Road To Forgiveness

by Cox, Carol

  He dragged the free end of the rope over to him and threaded it through the loop, then tossed the end back to Buster, the other cowhand working with them.With two horses pulling and Jacob pushing, they managed to haul the cow back to solid ground.

  Jacob staggered out of the mess and pulled both ropes off while she lay on the ground, panting. Her baby trotted over to her and nosed her face. The tired cow lifted her head and nuzzled back.

  “Think she’s going to be okay?” Jacob asked.

  “She should be,” Eb replied. “We’ll give her a few minutes to catch her second wind, then we’ll haze her over to another water hole so she won’t get stuck here again.”

  Buster cackled. “Have you taken a look at yourself? I’ve seen hogs that looked cleaner than you.”

  Jacob looked down at his clothes. His denim pants were totally covered with the slimy goo; his shirt hadn’t fared any better. He pulled off his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. From the feel of it, there wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t coated with mud.

  “Look on the bright side,” Buster chortled. “With all that mud on you, you won’t have to worry about the flies.”

  Jacob chuckled and scooped a handful of sludge off his rope. “The things we go through for these knot-headed bovines.”

  Eb coiled his own muddy rope and hung it over his saddle horn. “Don’t let it get to you. You did a fine job out there. I wish Dan had been here to see it. He did a smart thing when he hired you on.”

  Jacob trudged over to Cap, feeling some of his chagrin roll away. He started to put his foot in the stirrup, then realized he was going to get his saddle caked with mud. But his only option would be to walk. He swung his sore body into the saddle. At least it wasn’t as bad as the caliche clay they had around Tucson. This stuff just might powder off when it dried instead of turning to cement.

  Eb rode up beside him. “Roundup starts next week. It’ll give you a chance to meet some more of the folks around here.” He winked. “Dan better hope the other ranchers don’t try to lure you away when they see how good you are.”

  Jacob ducked his head to hide his pleasure. “I couldn’t do any of this if it hadn’t been for an old rancher in Tucson who took me under his wing.” His mind trailed back to Gus’s spread. He knew the place so well, he could picture every detail. Right about now the cactus would be blooming and the days would be warm and pleasant.

  A spring breeze kissed his mud-smeared cheek. Jacob drew in a breath of pine-scented air. But down in Tucson the heat would just be beginning to build up. He remembered all too many summer days when a man couldn’t go outside without feeling like the sun was going to cook his brains.

  He grinned and felt the drying mud on his face crack. Oh, yes. He’d made the right choice when he decided to take Dan up on his offer.

  Four

  Hallie leaned against the porch rail and watched her father ride up. Her hands gripped the rigid wood. “Please let him agree to this,” she whispered.

  “I hope you’re packed and ready to go.” He swung his leg over the cantle and dismounted.

  “Roundup starts tomorrow.”

  Hallie squeezed the rail until the edges bit into her palms. “I’m not going this year.” Please don’t ask me to explain why. She didn’t know how to make him understand that the memory of Pete’s constant pestering the year before had soured her on ever going again, as long as Pete was around.

  Her father’s look of astonishment would have seemed humorous at a less serious moment. “What do you mean, you’re not going? Clive Jensen packed up and moved his family back to Kansas, remember? You can’t keep his wife company again this year. Where do you think you’re going to stay?”

  “I’m staying right here.” She forged ahead to cut off his protest. “I’m twenty years old, Pa. I can manage on my own.”

  “This is foolishness, Hallie. You can ride as well as any hand. And if you don’t want to work on horseback, you can help with the food. Your cooking beats anything we’re likely to get out there. What would you do around here by yourself for a week?”

  Hallie strived to keep her tone light. “For one thing, I can get my spring cleaning done. It’ll be lots easier to scrub cupboards and air bedding if I don’t have to stop to fix meals. And I can clean out the bunkhouse without coming across a pair of Homer’s long johns draped across the door and embarrassing the poor man half to death.”

  Her father’s laughter gave her hope. “It wasn’t so much knowing you’d seen them as finding them mended, washed, and folded on top of his bunk.” He patted her hand. “All right, Hallie. You’re a woman grown. I guess you can handle yourself like one. Just remember, if you run into any trouble, the shotgun’s in the corner.”

  “I’ll remember.” But with Pete gone along with the rest of the hands, she probably wouldn’t need it for protection.

  ❧

  A puff of acrid smoke rose from the T Bar branding iron as it burned into the calf’s flank.

  “Okay, let ’im up.” Dan stepped back from the bawling calf. The two other cowboys from his fire crew released the steer calf and watched it scramble up to rejoin its frantic mother.

  Jacob wiped his brow with his shirtsleeve and watched Eb drive the cow and calf over to the herd of branded animals. Looking around at the numerous teams at work, he felt thrilled at the efficiency of their labor. He shook out his loop and headed back into the gather for another unbranded calf.

  He saw Buster dab a loop over the head of a brindle calf with white legs and face, then drag it to the closest fire.

  “This one’s a T Bar,” Buster called. The ground man reached over to pull that iron from the fire and applied it quickly, while the other team members clipped the ear and applied salve to the wounds.

  Jacob frowned. He could have sworn that little heifer belonged to a Seven X cow. He continued working, but vowed to stay aware of Buster’s activity.

  Within minutes, Buster pulled a small black calf with a white spot over its left eye out of the herd. “Here’s another T Bar.”

  “Are you sure?” Jacob called. “I think that calf belongs to a Lazy EW cow.”

  Buster shook his head. “I’m sure. This is one of Dan’s, no question about it.”

  “What’s the problem?” asked the cowboy at the fire. “Do we know whose calf this is or not?”

  Jacob shrugged. “I’m not trying to cause trouble, but I’m positive that calf was mothered up to a black Lazy EW cow. Buster, why don’t you turn it loose and see where it goes?”

  With an angry shake of his rope, Buster released the calf. It trotted back into the herd and immediately paired up with a black cow wearing the Lazy EW brand.

  “Looks like you were right, Garrett.” Buster stared at the calf, his mouth a grim slash. He nodded an apology to Edgar Wilson. “My mistake. I’ll be more careful.”

  Jacob waited until the next time he and Buster were changing horses to talk to him alone. “How many calves are wearing the T Bar brand that don’t have a right to?”

  Buster glared. “What’s that supposed to mean? In a roundup, those things happen all the time. It was just an honest mistake.”

  “Was it?”

  The corner of Buster’s mouth twitched. “What are you getting so worked up about? So Dan’s got a few extra head. I thought he was your friend.”

  “He is, and I wouldn’t count myself any kind of friend if I let his reputation get tarnished.”

  Buster gave a snide laugh. “You don’t know how many T Bar calves are going to wind up wearing somebody else’s brand by the time this week is over. If we don’t get some back, we end up getting cheated. And if the scales tip in our direction, so much the better. Nobody gets hurt.”

  “Everybody gets hurt,” Jacob shot back. He felt his features harden. “It isn’t honest, and that’s all there is to it. I wouldn’t stand for someone taking Dan’s calves ‘by mistake’ like that. Neither would you. And I won’t stand for the T Bar growing its herd by dishonest means.”<
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  Buster glared at him in disgust. “You just keep living in your dream world. See how fast you get ahead.” He mounted his horse and spurred back toward the herd.

  Jacob slapped his gloves against his chaps. If Buster had anything to say about it, his stay at the T Bar wouldn’t last long. It didn’t matter, he told himself. Right was right, and he couldn’t go along with anything less. He picked up his reins and turned to go back to roping.

  “Hold it a minute, son.”

  Jacob pivoted on his heel. A lean man with a complexion like old leather stepped out from behind a tree holding the picket rope.

  The older man studied Jacob with keen blue eyes. “I’m Fred Davenport, owner of the Diamond D. I heard what you said to Buster.” The weather-beaten rancher stuck out a calloused hand. “I can’t say I’ve seen that kind of integrity before, but I like your style, Garrett. We need more of your kind around these parts.”

  Jacob shrugged. “I just can’t see fudging on things. It isn’t the way I was raised. My parents tried to bring me up according to the Bible, and it seems to me God takes a mighty dim view of appropriating someone else’s property.”

  Fred Davenport nodded appreciatively. “Sounds like you come from good stock, son. Dan better watch out.”

  Jacob shot him a questioning glance.

  The rancher’s leathery cheeks creased when he grinned. “If he isn’t careful, half the ranchers in this area are going to be trying to steal his new hand.” He laughed at Jacob’s look of surprise, then turned to rejoin the men around the branding fire.

  ❧

  “Garrett?”

  Jacob looked up from braiding the hondo on a new lariat to see three men standing in the open barn door.

  “I’m Lucas Rawlins, head of the Cattlemen’s Association. This is Morris Atwater.” He gestured to the man next to him. “I believe you already know Fred Davenport.”

  Jacob nodded a greeting and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Fred here wasn’t the only one impressed by your honesty at the roundup,” Rawlins told him. “I’d say word of what you did has pretty much spread through the area.” He cleared his throat. “On behalf of the Yavapai Cattlemen’s Association, I’d like to offer you the job of range detective.”

  Jacob stared at each of the men in turn.

  “You’d be responsible for checking brands on cattle being bought and sold and investigating claims of rustling,” Fred Davenport explained. “Since you’ll be doing a lot of riding, you need to keep your eyes open for outbreaks of noxious weeds or anything else that might harm the stock. But the most important thing is to stop this thieving that’s been going on. We need someone we can trust, and we think you’re just the man for the job. What do you say?”

  Jacob turned the idea over in his mind. With that kind of work, he’d be on the trail most of the time. He couldn’t think of a better way to get to know every corner of this new area he had claimed for his own. He would still be dealing with livestock. And he’d have the satisfaction of knowing he would be contributing to the growth of the territory.

  It sounded like the opportunity of a lifetime, a job tailor-made for him.

  But he couldn’t accept. The realization hit him with a sickening thud.

  “I appreciate your asking me,” he began. “But I just hired on with Dan. I can’t see leaving him shorthanded.” He pulled his hat off and ran his hand over his hair, then settled the Stetson back on his head. “Much as I hate to, I’m going to have to turn the job down.”

  Rawlins looked at his companions, then back at Jacob. “We were afraid you might feel that way. I guess that’s what we could expect from a man of integrity. Thanks for giving us a listen.”

  Jacob stood in the barn doorway and watched them ride away. He flexed the rope between his hands. “I think I’d like extra credit for turning that job down, Lord. That was one hard choice to make.”

  Dan came trotting up on a long-legged buckskin. He reached over and patted the snorting horse’s neck. “A few more miles on this young fellow, and he’ll be ready for everyday use.” He nodded toward the south. “Was that Rawlins I saw riding off? What did he want?”

  Jacob forced a crooked grin. Not for the world would he let his friend see how deep his disappointment ran. “Oh, they had some crazy notion about wanting me to be their range detective.”

  Dan’s face lit up. “It’s nice to know they have some sense. When do you start?”

  “You don’t need to worry about that. I told them no.”

  “You turned them down? Sounds like you’re the one who’s crazy.”

  “Come on, Dan. You know I’m not going to come up here, then go haring off and leave you high and dry.”

  “Listen. What we need more than anything else in this county is someone we can depend on. All joking aside, Rawlins is no fool; neither is Atwater or Fred Davenport. They know a good thing when they see it, and that means you, Jacob. You’ve got the kind of honesty that will keep things straight around here. The last range detective around here was more interested in lining his own pockets than cracking down on shady branding practices. I know you won’t do that, and so do those men. In the long run, having you in that position will benefit me as much as anyone else in the county, even though you won’t be working directly for me. It’s for the good of everyone, you included.”

  Jacob couldn’t stop a hopeful smile from spreading across his face. “You mean that?”

  Dan laughed at the eagerness in his voice. “Absolutely. Now, you’d better throw a saddle on Cap and catch up to them. You need to tell those men you’ve changed your mind.”

  Five

  Cap’s hooves clattered over the rocky trail from the Verde Valley. Jacob pulled up to let the steel-dust catch his breath when they topped out on the ridgeline overlooking the broad expanse of grassland. Over the last week, he had been to half a dozen ranches, getting to know the local stockmen. More than one rancher brought up his concern about missing stock. His last stop had been Stuart Brannon’s ranch.

  Jacob thought back over his visit with the famed lawman turned rancher and chuckled when he remembered Brannon’s calm reply that he hadn’t lost any cattle and didn’t expect to. Jacob had a feeling if anyone were foolish enough to mess with Brannon’s stock, they’d be the ones hollering for help.

  He slackened the reins and let Cap grab a few mouthfuls of grass while he got his bearings. If he remembered Dan’s directions correctly, he ought to be at the east edge of Lonesome Valley. He would cut over to the Broken Box and make that his last stop before heading up the valley to Coyote Springs and the T Bar. Dan had been good enough to offer his guest room for Jacob’s use as long as he needed it. Jacob couldn’t complain about the central location—or continued access to Amy’s cooking.

  He held Cap down to a walk so he could take a good look around as he neared Broken Box headquarters. No one appeared in the yard when he approached.

  He leaned on his saddle horn. “Hello, the house! Anybody home?”

  A stocky, barrel-chested man appeared in the barn doorway. “Who wants to know?”

  “It’s Jacob Garrett. We met during roundup.” Jacob swung out of the saddle and went to shake hands with Burke Evans.

  Burke’s quick grip went along with his no-nonsense bearing. “I remember. You’re that young pup from O’Roarke’s spread who got Fred Davenport so stirred up when you lit into Buster. I hear he talked Rawlins into hiring you to find our missing stock.” Burke spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well, you’ve got plenty of them to look for. They’ve been disappearing by twos and threes for several months now. What do you think you’re going to be able to do about it?”

  “I’ve been out getting acquainted with the ranchers and the territory—”

  “I don’t know why they called in an outsider in the first place. What earthly good do they think you’ll do?”

  Jacob bit back a hot retort. “Why don’t you give me a chance to s
how you what I can do before you pass judgment?” From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of movement. A young girl darted from the edge of the barn toward the house, obviously trying not to be seen.

  “Hallie! Come over here.” Burke’s voice sounded like gravel pouring over a sheet of tin.

  The girl stopped abruptly and stood poised in the manner of a deer ready to take flight. Seeming to realize she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t heard, she crossed the yard and stopped ten feet away with her gaze focused on the ground. On closer inspection, Jacob realized she wasn’t a girl after all but a young woman, probably only a few years his junior.

  “This is—what’d you say your name was again?”

  It took a moment before Jacob realized Burke was talking to him. “Garrett,” he replied without shifting his gaze. “Jacob Garrett.”

  “That’s right, Garrett. My daughter, Hallie.”

  Jacob couldn’t make out the words of her murmured greeting.

  “I’m pleased to meet you.” Well trained by his mother, he had said those words a hundred times before, but never had he meant them as much as at this moment. What was it about this girl—this woman—that made his heart race and his palms grow moist?

  Hallie lifted her gaze to meet his. Her shy demeanor reminded Jacob of a watchful fawn. Her dark hair, held back at the sides by two combs, tumbled down her back in loose waves. A tinge of pink crept into her cheeks under Jacob’s intense scrutiny. She looked down again and began tracing patterns in the dust with the toe of her moccasin. Without raising her head, she said, “Please excuse me. I need to go start supper.”

  Jacob watched her walk swiftly toward the house and kept on staring after the door closed behind her.

  “So what are you going to do about it?” Burke’s rough voice called him back to attention.