Jared (Bachelors And Babies Book 7)

by Charlene Raddon

  After refilling his glass, this time with two fingers worth, he returned to his desk and sat down, his feet propped on the gleaming rosewood top. "What did you learn from the ticket master at the depot?"

  "Someone broke into the ticket office and ravaged the place. They ripped up ledgers and logbooks, broke lamps and made a general mess of the place. They're still cleaning up and haven't yet found the ledger listing tickets sold in the last three days."

  "Incompetent slugs," Skelly muttered. "Send a message to McCurdle that I need to talk to him."

  "Very well, sir."

  Rupert nearly managed to escape before Skelly stopped him. "How is Annie, Rupert?"

  "Very well, sir. Nurse told me she spent an hour in her bubble bath, playing with her dolls."

  Skelly strode toward him, making the coward back out of the way. "Good. I'm going up for my afternoon visit."

  He marched to the stairs, pausing halfway up to force the cat to squeeze between two balusters and jump. On the second floor, he unlocked a door, then entered. A pretty woman in her twenties sat on the floor rearranging furniture in a doll house. "Hello, my sweet. Feel like spending some time with me?"

  "Always, Skelly," she answered. "But…have you seen my kitty? I want my kitty."

  The following day, Jared sat atop the corral fence next to Barclay watching Chase break a mustang. The ranch hands had come upon a small herd and managed to drive five of them right into the enclosure. Two stallions and three mares. One of the mares appeared to be pregnant.

  "That's a fine catch the men made," Jared commented. "I like that little yearling paint. Seems pretty calm for being in a corral the first time. Might be a good one to teach Gage and Connor to ride on in a couple years."

  "Could be." Barclay shaved another sliver off the stick he was carving with his knife. He liked creating animals out of wood. Good at it too.

  For half the morning, Chase had been following the bronc around the pen, twirling a rope to familiarize the animal to it, and talking in a soothing tone. He had a gift for gentling mustangs and took his time at it. Now, he swung the lasso, landing it neatly around the horse's neck. A shudder rippled through the stallion's body and he whinnied before taking off at a run and trying to shake loose the rope.

  Chase ran alongside, still crooning and trying to keep the rope lax to avoid letting the horse feel trapped. His whole point was to teach the mustang he was safe. No one would hurt him.

  At last, the stallion stopped running and stood watching Chase with big wary eyes.

  Jared swiveled on the post where he sat and looked toward the ranch gate out of sight beyond the house. "I hear a horse coming."

  "Probably a hand returning from a fence run or something." Barclay followed his brother's gaze. Soon a horse and rider appeared.

  "Marshal Vining." Barclay put away his knife and got down.

  "Wonder what he's doing here." Jared joined him. "Hope it isn't what I fear it might be." He dreaded the day word came that Skelly Bernard had arrived in town. Or one of his men, which could be almost as bad.

  "Me too." Barclay ambled forward, hand out held to greet the lawman. "'Lo, Clyde. What brings you here?"

  "Well…" Vining swung down off his dappled mare and knocked dust off his hat on his legs. "Could be bad news. Not sure yet."

  "Oh? Why's that?" Jared prodded. Vining liked to take his time giving out information. He called it palavering. Jared called it wasting time. But time had taught them that pushing Vining did no good. The man would simply take longer to make his point.

  "I told you that stranger left town," Vining said. "I was wrong. Found him sitting outside the Red Dog Saloon when I headed over to get breakfast. We ate together. Seems a nice enough feller. No fancy hardware on him, only a simple Colt .45. Don't reckon he's any sort of gun-hand. Name's Blackie Slough. You want to come and palaver with him, I'll arrange it."

  "Did he say what he's doing here?" Jared asked.

  "Looking for good cattle country," Vining said, digging a half-chewed toothpick out of his pocket. "Came up from Cheyenne vicinity."

  A yell went up from the corral and dust billowed into the air as Chase hit the ground, thrown by the mustang. Barclay and Vining turned their attention that direction.

  Jared stared down at his boots a few moments, growing antsy. His big brother liked to cogitate on matters for a while, and then discuss it, a bit like Vining. Tapping his toes on the hard ground, Jared whistled two bars of Yankee Doodle and figured he'd waited long enough. He poked the marshal in the shoulder. "You ask this Blackie who he worked for?"

  "Not yet." Vining turned to him."Reckon I'll let you do that. Don't want to spook him into any hasty moves." Vining gnawed on his toothpick. "Got little Jimmy watching him. He'll let me know if the man pays any visits to the Wells-Fargo telegraph office."

  "All right. How about Jared and I ride in later today to get a look at this yahoo?" Barclay asked.

  "Sounds fine with me. You know how to find me."

  "We do at that." Jared grinned. The Red Dog Saloon was Vining's unofficial office.

  "By the way, Jared." Vining dug into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. "Melanie asked me to give you this. I ran into her as I left town."

  Jared took it but didn't open it. He'd save it until he had some time alone. Barclay gave him a questioning look but said nothing.

  No sooner had the marshal ridden away when a movement near the house caught Jared's eye—Healy. Their gazes locked. Healy turned and rushed away.

  "Shoot. Healy must have heard some of our conversation. I'd better go talk to her. She'll be scared. Don't want her trying to take off again."

  The men at the corral began cheering and whooping. Chase must have mounted the mustang.

  "Do that," Barclay said, already moving."I'm going to watch Chase finish breaking those mustangs."

  Jared nodded and took off after Healy. Halfway there, curiosity got the best of him and he opened the note from Melanie. Jared. I wanted you to know Rory has been quite diligent in courting me. He seems changed. I'm confused. It would help if I could talk to you.

  Crumpling the paper in his fist, Jared gave a wry smile. She'd hoped to make him jealous. He paused to examine his feelings, a mixture of concern, disappointment and relief. The idea of Melanie with Rory worried him. He'd rather see her with a man who deserved her and would be more likely to make her happy. The thought that he might be losing Melanie hurt, but not as much as he'd have expected. Instead, the news seemed to lift a weight off his shoulders.

  When he entered the kitchen, Oysters glanced up from his fry pan. "Did Healy come through here a minute ago?" Jared asked.

  "Nope." The aging cook replied.

  Jared found Cynara in the babies' room. She hadn't seen Healy either. He peeked into Barclay's office, even though he knew his brother had stayed at the corral. Her bedroom was empty. Frustrated, Jared returned downstairs. Where could she be? Hiding in the outhouse again? Just in case, he went outside and whistled near the privy to let her know of his presence. "Healy? You in there?"

  He figured she'd answer so he didn't bother to peek inside. Not knowing where else to look, he went to his workroom. The wheels he'd ordered for the baby scooter had arrived this morning, but he hadn't had a chance to attach them yet. Now appeared to be as good a time as any.

  The door stood open. Odd.

  Quietly, he went to the entrance and peered inside. Healy sat on a stool with her finger stuck in the bolt hole of a wheel, spinning it round and round.

  "Took you long enough," she said. "I became bored."

  "So I see." He took the wheel from her and placed it with the others on the table. The scooter waited there also. He fitted a wheel in place, picked up a screwdriver and bolt and a few moments later, he reached for the second wheel.

  "Aren't you going to tell me?"

  "What for? You already heard everything the marshal told us." He gave the new wheel a test spin.

  Healy stopped it with her hand. "Not everythin
g. What's the man's name?"

  "Blackie Slough. Sound familiar?"

  "No." She handed him the next piece for the scooter. "I'd hoped Skelly would send Chips. He likes me. I might have been able to talk him into helping me."

  "Chips? Strange name."

  "He used to run a gambling table in a casino in Denver. When his mother died, he came back to St. Louis to take care of her funeral and Skelly hired him. Never understood why Chips took the job. He's not fond of violence."

  "Well, you'll have to hope he's the next man your Skelly sends."

  Her eyes narrowed. "He's not my Skelly."

  "Sorry." He put down the screwdriver and faced her. Taking her chin in hand, he lifted it, so she had to meet his gaze. "Does this man being here make you more frightened?"

  She shrugged. "I suppose so. Wouldn't it scare you?"

  "Hell, I am scared—of not being able to do this anymore." He bent and took her lips with his. A quick kiss compared to what he wanted.

  The corners of her mouth kicked up when he drew back. "You're funny," she said.

  "How's that?" he asked.

  "You act like you're really fond of me, but we hardly know each other." She reached up and flicked a piece of dirt from his shirt. He studied her eyes to detect her thoughts.

  "I think I know about all I need to know about you." He went back to work on the scooter. "Best way to know a person is to observe how they react to situations. I know what you're like when you're scared, when you're angry, when you're all gooey over a baby."

  She gave him a light smack. "Be serious, Jared."

  "I am. Not only have I seen you in the various temperaments people get into, I know what color your eyes will be for each one. And you like my kisses. What else do I need to know?" He bussed her again, this time on her nose.

  She flushed and tried to hide it by averting her face. He twirled her back and held her against him, simply looking into her blue-violet irises. "Now you're embarrassed. I love it when I can make those eyes change. It's like reading a book. Actually, more like reading life. That's part of what I see when I gaze into your depths—life, promise, hope, survival. You're a survivor, Healy Kimbrough."

  Her eyes crinkled at the corners. "How do you figure that?"

  "You faced a bad situation in St. Louis. Instead of throwing your hands in the air, crying, 'What do I do? What do I do?' you acted and saved yourself. That's the sign of a strong woman."

  "Is that so?" She toyed with the button on his coat. She cocked her head as if being smug. Her pink cheeks exposed her embarrassment. "When I look into your eyes, I see hunger. Must be almost noon."

  His brows lifted, and his eyes twinkled. "That's not what I'm hungry for."

  A voice outside cleared noisily. "Whatever you're wanting," Barclay said, sticking his head inside."I suggest you decide if you're going into town with me. I'm leaving in five minutes."

  Healy jumped and tried to break free of Jared. Her face paled, then flushed. He held on for several seconds before releasing her trying to let her know she had no need to be ashamed. Now would be a good time to show her Melanie's note, but Barclay's announcement changed that. He didn't want to miss meeting Skelly's man. "Your timing's rotten as usual, brother, but reckon I'll join you."

  Barclay's chuckle faded as he moved away.

  "Are you going to talk to the man Marshal Vining saw in town?" Healy asked.

  "Don't know about talking." He released her."But we'll definitely be observing."

  Barclay's harness jangled as he prepared to saddle his horse.

  Jared nudged Healy out of the room and locked the door. "You'd best get in the house. Please don't wander off anywhere."

  "I won't."

  He stood and watched to make sure she went inside before joining his brother.

  "Do you think that's him?" Jared asked as a stranger meandered across Main Street in front of them, aiming for the saloon. He didn't have the appearance of the usual hard case who hired out his gun, but Jared would reserve forming opinions until he met the man.

  "Reckon so. Never seen him before." Barclay reined in at the saloon, Jared alongside. Both dismounted and stepped onto the boardwalk, their boots clunking on the wood.

  "Should we let Vining know we're in town?" Jared sidled up to the window and glanced inside. "Mostly empty in there."

  "Good. Don't see any need to involve Clyde. He knew we'd be coming."

  Together, they shoved open the batwing doors and entered. A thick blanket of smoke hung beneath the ceiling. Quiet prevailed. The barkeep, Legs, nodded as he dried glasses with a towel. Barclay returned the greeting.

  "How you boys, today?" Legs stood behind the bar. Five other men, including the one they'd come to see, slouched against the counter sipping drinks, some talking, others brooding, if their stony expressions were anything to go by.

  "Give us a whiskey," Barclay said and proceeded to roll a smoke.

  Jared pulled out his own makin's.

  "Here, take this one." Barclay held out his first effort. When his brother took it, he started a second smoke for himself. "We're doing good, Legs. Can't complain. How about you?"

  "Eh. Wife's been sick, and I think little Robby's coming down with it. Seems every time you turn around there's a new illness making the rounds."Standing only four-feet-high, Legs had a platform built behind the bar to give him a taller appearance. He got down now and went to fetch a new bottle.

  The stranger halfway down the bar broke into laughter.

  Jared cast him a black look.

  Legs popped back up again, upper lip curled as he eyed the laughing man.

  Appearing chagrined, the rude customer sauntered over. "Sorry, barkeep. I'm not making fun. Just caught me off-guard when you suddenly dropped down behind there. Name's Blackie. Glad to meet you." He held out a hand.

  Legs stared at the palm as if to determine if it were clean, then shrugged and shook. "I'm used to it. Folks like to call me a midget, but I'm not. Just short is all. My whole family's the same, except for my brother Shorty. He grew to six foot."

  "Interesting. I'm the only tall one in my family too." Blackie nodded to Barclay and Jared. "Howdy."

  Jared held out a hand. "Blackie, is it? I'm Jared Givens. This is my brother, Barclay. You're new in town. Here on business?"

  Blackie rested an elbow on the bar and lifted one boot to the foot rail, at the same time giving the brothers the onceover. "Here to see if I want to do business in the area. You ranchers?"

  "That’s right," Jared said. "That what you're interested in?"

  "Actually, yes. That's not why I'm in Cutthroat, though. I'm looking for a woman. I think you know her. Ruth Kimbrough?"

  Jared shook his head and glanced at Barclay who did the same. "Can't say I know any Ruth. Why you searching for her?"

  "Favor for a man I do business with. I've asked around and no one's heard of her, but my friend gave me your name as someone who might know her."

  Jared set his glass down and took a step back. Blackie came off friendly enough, but just in case, Jared wanted room to draw his gun. "This fellow happen to be named Skelly, by any chance?"

  "Afraid so." Blackie took a drink from his glass. "He's a mite angry with Ruth. She run out on him. If I was her, I'd get lost and stay lost."

  "Why do you say that?" Barclay asked.

  Jared narrowed his gaze on Skelly's hired man. He sure didn't act eager to take Healy back to his boss. What scheme did he have in his head?

  Blackie signaled Legs to give them another round. "Because Skelly can get downright nasty when he's upset, and I wouldn't want to be in her shoes when he catches up with her."

  "Why are you telling us this?" Jared asked, more than curious now. "We seem to be on opposite sides of this matter."

  "Not exactly. I owed the man a favor, but that doesn't mean I figure he's right in what he's doing," Blackie said. "Skelly tends to get a bit intense when he wants something. Takes being turned down as a personal insult. I don't get it or like it."
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  Barclay stubbed out his cigarette and set his empty glass on the bar. "Well, if we meet this Ruth, we'll tell her what you said."

  Jared mimicked his brother and tipped his hat to Blackie, then Legs. He took the first couple of steps toward the door backwards, then turned and followed Barclay outside to the horses. They mounted, saying nothing, and rode toward home. Near the end of town, Jared saw Melanie walking with Rory Calhoun.

  As they left the town proper behind, Jared asked, "So what do you make of that Blackie fellow? I can't figure his angle in all this."

  "Probably no more than what he said. He's doing a favor even though he doesn't like it."

  "Makes me uneasy, knowing he's around and not having a clue what to expect from him." Jared looked over his shoulder to check if they were being followed.

  "I'd feel better if Skelly would show up. I know how to deal with scum like him." Barclay urged his horse, Coyote, to a trot."I want to have the boys go scouting for us."

  "Scouting for what?" Jared sped up as well.

  "To make sure there aren't more of Skelly's men hiding in the woods near the house. Or Skelly himself. You know how thick those trees are. A dozen could camp in there and we'd never know it."

  "Might see their smoke if we looked hard enough."

  "You think they can't know how to build a smokeless fire, same as you?" Barclay scoffed.

  "No. You're right. I'll tell Slim to take a few men for a ride when we get home."

  The minute Jared entered the house, Healy ran to him. Barclay disappeared into his office.

  "Jared, thank Heaven you're back safely." Healy took hold of his arm as if to make sure he didn't leave. "I worried about you. What did you learn about that man, Blackie?"

  Jared put an arm around her and guided her to the couch, pleased that she'd worried about him. "Sit down."

  A frown creased her forehead as she lowered herself onto a chair.

  "Barclay and I talked with the man." Jared's voice held surprise and something she thought sounded like respect."He's an interesting fellow."

  "Is he working for Skelly?" she asked.