God!”

  She cut directly into Juniper, turning her and catching her dangling reins. It took a moment to slow her. Josie didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until she brought both mares to a stop.

  “Easy, girl, easy!” she gasped.

  Dismounting, she slung both sets of reins around a branch of a nearby cypress and ran her hand along the roan’s neck to calm her so she would stay put. Hot, wet flesh shuddered under her palm, but Juniper didn’t seem about to spook again.

  Her stomach burning, Josie managed to free the boot from the stirrup.

  “Peter, are you all right?”

  But he didn’t answer.

  He lay there so still, broken limbs bent like a rag doll’s, face and head bloody. She flew to her knees but was afraid to touch him further.

  “Peter, please…wake up…say something!”

  But Peter Dagget couldn’t answer. Not when he was already dead.

  JOSIE WAS WHITE AND SHAKING and appeared to be in shock by the time Bart got to her.

  All stiff, back straight as a rod, she sat on the ground next to the kid, holding his hand. When Bart got a better look, he winced. Even though he knew, he had to check for a pulse to be sure. His gut constricted as he confirmed it.

  Poor kid—not much older than his own son. He couldn’t even imagine how to tell the parents….

  “I told him not to ride Juniper.” Josie’s gray eyes were watery as they met his, but somehow she managed to hold on. “Why didn’t he listen to me?”

  “It isn’t your fault.”

  “I should have known he would—”

  “You couldn’t have known.”

  “The horses are my responsibility.”

  “But you’re not responsible for this.”

  Josie swallowed hard and nodded as if she were trying to believe him, but Bart didn’t think she was convinced. Feeling sick himself over this unnecessary death, he helped her to her feet. Tempted to take her in his arms to comfort her—and him—he resisted. That might just break her to pieces. He needed her to be strong for a little while longer.

  Moon-Eye pulled the old pickup close. Who would have known they’d have more use for the vehicle than to carry some tools and their lunch?

  The hired hand limped alongside them, muttering, “Danged fool kid. Neck broken?”

  Bart figured as much. Peter’s head was a mess—all bloody, indicating it had taken quite a beating. He hunkered down next to the body again and checked it over.

  “It’s broken.”

  No matter how many dead bodies he’d seen—and he’d seen quite a few in his dozen years as a deputy—he’d never gotten used to it. But he could approach it professionally, Bart decided, taking a better look.

  The kid must have been riding somewhere with a lot of rock. Most of the damage was on the right side of his skull, as if, in flippi
ng off the horse, his head had crashed into a sharp edge of a boulder. His gut constricted again, and he only hoped Josie hadn’t gotten too close a look. Unfortunately, he suspected she had.

  “Let’s get him out of here.”

  Josie moved in to help.

  “Not you,” he said gently. “I meant Moon-Eye. The two of us can handle it.”

  She nodded again, then backed off. But Bart knew she didn’t take her eyes off them as he and the hired hand picked up the kid and hauled his lifeless body to the pickup.

  He knew she was blaming herself for this death. And he knew what blame felt like. So after they set down the body, he tried to reassure her again.

  “This is nobody’s fault, Josie. Not even his. Peter might have been a reckless kid, but he wasn’t out to kill himself. And Juniper wasn’t out to kill him, either. It was a terrible, tragic accident, is all.”

  His heart went out to her. She appeared numb, in shock, unable to comprehend what had happened here. And this on top of her own problems. Hating that she had to go through this, Bart figured he’d better get her someplace where she could feel safe. When she remained silent, he wondered if she could even get back on her own.

  “You want to ride shotgun with Moon-Eye?” he asked, offering her an easy option.

  “No. I’ll take the horses.” Her eyes focused at last and she took a big breath as if she were finally able to take it all in. “Yours, too, if you want.”

  Bart considered the offer. He’d left Frank and Will with the herd with instructions to keep them moving. They didn’t have far to go, but they had a lot of cows to handle. Even though there were only the two of them, he figured they could manage to get the critters through one more gate.

  He had to deal with Peter Dagget’s death, and at this point, a tired horse would slow him down.

  “You can handle three horses?”

  “I’m your wrangler, remember.”

  “All right.” Maybe that was best for her…. “I’ll go back with Moon-Eye. How about if we leave food—you can bring some up to the boys before heading back for the barn.”

  He only hoped that wasn’t pushing her too hard. Somehow, though, he thought she needed to stay busy for a while.

  “I can handle that.”

  Bart knew Josie could handle a whole lot more and probably had. But she looked as if she’d been pushed to her limit. As if…one more thing and she would go over the edge.

  He only prayed he would be there to catch her if and when she fell.

  SOMEHOW, JOSIE WENT through the motions. Leaving Juniper and Arrow tied up, she delivered the food to Frank and Will. Relieved that they didn’t ask too many questions, she helped them deliver the herd before going back for the other horses.

  Juniper was calm and dry now. No trace of the spooked horse she had been while dragging Peter’s body. Even so, the violence of the death stayed with Josie.

  Shuddering, she closed her eyes to center herself.

  An open hand flashed toward her…contact drove back her head.

  Stunned, she was alerted by a nervous whinny. She squinted into the dark recesses of the barn, but poor night vision betrayed her once more. All she could see was the glint off his pale hair, but she sensed he was doing something to Dreamsickle…thought he was pulling on the sorrel’s reins.

  “Stay away from her!”

  “What’s mine is mine,” he told her with a chilling laugh. “Get in my way and you’ll be sorry….”

  Josie gasped at the fading memory and concentrated. Tried to bring it back. Tried to see the man’s face.

  But, in the end, her memory failed her once more.

  Even so, she tried forcing her mind to respond all the way back to the barn. An exercise in futility.

  She brought the horses in just as the ambulance was leaving with the body. Bart and Moon-Eye met her at the corral gate outside the barn, where she flipped the three sets of reins over a pipe.

  Bart said, “I was starting to worry.”

  “No need. I’m fine.”

  She wasn’t fine—how could she be fine after such a horrible shock?—but she was dealing with it.

  “I have to take care of things, talk to Peter’s folks,” Bart said. “I can drop you off at Alcina’s on the way.”

  So she could sit alone and think? And it was early. Hours and hours to relive the horror in her mind. Exhausted she might be, but Josie knew she wouldn’t sleep.

  Holding panic at bay by a thin thread, she said, “There’s work, right? So let me help Moon-Eye.”

  “I was gonna go talk to the Daggets with the boss,” the hired hand said. “I know the family from way back.”

  “Then give me something to do,” Josie begged, desperate to keep busy. She looked from one man to the other. “Please!”

  Moon-Eye said, “I suppose you could take water out to the girls in the northwest pasture—”

  But Bart interrupted. “The weather channel talked about rain tonight.”

  Clouds were starting to gather overhead, but nothing imminent, Josie thought. Nothing threatening.

  “The weatherman could be wrong. Besides, the girls might be thirsty now. So tell me how to get there.”

  Moon-Eye looked to Bart, who gave him a go-ahead nod.

  After the roundup, Josie had a better picture of the north end of the ranch, so she was able to follow his directions in her mind.

  “I don’t think I’ll have any problem finding it,” she said, just as Frank rode in alone and dismounted near them.

  “Where’s Will?” Bart asked.

  “We were missing a few head. He stayed behind to flush them out. What do you want me to do next, boss?”

  “Ride fence. That south pasture needs to be checked over. We lost a handful of cows last month, and Pa found some fence down.”

  “I’ll get me a fresh horse and be right on it.” Frank led off his mount, saying, “Hey, boss, I’m real sorry about the kid. You tell his folks that for me, would you?”

  “Sure thing.” Bart looked to Moon-Eye. “We’d better get a move on.” Then even as Josie dragged the hose across the yard, he asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “I might go crazy if I don’t.”

  Although she might go crazy, anyway, Josie feared, as the men left. She stepped up to the portable tank, which was strapped down to the bed of a rusting pickup, inserted the hose into the opening and turned on the water.

  As the tank filled, she took care of the horses she’d brought in. Removing saddles and bridles and turning Phantom and Arrow back into their pasture didn’t exactly keep her mind occupied.

  “What am I going to do with you?” she asked Juniper softly.

  The roan pushed at her like always. Josie stroked the velvet nose. Then she walked over to the cake truck and scooped out a handful of pellets. Even as she offered Juniper the treat, she wondered if she’d ever be able to ride the mare after what had happened.

  Not that she was afraid…just freaked.

  Josie couldn’t help wondering if she shouldn’t have done something different—as in befriending the kid and giving him a serious talking-to about handling the horses. Or maybe she should just have kept Juniper out of his reach.

  But what if Peter’s death hadn’t been an accident? a little voice in her head questioned.

  What if someone had caused it…having mistaken the skinny teenager for her?

  Chapter Twelve

  A threatening gray sky was pushing down on Silver Springs as Bart pulled his vehicle into the gas station.

  Moon-Eye slid out of the passenger side. “I’ll take care of it—want to get a few things anyhow.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Bart began pumping gas and looking at the sky. He was thinking that the weather wouldn’t hold much longer when he noticed Alcina Dale pull in.

  Leaving her car, she walked over to him.

  “Bart, what are you doing in town so early?” she asked, her smile reflecting her pleasure in seeing him, then her brow
wrinkling as she got a better look at his face. But she kept any speculation on his bruised cheek and cut lip to herself. “I expected you would be moving cows until dark.”

  “Work’s over for today—we had a bad accident,” he said grimly. “Peter Dagget—a kid I just hired—took out a green-broke horse without permission. Unfortunately, something went terribly wrong.”

  Alcina made a sound of distress. “I-I’m so sorry. He is all right?”

  “Afraid not.” Bart’s visage darkened. “I just had to tell his parents.”

  Her expression shocked, she said, “Oh, Bart, how terrible for you. Who would ever have thought the Curly-Q would have such bad luck, one on top the other? First Josie, now this.”

  “Josie!” he snapped. “What about her?”

  “The other day—she got thrown, right?”

  He freed the nozzle and replaced it in its cradle at the pump. “Is that all she told you?”

  Alcina started as if she was torn about something. “About that particular incident, yes.”

  Which raised Bart’s deputy antenna.

  He asked, “So she told you what else? Anything about last night?”

  She echoed, “Last night?”

  “After supper. Hugh Ruskin, the new bartender at the Silver Slipper was waiting for Josie when she was on her way back to your place—”

  “Alone?”

  “—and he attacked her.”

  “That explains your face…but, Bart Quarrels, what were you thinking, letting Josie walk home alone after dark?” Alcina demanded.

  “She’s a woman with a mind of her own!”

  “But if he is here, then she may be in real danger—”

  “He, who?”

  Alcina tightened her lips and gave him a stare that undoubtedly would shrivel a lesser man.

  “Alcina…!”

  “All right. Josie thinks he’s here—some man from her past.”

  “And she remembers him?” he asked, voice tight.

  “She told you about the amnesia? Thank goodness.” She shook her head. “No, she doesn’t remember him, but she does remember being afraid…of him hitting her.”

  Bart let out an expletive that reflected his opinion of a man who would raise a hand to a woman.