He was suddenly aware of a pickup barreling down the driveway. At the same time, he heard the sound of a police siren coming from the direction of Covenant Falls.
The gate must have been electronic because it swung open as the pickup neared. A wiry man of somewhere near sixty stepped out, a shotgun in his hands. It was pointed at the ground, which was a hopeful sign.
“Just stay there, mister,” the newcomer said.
Jubal wasn’t about to refuse. He spread out his hands. “I’m not armed. I just stopped to see the horses.”
The man squinted his eyes. “Who are you?”
“Name’s Jubal Pierce. I’m staying in Covenant Falls.”
“You one of those veterans?”
“I guess I am,” Jubal said. “I was out running and saw the horses. They brought back some memories.”
“You know horses?” The shotgun was in a more relaxed position now.
“A little.”
“Ride much?” the rancher asked.
Jubal shrugged. “Not recently. Some as a really young kid, then briefly in Afghanistan.”
“Afghanistan, huh? I would sure like to hear about that. Sorry about the shotgun. We’ve been having a rustling problem around here. Both cattle and horses. They usually strike at night, bring a truck, cut the fence and load them up in a matter of minutes. They only take a few, don’t stay long enough to get caught. I have cameras along the fence line now and called the police when I saw someone loitering.”
A patrol car arrived just then, and Clint stepped out and approached them. “You just can’t seem to stay out of trouble, can you, Jubal?” he said with a grin.
“It’s okay, Clint,” the rancher said. “He just stopped to say howdy to my horses. Sorry about the false alarm.”
“Glad you did. You can never be too careful, and I’m determined to get those bastards.” He turned to Jubal. “Luke Daniels here raises some of the best quarter horses in Colorado. Luke, Jubal and I go way back. I was army. He’s navy but despite that faulty judgment on his part you won’t find a better man.” Clint studied him, his gaze on Jubal’s taped wrist and the bandage on his hand. “I thought you told me you weren’t hurt.”
“It’s nothing. A mild sprain.”
Clint looked at the rancher. “He won’t tell you but he rescued the new doc’s sister and dog yesterday. Pushed them out of the way of Mrs. Byars’s oncoming car. Took the hit himself.”
Jubal glared at him.
Clint ignored it and his eyes hardened as he turned to Luke. “Any more trouble out here?”
“Nope. But I’m ready if there is. Thanks for answering the call even though I’m outside the city limits.”
Clint shrugged. “I have an agreement with the county. We help each other. Don’t hesitate to call again if you see strangers prowling around.”
“I wasn’t prowling,” Jubal said, defendeding himself.
Clint raised an eyebrow, turned and left.
The rancher looked back to Jubal. “Jacko, the horse you were touching? He doesn’t let many people do that.” He hesitated, then asked, “Ever ride a quarter horse?”
“When I was a small kid. My dad taught me how to ride his personal horse, Dusty. Then my folks divorced and I moved to Baltimore when I was seven. My mother didn’t want me to have anything to do with horses after that.”
“What about Afghanistan?”
“They needed four of us to work with a tribe there to capture a Taliban leader. I sorta exaggerated my experience and had to learn fast when I got there. The horses were small and scrawny, but they could go forever without tiring.”
Luke shook his head. “From what I hear, if you can ride those horses, you can probably ride anything.”
Jubal shrugged.
“Want to ride Jacko?” Luke asked.
“Hell, yes,” Jubal replied, and Luke grinned.
The rancher opened the gate between them and climbed in the pickup. “Get in.”
It was a short ride to the barn. Fenced pastures were on both sides of the road, which led to a parking area and a riding ring that fronted a large barn. Beside it stood a modest ranch house.
Jubal followed Luke into the barn. Stalls lined both sides of the building and a large equipment room was in front. “Impressive,” Jubal observed.
“Twenty-two stalls. We have sixteen of our own horses, and we board four more,” Luke said with obvious pride. “We have an arena barn in back where we train them.”
“Must keep you busy.”
“Too busy. My kids were helping around here but they left this week for college. Now it’s mostly my wife and me, and a stable hand who cleans out the stalls and does whatever else needs to be done. We also have some high school kids who come and help exercise the horses, but they’ll be back in school next week and I’ll be short-handed. Don’t have time to do the training I need to do.” He stopped at a tack area with a number of saddles sitting on sawhorses. “Western saddle?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you saddle him with that wrist?”
“I can manage,” Jubal said, ignoring the fact that his wrist was hurting like hell. He used his right hand to throw the blanket on Jacko, then the saddle, while Luke tacked the pinto that had followed them to the barn. He realized he had a problem in tightening the cinch with his injured hand. “Guess I do need a little help.”
Luke nodded. He took the few steps to Jacko and tightened the cinch. “Here you go,” he said.
“Where did Jacko get his name?” Jubal asked.
“My son.”
“Is this his horse?”
“No. He’s for sale, but I have to find the right buyer. I don’t sell my horses to just anyone.” Luke swung up into his horse’s saddle.
Using both hands, Jubal did the same.
They walked their horses side by side. Jubal noticed the rancher was sizing him up much as the trainers had back in SEAL training.
Luke talked about ranching and how difficult it was these days. “We can’t hang on forever. Federal regulations are killing us, and it’s too dang hard to find responsible help. Both my kids love horses and the ranch, but Boone is going into business agriculture and my daughter has her heart set on journalism. Like I said, both left for college last week. Won’t be back until Thanksgiving.”
Luke guided the way around his property, including two pastures for horses and a third for the cattle. “We’ve had to sell most of our cattle when we lost grazing rights. Now, I specialize in breeding Black Angus cattle and training and selling quarter horses, mostly for performance competitions. I have a champion stallion and some fine mares.” He slowed his horse. “You have a damn good seat for someone who hasn’t ridden much.”
“My dad said I was born to the saddle, like him,” Jubal said.
“What did he do?”
“Rodeo. Bronc riding mostly and calf roping, and steer roping.”
“Hard business.”
“He died from it,” Jubal said. “Never did get that PRC championship buckle he wanted, but he made enough prize money to keep trying.”
Luke nodded in understanding. “Ready for a faster gait?”
Jubal nodded and tightened his knees. Jacko obliged with an easy lope and Jubal’s body quickly adjusted.
The breeze brushed Jubal’s cheeks, the sun was warm, and Jubal felt freer—and happier—than he had since that last mission. He felt, strangely enough, as if he was exactly where he belonged.
Is that why his father stayed with the rodeo circuit for so long, even at the risk of his marriage and the loss of his son? For the first time, he understood.
Luke slowed and led the way to a clump of trees. When they reached it, he dismounted. Jubal did the same and followed him to a stream. “This is the lifeblood of the ranch,” Luke said. �
��Without it we would be in trouble.”
They walked over to a little rise overlooking the stream. “My great-great-grandfather came here in 1865 after the war,” Luke added. “He fought in the Civil War for the north. Rebels came, too, but after some hostility, the Rebs and Yanks banded together against Indian raids and outlaws. Five generations of my family are buried here. I would hate to be the last one.”
Jubal couldn’t imagine having land that housed one family for a century and a half. Deep roots were something Jubal had always envied, always missed. It was one reason he’d joined the navy and become a SEAL. He’d wanted to belong to something that had meaning. When he’d left the navy, he’d felt anchorless.
As if he knew exactly what Jubal was thinking, Luke asked, “What about you? Where’s home to you?”
“Don’t really have one,” he said. “Coronado Island was my home base for years and that came closer than anything else.” He didn’t add that home had been a shared apartment between missions.
“Coronado Island?” Luke repeated. “You a navy SEAL? I know they train there.”
Jubal nodded reluctantly. “Retired a month ago.” He didn’t like talking about it, but Luke seemed like a straight shooter and he didn’t want to lie to him.
“I spent four years in the navy,” Luke said. “You might say I ran away from home before I realized everything I needed was here.”
“So you came back.”
“Not at first. My older brother was to inherit the ranch, and I wanted adventure. Found out I couldn’t stay away from horses and returned home. Then Bob passed away—cancer—without children, and here I am.” After a moment of companionable silence, he turned in the saddle to face Jubal. “Mind me asking what you’re going to do now?”
“I came here to visit Clint for a few days. We were friends in the service. Then I thought I would wander a bit.”
“No family?”
“No. My mother and I never got along, and I didn’t think much of my stepfather. I left for the navy two days after graduating from high school. After qualifying for the SEALs, I didn’t think marriage went with the job.”
“I was lucky,” Luke said. “I met my wife at a horse show where she was a champion barrel racer. She trains horses, too, does most of the teaching here. She has more patience than I do. We also offer trail rides in conjunction with Josh’s new inn. One of us has to go along with pleasure riders now that the kids are in college.”
“Sounds like a good life.”
“It is that, if I can keep it afloat.”
They were nearing the barn. “What would it take?” Jubal asked.
“Another championship. We have two students who are very close to achieving that on horses we bred and trained. A win would promote our teaching and training programs as well as our horses. We need more land to expand our cattle herd and more employees than I can afford. Why don’t you stay for lunch with us? Tracy’s probably going nuts dealing with paperwork.”
Jubal considered it. Gordon wasn’t supposed to return until tomorrow afternoon. He didn’t have much else going on until then.
After unsaddling the horses and cooling them off, they walked to the ranch house.
Tracy met them at the door. She was lean and tall, and as tanned from the sun as Luke was. She immediately made Jubal feel at home.
“Wondered what was keeping him so long,” she said with a quick smile. “I have some stew I can heat up.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jubal said. “I’ve been living on sandwiches.”
It was good. He ate every bite of his first bowl, then a second before consuming two slices of apple pie.
After lunch, the two men sat on the broad front porch.
Luke talked about his horses, then leaned forward in his chair as if he’d just made a decision.
“Look,” he said. “From what you say, you’re at loose ends now. You obviously like horses and have a way with them. I noticed it when you first stroked Jacko. He usually doesn’t allow that. It’s the reason he’s still with us. He’s not usually friendly to would-be buyers. Likes to nip them.”
He paused. “What if I offered you a job? We need someone to exercise the horses. Tracy and I will teach you what you need to know. Can’t pay much but you’d learn a hell of a lot about horses and riding.” He paused. “What do you think?”
“You barely know me,” Jubal said slowly as he absorbed the offer.
“I’ve done a lot of horse trading in my day. And I’m better than average at sizing up a person,” Luke said. “You listen and learn fast. And you can’t fake that natural connection with the horses.”
“I wasn’t planning to stay more than a few days or so,” Jubal said slowly, although something like excitement built internally. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed anything as much as that day’s ride.
“No commitment needed,” Luke said. “I would enjoy having you around and appreciate any help you can give us.”
Jubal made an instant decision. “Done, then. When do I start?”
“When can you start?”
“In the morning,” Jubal replied with an eagerness that startled even him. “Although I do have an appointment at two.”
“Whatever time you can give me will be welcome. A warning, though. Horseback riding abuses a whole different set of muscles than running. You might be sore for a few days.”
“I expect I will,” Jubal said, but he inwardly smiled. Comparatively speaking, a few aches were nothing.
“And you’ll need something heavier than sweat pants. Jeans are okay, but you really need heavier riding pants.”
Jubal left soon after and started running back to the cabin. For the first time since his escape he truly looked forward to something.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I DON’T WANT you to go in with me,” Gordon said as Lisa and her brother reached the police station the morning after the encounter with the car.
“I won’t stay,” Lisa said. “I just want to meet him. He’s the police chief and we’ll be in contact with each other.” The morning had been a nightmare with Gordon resisting going to the police station in the first place, let alone Lisa going with him.
This time, though, she wasn’t giving in. She wanted to take measure of the man who could have an impact on her brother and his future.
“You didn’t say anything about that earlier,” Gordon said.
She didn’t answer. She hadn’t said anything because she hadn’t wanted to get in an argument with him, especially not after his surprising apology last night.
They reached the station that occupied the left side of city hall. It was five minutes to nine o’ clock. They’d walked, Gordon dragging his feet and complaining every step. So much for the brief cessation of hostilities.
An older woman sat at a desk in front of a computer. She looked up when they entered. “Hi, I’m Patti Newcomb. Dispatcher, secretary and all-around gofer,” she said good-naturedly. “We’re all glad to see you. We’ve been worried about Doc Bradley a long time.”
“Thank you,” Lisa said. “This is my brother, Gordon. He has an appointment.”
Patti nodded. “The chief is expecting you.” She motioned to a glassed-in office, and Lisa saw a man in his late thirties sitting at a large desk. “You can go on in. We don’t stand on ceremony here.”
“Thanks,” Lisa said while Gordon stayed silent. She led the way to the office door, hesitated, then saw the man motion for them to come inside. He stood as they entered. “I’m Clint Morgan,” he said. “You must be Gordon.” He held out his hand to shake Gordon’s.
Gordon looked surprised, then took it. The police chief did the same to Lisa. “Dr. Redding, we’re happy you’re here.”
His handshake was firm, his dark eyes warm. She liked him immediately and she particularl
y appreciated the way he handled the greeting. Gordon had been acknowledged as a welcome visitor rather than a felon.
She couldn’t help but notice Chief Morgan had the same alert presence as Josh Manning and Jubal Pierce, but there was something easier about him, more open. She glanced around and noticed a model helicopter along with two photos on a cabinet. She recognized Stephanie in one. The other depicted a flight crew standing in front of a large helicopter. Clint Morgan stood in the middle.
“Were you a chopper pilot?” Gordon blurted after doing a similar survey of the office.
“I was,” the police chief said.
“That’s awesome,” Gordon exclaimed.
“Sometimes,” Chief Morgan corrected. “Sometimes not so much.”
Lisa noticed Gordon had lost his reluctance, had even seemed to forget she was there. It was probably a good time to leave.
“I have to get to the clinic,” she said. “Pleasure to meet you, Chief Morgan.”
“It’s Clint. Everyone calls me that, and I imagine we’ll be working together at times. I’m also with the volunteer fire department.”
“I hope not too often on a business level, then,” she replied.
“Me, too, but I’m sure we’ll see each other often for other reasons, as well. Such is Covenant Falls.”
“I’m quickly learning that,” she said. She left, satisfied to be leaving Gordon in his hands. He appeared to be someone Gordon would respect and listen to. She worried, though, about the helicopter aspect and the way Gordon’s eyes lit when he saw the model. She was belatedly grateful that he did not hang around Jubal Pierce’s cabin last night.
She crossed the street to the clinic. Janie was already there. “Good morning, Doctor,” she greeted her.
“Please call me Lisa. I looked at the appointment book yesterday and noticed we have a number of immunizations today.”
“They will start coming in half an hour. I usually handle them myself,” Janie said, “but I got the definite impression that people want to meet you.”
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