The Deardons Complete Mini-Series

by Kelli Ann Morgan

  She placed her hands on his shoulders and as he pulled her down into his arms, her face sat mere inches from his own. He glanced down at her perfectly shaped lips, imagining for a moment what it would be like to capture them with his own. He caught her eyes and stared at her for longer than was appropriate, but he could not deny the draw between them.

  He groaned inwardly, his jaw flexing.

  “You are beautiful,” he whispered, surprised to hear that he’d said the words aloud, but pleased when color flooded her cheeks and a smile touched her lips.

  “Are you two going to stand there all day staring at each other or are we going to get these horses unhitched from the wagon?”

  Noah cleared his throat and breathed a laugh. “Coming,” he called out in a two-note sing-song, then turned back to look at her.

  “Go!” Kate told him. “I’ll be fine from here. Just set me on the stairs.”

  Noah did as instructed and placed her down gently on the top step where she could hold onto the railing, then turned back to his chores. He led the horses and the wagon toward the barn. When he and Levi finally emerged from their tasks, they headed out toward the bunkhouse. Noah stole a glance at the veranda, biting back the disappointment that crept in at Kate’s absence.

  “Aaaaaaaa!” The shriek ended with a loud thud and a horse’s whinny.

  Noah and Levi scrambled in the direction from which the scream had come. There, lying in a heap in front of one of the larger corrals, was Clifford, his horse running amuck, saddle straps and reins whipping about like lashes as the animal reared, pawing at the air, his eyes wide, and his ears pinned back against his head.

  “Something’s gotten under that horse’s saddle,” Noah said, looking for something that may have angered or spooked the gelding. It was the Arabian he’d met right after he’d arrived, only it was not acting like the same horse.

  There was no sign of a skunk or raccoon, and it was too cold for a snake to be about. Nothing that would have spooked him.

  Levi knelt down next to the man who’d been thrown from his mount.

  “He all right?” Noah asked.

  “Hey, Thomas,” Levi called the man’s name as he turned him over onto his back. His eyes were open, but there was no response.

  “He’s dead.”

  Noah looked down at the man whose neck was twisted at an awkward angle and unexpectedly Henry’s face flashed through his mind as did the events of that horrible day just eight years ago—his big brother lying lifeless on the ground, his eyes open, blood oozing from his head.

  No!

  His gut contracted tightly as if he’d been punched hard, his heart wrenched in agony as he relived that life-altering moment, dropping to his knees, tears blurring his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut, gasping for air to fill his lungs.

  Breathe, he coaxed, forcing the memories of his brother’s death back into the locked chest where he’d hidden them a long time ago. With several deep, cleansing breaths, clarity returned and he bowed his head in thanks.

  “Look, Noah, if this is going to be too hard for you…” Levi’s hand clutched his shoulder in understanding.

  Noah swallowed, wiped away wet streaks from his face, and pulled himself to his feet.

  “I’m all right,” he assured his cousin and then turned to the horse.

  “I’ll go get Doc Fulgrum,” Cal called out.

  “There’s no need,” Noah told him quietly.

  Cal’s eyes grew wide and his head jerked toward the dead man.

  Noah exchanged glances with Levi, who heaved the dead man up into his arms and carried him to the house.

  “We need to calm this horse before anyone else gets hurt,” Noah said firmly. “Do you understand?”

  The hired hand swallowed, then nodded.

  “Good.” He nodded too, then turned to the beautiful light-colored steed. “Whoa,” Noah called softly as he held up his hands, stepping toward the distraught horse.

  The Arabian tossed his head back and forth, bucking and twisting awkwardly, snorting a warning at Noah to not get any closer.

  The front door clacked against the frame as it shut. A gentleman with broad shoulders and graying hair stepped out onto the porch with Kate tucked under his arm, her hand covering her mouth. Their eyes locked for a brief moment, but when the gentleman started down the stairs with her, Noah held up his palm to stop them. He needed to focus and he couldn’t do that if he was worried about Kate.

  “Stay back,” he cautioned.

  The older gentlemen set Kate down on the steps and it took everything Noah had inside of him to ignore how the soft blue dress she wore clung to her very feminine curves, and her newly brushed hair cascaded down her shoulders and across her chest.

  Focus, Deardon!

  The Arabian bucked again.

  It had been a long time since he’d seen a horse act so erratically. Something was off. He glanced at the horse’s feet, but by the way he pranced about, there was no sign of injury to his legs. A red, sticky-looking splotch appeared just below the ridge of the saddle, oozing down from the underside of the blanket.

  He is hurt.

  In moments, Dell, Eamon, Levi, and the three hired hands had joined him, forming a semi-circle around the mount, ropes at the ready.

  The steed reared, screeching.

  “We need to get that saddle off of him,” Noah declared emphatically.

  “You are a blamed fool, Deardon, if you think you’re going to be able to get close enough to that mount to remove his saddle.” Dell snorted.

  You’ve met this horse, Deardon. Let him know he can trust you.

  “Levi,” he called quietly. “Go to the barn and get the bag of apples from my saddle bags.”

  Noah continued to watch the horse, trying to figure out the best way to calm the animal and appeal to his better nature.

  “Enough of this.” Dell pulled out his rifle and aimed.

  Click. Click. Click.

  Levi stood behind the man, having returned quickly from his task, his newly cocked pistol aimed at the foreman’s head. “I wouldn’t,” he said as he handed Noah the fruit.

  If shooting a horse without finding a cause for its behavior was the foreman’s approach to ranching, he was in the wrong profession.

  Noah nodded his appreciation at Levi as he opened the bag.

  Dell dropped the rifle to his side and Levi re-holstered his weapon.

  “Whoa, big fella,” Noah said, placing one of the apples in his palm as he had last night and then he tucked another under his arm. “It’s all right.” He took a step toward the horse, the other hand raised lightly, his fingers waving in a downward motion. “I can’t help you, boy, if you won’t let me.” He spoke soothingly to the fitful Arabian.

  The horse neighed and took a few steps backward.

  Noah broke his eye contact and dropped his head, inviting the steed closer.

  Nature’s silence descended on the ranch as everyone stood around them, watching. The horse stopped kicking about and, for the moment, stood perfectly still, except for his irregularly swishing tail. He tousled his head, but didn’t shy away as Noah got closer.

  Amazed, he held out the apple and waited, breathing slowly, but deeply. The horse sniffed at the treat, then wrapped his lips around it and took a bite. When it was gone, Noah took a side step toward the saddle, but the Arabian backed away several short steps, still wary of assistance.

  “What should we call you, boy?” he asked, almost in a whisper. He’d never learned Mr. Thomas’s name for the mount and thought it a shame.

  What a magnificent animal.

  The horse dipped his head and sniffed at the air.

  “Do you want another one?” He retrieved the apple from under his arm and placed it in his palm, repeating the process.

  This time, Noah backed away a few feet and sat down on the ground, facing the guarded horse, but giving him his space.

  He waited in silence as did the small, anxious crowd.

  After sev
eral minutes, the beautiful animal took a step toward him, then another, until he dropped his head level with Noah’s.

  “Good boy,” he said, reaching out to rub the horse’s nose, grazing over the bridle as he grasped a hold of the slack reins.

  Noah moved his attention to the neck as he pulled himself into a standing position and maneuvered to the horse’s flank. He quickly unbuckled the rear cinch and let it hang while he moved to the front, cautiously draping the fender and stirrup up over the saddle as he folded the tie strap.

  When it was time to remove the saddle, Noah grabbed ahold of either end of it. The Arabian was tall, standing at least fourteen hands, so he was careful not to slide the tack from the horse’s back as he lifted. He handed the saddle to Levi and reached for the blanket. There was a distinct bump in the wool covering directly above the blood that now stained the light coloring of the horse. He eased the blanket backward away from the horse’s hide and only when it stuck did the steed start to fidget. Noah slowly pulled a little harder, peeling back the cloth to reveal a full stem of thick, dark brown burrs embedded into flesh, drawing blood.

  He exchanged glances with Levi.

  “How did an experienced horseman, like Clifford Thomas claimed to be, not know there were burrs attached to the underside of his saddle blanket?” Noah shook his head as he reached down slowly to pull the knife from the sheath in his boot. “Unless…”

  “Someone else saddled his mount,” Levi finished his thought.

  Why would someone want to hurt a man so new to town? Whatever the answer, Noah knew he needed to protect Kate. If someone were trying to sabotage the ranch, then she was in as much danger as any of them. If not more.

  Noah eased the blade of the knife beneath the prickly thorns and eased them out of the horse’s hide. Once the nuisance had been removed, the Arabian shook his head and nickered quietly. He moved in a circle, nudging Noah’s armpit.

  Noah laughed, realizing he was looking for another apple.

  Levi handed him the bag.

  “Who did this to you, boy?” he asked, remembering the conversation he’d had with Kate on the way home about one of the fences on the east side of the property being down and cattle being corralled. Something was definitely off and someone at the ranch had a lot of explaining to do. He just needed to find the culprit and put a stop to his plans.

  “Noah,” Levi started, “if someone here did this on purpose—”

  “I know. The stakes just got a whole lot steeper.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Not quite the type of excitement I’d hoped to find at a well-respected ranch like White Willow,” Mr. Stiles told Nate, who’d taken over responsibilities as sheriff.

  Noah and Levi wrapped up poor Mr. Thomas’s body in a grey sheet tied off with rope over several locations on his body and lifted him atop the undertaker’s canvas stretcher that had been laid out on the floor in front of the couch.

  Kate had seen too much death—enough to last anyone a lifetime—and she was disheartened at the thought of anyone dying alone, without someone to mourn their passing. She was saddened that she didn’t know whether or not Clifford Thomas had any kin or friends to grieve his loss.

  “What did you know about this Mr. Thomas?” Nate asked, his broad shoulders pulled back as he stood at his full height. His dark hair, sprinkled with grey flecks, had been cut short, and a toothpick protruded from his mouth. He tilted his head with a crack, then began pacing in front of her and Dell, one eye half shut as he looked at them.

  “Only that he’s from Abilene,” Kate volunteered from her seat in the rocking chair next to the cool hearth, “but he’d been working as a drover on a cattle drive through Colorado.” She didn’t know what else she could tell the new lawman. “He only just arrived a few days ago,” she told him.

  “Why was he here? Was he staying here, Kate? At White Willow?”

  She looked down at the floor. It wasn’t her fault Mr. Thomas was dead. Was it?

  Dell handed Nate a copy of the Boulder Chronicle newspaper with the ad she’d placed, and stabbed a finger at the precise spot it was located, nearly tearing the paper from the sheriff’s hands.

  How did he get that?

  Nate pulled the newspaper down, away from him to read the fine-sized print. Then, after scanning the ads, his gaze shot up at Kate.

  “This true?” he asked. “You looking for a husband?”

  “Well,” she glanced over at Noah, arms folded, eyes scrunched together and staring at the sheriff, “yes, sir.”

  Nate looked over his shoulder and stepped back as if noticing Noah, Levi, and Eamon for the first time.

  “Walker,” he stepped toward the trio, nodded at Eamon, and held out his hand. “Levi,” he offered the same courtesy. When he stood in front of Noah, the handsome would-be suitor stood up tall and held out his hand.

  “Noah Deardon, Sheriff.”

  “Didn’t I see you last week after the hanging?”

  Noah nodded.

  Kate’s gut twisted at the memory of the deputy marshal hanging from the rafters in that cabin.

  He can’t hurt you anymore, she echoed the sentiments she’d shared with Stella. Or anyone else. It seemed like ages ago that she’d seen the man responsible for her father’s death and was surprised that she’d hardly thought about him since…since…Noah arrived at White Willow.

  “New in town?” Nate took the toothpick out of his mouth with one hand and shook Noah’s hand firmly with the other.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you here to marry Miss Callahan?”

  “Yes, sir,” he said without hesitation.

  Kate warmed inside, heat rising in her cheeks. She barely knew the man, but he had all the right things to say.

  Nate’s eyes opened almost as wide as his mouth, as if he hadn’t quite believed it when it was written in black and white right in front of him.

  “Wouldn’t you give up your home to move across the country for a chance to marry such a beautiful and smart woman who had offered to share her life, and her ranch, with you? Even if she couldn’t walk right for a bit?” Noah added, glancing over at her with a wink. “Frankly, I’m surprised that half the men in the territory aren’t trying to court her.”

  Kate’s insides turned to gelatin. He had to stop doing that.

  “Hmhmmm.” Mr. Stiles, moved his lean and lanky form quickly between the sheriff and Noah. “Yes, you see, Sheriff,” he said, “that is exactly what I have done.” He placed a hand on Nate’s shoulder, turned him toward the kitchen, and walked next to him as if sharing a secret.

  Kate could still hear every word from her position on the couch.

  “Well, not move exactly, but marry the girl and share the responsibility of her ranch, absolutely.”

  Kate rolled her eyes. She didn’t know why a businessman from Boston had any desire to ‘share the responsibility of her ranch.’ And he’d made it abundantly clear that he was only here for the property.

  She dared another glance at Noah, who glowered at Mr. Stiles with his arms folded and his brows scrunched together.

  “I am ready for the deceased,” Mr. Dixon announced as he took a step inside the open doorway.

  Noah and Eamon picked up the wooden handles of the stretcher poles and solemnly followed the undertaker out to his carriage, followed by Levi and Dell.

  Kate pushed herself into a standing position, keeping her injured foot from touching the floor, and used the furniture and walls to help maneuver the room. Just as she reached the front door, Nate came up behind and then around in front of her, standing in the entryway, crooking his arm.

  Nate Boswell had befriended her family when they’d first arrived in Laramie and had been good to them ever since. She accepted his kind offer and hopped out onto the porch with him.

  “What happened to your foot?” he said, glancing out, into the distance.

  Kate did not want to tell him how she’d made a fool of herself, ogling Noah Deardon, so she skipped the det
ails.

  “Porch railing broke. I fell. Simple as that.”

  When they reached the top step, heat rose again in her cheeks. The railing had not only been mended, but the entire set of steps and handrail had been completely refinished.

  “You getting along all right?”

  “I’ve had a lot of help.”

  “I can see that,” Nate raised a brow.

  Kate hit his arm playfully.

  “Mary will want to come by and check in on you. Maybe bring you some of her sweet potato pie.”

  “Fannie’s been very good to me, but you know how I love Mary’s cooking. I would enjoy the delicacy. Thank you.”

  “I don’t know if it’s delicate, but it sure goes a long way to filling a man’s belly.” He laughed loudly. “And a woman’s,” he added with a grin.

  Silence passed between them as they watched the men load the body into the back of the hearse.

  “You okay with all these fellas staying here at the ranch?”

  “I know how to take care of myself, Nathaniel.”

  After her father died, Nate and Dell had taken it upon themselves to teach her how to shoot, along with a few other basic skills that would help her out here on the range. She’d learned how to find water and dig a well, how to skin and clean a deer—a chore she hoped she’d never have to do again—and how to hitch a team of horses to the wagon. She’d been a quick learner.

  “I know you consider yourself quite an independent woman. We just worry about you being out here all on your own.”

  “I’m not alone. And I’ll be married soon.”

  “I’m glad you’re aching to get married. Marriage is good for the soul.” He looked down at the men standing in the yard. “So, which one of these lucky fellas gets your hand?” he asked with a knowing smile.

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Kate Callahan, it is as plain as the nose on your face who you want to choose.” He nudged her shoulder against the wooden pillar at the top of the stairs. “Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you look at that Deardon fella.”

  Is it that obvious?

  “The Harvest Jubilee is next week,” she told him. I’ve decided I have until then to make a decision.”