The Rancher (34 page)

pasture with the cattle.”

Cole hadn’t even thought about Clay’s stock.  He’d been so caught up in getting the thieves off his land he hadn’t

considered where the horses in the round pen had come from.

“There’s not much we can do here until daylight. We should ride back and see if

any   others   have   been  hit,”   Raine suggested.

On the ground, something flashed in the moonlight.  Cole reached into the dirt and pulled out a long chain attached to a small oval, silver pendant.   Cole brushed the

dust off and turned it over.  A one word inscription was carved onto the back.

“Querida,” Cole whispered aloud.

It would be at least another hour before

the sun peaked over the far mountain top.  Cole needed to speak with Clay and he didn’t think it should wait.   After extensively searching the grounds, Cole could only guess he’d not returned yet from the other ranches.  He led Maverick to the stable and hung the lantern on a low cross beam.

His mind filled with excuses for why he shouldn’t be here.  He removed the tack from the horse and, in a low grumble under his breath, rehearsed his next conversation with Clay.

“I own the Gnarled Oak and all the Johansson and Deardon lands.   I only hired on here ‘cause I thought you might be my best friend’s killer.” Cole laughed out loud.  “That should go over well.”  He picked up his grooming kit and brushed Mav’s coat.

“Alaric loved your daughter, sir” he continued his practice, “and while he was lying at the bottom of a ravine, near death, he made me swear to him that I would

protect her.” Cole shook his head. “I didn’t know what he meant until tonight.”

He lifted his head upward as if hoping for inspiration from above. He couldn’t exactly tell Clay the whole truth.  What would the man think if Cole admitted that in addition to his promise to keep her safe he’d had his own selfish reasons for

marrying the man’s daughter and they didn’t involve running the SilverHawk?

It’s different now,
  
Cole thought to himself.  He cleared his throat.

“Mr. McCallister,” he began again, speaking into the air. “Clay, your daughter makes me feel more alive than I have in a

year and I find myself a changed man.  For the first time in a very long time, I want to be there for someone else.” He stopped brushing for a moment and rested his hand against Maverick’s back.  “She makes me feel ten feet tall when I’m with her and I

want you to know I have the means to take care of her, to provide her with a good life.  In fact, I own--”

“Personally, I like that one.”

Cole whipped his head around to see Raine standing with his back against the

stall door, his arms folded across his chest and his hat riding low over his eyes.  How had he not heard Raine come in?

“How long have you been standing there?” Cole groaned irritably.

“Long enough, little brother.   Long enough.”

Cole put down the brush and moved to Maverick’s front hooves.  He picked up one foot and began pulling the mud out from inside the shoe.

“What do you want Raine? What?” He

threw down Mav’s foot and moved to the

other.

“You know what this will look like.” Raine spoke calmly, but his serious undertones were laced with sincere

concern.

“I know.” Cole threw a large clump of

mud to the floor.  “Clay will wonder why it is that someone wealthy enough to own the Johansson estate would work on his ranch for a foreman’s wage.  He’ll think we were trying to sabotage him.” He dropped Maverick’s foot.

“That’s just it, Charcoal.   First, the wagon, then the fire, and now horse thieves? This is no coincidence. There’s

more going on here than just trying to rustle horses or cattle from McCallister’s land.”

“It’s the land.  Somebody wants it real bad.” Cole grunted the words, scraping another clump of mud and straw from Maverick’s hoof.

“Why do they want it?” Raine’s leg perched on the bottom board of the stall. “I don’t think it’s the silver mine they’re

after.  They wouldn’t need McCallister’s land to get there.”

“I   don’t   know.”   Cole   dropped Mavericks foot. “Don’t you think I have been asking myself the same questions all night?” He pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his saddle pack along with the hoof brush and pick.

“Okay, now don’t go gettin’ all riled up.”

“They shot at Abby, Raine.   At my wife.”

“We need to talk to Clay.  There has to be more he’s not telling us,” Raine suggested.

Cole checked the water trough in Mav’s stall.  It was full. “I don’t think he’s back yet.”

“Then, we’ll wait.”

Early Sunday Morning

The front door squeaked on its hingesas Cole gently pushed it open.  The lastthing he wanted to do was to wake Abbyor Martha or anyone else who may beliving in the house. Since he wasunfamiliar with the staff, he decided to bediscrete.  He took a step inside.

Clomp.

In the quiet of the morning, his heavyboots echoed and each step was distinctlypronounced.   He stopped and lifted hisfoot to remove the boot.  With a firm tug,

it came loose in his hand.  Then, the other. This was the first time he could remember

his boots coming off so easily.

Triumphant, he started again for their

bedroom, but his sock covered foot caught the edge of the rug and his entire six-foottwo frame came crashing to the ground in a loud thud. He lifted his head in attempt to assess the damage, but when nothing stirred, he dropped his head back to the floor and laid there for a while, closing his eyes.

When he opened them again he was staring down the barrels of a shotgun.

“Stand up slowly and state your business here.” The woman’s voice was much older than Abby’s and woven with apprehension.

Cole shifted to his side to glimpse the woman. The gun cocked.  He could not make out her face as the only light in the room was coming from the kitchen, making her a silhouette in the darkness.

“Cole Redbourne, ma’am.”

“Everything okay, Martha?” Clay came running from the kitchen with a lantern. “We thought we heard somethin’.”

The woman pulled her head away from the gun site and lowered the gun to her hip. She took the lantern with the other hand and held it up close to Cole, who shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, what ya doin’ on the floor out here?”   Martha   spoke,   apprehension dripping with each word.  He’d met her only briefly between dances last night, but had liked her right away.

He sat up and took hold of Clay’s extended hand.

“Stand yerself up there and come into the kitchen so I can get a better look at ya,” Martha coerced.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He looked toward his bedroom door.

A sliver of light from the kitchen spilledacross the hallway.

“She’ll be up soon enough,” Clay toldhim.  The older man placed a reaffirminghand on Cole’s shoulder and led him to

the kitchen.

The fragrant smell of sausage wafted through the air and Cole’s stomach grumbled. He stepped into the fire-lit kitchen where Rafe, Raine, and Caleb already sat at the food covered table.

“Where did ya’ll come from?  I left my kitchen just moments ago, huntin’ me an intruder, and here I come back and got three more of ‘em sitting at my table.” Martha grinned.  She handed Cole a plate.

Eggs, sausage, flapjacks, corn muffins,

and preserves all greeted him. Cole wondered   if  every  morning  would welcome him with such a delectable meal or if it was only reserved for Sundays.

The sun filtered in through the small window just above the sink and added light to the lantern lit room.  The older woman was clearly visible now.   Her graying hair was pulled tightly into a bun at the top of her head and her plain blue dress was covered by a work apron with thick rectangular pockets on the front.  She set the shotgun in a rack at the corner of the kitchen and turned back around, holding a large plate of skillet fried potatoes.

Cole set his boots on the floor near the kitchen door and removed his hat.  His

hair fell lightly onto his forehead and he

pushed the strands back away from his face with a short, concise sweep of the hand.

Martha smiled. Her eyes roamed the length of him.  Cole felt heat rise in his neck at her appraisal.

“I’d bet you and your brothers here would be fearsome in a barn raisin’.”

“Yes, ma’am.  We’ve been known to win a few.”

“Especially with all seven of us,” Raine piped in between bites.

“Martha, let the boy alone.”   While Clay’s voice came out hard, Cole was taken aback when his new father-in-law winked at her. “We have business to

discuss.” There was something playful in Clay’s tone.  If Cole hadn’t been staring at the man, he would have missed the

exchange between the two.

Martha blushed.

“Thank   you   for   breakfast,   Mrs. McCallister,” Cole said, not seeing the resemblance between Abby and the

woman.

Clay nearly choked on the mouthful ofeggs he’d just put into his mouth. Colelooked from him to Martha, who dippedher head and brought her fist up to hermouth in attempt to hide her sudden giggle.

“She’s not the missus.” Caleb spoke forthe first time since Cole had entered thekitchen. His tone mocking. “She’s thehelp.”

Martha’s smile fell.

“Yes, well, speaking of that, I’d better go collect the eggs.  Those chickens get a might sore if I don’t get ‘em early.” She

wiped her hands on her apron and excused

herself to the barn.

“Caleb,” Clay said, turning a hard look on the hired-hand, “I didn’t get out to the Carson place yet this morning.  Rustlers aren’t going to try anything with daylight coming.  Why don’t you ride out and tell Zed what’s happened. And you can tell him to come retrieve his boy too.” It looked as if he were working really hard to keep himself composed.

“But–“ Caleb started, his mouth full of food.

“Now!” Clay boomed, all playfulness gone from his voice.

Caleb stood and grabbed a handful of bacon and a slice of cornbread before begrudgingly pushing away from the table.

The door slammed shut behind him and

Clay turned back to those at the table.

“I’m sorry.  I just assumed that...” Coledidn’t know what to say.  He’d seen his

own   parents   playful   teasing   and meaningful glances and assumed the simple  exchange  implied  they  were together.

“Don’t fret yourself over it son.  Martha is a good woman. She’s been here since before my Clara passed on.”

“I’m sorry,” Cole repeated.

“Goin’ on six years now we’ve been without her. ‘Fraid that’s why Abby’s been so bent on sticking around here. She’s just like her mother.  Clara loved this place and those horses.  Bella, the mare you boys put down, was her favorite.”

That certainly explained a lot.

Cole sat down next to Rafe and startedto fill his plate with the wonderfuldelights covering the table. Nothing wasbetter than home cooking.