Quinn's Honor

by Shirleen Davies

  He couldn’t miss the double meaning—respect the work she did and keep his hands off. “Aye, Uncle Ewan. I understand you.”

  Nodding, Ewan reined his horse around, then turned back to Quinn. “You’ll be here for Sunday supper.” It wasn’t a request.

  “Aye, I will.” Quinn’s response died in the wind as Ewan kicked his horse into a gallop, taking the trail to town.

  “What did they decide?” Colin stepped beside him, Blaine and Caleb lagging a few paces behind.

  “He and Uncle Ian gave their blessing. They could do nothing else after the talk Gertie had with them at Brodie’s wedding.”

  “They’ll do whatever they can for the Pearce clan.” With so much work to do as winter turned to spring, Blaine hated to lose Quinn, yet he understood. “And the lads will step up to do what’s needed,” he said, referring to Camden, Bram, Fletcher, and Sean.

  The four were about the same age their older cousins and brothers were when they rode to Oregon to bring Sarah to Circle M. Colin, Quinn, and Brodie spent months away while Blaine reluctantly stayed behind. There had never been a choice. As Colin’s younger brother, Blaine had been expected to take up a good portion of the work during their absence. The best part of the trip, other than bringing Sarah back, was seeing Caleb again, inviting him to join them at Circle M.

  “Between you and me, the lads won’t have a choice.”

  “Aye, Colin.” Blaine accepted the extra work when Colin left to find Sarah. He’d taken on more when Brodie became sheriff. He didn’t mind and never complained. There were times, though, when he wondered if he’d ever be able to fulfill his own dreams. “Caleb and I will let the lads know.”

  Watching Blaine and Caleb leave, Quinn turned to Colin. “I’ll finish the job we started yesterday, then leave after dinner. I want to talk with Gertie and Emma before meeting the men.”

  Hearing resignation in his voice, Colin studied Quinn’s face. “Are you certain you want to do this?”

  Quinn shoved his hands in his pockets and lowered his head, as if studying his boots. “Aye. I’m sure.”

  “If not, Blaine could go in your place. I’m sure Gertie would be happy either way.”

  Quinn glanced up, remembering Blaine’s comment about courting Emma. He might not want to spend day after day near her, but he’d never let Blaine get that close to her.

  “Nae. Gertie asked me and I accepted. It will give me a chance to see Big Jim each day, reassure him of how the ranch is doing. If he knows the work is being taken care of, it might help him recover faster.”

  Colin opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. What he wanted to say wouldn’t help, and might even hurt if Quinn knew what he was thinking.

  Quinn watched the struggle on Colin’s face. For a long time, he’d thought his cousin suspected how Quinn felt about Emma, but he’d never uttered a word. Crossing his arms, he cocked his head.

  “Say it.” He waited for Colin to respond, knowing it might take a while. Colin had always been one to consider his words before speaking them aloud, a skill Quinn wished he possessed.

  “It’s not my business.”

  “Ach. I know something’s got you bothered. I want to hear it before I ride off.”

  Colin rested fisted hands on his hips. “All right. It’s Emma.”

  Quinn let out an uneasy laugh. “You’ve got your woman, Colin. You don’t need two.”

  “Don’t be daft. My concern is for Emma.”

  “And what do you think will happen to her?”

  Colin shifted to face him, his voice lowering. “She’s a sweet lass…an innocent, Quinn. Don’t be breaking her heart.”

  Lowering his head, Quinn swore, more out of frustration with his own feelings than Colin’s warning. Looking up, his expression haunted, he locked gazes with his cousin.

  “I’d never do anything to hurt Emma.”

  “Not intentionally. You’ve known for a while how the lass feels about you. You don’t have to admit it, but I’m thinking you feel the same.”

  Quinn didn’t respond as he worked to control his conflicting feelings.

  “All I’m saying is to keep your hands off her. Do what you must to do the job, then come home.” Colin rested a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “You’re an honorable lad.”

  “Are you sure? Some believe me to be a loon.”

  Colin’s hearty laugh broke the gloomy mood. “Aye. You may indeed be a rascal, but you’re a good-hearted one, and your word means something to you. All I’m suggesting is to be careful around the lass.”

  Nodding, Quinn felt his body relax. He knew Colin would never breathe a word of this to anyone—not even Brodie or Blaine. The thought gave him a sense of comfort and another reason to stay with his plan of keeping distance between him and Emma. Nothing good could come from their mutual attraction.

  “I still don’t understand why we need Quinn MacLaren at the ranch.” Emma crossed her arms as she paced around the spacious kitchen, her cup of coffee forgotten on the table. Today, she’d put on some old pants her mother had altered and an overlarge shirt—her choice when working around the ranch. “Aren’t we doing all right without him?”

  Gertie continued to slice the vegetables she’d later add to the stew for dinner. Other than to sleep, Emma hadn’t stopped ranting about Quinn since the decision to hire him. Gertie didn’t blame her daughter. If Big Jim hadn’t been so insistent they needed a man to run the ranch, Gertie would have never mentioned it. It had been a blessing when Quinn volunteered. They’d never accept free labor, but they wouldn’t turn away a young man Big Jim respected.

  “Mama, did you hear me?”

  Gertie smiled to herself. “I’m sorry, dear. What did you say?”

  Emma stopped pacing, dropped into a chair, and picked up her now cold coffee. “I asked you if we were doing all right without Quinn.”

  Setting the knife down, Gertie wiped her hands on a towel and turned around. Crossing her arms, she leaned against the counter. “You’ve had no problem with us looking for a new foreman. Why is it you have so much difficulty with Quinn taking the job until we find someone?”

  “Because he has his own work at Circle M.” Emma didn’t meet her mother’s gaze, choosing to stare into the almost full cup.

  “And?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “No, it’s not. He offered to come by as often as needed to make certain the men were doing their work. Neither Ewan nor Ian had problems with him helping. Don’t forget. We’re paying Quinn for the work.”

  Emma didn’t respond. She couldn’t share her real reason for not wanting Quinn at the ranch.

  “Your father is concerned you and I are taking on too much.” Gertie wouldn’t tell her he also didn’t believe the men accepted her as their boss while Big Jim was laid up. “If he’s worried about the ranch, he’ll push himself to return before he should. Doc Vickery made it clear your father needs more time, at least another month, and I’m going to see that he gets it.” Her voice broke on the last. “We almost lost him, Emma. That should be enough reason for us to accept Quinn’s help.”

  Setting her coffee aside, Emma stood, feeling horrible for upsetting her mother. She’d only been thinking of herself and what she felt for Quinn—had always felt for him. It was a secret she’d never share with anyone.

  “I’m sorry, Mama.” Reaching out, she pulled her mother into her arms, squeezing tight before stepping back. “You’re right. We need help and Quinn is the perfect person. Besides, Papa trusts him.”

  “So do I, Emma. You must learn to do the same.”

  Emma mucked her horse’s stall, muttering to herself, not caring if anyone heard. She’d agreed to stop complaining about Quinn. It didn’t mean she had to like it, though. Continuing her internal rant, she sifted through the last section of hay, throwing manure into the nearby wheelbarrow. Tossing the pitchfork aside, she muttered a curse.

  “Such a nasty word coming from such a pretty mouth.”

&n
bsp; Spinning around, her jaw dropped at the sight of Quinn leaning against the stall, amusement flickering across his face.

  Emma fisted her hands, placing them on her hips. “What are you doing here?”

  “If I’m not mistaken, I work here.” His grin widened.

  “Then why aren’t you?”

  Chuckling, he bent to pick up the pitchfork, then walked to the stall’s back wall, scooping up a pile Emma had missed. Tossing it in the wheelbarrow, he set the pitchfork aside, then pushed his hat off his forehead.

  “I was enjoying watching you, lass.” The minute the words left his mouth, Quinn knew it had been a mistake.

  Straightening, Emma crossed her arms, her eyes sparking. “We don’t need another lazy dunderhead around the ranch.”

  “Dunderhead? And where did you hear such a term?”

  Walking toward him, she stopped less than a foot away, poking a finger into his chest. “From you.” Turning, she grabbed the wheelbarrow and rolled it past him, then glanced over her shoulder. “Are you going to stand around the rest of the day, or are you going to get to work?”

  Emma didn’t slow her pace as she pushed the wheelbarrow out the barn’s back door, unaware Quinn watched as she continued on a well-worn path. Dumping the contents, she returned to the barn, letting out a shaky breath when she found no sign of him. His absence didn’t last long.

  Leading her horse outside, Emma groomed and saddled Moonshine before swinging into the saddle. Reining toward the house, she jerked to a stop. Quinn and her mother stood on the porch.

  “Emma, come on over here.” Gertie signaled for her to join them.

  Groaning, Emma continued to the house, not dismounting. “I’m riding to the north pasture.”

  Gertie moved to the edge of the porch. “Quinn is going with you. He needs to meet the men.”

  Emma should’ve known she wouldn’t be able to ride out without him tagging along. She needed to accept he’d be part of her life until her father recovered. It didn’t mean she had to make it easy for him.

  “Hurry up then. I don’t have time to wait around for you.”

  Reining Moonshine around, she kicked her into an easy jog, not looking to see if Quinn followed. A minute later, she heard the sound of a horse coming up behind her.

  “Are you trying to lose me?”

  Emma glanced at Quinn sitting atop his beautiful stallion, Warrior. They were a magnificent combination. Both strong and haughty—a feast for the eyes. Warrior was known to be one of the fastest horses around, besting his competitors in every race she knew about.

  Accepting she and Moonshine could never outrun them, Emma shook her head. “Not at all.”

  They rode in silence, neither glancing at the other. Leading him on a trail he’d never ridden, they traveled over rolling hills and crossed two streams, stopping at the top of a rise. The herd grazed below. Several hundred head of cattle moved about the open pasture, their mawwwing sounds drifting up the hill to where they sat.

  “Where are your men?” Scanning the area, Quinn couldn’t see a single ranch hand.

  “Good question. Let’s find out.” Taking a direct path to the herd, she pulled up as they got closer. “This doesn’t make sense. I sent them out here right after breakfast.”

  “How many men?”

  “There are six working for us. We only have one herd, so all the men should be here.” An instant later, Emma heard the sound of raucous laughter. “Did you hear that?”

  Quinn’s gaze shifted toward a copse of trees a hundred yards away. “Aye. It came from over there.” He held up his hand to stop her when she started to ride out. “Wait. Let’s go in slow, see what the lads are up to.”

  A few minutes later, they stopped, finding the men sitting in a circle, passing around a bottle of whiskey while playing cards.

  “I’ll go in first.”

  “No. It’s my ranch.”

  Quinn knew how she must feel, but it didn’t change the facts. “It’s Big Jim’s ranch. He and your mother hired me as foreman, which means you do as I say.” He ignored the red tinge of anger creeping up her face. “You can follow, but I’ll do the talking. When I signal, you can ride forward. You won’t have six men working here when I’m through.”

  As much as it pained Emma to admit it, Quinn was right. No doubt her parents would agree with him. Being foreman trumped her position as their daughter—at least concerning ranch business. Biting her bottom lip, she nodded.

  Riding forward, he got within twenty feet, surprised no one had noticed him.

  “Appears you lads have a lively game going.”

  Cards dropped and the whiskey bottle disappeared as the men jumped to their feet.

  “You want to tell me what you’re doing?” Quinn looked at each face, surprised to find not one appeared to be over eighteen.

  “And who the hell are you?” A tall, lanky man stepped forward, his thick Irish accent indicating his heritage.

  “I’m Quinn MacLaren, the new foreman. The man who decides whether you’ll have work after today.”

  A series of quick explanations and half-hearted apologies followed. Quinn wasn’t impressed.

  “Whose whiskey?”

  “Mine.” The lanky ranch hand held out the bottle.

  “And the cards?”

  “Also mine.”

  “I’m guessing it was your idea to pull all the lads off their jobs to hide back in here to gamble. Am I right?”

  For the first time, remorse showed on the young man’s face. “It was.” His voice was rough, resigned, as if he suspected what Quinn would say before the words were out. He was wrong.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Finn O’Sullivan.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “County Cork, Ireland.”

  Quinn nodded, glancing at the others. “The rest of you, tell me your names, ages, and where you’re from.”

  Including Finn, four came from Cork. All made the long journey across the Atlantic together, traveling across the country until they’d found work at the Pearce ranch. One came from Louisiana to escape the war, and the last hailed from Texas. They ranged in age from sixteen to nineteen. Right now, all six looked as if they wanted to be anywhere except standing before him. Quinn motioned behind him.

  “Put the whiskey and cards in the saddlebag, O’Sullivan.”

  When Finn stepped away from Warrior, Quinn took one more look at the young men.

  “This is the way it will be, lads. If you want to stay on the Pearce ranch, you’ll give Big Jim a full day’s work for the wage he pays you. Cards are for after supper. No whiskey, except what you get in town on Saturday nights. If you can abide by these terms, you’re welcome to stay. If not, ride out now.” When no one moved, Quinn glanced behind him, seeing Emma a few feet away, irritated she’d ignored his order to stay back until his signal. “All right. I assume you all need work. Until you pull another eejit stunt like this or don’t play by the rules, you can stay.”

  A collective sigh rippled through the group, Finn seeming to be the most relieved.

  “Who of you has more than a year experience working on a cattle ranch?”

  Holler Gibson, the boy from Texas, stepped forward. “I grew up on a ranch. My folks raised cattle.”

  Quinn nodded, wanting to learn more about his experience. At least he had one solid ranch hand he could count on. “Appears most of you have a lot to learn. I’ll explain what you’ll be doing each morning. Mrs. Pearce will provide breakfast, food to pack if you’re out with the herd all day, and supper in the bunkhouse at night. Can you all handle a gun?”

  All six nodded. Quinn somehow doubted how accurate they might be, but it was a start. He looked at Emma.

  “Miss Pearce and I have been good friends a long time. She’ll be treated with respect. If I hear otherwise, you’ll not like the consequences. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

  Six heads bobbed up and down. He didn’t need to look at Emma to know she’d be
seething at his comment. Too bad. She’d have to accept his way of dealing with the men while protecting her.

  “Get your horses. Your work starts now.”

  Chapter Three

  Reining her mare to a stop, Emma slid to the ground. Her normally upbeat demeanor faded the longer she stayed, watching the men follow Quinn’s orders without hesitation. She’d left, giving the excuse she needed to get back to help with supper. Getting away from Quinn had been the real reason.

  It irritated her how easy it had been for him to step into the role of foreman and for the men to show their respect. She’d worked alongside them for months, taking the foreman role after her father was shot, and not once had she seen the quick response the men gave Quinn. They liked her, of that she had no doubt. Seeing her as an extension of her father, though? Not at all.

  Picking up the hoof Moonshine favored, she dislodged a small stone, then dropped the leg, stroking the mare’s neck. Emma took several deep breaths, working hard to push aside her frustration and the all-too-real temptation of being around Quinn. The crush she had as a girl had grown into something more, although she refused to call it love.

  Running a hand down Moonshine’s withers and back, she couldn’t remember a time when the mare hadn’t been in her life. Big Jim had given her to Emma on her seventh birthday, saying it was her job to care for the three-year-old filly. Twelve years later, they were still partners.

  At fifteen, Moonshine showed signs of slowing down. Emma knew it wouldn’t be long before she’d have to choose another horse to handle the hard riding required, letting the mare live out the last years of her life at a quieter pace.

  She had her eye on a year-old colt sired by Warrior, Quinn’s stallion. It had been her pleasure to be at Circle M the night the foal was born, holding her breath as Quinn worked with his cousins, Sean and Fletcher, to ease the mare’s stress. She’d never seen three men work so well together, as if they were of one mind.