Читать книгу A Rancher Of Convenience - Regina Scott - Страница 10
ОглавлениеHe’d agreed to stay. Nancy felt as if she could draw a deep breath for the first time in weeks. She was ready to learn more about this ranch, about the gigantic cattle that roamed it and would provide a living for her and her baby. And she intended to start as soon as possible.
So, she rose even earlier than usual the next morning and dressed in her sturdiest outfit. The heavy brown twill was beginning to feel tight, though the cinnamon-colored jacket over the white cotton bodice was as comfortable as always. Sombrero covering her hair, she met her boys coming out of the barn just as the sun was breaking over the hills behind the house to the staccato serenade of a flock of warblers.
Mr. Snowden was the first to catch her gaze as she approached. Handing the reins of his horse to Mr. Upkins, he hurried to meet her. Those blue eyes looked darker in the golden light, and his face was tight. “Is everything all right, ma’am?”
His gaze roamed over her as if searching for injuries. Was it her imagination, or did it linger on her belly? Did he know? Lucas had decided not to tell anyone until she was further along.
“You can never be sure about babies out here,” he’d warned.
The thought of losing a child frightened most women, she knew. But her mother had taught her well. Since shortly after her father had died when Nancy was twelve, her mother had involved her in midwife duties. Nancy had helped dozens of mothers through pregnancy, had brought dozens of babies into the world. She could tell her baby was growing and healthy and strong. If she’d had any doubts, the nightly kicks would have been enough to prove it! But Lucas had insisted, and so she had remained silent.
“Everything’s fine, Mr. Snowden,” she said, forcing herself to smile. “I thought I might come with you this morning. See how the herd is doing.”
Mr. Upkins was frowning at her, and Billy froze in the act of mounting.
“Don’t see how that’s a good idea, ma’am,” Mr. Snowden said, pulling off his hat. His thick black hair was already beginning to curl with the heat, for the air was warm even overnight during the summers here. Her hand positively twitched with the urge to reach up and smooth down the waves.
Instead, she looked from one of her boys to the other, putting on her sweetest smile.
“But why not?” she asked. “Surely, I need to understand how the ranch works. You agreed to teach me, Mr. Snowden.”
Mr. Upkins shoved back his hat at that, and Billy shook his head. Mr. Snowden took her elbow and turned her toward the house.
“We’re riding the line today, Mrs. Bennett,” he explained. “That means we’ll leave now and won’t be back until sundown. No telling what we might run into—rattlers, mountain lions, coyotes. It’s no place for a lady.”
No place for a lady. She’d heard that claim often enough, first from the townsfolk in Missouri who had decided to entrust future babies to the new doctor rather than rely on an unmarried woman, then from Lucas when she’d asked questions about the ranch. She’d never appreciated such coddling, and she certainly couldn’t afford the indulgence now.
“Lula May Barlow tends to her ranch,” she reminded him, digging in her heels to keep from moving farther back.
To his credit, he released her arm. “Mrs. Barlow has two nearly grown stepsons to help. And you have us.” He lowered his voice and his head to meet her gaze straight on. “Besides, riding line wouldn’t be good for the baby.”
She felt as if he’d thrown a bucket of spring water over her head. “How did you know? Did Lucas...?”
He shook his head, straightening. “Mr. Bennett didn’t share much with the hired help. It was the glow about you, the way you move. About five months along, I reckon.”
He’d guessed something she’d had to explain to Lucas. “You should be a midwife, Mr. Snowden,” she told him.
He chuckled, a warm sound that beat back the chill she’d felt. “And here I thought I was one, for a whole herd of heifers.” He sobered suddenly, dropping his gaze. “Not that I meant to compare you to a heifer, ma’am.”
It was her turn to laugh. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done so. “Certainly not, Mr. Snowden. I don’t have horns.”
He glanced down at her. “And your eyes are much prettier, and you don’t weigh nearly as much.”
“Why such compliments, Mr. Snowden,” she teased. “You’ll quite turn my head.”
Was that a tinge of red working its way into his firm cheeks? “Only speaking the truth, ma’am,” he murmured. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should start out so I can be back by nightfall.”
She caught his arm. His muscles tensed under her hand, and she realized she was being too bold. Immediately she dropped her hold and stepped back.
“I’m willing to stay behind for the good of the baby,” she told him. “But you promised to teach me to run this ranch. How can I learn if you’re out on the range?”
He eyed her a moment, then blew out a breath. “You’re right. I’ll send Upkins and Jenks along and stay with you. If they spot any trouble, they can always ride back, and we can tackle it tomorrow.”
She couldn’t believe how buoyant she felt as she watched him send her other boys off. He returned to her side and walked her to the porch, insisting that she sit on one of the wicker chairs there and even handing her the padded cushion from another of the chairs to put behind her.
“You’re fussing,” she accused him.
Now she had no doubt his cheeks were reddening. As if to keep her from noticing it, he paced around the chairs and finally took one not too far from hers, setting his hat on the table between them. Even then, his knee bobbed up and down, as if he’d rather be out riding.
“Perhaps,” she said, hoping to put him at his ease, “we should agree on a few things. First, if you are going to be my teacher, I think it would be appropriate for you to call me Nancy. Shall I call you Henry?”
His knee froze. “No, ma’—Nancy. That’s my father’s name too, and I never cottoned to it. He had a way of saying it, all drawn out like it was three or four syllables, and I’d know I’d disappointed him again. Call me Hank.”
Hank. Though she’d known that was what Lucas called him, she hadn’t considered the name until now. It was strong, steady, not unlike the man sitting next to her. “Very well, Hank. I want you to know I’ll be a very attentive and eager learner.”
He shifted on the chair as if he wasn’t so sure about his own role as teacher. “What exactly did you want to know about ranching?”
What didn’t she want to know? She felt as if she’d lived in a cocoon of her husband’s making and hadn’t yet emerged as a butterfly. “Everything?” she suggested.
He took a deep breath. “That’s a tall order. Maybe we could start with what you know and work from there.”
Nancy waved toward the hills. “We have land. It supports cattle. And apparently rattlesnakes, mountain lions and coyotes. We sell those cattle and turn a profit.” She faced him fully. “What I want to know is how.”
He ran a hand back through his hair, spiking curls in its wake. “And I thought riding the line made for a long day.”
“I told you I knew nothing,” she reminded him.
He nodded. “All right, then. To start off with, cattle don’t just spring up like tumbleweeds. We generally bring in a bull or two around this time of year.”
Nancy frowned. “Don’t we have any bulls?”
“Not enough to service a herd this size.”
She made a face. “I don’t understand.”
He was turning red again, and his gaze refused to meet hers. “Maybe we should start with the other end of the story. This isn’t a conversation I’m prepared to have with a lady.”
She thought for a moment, going back over what he’d said, then brightened. “No need. I think I know what you’re talking about. Bulls plus cows equals babies.”
He sagged back against the chair as if he’d run a race. “Bulls plus cows equals calves. But yes, that’s what I mean. And calves are born in the spring, get branded and grow into steers we sell at a profit a year later come fall. Make sense?”
“Yes,” she said. “You don’t have to hesitate to talk about birthing with me. I’m not afraid to talk about babies, mine or anything else’s. I understand them. Cattle are what scare me.”
He chuckled. “Cattle are big babies, if you ask me. Won’t listen to what you tell them. Want their own way. Then they look at you all sweet like, and you know they have you right where they want you.”
“Well, if cattle are babies, I’ll be running this ranch in no time,” she told him, offering him a smile.
He stared at her mouth as if she’d done something amazing. Was a smile so important? Or was hers that special to him?
Even as her cheeks heated under his regard, he turned and gazed down the long drive toward the wrought iron gates that marked the edge of the Windy Diamond.
“Someone’s coming,” he said, standing. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” Nancy asked as he stepped down from the porch and headed for the barn.
“To get my shooting iron.”
A flutter started in her stomach, and she pressed a hand against her waist to still it. Did he think it was outlaws? Some other kind of trouble?
It couldn’t be Sheriff Fuller again. She’d been grateful he had been considerate when he’d returned to question her further about Lucas. She only regretted she hadn’t been any help to the lawman. She truly hadn’t known a thing about her husband’s shady business dealings. It seemed to her she hadn’t even known her husband.
She was just glad to recognize the occupants of the wagon that rattled onto the flat before the house. Edmund McKay, a tall, serious-looking rancher who had a spread to the southwest of town, was at the reins, and her friend Lula May sat beside him. Lula May gave her an airy wave, then gathered her blue cotton skirts. Though the young widow was perfectly capable of climbing down, Mr. McKay came around and lifted her from the bench. His gaze seemed to linger on hers before he released her.
Now, there was a sight. Only a month or so ago Nancy and Molly Thorn had teased Lula May about refusing to let Edmund help her down. Now there was a tenderness between her friend and the rancher that tugged at Nancy’s bruised heart. It seemed she’d missed a romance in the last couple weeks she’d been staying close to the ranch. The thought made her smile, but the frown on Mr. McKay’s face as he walked toward her set her stomach to fluttering again.
She scolded herself for the reaction. Edmund McKay had never struck her as a harsh man. He might even be accounted handsome with his chiseled features, hair the color of the sandy soil, and dark coat emphasizing his muscular build. He walked with the confidence of a man at rest with his conscience. Lula May, who was tall for a woman, looked positively petite at his side, her strawberry blonde hair confined behind her head, blue eyes crinkling around the corners with her smile.
“Nancy,” she said, climbing the porch to enfold her in a hug. “I was hoping you might feel up to company today.” She cast a glance at Edmund as if to encourage him to speak. He yanked the brown Stetson from his head.
“Mrs. Bennett,” he said with a nod that seemed respectful enough. “How are you faring?” The way he shifted on his feet told her she wasn’t the only one concerned about this meeting. She resolved to welcome him all the same.
“We’re faring well, thank you, Mr. McKay,” she told him. “Mr. Snowden sees to the ranch for me, along with Billy Jenks and Mr. Upkins. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”
Edmund nodded. “They’re a good bunch. Sheriff Fuller said they were real helpful making sure there were no more stolen cattle on the range.”
All her good intentions vanished, and Nancy cringed despite herself. “I’m so sorry, Mr. McKay. I had no idea Lucas was stealing.”
“There, now,” Lula May said, reaching out a hand. “I told the other members of the Lone Star Cowboy League that you had nothing to do with any of it.”
That only made her feel worse. She’d appreciated her neighbors’ efforts in banding together to help each other in times of need. But Lucas had shrugged off the idea.
“Any fool knows it’s every man for himself out here,” he’d scoffed. Still, he’d agreed to let Hank represent their interests in the league. She’d thought Lucas was merely trying to do his civic duty. Now she was fairly sure he’d used the information the cowboy brought him to help plan his thieving.
“She convinced us,” Edmund was saying, with a glance to Lula May that was all pride. “There isn’t a man—”
“Or a woman,” Lula May put in.
“Who holds you accountable,” Edmund finished.
Nancy drew in a breath. How easy it was to latch on to their forgiveness. A shame she could not forgive herself.
“Thank you,” she said. “But I should have realized what was happening. I should have warned the league, told the sheriff. Because I was blind, you all suffered. I’m so sorry.”
The clink of spurs told her Hank had returned.
“No call to be sorry,” he said, stepping onto the porch behind Edmund. “If there’s anyone to blame for this mess, it’s me.”
* * *
Edmund McKay shook his head, and Lula May, as she’d asked the league members to call her, had that lightning sparking in her eyes again, but Hank knew he spoke the truth. McKay knew it too. He’d been there the day they’d caught Lucas Bennett with a whole herd of cattle not his own.
The members of the Lone Star Cowboy League had been trying to discover who had been stealing cattle from the area. The rustler had hit nearly every spread for miles around, caused a fire that had leveled the Carson barn. But it had taken Lula May to put the pieces together. And the picture she painted had made Hank sick.
His boss was the rustler, and Hank had unknowingly fed him the information to plot the thefts.
When Sheriff Fuller offered to deputize Hank, McKay and another local rancher named Abe Sawyer to go with the lawman after Lucas Bennett, Hank hadn’t hesitated. He’d ridden with the other men to confront his boss. Hank had been pretty sure where the man was hiding, in a box canyon on the spread. But when they found him with more than three dozen head of cattle, Bennett and McKay had squared off, with Bennett drawing fast. The sheriff and Hank had both fired at the same time. Hank knew which shot had hit home.
Nancy Bennett was a widow, and it was all his fault. He was about ready to admit it, take his licks as his due.
But she turned on him, hands going to the curve of her hips. “Nonsense, Mr. Snowden,” she said, hazel eyes wide. “You’re the best hand my husband ever had. He told me so himself.”
He felt as if she’d twisted a knife in his gut. He’d always prided himself on doing a good job, but the fact that Lucas Bennett had bragged on him only made Hank’s betrayal worse.
He tugged the hat off his hair. “Just doing my duty, ma’am. I’m glad to see other folks come out to help, as well.” He nodded to Lula May and the rancher.
“Anything you need,” Lula May assured her friend.
He waited for Mrs. Bennett to brighten. That was one of the many things he appreciated about her. She was mostly quiet—shy, he was coming to realize—but when she smiled, it was like the sun rising, warming the whole earth with its glow. She hadn’t been smiling much since even before her husband had been killed. When she’d beamed at him earlier on the porch, he’d about slid from his chair in thanksgiving.
But now she merely lowered her hands and her gaze as she turned to her visitors. “Where are my manners? Please come in. I don’t have anything baked, but there’s cool water from the spring.”
“And I brought a lemon cake,” Lula May announced. She put her hand on the rancher’s arm. “Would you fetch it from the wagon for me?”
She didn’t fool Hank. Lula May was one tough lady, who’d managed her husband’s horse ranch after he’d fallen ill. Now a widow, she was the only woman in the Lone Star Cowboy League, and the member most respected by the others. If she was asking McKay to do her fetching and carrying, she was up to something.
He was just as glad for it, for it gave him a moment to talk to his friend alone. As the two women passed him to enter the house, he hurried to pace the rancher.
McKay cast him a quick look, green eyes thoughtful. “Mrs. Bennett says you’re doing right by the ranch. I wouldn’t have expected less.”
Hank put a hand on the man’s shoulder to stop him before he reached the wagon. “I promised her I’d stay as long as need be. But there’s something you should know. Lucas Bennett took out a loan from a bank in Burnet before he died.”
The rancher frowned, turning to face him. “From Burnet? Why didn’t he come into Little Horn or approach one of us? We’d have loaned him money or found a way to fix whatever he needed.”
“I don’t think he wanted the money to fix anything,” Hank told him. “He may have convinced the bank he wanted to improve the ranch, but he sure didn’t use the money on anything worthwhile.”
McKay nodded. “Lula May tells me he may have been gambling with her uncle while he was in town.”
Hank felt as if he’d eaten something that had sat in the sun too long. “It wouldn’t surprise me. Not after what else he did.”
McKay shook his head. “I can only feel for his widow.”
Hank too. “It gets worse,” he said. “The bank is threatening to call in the loan. Seems they don’t think Mrs. Bennett is skilled enough to turn a profit ranching. I thought maybe the league could help her out.”
“I’ll ask Lula May to call an emergency meeting for tomorrow night,” McKay promised, starting for the wagon once more. “You can make the case then.”
Hank joined him at the wagon. “I might not be the best advocate. I’ve already done enough damage, carrying everything we discussed about keeping the ranches safe to the very thief we were trying to protect ourselves from.”
“You didn’t know you were telling tales to the wrong person,” the rancher insisted. “No one holds you accountable either. Lucas Bennett fooled us all.”
Hank dusted his hands on his Levi’s, wishing he could wipe away the last two weeks as easily. “At least we know it’s over. We stopped the rustler. Everyone can go about their lives.”
Everyone but him and Nancy.
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” McKay reached into the wagon and carefully drew out a basket covered with a gingham cloth.
Hank frowned. “What are you talking about? Lucas Bennett is dead. I buried him myself.”
The rancher eyed him. “He may be dead, but even alive he wouldn’t have been able to take all those cattle to market by himself.”
“Upkins and Jenks had nothing to do with it,” Hank said, widening his stance. He recognized the gesture and forced his body to relax. What, was he going to draw on Edmund McKay now?
“I believe you,” his friend assured him. “I thought maybe Bennett was stealing those cattle to build his herd. But if he was so desperate for money he’d mortgage his spread, he had to have been planning to sell them.”
“Nobody in these parts would buy stolen cattle,” Hank protested.
“Nobody we know,” McKay agreed. “But someone must have made him an offer. He would have known he couldn’t hide the cattle long before one of you spotted them. And he’d need help to drive that many to a buyer, one who wasn’t concerned about the brands.”
His friend was right. Hank’s only solace for shooting Lucas Bennett had been that he’d stopped the man from shooting anyone else and he’d ended the rash of thefts that had plagued the Little Horn community. But if someone had been aiding Lucas Bennett, they still had a common enemy.
“If I were you,” the rancher said, green gaze boring into Hank’s, “I’d keep a close eye on the spread. Where one rustler steps out, another may think to step in. There may be more than rattlers hiding in those hills, and Nancy Bennett is going to need protection from them.”
That kind of protection was normally the job for a lawman or a husband. He was no lawman. And Jeb Fuller had the whole county to watch over. He couldn’t focus all his efforts on the Windy Diamond.
So did Hank dare think of himself as a husband?
He’d tried before. His father, in his usual proud way, had picked out the girl. For once, Hank hadn’t been willing to argue. Mary Ellen Wannacre had been downright beautiful, with hair brighter than sunshine and eyes the color of bluebonnets. With her on his arm, he’d felt like the man his father was always goading him to be—powerful, confident. Every fellow in Waco had been green with envy. He’d allowed himself to fall in love.
But in the end, he’d come in second best. She’d chosen to marry his friend Adam Turner, who at least had had the decency to stammer out an apology. Hank couldn’t blame either of them. He’d never managed to measure up to his father’s expectations. It didn’t come as a surprise he didn’t measure up to hers.
It had taken him five years to begin to meet his own.
Was he willing to set those aside for someone else’s, to keep Nancy Bennett and her baby safe?
