Much Ado About Mavericks Page 7

  Herding cattle gave a man too much time to think, Ben mused. He couldn’t help but be impressed that Jake knew they were dealing with vandals, not rustlers. He’d have gone straight to Marshal Hiatt and reported a crime that hadn’t happened, reinforcing the already poor opinion the people of Henderson Flats had of him.

  They plodded along. With nothing else to do, he made a thorough study of the cowhand riding beside him. Her red hair, long and braided, accentuated the determination on her face. The gray Stetson looked like it had been made especially for her. And oh, how that saddle hugged her nicely-rounded behind!

  He sighed, wondering how he could ever get through to her, and wondering why the hell he wanted to. That answer was no mystery—Jake was probably the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  Also, the smartest.

  And definitely the most stubborn.

  Who would have thought she’d carve a section of fancy filigree to put on her bunkhouse? She seemed to be sensitive about it, so he hadn’t pushed, but he bet she carved it by herself. She was not only smart and stubborn, but artistic as well.

  The next thing he knew, he flew through the air and landed on the ground flat on his back, jarring every bit of air from his lungs. He lay there, trying to relax enough to get a breath.

  “Ben!” he heard her shout.

  Then he heard the sound of her boots running on the hardpan. Still fighting for air, he couldn’t move a muscle. Talk about humiliated! Jake, of all people, he wished hadn’t seen him eat dirt. And all because he spent more time thinking about her than herding a bunch of stupid cattle, and keeping his seat.

  He felt her kneel beside him, her thighs pressing on his arm.

  “Ben, are you all right?”

  He opened his eyes to the best view of the finest set of breasts a man would ever want to see—unless, of course, he could see them uncovered. He licked his lips and willed his hands to stay right where they were, even though his palms itched to get just one touch.

  “Boston?”

  He finally took a shallow breath. “I’m fine. Just knocked the wind out of me, is all.”

  Jake stood, taking her breasts with her, to his sorrow. “Skeeter’s a fine cutting horse, as you just found out. When a calf gits outta line, he don’t fart around.”

  So that’s what happened. “Is the herd together?” he asked, wondering if they’d have to gather the stupid calves all over again.

  “Yup.”

  Ben stood, brushed off his clothes, and picked up his hat. “Let’s head on back, then.”

  “I’ll herd ‘em in. You ride on back to the Bar EL and have Fred bring the fencing fixin’s and a crew out here. Tell Scat that I want him to take a couple of hands and ride the whole perimeter of the ranch. This here wasn’t no accident, and those sorry varmints prob’ly cut other fences, too.”

  Ben mounted the big bay and tipped his hat to her. He didn’t like her being out there alone, but she was right, the entire fenceline needed checking and the sooner, the better. “If I don’t see you within an hour, I’m coming after you.”

  “You’ll see me.” She patted her middle. “By then it’ll be time for a little chow.”

  * * * * *

  Ben galloped the bay all the way back to the ranch and gave the men their orders. None were all that enthusiastic since they’d just sat down for supper. Only Fred complained, though, and Ben heard the cowhand mutter something, to which the other men looked back at Ben and laughed.

  He stared back until they went on their way. “Saddle up, boys,” he told Homer and Teddy. “You’re going with me to help Jake bring in those cows.”

  “Yippee!” they chorused, and ran to the barn.

  As Ben was about to remount the bay, Whip gimped up on his bowlegs and said, “I smell trouble a’brewing amongst the hands,” he cocked his head toward Fred, “and that one there’s right in the middle of it, you can bet.”

  Ben nodded. “I feel it, too.”

  “You best take that black,” he said, picking up his rope. “You about run that bay into the ground already.” He let the loop fly and watched it settle around the black’s neck. “This was Ezra’s second horse. He ain’t as good as the bay, but he’s right fine horseflesh, nonetheless.”

  Quickly, Ben saddled the black gelding. “We shouldn’t be long. Keep supper hot.”

  “Will do. Here’s a full canteen for you.” He handed the water to Ben then pointed to his Colt. “That thing loaded? ‘Cause it better be.”

  “Yes, and I have extra ammo in my saddlebag.”

  With a slap on the horse’s butt, Whip said, “Be on your way, then, son.”

  Ben led the two boys to the cut fence. The crew was there but he saw no sign of Fred.

  “Said he was a’gonna check out the rest of the fence whilst we fixed this,” one of the men said. Ben knew better. He’d sent Scat on that chore.

  They rode on. When they got to where he’d left her, he saw a few scattered calves, but no Jake. No horse, either.

  “Shit.” Trouble had found her, for sure. He knew he shouldn’t have left her alone, even if what she said made sense. “Damn. Well, let’s find her, boys.”

  Just then he heard a whistle by his ear and the unmistakable report of a firearm. “Ride for the rocks!” He put himself and his big black in between the boys and the shooter. The horse champed at the bit to take off, but Ben wouldn’t let him go any faster than Teddy’s pony could run.

  His heart pounded and his throat tightened. Another bullet whistled by. He drew his Colt and fired back in that direction. The black shied and Ben fought to keep his seat.

  Finally, the three of them reached the boulders. “Teddy and Homer, dismount and stay behind these rocks. I don’t give a damn what happens, don’t move. Got it?”

  The two boys huddled together, both with big eyes. Teddy nodded slowly. “We ain’t scared. Huh, Homer?”

  A bullet ricocheted off the rocks above their heads and they hunkered down, pulling their hats over their ears.

  Homer peeked out from under the brim. “Nope.” He patted his holster that held what Ben had thought was a toy gun. “Jake gave me a Derringer for my birthday. I gots bullets and everything.”

  Ben nodded, hoping the seven-year-old knew how to use it. “I’m going back of these boulders and fire a couple shots.” He patted both boys on their shoulders. “Don’t shoot unless you’re spotted, otherwise you might draw more fire. And don’t worry, I’ll find Jake.”

  Pressing his back against the granite, he eased around it. He hadn’t heard any shots since he left the boys, which was good because he knew they were all right, but bad, because he didn’t know the shooter’s location. Running to another large boulder six or so feet away, he eased around that one and fired off two shots, then reloaded, putting three rounds in. He didn’t need a blank chamber for safety this day.

  When he heard the whistle of a bullet ricochet off the boulder he stood behind, he ran back to the first boulder and moved closer to the shooter. Climbing up a weathered heap of rocks, he studied the terrain. Ahead and to his right, a sagebrush rustled. He slipped down and made his way toward it, not knowing if he’d find the shooter or Jake.

  Another round hit the dirt off to his right and he squatted behind a small rock that could nowhere near hide him, but was the best he could find on short notice. Damn, if he could only get to the next boulder. He holstered his Colt and flopped on his belly, crawling forward slowly, so he didn’t kick up any more dust than necessary.

  After what seemed like forever, he reached the boulder nearest the sagebrush where he’d seen someone. Lordy, he hoped it was Jake. Shooting straight had never been one of his finer skills, and he had no desire to confront a man bent on killing him.

  He pulled himself up behind the giant rock and pressed his back tight to it as he rounded it quietly. The long, red braid trailing out from her Stetson was a welcome site.

  “Jake, it’s Ben,” he whispered. “Are you all right?”

  “Hel
l, no, I ain’t all right,” she whispered back. “Get over here real quiet like.”

  On all fours, Ben scrambled to her side.

  Without so much as a glance at him, she said, “You got any ammo?”

  “Twenty rounds or so.”

  “Hand ‘em over. I’m gonna head to those rocks over there,” she cocked her head to the left. “Might be able to get a clear shot.”

  “No, the boys are in those rocks.”

  “The boys? You brung my strays to a gunfight?”

  “I hadn’t exactly intended to. We only came to help herd those cows back.”

  “We’ll draw him from the right, then. Take aim at that there little rock in front of that goose egg boulder up yonder. When I start running, you fire off two rounds. I’ll try to draw him up from behind those big rocks.” She pointed to a pile thirty feet to their right. “Once I draw the bastard out, you finish him off."

  Ben nodded, hoping his shooting had magically improved. He hadn’t shot a weapon other than his peppergun for thirteen years, and he hadn’t been any good at it then.

  She left and he fired off two shots. He heard three come from her gun, then saw a man in the distance run to another boulder. Ben took aim and shot, but missed by at least two feet. Jake fired and blew the hat off the man’s head before he disappeared behind the next pile of rocks.

  A minute later, they saw a horse and rider head south at a dead run. Ben didn’t even try to pull off a shot. No way could he hit the broad side of a barn at that distance. He stayed right where he was, waiting to see if the gunman had been alone.

  Finally, he stood. Jake patted him on the shoulder. “You ain’t half bad. I was pinned down with nowheres to go.” She holstered her Colt. “We sure need to do something about that sorry aim of yours, though.”

  She had no idea how happy he was to see her alive and well. And her left-handed compliment was a moment he’d savor for a very long time. “I’d be glad to have you instruct me on the finer points of marksmanship.”

  “Marksmanship, hell. You need to learn how to shoot.”

  He raked a look at the tear in her flannel shirt on the underside of her breast that promised a view to appease all the Greek and Roman gods put together. He didn’t trust himself for another instant. “Let’s get back to the boys.”

  She jumped onto a high rock and looked off into the horizon in the direction the horseman had ridden, then with her hand shading her eyes, surveyed the rest of the landscape. “I see a few cows over in that brush,” she said, pointing to the east. As she turned she pointed again. “And a few more over that’a way. I hope you brung some grub, ‘cause we’ll be out here the better part of the night looking for the cattle I lost.”

  Ben hid his grin as he shoved his pistol into its holster. Being out all night with Jake sounded like a mighty fine idea--with or without food.

  Chapter 5

  “Hell, a body can’t starve in only one day. Quit your whimpering.” Jake threw another clump of brush on the campfire, wishing she could magically summon some food for her strays. “As least you’re warm.”

  “That’s right, boys. We’re warm--on one side. I feel like a chicken on a spit.” Ben rolled over, turning his backside toward the flames--a very nice butt, she had to admit. “But it’s a nice clear night, and we do have water.”

  “And jerky,” said Homer, taking a pouch from his saddlebag. “I was saving it.”

  “And some peppermint sticks,” Teddy said, pulling his precious candy from his vest. “Here, Ben, you can have one. Jake says a cowhand don’t never leave home lessin’ he’s prepared.”

  Jake couldn’t have been more proud of her two little strays. They were good boys and they worked hard. Both of them would grow to be fine men someday, although she did worry a bit about Teddy’s mouth. “You done good, both of you.”

  She sure wished Blue would show up. Several whistles hadn’t brought him and she worried that he might be hurt, or maybe stolen by the varmint that scattered the cattle. If her horse showed up, they’d all have biscuits and roast beef that she’d stashed in her saddlebag that morning. A fine supper. Her mouth watered. But jerky and candy would hit the spot, too.

  Putting her fingers between her teeth, she let out another ear-piercing whistle. If Blue didn’t come back, she’d have to sleep with no blanket. Well, she’d done it before and she could do it again.

  “That mangy bag of bones better show up damned soon,” she muttered. She stirred the fire. “Teddy and Homer, lay out your bedrolls between the rocks and the fire. Ben, you lay yours out wherever you want, and I’ll take the other side.”

  She got the boys settled, not an easy thing to do with the coyotes howling. They’d already had more excitement than they’d needed, and their eyes got wider with every yip. Kneeling beside them, she asked, “What’s a matter? Ain’t you never heard a coyote sing before?”

  Both boys nodded.

  “Then you know they’re just singing a purty song for you. Close your eyes and remember how sad you been but how happy you are now. That’s what them coyotes are singing about--they found theirselves a family. Got that? It’s all bragging. Well, you can brag, too, ‘cause you got people now just like they got coyote friends.”

  She patted each boy on his forehead, then turned and fed the fire. Ben had rolled his bed out so his head was near Teddy’s, and she noticed the boy scootched up to be a little closer. He’d taken a liking to Ben right off.

  Soon, the boys’ eyes were closed and they breathed the deep dreams of slumber. After a spell, weariness got the best of her and she lay down on the cold, rocky ground. Shut-eye would come--enough to get her by, anyway.

  But it didn’t. Instead, thoughts of Ben kept plaguing her mind. The kiss he’d claimed for beating her in the race kept her insides warm even if the cold ground gave her goosebumps on the outside. His lips had built a bonfire inside her and it ain’t went out yet.

  Just as she drifted off, she heard movement. She drew her Colt and cocked it.

  “It’s just me, Jake,” Ben whispered.

  “What you doing over on my side? Go to bed.” She slid her six-shooter back in the holster and turned away from him.

  “You’re cold.”

  “So?”

  “I’m warm.” He laid his hand on her arm.

  Warm, hell, he was hot!

  “I’ll share.” He spread his bedroll and rolled her on it, then lay beside her and pulled her backside to his frontside.

  She wanted to protest, but he felt so damned . . . well, warm. She rested her back against his broad chest, and wondered why in blazes she’d feel safe with him. He was a greenhorn, for pete’s sake! She swallowed, but the spit caught in her throat and it felt like a horseshoe was stuck in there sideways. When she could finally relax, she said, “All right. But keep your damned hands to yourself.”

  He wrapped his arm around her and rested his hand on her stomach. “Gotta put it somewhere. Now, go to sleep.”

  * * * * *

  Jake’s head rested on Ben’s arm and he’d lost feeling in it an hour before, but he wasn’t about to disturb her. It had taken her a long time to go to sleep. He’d dozed off and on during the night, but every time she wiggled her bottom, the appendage that wasn’t the least bit numb came to life.

  He’d never spent a night so miserable, yet so good. Orange and red streaks of dawn peeked through the boulders to the east. The crisp morning air stirred the birds to chirp their good morning songs, and Lord knew he felt like chirping right along with them. Except they had their mates, and he couldn’t have the woman beside him for his.

  The noble thing, of course, was to keep his mind off her, he decided, but then she rolled over and slung her leg over his and pressed her firm breasts against his chest. Her even breaths brushed his neck.

  At least he could move his arm. He rubbed his palm in the dirt to get the blood flowing, then flexed his fingers and bent his elbow a few times, but carefully, so he didn’t wake her up. He closed his eyes and dr
ifted to sweet dreams.

  She licked his neck. He smiled and groaned, his manhood at full attention. Her movements became more insistant, nearly rolling him over. “One kiss wasn’t enough for me, either,” he muttered.

  Then he heard laughter--Jake, Teddy, and Homer. Ben opened his eyes. Jake’s horse, Blue, licked him again.

  Ben jumped to his feet. A damned horse? He’d had erotic dreams about a gelding? God help me. He shot a look at his three compadres, howling with laughter, wiping tears from their eyes.

  He snapped up the saddle blanket and grabbed his saddle. “Time to head out. We’ve got cattle to find.”

  Jake held out a biscuit. “Don’t you want breakfast first? Biscuits and roast beef--fine chow for a September morning.”

  “I’ll save mine for later.” He strode to his hobbled horse and flung the saddle blanket, then the saddle on him. After he’d pulled the cinch good and tight, he saddled the boys’ horses for them, then Jake’s--although he’d just as soon shot the damned blue roan as look at him.

  “Put the fire out and let’s go,” Ben said, checking the rounds in his Colt and loading the empty chambers.

  Jake kicked out the fire and picked up her saddlebags. “Ain’t you forgetting something?”

  “No.” As if he could forget a damned horse nuzzling his neck and him thinking . . . Or forget how his father got him in this sordid mess in the first place. No, he hadn’t forgotten a single thing. Never would.

  She held up the bridles. “I doubt you’ll get very far, very fast with a hobbled horse and no bridle.”

  He snatched the bridles and put one on each of the three horses, then unhobbled them. Women! She might wear pants, rope like a tornado, and shoot straight as a carpenter’s ruler, but that catty remark was a woman’s if he’d ever heard one.

  “Ben?” Teddy tugged on Ben’s shirt.

  “What.”

  “Are you one of them fellers what can’t think right till you have your coffee?”

  Ben gritted his teeth and leaned on his horse. “I wasn’t, but I am now.”

  * * * * *