Copyright
ISBN 978-1-61626-877-0
Copyright © 2012 by S. Dionne Moore. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Heartsong Presents, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 721, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.
All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.
one
Fear settled a heavy mantle over Maira Cullen’s shoulders. Her throat swelled from the heat and the hurt of the many things gone awry in the last few hours, and the burgeoning realization that there was absolutely nothing she could do to change things. Except pray. And search.
Her legs trembled with every step, her mind growing hazier with each water-deprived minute. Another thing to chasten herself over. What woman, or man for that matter, in her right mind would take off in this heat without a canteen?
“Levi?” The word slipped out on a sob. She swallowed the emotion as she had for the last desperate hours she and her foreman had searched the ranch house and outbuildings. If she broke down now, she wouldn’t be able to continue. Just keeping one foot in front of the other took such effort. “Levi!”
Where could he be? Where would he go? He was such a small boy. So sad and sweet and sincere. Maira’s heart wrenched with fresh despair. She blinked up at the hot sun from under the brim of her hat and plucked at the material of her blouse to stir a billow of air against her skin.
“Levi!”
All she had going for her was the angle of the sun and the fact that the air would eventually grow cooler, but the sun’s slow fade into the western horizon heralded her greatest enemy—darkness. She couldn’t let her mind go there. Not now. By the angle of the sun she still had three hours of light. Desperation burned through her, and her mind cleared enough to realize she had no choice but to return for water. If not for herself, for Levi. He would need it when she found him. Food, too.
“Levi?” With one last shout and the remote hope that she would hear a feeble response, Maira strained for sound. Only the breeze answered her call. The sun continued to beam down on her, and the sheep in the far pasture startled, then stared. But she had no time to coddle the woolies. No time for anything except returning to the house and gathering the few things necessary to continue the search beyond the ranch. Decision made, she felt more settled and focused. She had to think. And blow the dust off her prayer life and petition God. Surely He cared about Levi.
❧
Carrot Timmons led the group down into the crevice where a longhorn brindle bull stared at them in bovine defiance. Tanner Young admired the leader’s work ethic but hated the man’s inability to handle a situation without calling out every cowhand on the ranch.
“You get over to him, Tanner. I’ll rope his horns and pull. He’s got to budge somehow.”
The bull let out a sound more grunt than moo. No wonder. The bull had been hassled all morning by Carrot and Fletcher.
“All you need to do is get in there and make a ruckus.” Tanner lifted his hat to allow cool air to sift through his hair. “Not much to it.”
“Or you could make use of that gun and shoot him between the eyes,” Fletcher grumped. “Don’t reckon we’d miss him much.”
“It’s about making money,” Carrot reminded him. “It’s a good bull.”
“And you’re a top hand,” Fletcher groused.
Carrot’s eyes flicked over the man. Tanner knew the foreman’s temper and saw the dawning of a tantrum. A vein throbbed on Carrot’s neck, and his eyes stabbed at Fletcher. Tanner decided it was time to get the bull moving. He drew in his horse, a good mount with an even temper, nothing like the cow ponies that never quite grasped the idea of carrying a man in submission. The piebald plunged into the tangled patch of weeds. Screaming his throat raw as he came up behind the bull, Tanner palmed his gun and let off two shots into the air to add to the commotion. The bull lunged as if to turn. Tanner kept his horse moving, dodging the less agile bull’s weaving head. The bull went still, his eyes blazing his rage. Tanner kept up his screaming and fired another bullet. The bull hesitated and planted one hoof ahead of the other in reluctant retreat from his prickly paradise. Fletcher stood in the path of the animal a moment too long and had to scramble to get out of the bull’s way.
Tanner moved away from Carrot’s withering gaze and Fletcher’s shouted words of praise. Praise was the one thing Tanner avoided. Didn’t do anyone any good to have it heaped on a body, and it was way too easy for a man’s head to swell when it was.
“Waste of ammunition,” Carrot bit out.
Ignoring the goading remark, Tanner spurred his horse into a proper gallop. If he’d thought of it sooner, he’d have avoided riding along this edge of the XP Ranch. Better to avoid the cattle and the rough men Walter Price had hired.
He breathed deep and hunched lower in the saddle as the horse’s momentum blew hot air through his beard and against his skin. He yanked off his hat and let the wind caress his head, drying the sweat on his cheeks and ruffling through his hair. He brought the piebald down to a trot. No use wearing Cupid out before they reached the ranch house. He licked his lips, amused at the reaction of trail-toughened cowboys should they learn of his horse’s secret name. But the horse’s heart-shaped patch on his flank had brought the name to mind, and it had stuck. He dissembled by calling the gelding Cue for short in the presence of others.
Leaning forward over the saddle horn, he stroked the animal’s neck and whispered sweet nothings to the only companion he’d had for years. Not that it bothered him none; indeed, he preferred it that way. Stalking cats and coyotes along the perimeters of the XP offered him plenty of time to himself, and he seldom longed for people.
As Cue took him closer to the ranch house, Tanner saw his boss on the porch watching a young man working to break a bronc that held fire in its eyes. A lone, old man, Walter Price was a force to be reckoned with. His sharp eyes watched Tanner’s approach as if nothing were amiss. Tanner noted the man’s stance—leaning against a porch column, eyes squinted, furrows in his brow as deep as irrigation ditches—relaxed. Walt’s hair was the color of old linen, with long strands brushed forward to cover his baldness, giving the man a comical appearance if not for the cold flint of his eyes. Tanner had forgotten how hard those eyes were, and how cold they became when there was work to be done and money to be made. It was the reason Price had hired him after a pack of coyotes had taken a pocket of cows in the north range over three years ago.
“Get down off that horse and we’ll drink.”
“Don’t drink,” Tanner reminded him, swinging his leg over and ground hitching Cue.
Price raised his chin but said nothing more as Tanner followed him inside and took his seat across the wide plank table. “There’s about to be a change in your duties.” The old man raised his hand to the young woman who skidded into view, cheeks flushed, plucking at the hairs that fell into her eyes. She was a beauty who Tanner had never seen before at the XP. That and the fact that Walt Price had never married was not lost on Tanner now. Walter shifted his weight and grunted. “Ana? Drinks” was all he said to her before she scurried off, never once lifting her eyes to acknowledge his presence.
Upon first meeting Price, Tanner had realized that the man desired, above all else, to be seen as the ultimate boss. A rich m
an. A cattle baron. Price breathed cattle and drives, profit and loss.
“You’ve done a fine job of keeping prey from my herds. But a little problem has cropped up west of here that I want you to take care of.”
Tanner accepted a glass of amber liquid from Ana. She never quite met his eyes. When he thanked her, he thought her hand trembled ever so slightly. He took the time to absorb the woman’s red-blond hair. A thick spray of freckles along her nose and cheeks gave her a little-girl appearance, but her eyes, a beautiful hazel with long lashes, and the rest of her corrected any predilection that she was a child.
When Tanner returned his attention to Price, the man’s scowl let him know he hadn’t appreciated Tanner’s perusal of Ana. Walter tossed back his drink and slapped the squat glass on the table with a thunk that made Ana jump. At the wave of his hand, Ana left the room.
“There’s a ranch west of here. I want to you to go there and take on some work for the owner. I want to know what’s going on over there, and I’m sure they could use the help.”
“I’m a hunter, not a spy.”
“You were a top hand, and you’re a dead shot. I want you on my side, Young.”
“Side?”
“Do you want the job or not?”
Tanner leaned forward and dug his fist into the table as he stood. “If it’s all the same, I’ll ride on. I’ve no stomach for such work.”
“Three dollars a day, and that’s on top of what you’re paid while there.”
He hesitated, catching the gleam in Price’s eyes. The money was not to be ignored. He could buy his own cattle, build his own place, and settle down on his own spread. But the offer seemed ludicrous. Desperate. “What’s the problem?”
Walter shrugged. “Just keeping my eye on the competition.”
In that instant, Tanner disliked the man intensely. He schooled his features so his distaste would not show. It piqued his curiosity why the man was so interested in his competition. To put them out of business was all he could think. Sour distaste spread in his mouth. Yet. . .it would give him a break from his current routine, and if things didn’t work out, he’d take his money and walk away. “I’ll do it.”
Price stood and offered his hand.
Tanner hesitated. “I want it written up and both of us to sign.”
“Don’t trust me? After all this time?”
No, he wanted to say. “It’s a lot of money, and it’s your word against mine. Let’s call it a business contract.”
two
Entering Maira’s small home was like being embraced. Even still, she worked hard to gather the supplies she would need to camp out through the night. Frank Harrison limped out of the sheep shed, his dark eyes asking questions she did not have answers to.
“He did not go far, Miss Maira. Levi is a smart boy.”
Her heart ached in her chest at the reminder. She refused to think about the night creatures that prowled or the hundreds of different ways a boy could get injured or killed. Her stomach filled with acid in spite of her efforts to remain calm.
“If I could ride with you, I would.”
“It’s important for you to stay here. Guard the house, the sheep and cattle. If he returns while I’m gone. . .” She drew a deep, steadying breath. “I might be gone awhile.” She couldn’t ask more of the foreman. Not with the twisted leg, a result of busting a bronc for their ranch hands three years ago, but how Frank had suffered, still suffered, with the injury. That she hadn’t been able to pay Frank for months proved the man’s loyalty to Maira’s late husband and knifed the fear of losing Levi even deeper. God, I can’t lose Levi, too.
She took her gentle old mare out this time, her mind dividing the small ranch into sections. She would begin with the east section. The section closest to the XP and the most likely route for little feet since it was flat. No matter how much she disliked Walter Price’s heavy-handed and less-than-subtle hints that he wanted to court her, he had done much to help her out since Jon’s sudden death. Still, the idea of marrying Walter lured her on the days and in the times when things were toughest. She ached from the burden she carried—dwindling money, dwindling herds. In the back of her mind, she knew losing the ranch loomed like a cliff she would eventually fall over. Jon would berate her worry. His faith had always been stronger.
Maira pushed Queen to the limits of the mare’s endurance, a hard gallop, her eyes scanning the entire time. Half a mile out, she paused the mare and stroked her neck. Why hadn’t she kept a closer eye on Levi? She knew he’d wanted to go outside, and it wasn’t fair to keep him cooped up as she cleaned house and baked bread. But the pantry had been almost bare. The house neglected for too long with the work around the ranch pressing on her every waking moment.
And now this. . .
“Levi!”
Fear roared in her ears, whispering of death and injuries too terrible for Levi to endure. And buried in the images were words of discouragement and failure. You’re too late. He’s dead. You should have brought Frank in the wagon. You won’t find your boy. Ever. Each crowded in on the other, pushing tears down her cheeks and rendering her voice nothing more than a croak.
She brought Queen up another half mile out and swiped at her eyes to clear the tears. This was no time for emotion. She could not waste her energy harboring the debilitating thoughts that would surely bleed her strength dry. She stared out at the spring-green hills ahead and inhaled of the hot, fetid air that belied the beauty. If only she knew where to look. What direction he’d taken. How quickly he had slipped from her side and disappeared. Rising darkness in the east meant the end of her search. She would build a fire and hope Levi saw the light. Surely her son would know that a fire meant people.
Buoyed by the idea, she withdrew her booted foot from the stirrup and swung down. She wanted so much to remove the saddle and grant Queen time without the hot, heavy contrivance, but she couldn’t. If anyone approached, human or otherwise, she needed to leave as fast as possible.
She prepared little pieces of dry grass and snapped a dry stick into pieces. When she touched the flame to the kindling, it took, and she nursed the fire into a respectable blaze that satisfied. Night’s heavy cloak pressed down against the light. She shivered and stacked the pieces of wood she’d gathered. If need be, she’d stay up all night to feed the flame. As her eyes grazed the wide sky, it shook her anew that Levi was lost and alone in the vast landscape. Maira curled into a tight ball and watched the flames, fighting tears, praying. The fire was her only hope in the darkness of night.
❧
Tanner noticed the smoke. A thin stream of light gray against the darkening west sky, unnoticeable to those with dull senses but second-nature to a man who lived his life tracking four-legged beasts and men. His heart raced with anxiety. He didn’t trust Walter Price and wouldn’t put it past the man to have someone out there waiting to shoot him dead. Maybe he’d found out about Tanner’s propensity for asking questions of the surrounding ranchers. He sat back in the saddle, scanning his surroundings. Nothing stirred except the night cries and an unusual purring. Whatever lay ahead, his survival depended on keeping out of sight and the advantage of surprise.
Wheeling Cupid, Tanner worked his way north. The smooth grass and patches of late-spring wildflowers could hide dips and holes that would cripple the horse and could kill him as well, should the animal’s hoof find one. He kept Cue’s pace slow, straining to see in the dark. He listened hard for the screaming of a cat or the howl of coyote, but the pervasive sound was the mewling cry. It grew louder, and with every step he became more sure that it was an animal, perhaps shot or wounded, dying its last.
He could see the dull orange dot of fire on the dark horizon to his left. Coming up behind whoever waited there would allow him to assess the danger and whether it was a trap or simply Price’s men out on the range for the night. That didn’t make sense though, not with the XP less than a four-hour ride. Still, there was no accounting for a cowboy’s desire to sleep under the stars.
>
He came to a stream, not more than a trickle, and dismounted for the horse to rest and drink. He tilted his head in the direction of the sound. It was close. A raccoon, maybe. Nothing bigger than that by the pitiful, weak sound of the mewling. He ground-hitched Cue and followed the stream until it widened into a small pool of water, not deeper than six inches, the dividing line between the XP and the Rocking J. With his eyes, he followed a well-worn path used by wild creatures to access the pond. He sloshed through the water and up the far bank, swiping the muck from his boot along the clean grasses. The path led into a grove of aspens, their white bark like skeleton fingers in the night. From there he was close. It tickled at his senses that he should turn back, but his curiosity would not be pushed aside. Besides, if the animal was dying, he could shoot it and put it out of its misery. No use making it suffer longer than necessary.
A hollow between two aspens showed a blur of light color. Yellow or white, he didn’t know which, but the sound seemed to emanate from the ball on the ground. Tanner went still. On quiet feet he drew closer. As he stood beside the bundle, his senses were assailed by the tight fist of knowledge. He wasn’t looking at an animal; he was looking at the small, crying form of a child.
“Hey.”
The cries turned to a sharp gasp; the head snapped up, eyes round.
“I won’t hurt you.” He put out a hand, amazed. A boy. A very small boy. The wonder of his discovery brought a smile to his face. “Are you lost?”
Shuddering shoulders; wide, dark eyes; and a lip that quivered as tears fell communicated the boy’s confusion and fear. So much for a little boy to shoulder.
“Do you need to go home?”
This time he got an enthusiastic nod. “Peez.”
“Are you hurt?” He had to ask, though Tanner’s scan of the child didn’t show insomuch as a torn sleeve. “We’ll need to get back to my horse.” He held out his hand to the child, encouraging him to rise to his feet.
The boy did so, bounding upward and smearing a sleeve across his cheeks and nose. Even in the darkness, he could see the sleeve of his shirt already sported a wet spot from previous wipings. Tanner grinned and gripped the cold little hand in his own. “I’ve got a blanket we can wrap you in. Do you have a name?”
Valley of the Heart Page 1
