Читать книгу Winning Over the Wrangler - Linda Ford - Страница 12

Chapter Three

Brand had almost forgotten about breaking his arm. But only because he hadn’t seen Cyrus in a long time. Cyrus never missed a chance to remind him that he likely owed his life to his big brother, and as a result, his big brother deserved a few favors in return. Trouble was, Brand wasn’t prepared to dish out the sort of favors Cyrus had in mind. A sour taste filled his mouth. Because of Cyrus and Pa, Brand could never hope for anything but a nomadic lifestyle.

“Have you ever been hurt riding a horse?” Sybil asked, her voice a melody of calm and sweetness...a marked contrast to his thoughts and the raw sounds he normally heard on a ranch. Her gaze riveted him like velvet nails, compelling him to answer.

“A few bumps and bruises. Nothing to take note of.”

Dawg wriggled closer to Sybil. Well, if that didn’t beat all. Brand couldn’t remember when the animal had shown the least sign of interest in another human being. Dawg could spot a sly fox a mile away. Brand could only assume he could equally well spot a sweet, innocent, woodland miss. Maybe this woman warranted further interest. It wasn’t like he would be around long enough to put her in danger. He eyed the plate of food. It would have to wait until the ladies left. If he dug in now, they might see it as time to leave.

“I was about to have coffee. Care to join me?” He had only two cups, but he would drink from a tin can. He filled the cups and passed one to each of the ladies.

Sybil’s blue eyes held his.

He couldn’t remember how to fill his lungs.

Mercy leaned forward, her expression eager. “You must have seen most of North America.”

The question, posed as a comment, broke his momentary lapse and he settled back with his coffee. “Been around some.”

“Have you been to the Pacific Ocean?”

“Nope. Never had no mind to see it.”

She sighed. “I’d love to see it.”

Sybil made a scolding noise. “Mercy is restless. Always looking for the next big adventure.”

“Uh-huh.” He had little interest in the excitement-craving woman. He picked up a piece of kindling and kept his attention on the rough edges of the wood. “And what are you looking for?” He meant the question for Sybil.

It was only conversation. Words to pass the time. But he raised his eyes enough to watch her from under the protection of his lashes.

Her own eyes darkened to the color of the evening sky and her lips pressed together. A very telling gesture. She wanted something she couldn’t have. A man, perhaps? But what foolish man would refuse such a woman anything, including his heart and love? Unless he had the kind of life Brand did. One that didn’t allow him to give heart and love to anyone. Sometimes he wondered why God had made him a Duggan. Or more correctly, given him a pa and brother like the ones he had. Seems God could have arranged things just a little better.

“I’m quite happy with my life as it is,” she answered after a beat of silence.

She might think it true, but he didn’t believe her.

Mercy made an exasperated sound. “Someday, Sybil Bannerman, you’ll discover your life is far too safe.” She fixed Brand with a daring look. “Sybil lives a very careful life. Never takes risks. Obeys all the rules.”

He thought of how his pa and brother lived a lawless life. “Rules have their purpose.”

“Thank you.” Sybil favored him with a beaming smile. “That’s what I’m always telling Mercy.”

“Okay. Okay.” Mercy tossed her hands in the air. “I agree to a point. But rules should not become chains. There are certain risks and adventures that don’t follow rules. It’s a crying shame to avoid them.”

Brand stared into the fire.

He was a risk. Miss Sybil would do well to avoid him and remember the safety of her rules.

“How much longer will you be here?” Sybil asked, and his heart took off like one of those stampeding horses.

He managed to slow it some. It wasn’t as if she asked because she wanted him to stay, he told himself. She was only making polite conversation.

“I’ll likely finish up tomorrow, then me and Dawg will move on.”

“I enjoyed watching you work today,” she said. Did he see admiration in her eyes? And why did it matter? He’d move on before she learned his true identity. Heaven forbid she’d learn it before he left and he’d see the shock and horror in her eyes. Best to change the subject.

“So how long have you ladies been in the country?”

Mercy nudged Sybil and answered his question. “A couple of months. Three of us ventured over. Jayne, the other girl, is Eddie’s sister.”

“So you’ve come to visit western Canada? Then you’ll go back to your English home?” Unless they had an eye to marriage out here and with the shortage of young women in the country, they wouldn’t have any trouble fulfilling such plans.

“Yes,” Sybil said.

“No.” Mercy shook her head. “Sybil, why would you want to go back? You have nothing left back there.” She turned to Brand. “Her parents are dead. She has no other family.”

He wanted to stuff a handful of grass in Mercy’s mouth at the way her words sent shock waves through her friend’s blue eyes.

Sybil tipped up her chin. “It’s my home and I have Cousin Celia.”

Mercy snorted and lifted a hand in what Brand took as exasperation. “You belong here as much as there. And here is a lot more fun.”

Sybil studied her friend, her blue eyes troubled. “Your parents are expecting you to return.”

Mercy shrugged. “I doubt they’ll miss me.”

Sybil shook her head and turned back to Brand. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t argue in front of you. It’s none of your concern.” Dawg had sidled closer still and she stroked his head in an absentminded way that made Brand wonder if she knew she did it.

Brand expected Dawg to object, growl, move away, slink back to Brand’s side. Instead, the dog closed his eyes and looked as content as a baby in a cradle.

Brand realized his mouth had fallen open, and he forced it closed. But his surprise made him stare. Dawg never let anyone but Brand touch him. Not until this moment.

Sybil drained her cup. “Thank you for the coffee and the nice visit. Now we must be on our way.” She rose to her feet in a fluid movement that reminded Brand of a deer edging from the forest. “No doubt we’ll see you again.”

The words were said lightheartedly, but Brand felt the promise and threat of them. Did she want to return and visit? Did she hope he’d extend an invitation? But Sybil didn’t meet his eyes, so he couldn’t judge her thoughts.

When Mercy scrambled to her feet, Sybil caught her arm and they hurried away.

Dawg whined as they disappeared into the trees.

Brand patted the dog’s head. “Never seen you get all sappy about a girl before. Just remember, we aren’t staying, so don’t get too interested in her.”

Words Brand knew he should tattoo on his own brain.

He couldn’t stay even if he was tempted. If Pa and Cyrus saw him with Sybil, they wouldn’t hesitate to threaten her. Even if they didn’t catch up to him, someone would surely remember the wanted poster they’d seen somewhere, and place him as a Duggan. And if she learned his name, she’d be shocked. She’d withdraw. And who could blame her? Might as well move on and save her the trouble of telling him to leave her alone.

People would judge a person as guilty by association.

He’d grown to accept that all he could hope for in this life was to stay ahead of the Duggan gang and avoid the hangman’s noose.

* * *

Sybil’s plans to go immediately to the corrals next morning were cut short when Linette said, “Can you show me how to finish the edges on the baby shawl?”

“Of course.” As soon as breakfast was over and the kitchen cleaned, they went to the big room overlooking the ranch.

An hour passed before Sybil could slip away. Mercy had disappeared to some unknown destination, so she was forced to go alone.

Not that she was alone. There were cowboys everywhere. Eddie had said they were adequate chaperones anywhere on the ranch.

When she’d first looked out the windows, only two cowboys had been watching Brand work, but now several more gathered round the pen, and another jogged over in a rolling, awkward gait that said riding a horse was more his style.

Sybil found a place along the fence next to a cowboy whose name she couldn’t recall. “Is he as good as everyone says?”

“A couple of years ago, I worked on a ranch down in Montana.” The man barely glanced at Sybil as he talked, his attention fixed on the activities in the corral. “I heard stories about a dark, nameless man who could break the rankest animal to be found. I wondered at the time if it was a tall tale. One of those stories told around the campfire for entertainment. But I’m beginning to think the story held a lot of truth.”

A campfire legend. Sybil liked that and would certainly include it in her story.

Already she chose words to describe it to the readers.

A man with no name, but a reputation from which legends are born. A man whose strength of character made one instinctively trust him. Whose arms—

No. She would not say that his arms made one feel safe and secure. She wouldn’t even let herself believe it. This man spelled danger to her fragile heart.

But he wasn’t staying around, so she didn’t have to be concerned. All she had to do was write the story.

She glanced about. Strange that all the hands seemed to have gathered at the corrals this morning. Or perhaps not. Brand would finish up before long and no doubt they all wanted one last glimpse of this legend.

“That’s his last horse,” one of the men murmured.

“Or so he thinks,” replied another, with a soft chuckle accompanying his words.

Sybil’s attention kicked into full alert. “What does that mean?” she asked the second man.

He gave a wicked grin. “We found another unbroken horse.”

Several of the men snickered and nudged each other.

Something about the way they acted warned her they were up to no good. Her nerves twitched with a mixture of anticipation and concern.

Brand rode the horse he was on to a standstill, then spent several minutes riding the animal around the pen, teaching it to obey the reins and the instructions signaled by the rider’s legs.

“That does it.” He swung from the saddle and hung a rope over the nearest post. His eyes touched her, making her forget momentarily that they were surrounded by a horde of cowboys.

He shifted his gaze around the circle.

“Where can I find Eddie?” he asked.

Sybil glanced at the assembled crew. Odd that Eddie wasn’t with them. Nor the foreman or any of the other cowboys she was familiar with.

Cal answered Brand. “Boss got called away to tend a bull.”

“When he returns, tell him he can find me at my campsite.” Brand headed for the gate.

“Hang on. There’s one more horse to go.”

Sybil felt the tension radiating from the cowboys. It trickled up her spine, caused her to curl her fingers until the nails bit into her palm.

Brand stopped, studied the circle of cowboys. “There wasn’t another this morning.”

Cal chortled. “We found this one ’specially for you.”

Only because she watched so carefully did Sybil see the way Brand’s shoulders tensed and his breathing paused for a second. Then he emptied his lungs in a slow sigh.

“Special for me, you say? Let me guess. This horse is meaner than a twister, ain’t never been rode, and has been known to bite, kick and generally let people know he don’t intend to be.”

Cal’s laugh seemed a little strained despite his obvious glee. “Let’s see if you can live up to your reputation. Or are ya scared to get on this horse?”

Brand tipped his hat back and slowly shifted his gaze from cowboy to cowboy. Several of them squirmed.

Then his gaze fell on her. His eyes—the color of warm chocolate—filled with resignation and a loneliness he would no doubt deny, but she felt it clear through to the bottom of her heart. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered.

Acknowledgment flickered through his eyes, though he couldn’t have heard her. Something shifted in his demeanor. It was as if her inaudible words encouraged him, let him know that not everyone shared Cal’s wish to see him tossed into the dust.

“Bring him on.” Brand jerked his hat down low, widened his stance and waited.

Three men pulled on ropes to drag in a black horse with white-rimmed eyes. The animal snorted and kicked.

Sybil held her breath.

Again, she whispered, “You don’t have to do this.”

But Brand never noticed.

Every eye was on that wild stallion. Every man held his breath.

“Throw on a saddle if you can.” Brand’s voice dared them to fail.

It took an additional two men to get a saddle blanket on the horse and then the saddle. One of them came away limping after a kick from the angry animal.

“Hold him while I get seated.” Brand spoke calmly, as if the only uncertainty was the ability of the struggling cowboys to do so.

Sybil’s chest hurt from holding her breath as she watched him gingerly arrange himself in the saddle.

“Let him go.”

The cowboys released their ropes and raced away, throwing themselves over the fence, then scrambling around to watch the show.

Sybil could not tear her gaze from the big man on the horse. He sat poised and ready. At first the horse simply stood quivering, then it erupted into frenzied movement. It seemed to jerk every which way at the same time. She’d watched Brand buck out a number of horses over the past two days, but nothing like this. Hooves flying toward the sky. Back twisting two different directions at the same time. Head down. Snorting. Blowing. But Brand clung to the gyrating animal.

“He’s good,” said the cowboy on Sybil’s right.

“He ain’t done yet,” Cal answered, disappointment in his tone.

Then the horse stopped. It stood there quivering.

A murmur of approval circled the crowd.

“He did it,” Sybil said.

“Don’t think so, not yet.”

And then the animal turned and tried to bite its rider. As Brand kicked away from the teeth, the horse suddenly started to buck again.

Brand fought to stay in the saddle.

The horse ran for the fence, ramming him against the boards.

Several cowboys groaned. “That’s got to hurt,” said one. “Be a wonder if his leg ain’t broke.”

The horse stampeded along the fence, several times banging Brand’s leg into the boards. It bucked. It snorted.

Still he stayed on board.

And Sybil’s heart swelled with pride in the man’s accomplishments. Brand was far more than a campfire legend. He was the real deal. He could ride. He was a man who stuck to his decisions.

Now, where did that last thought come from? She knew nothing of his actions outside this corral.

And the feel of his arms about you as he swept you off your feet.

Nonsense. It didn’t mean that much. Just that he’d saved her life and now she felt a special bond, as if she mattered to him.

Huh. I wonder if he even remembers your name.

She silenced the inner voice.

The animal trying to toss Brand to the ground finally wearied and stopped bucking.

“I’d say his reputation is well earned,” Sybil said, loudly enough for several of the cowboys to hear. This story would be the best one she’d ever written.

Never once did he reveal a hint of fear as he swung into the saddle. Those watching caught a collective breath and held it, wondering who would win this contest between man and beast.

Two men jumped forward and took the horse.

Brand slipped off, leaning against the fence.

The cowboys clapped and cheered as he limped away, none louder than Sybil. Without turning, Brand waved his hand in acknowledgment. “Tell the boss he knows where to find me.” He made his way across the yard and into the trees toward his campsite.

Sybil watched him leave. He had been hurt, though he hid it admirably.

At that moment, Eddie rode into the midst of the men. “I didn’t find any bull needing help.”

“Must have been mistaken,” Cal murmured.

Eddie glanced around the group, studied the horse now turned into the bigger corral. Several of the men tried to slip away unnoticed. “Wait up.”

They ground to a halt.

“Anyone care to tell me what’s going on?” Eddie leaned over the saddle horn, looking casual and relaxed. But Sybil certainly wasn’t fooled by his posture, and she guessed from the shuffling of booted feet that the cowboys weren’t, either.

Slim sat on a horse at the boss’s side and looked about ready to give them all a good chewing out.

Eddie’s gaze settled on Cal. “You sent me on a wild-goose chase. I’d like to know why. And why is that stallion in the corrals? Haven’t I told you all to leave him alone? He’s a man killer.”

Eddie’s answer confirmed her suspicion that the cowboys were all involved in this potentially dangerous challenge. She glanced to where she’d last seen Brand. How badly had he been hurt?

Cal stepped forward. “We just wanted to see how good a rider he was. After all,” he said, growing bold, “you can’t just take his word for it.”

Eddie studied Cal long enough that the younger man squirmed. “Did he ride the stallion?”

“To a standstill,” one of the others answered, when Cal hesitated.

“Then he deserves his reputation.”

A murmur of agreement came from the group.

Eddie continued to study Cal. “You can shovel manure for the next month. With no help.”

Without another word, the boss reined away and rode to the big house.

Sybil hid a grin at the disgruntled look on Cal’s face.

Not even a wicked man killer of a horse could unseat this big, bold bronc buster. The cowboy rode the rank horse to a standstill...

Her gaze found the path where Brand had disappeared. He’d done his best to hide his pain, but she knew he’d been hurt. Did anyone care?

* * *

Brand waited at the campfire for Eddie to appear with the money he’d earned. Then he’d be on his way.

He sucked in a deep blast of air and rubbed his leg. That mean sucker of a horse had had murder in mind. Seeing as he hadn’t succeeded in bucking Brand off so he could trample him, he’d meant to try and knock him off. Had banged his leg good and hard against the fence. It hurt some, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t live with.

He gingerly stretched out his leg and leaned back, smiling up at the brilliant sky. He kind of enjoyed the way Sybil had watched him and clapped when he rode the horse. He snorted and pulled his hat over his eyes. No point in looking at blue skies and dreaming of possibilities.

He could never be anything more than Brand, the bronc buster.

Enough staring into nothing. Time to get something to eat. From his meager supplies he chose a can of beans and opened it. Opened a second can for Dawg.

He downed the beans cold, chasing them with hot coffee.

His thoughts wandered again to a golden gal whose blue eyes smiled so gently at him he could almost believe she cared. But how could she? She knew nothing of him. Certainly not who he really was. A Duggan. Part of an outlaw family. Even if for some reason he stayed, he could never tell her, and lose the memory of that smile.

What would it be like to return home every day to a smiling welcome like that?

Brand Duggan would never know.

His leg pained him. It wasn’t broken, but bruised enough to remind him with every move that a horse had almost got the better of him. But the pain paled in light of a deeper pain that never left. Oh, sure, he sometimes managed to ignore it, push it away, pretend it didn’t exist, but all his efforts were but a thin scab that could be easily dislodged.

Something about Sybil had done more than dislodge it. Her gentle manner had scrapped away the protective layer, exposing the rawness beneath.

So many things contributed to the wound. Too many to count. Besides, what was the point?

He missed Ma. He missed conversations. Heart-to-heart talks. Teasing and laughing. He missed a warm bed and a hot meal at the end of the day. He missed having a home.

Home. The word reverberated through his head, his heart and his soul. A trumpet sound of despair that he couldn’t deny.

Something Ma had often said to him sprang into his mind. God will always be with us. Always guide us to a safe place. Always. We have to trust Him.

He’d long ago dismissed the words. He didn’t see how God being with them had made any difference. Pa always ended up finding them. Yes, Ma and Brand had always slipped away, hoping to find a place where no one knew who they were. At first, Ma had urged Brand along, helping him hide, taking care of finding a place for them. Then Brand had needed no more urging. He’d helped Ma carry their meager possessions. Had sometimes been the one to find them a safe place. He’d often been the first one to hear rumors of robberies, and know Pa and Cyrus were close by and it was time to move on.

Just as he must leave here to stay ahead of the Duggan gang. But what would happen if he stayed a few more days? Not with any idea of putting down roots. No. He knew better than that. Sooner or later, Pa and Cyrus would show up.

But a few hours. A few days. What could it hurt? He wouldn’t do anything rash, like attempt to court Sybil, simply enjoy a moment of her company here and there. Shoot, he’d be content to watch her from a distance. Then he’d leave, with his heart full of memories to last him a lifetime.

Memories. Nothing but memories. The word screamed through his brain, tearing a wide, aching, oozing path.

“Isn’t like I have any reason to stay,” he muttered to Dawg, who replied with a yawn. “Don’t see anyone throwing out the welcome mat.”

Brand rubbed his aching leg. At least this pain would abate and he’d soon forget it. Unlike the emotional pain.

Dawg bolted to his feet, hackles up, growling.

“I hear it.” Hoofbeats thudded. Someone approaching the camp. Brand’s skin prickled as it always did when he knew someone watched him. His hand crept toward his gun belt and rested on the grip of his pistol. Had his identity been discovered? Did someone seek the five-hundred-dollar reward for the capture, dead or alive, of any of the Duggan gang?

Friend or foe. He’d give his last nickel to never again have to wonder which it was every time a stranger approached. At least he didn’t have to worry about whether or not he could trust a friend. He hadn’t allowed himself one in a very long time.

Eddie rode into sight and air eased from Brand’s lungs.

He pushed to his feet. His leg protested the change in position, but he straightened it and waited as the rancher swung from his horse.

He’d get his wages and be on his way. And if his insides twisted at the thought, he wouldn’t acknowledge it. Nope. He’d move on. Forget those he left.

This time would prove more challenging than simply waving goodbye to a bunch of cowboys who spoke no more words than necessary, and would forget him as quickly as he forgot them. This time he would turn his back on a pretty young lady who had momentarily—and not of her choosing—rested in his arms.

Eddie stood before him, a grin on his face. “Got some good news for you.”

Brand nodded. Only good news he could think of was the Duggan gang had disappeared into Mexico. As if it would really make a difference.

“I ran into Sam Stone today.”

“Uh-huh.” Whoever Sam Stone was.

“He runs the OK Ranch to the north of us.”

“Oh, yeah.” Still didn’t make any difference to Brand. “I finished breaking the horses. Some will need a bit more handling, but they’re all fit to ride. So I’ll be moving on.”

“Wait until you hear what I have to offer.”

He waited. As if he had any choice. Eddie seemed set to drag his news out as long as possible.

“Sam sold me a herd of wild horses. Said he didn’t have time or a man to deal with them.” The rancher rolled back on his heels, as pleased with his announcement as any man Brand had seen. “I want you to stay on and break them for me.”

Brand’s shoulders jerked up. His spine pressed against his skin. Stay? Wasn’t it exactly what he’d wanted? A few more days of watching Sybil. Of storing up memories. His muscles tensed at the risks it involved.

How long had it been since he’d last seen Pa and Cyrus? Longer than usual. Come to think of it, he hadn’t heard mention of the Duggan gang since he’d crossed the border into Canada.

A grin crept around his heart and eased toward his mouth. Could it be that the Duggan gang didn’t care to meet up with the Mounties? No doubt they’d heard the tales of how tenacious the mounted police were. How they always got their man. The grin grabbed his mouth and Brand allowed his lips to curl just a little. Maybe he could be free of them if he stayed in Canada. Even as he allowed the hope, he knew he couldn’t trust it. At least not for long.

“I could stay around a few more days, I guess.” His casual words disguised his eagerness.

“You’re welcome to bunk with the others and eat at the cookhouse. Cookie makes a fine meal.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He’d breathed in the rich aromas every day from the cookhouse’s open windows. “But Dawg here ain’t very friendly.”

Right on cue, Dawg snarled at Eddie.

“He sure isn’t. I wouldn’t tolerate him biting anyone at the ranch.”

“Never known him to bite. Mostly he threatens.” Brand must make sure Eddie didn’t encourage anyone to challenge Dawg. “Figure he’d only bite if he thought someone meant to harm me.”

The rancher nodded. “Good enough. I’ll expect you in the morning then. You want your wages for what you’ve already done?”

“I’ll pick them up when I’m finished.” No need to get them now. When he was done he’d go to town and buy some supplies and a warm winter coat. He’d plumb wore out his last one and given it to Dawg to use for a bed. Dawg had chewed it to pieces and they’d left the remnants behind a few months ago.

Eddie mounted up and rode away. And Brand allowed the waiting smile to claim his mouth. “Well, don’t that beat all?”

Dawg whined, studied him with head tilted to one side.

“It’s only for a short time. Then we’ll be gone.” A few more days wouldn’t compromise their safety or Sybil’s, but no point in explaining that to Dawg.

Brand settled back on the ground and smiled up at the sky. Ma’s words seeped into his soul. God had led him to a safe place. Though he understood it was only temporary.

His leg twitched and he rubbed it.

How long would this place be safe?

Not long enough.