Читать книгу Lady Outlaw - Stacy Henrie - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Seven months later

Caleb let his horse Saul pick its own way along the faint trail through the sagebrush while he sat in the saddle, finishing his cold supper of dry bread and jerky. He didn’t have time to stop to eat if he was going to find lodging and a warm meal in Beaver by sundown.

He brushed the bits of bread from his chaps, and almost of its own accord, his hand rose to pat the pouch hidden beneath his shirt. Three hundred dollars sat inside—three hundred dollars his parents couldn’t complain hadn’t been earned through honest labor. Not that any amount of honest work would reconcile them to the fact that he wasn’t coming home to the Salt Lake Valley. They hadn’t liked it when he’d left, and they certainly hadn’t been pleased when he’d become a bounty hunter. But the real divide had come when he’d stopped bounty hunting...and still refused to come home.

Didn’t they understand how hard it was for him to think of returning to the place where he’d hoped to build a life with Liza? He’d settle down soon, but it would be someplace new—somewhere he could have a fresh start. And with God’s help, he’d be ready for that soon. One more job, maybe two, and Caleb would have enough money to outfit his own freight business.

“We’ll come back,” he murmured to Saul as he gazed from beneath his hat at the juniper-covered hills and the distant mountain peaks. He’d come to love this rugged country. “Next time, though, it’ll be with a wagon full of goods and a strong pair of horses.” Saul’s ears flicked back and the horse gave a long whinny. Caleb chuckled. “My apologies. But you wouldn’t want to pull a loaded wag—”

The sound of a large animal crashing through the underbrush silenced Caleb’s words. Reining Saul in, he twisted in the saddle, trying to discern which direction the noise came from. He gripped the butt of one of the revolvers in his holster. Neither gun was loaded, but Caleb figured whoever was headed his way wouldn’t know that.

A moment later, a horse and rider burst from the trees a dozen yards up the trail. “Look out,” a female voice yelled as the pair raced toward Caleb.

A woman? Out here? Caleb released his grip on the gun and wordlessly jerked his horse out of the way.

“You should leave,” the woman added, thundering past him. Her dress flapped in the wind, revealing men’s trousers under the skirt. Long red hair spilled out from beneath her cowboy hat.

Caleb peered after the retreating figure. Where would she be going in such a rush and why would she tell him to leave? Shaking his head in bewilderment, he faced forward again. Only this time he heard the faint but unmistakable sound of several horses riding hard in his direction. Someone was coming down the trail after the woman.

Out of instinct, Caleb scanned the area for a place of defense against those coming his way. To his right, on a small rise above the trail, a patch of trees provided both cover and a lookout position. He wouldn’t take action—not yet, anyway. This wasn’t his fight. He didn’t know the circumstances and he didn’t want to run the risk of being killed, or worse, having to kill a man—again. Still, from the sounds of it, there were several men coming after that woman. He’d stay out of the conflict for now, but if they appeared ready to hurt her, he’d be on hand to intervene.

He watched the woman rider until she disappeared behind a clump of trees and underbrush. She didn’t reappear. If she stayed hidden, she might be all right. Maybe nothing would come of this after all.

Caleb guided Saul up the incline, behind the juniper trees, then he dropped from the saddle. He tied Saul’s reins to a thick branch before lowering himself to his knees. He removed his bullet pouch just as five men rode into sight.

The riders’ clothes were tattered and dirty, and each of them sported scruffy beards or mustaches beneath their dusty cowboy hats. All five had guns and wore the same hardened expressions he’d seen on the four stage robbers he’d hunted down, including the last one whose face was on the wanted poster he kept in his saddle bag.

The tallest of the five stopped within yards of the woman’s hiding place and fired his rifle into the air. “Fun’s over, missy,” he sneered. “We know you’re here, and we want what’s ours.”

Caleb quickly loaded one of his revolvers and crept closer to the hill’s edge, making certain to stay hidden behind the trees. Would the woman keep silent or make a stand? Either way, Caleb didn’t plan on letting her be caught or shot by these ruffians.

“I’d watch it if I were you, Bart. You’re surrounded,” the woman called back. To her credit, Caleb didn’t detect an ounce of fear in her voice. “I’ve got the sheriff with me and his posse’s waiting down the trail for you.”

Caleb scanned the nearby mountainside, but he saw no movement, no reinforcements. She had to be lying. A heavy silence followed her brave words. In the stillness, Caleb heard the distant trill of a bird. He tightened his grip on his gun, fully expecting a volley of shots in response to her bluff. But the quiet stretched on for nearly a minute.

“You’re lying,” Bart finally shouted back. “And you’ll soon find out what we do with lying, thieving...”

Time to act. “Howdy, boys,” Caleb hollered from behind the trees. All five men whipped their heads in his direction, disbelief radiating from more than one face. “Nice to see y’all are friends. Makes sharing a jail cell more enjoyable.”

“It’s the sheriff,” a baby-faced fellow cried. “Let’s split.”

“Hold on. I still say she’s bluffin’ about him bringin’ a whole posse,” Bart said, scratching his motley beard. His narrowed gaze jumped from the hill, to the clump of trees beside the trail and back in Caleb’s direction.

Before anyone could make a move, the woman fired a round of shots that hit the ground near one of the bandits. The man let out a loud yelp and jerked his horse away. Caleb aimed at a patch of sagebrush near another of the riders, hoping to spook the horse into bolting.

The riders attempted to return fire, but the bullets whizzing past them drove them into a tighter group on the exposed trail. Caleb could see the horses—and the riders—getting more agitated by the minute. Before long, one of them turned his horse and galloped away toward Caleb. Caleb let him ride past.

Another hurried after him. “We’re outnumbered, Bart,” the man screamed over his shoulder.

Bart fired once more before pointing his horse in the direction the other two had charged. “Let’s go!” He threw an ugly look toward the trees, then up the hill as he retreated, the last two bandits behind him.

Caleb waited another minute to ensure they didn’t double back. When the trail remained empty in either direction, he replaced his gun in its holster and untied Saul’s reins.

The woman still hadn’t emerged from the trees yet. Anxious to know if she’d fared well through the gunfight, Caleb led Saul down the incline and across the trail. Skirting the copse of trees, he entered the shelter they formed and found himself staring down the barrel of the woman’s pistol.

“Whoa—don’t shoot.” He dropped the reins and lifted both hands in the air. Saul whinnied softly beside him.

“You’re the one who pretended to be the sheriff.” To his relief, she lowered her gun. “I thought I told you to leave.”

“Are you all right? Why were those men chasing you? Have they...” He rubbed the back of his suddenly warm neck. “Have they laid their hands on you in any way?”

Her cheeks flushed. “No. Oh, no. They knew I had some money with me—that’s all.” She pushed up her hat, revealing amused brown eyes—not the green he’d expected. “I’d say they got the worst of it.”

He’d only ever seen one other girl with red hair and coffee-colored eyes, in a mercantile in Fillmore when he’d done some work up there last fall. He suspected that young lady, though, wouldn’t go around fighting in shoot-outs or wearing men’s trousers under her skirt.

“By the way, thanks for the help.” She stuck her pistol into the holster tied around her skirt and reached for her horse’s reins.

“What were you doing out on the trail by yourself?”

Her chin lifted a notch. “No one could be spared to come with me, and besides, I can handle myself just fine.”

“Apparently, but what would you have done if I hadn’t come along?”

“I would have figured something out,” she said as she climbed into her saddle. “I usually do.”

Caleb swung onto Saul’s back. “Going up against a group of armed thugs is a regular pastime of yours?”

“Hardly.” One corner of her mouth lifted in a half smile. “What about you? You play sheriff for hapless females on a regular basis?”

It was Caleb’s turn to smile. “Not hapless in your case. But it is always a pleasure helping a pretty girl. Wouldn’t mind that as a regular job.”

Instead of blushing, a peculiar expression passed over the woman’s face. She stared hard at him a moment before she visibly relaxed again. “Are you looking for work?”

“You hiring?”

“Maybe. What can you do?”

“Farming, freighting, a little carpentry.” He purposely left bounty hunting off his list. That part of his life had ended abruptly a year and a half ago, and Caleb wanted to keep it that way.

She nudged her horse forward, in line with Saul. “Do you know anything about cattle ranching?”

“Can’t say that I do.” The question brought a twinge of disappointment. He’d never fancied himself living the life of a cowhand—a little too close to farming for his tastes. “The only cows I’ve handled in the past are ones that needed milking.”

Her brow furrowed as she shook her head. “You don’t milk these cows. What we need is some extra help on our ranch. It’s only me, my grandmother and my younger brother. I’ve been doing most of the work myself for the past twenty months.”

She set her hat on the saddle horn and rearranged her hair into a bun. “You could help with branding and looking after the few cattle we have. There are other chores around the ranch that need another set of hands. I can’t pay you a lot—maybe twenty dollars a month.” She stuck her hat back on and finally regarded him again. “I might be able to give you a little more when we sell the cows in the fall.”

Twenty dollars wasn’t much, especially when he’d heard of cowhands making closer to forty dollars in a month. Surely he could find another job—one where he could earn more money in less time.

Caleb fiddled with Saul’s reins, ready to refuse her. But the words grew cold on his tongue. He hadn’t missed the desperate tone behind her offer. Clearly she needed his help. He could work for a lower wage if it wasn’t for long, couldn’t he?

“I might consider working for you,” he answered at last, “except I don’t usually accept jobs from nameless employers.”

A trace of a smile showed on her lips and then disappeared as quickly. “My name is Jennie. Jennie Jones.”

“Miss Jones.” Caleb pulled down the brim of his hat in greeting as if they’d met on the street and not in the middle of the desert—after a shoot-out. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Caleb Johnson.”

“Will you accept the job then, Mr. Johnson?”

As had become his habit since he’d quit bounty hunting, Caleb searched inside himself for some inkling, some impression from God, that this course wasn’t the one for him. None came.

Smiling, he waved her forward. “Lead the way, Miss Jones.”

* * *

Through the blue twilight smearing the western sky, Jennie spotted the familiar outline of the corral fence. Home. “That’s the ranch,” she said, her first words during the long trip. Caleb had been equally as quiet.

She peered sideways at him, wondering why she hadn’t recognized him before. His earlier comment about helping pretty girls had sparked her memory. The man from the general store who’d come to her aid last fall had said something similar and he, too, had deep blue eyes.

After nearly an hour riding beside him, Jennie was certain the two men were one and the same. He didn’t seem to remember her, though, to her relief and slight disappointment. She wasn’t the same woman she’d been that day when he had paid for the candy they’d shared.

What I am doing? she asked herself for the hundredth time. She never should have pressed him into working for her. What if he said something to the family about Bart and his gang? What would he do if he knew this was her third time robbing stage bandits?

“Something wrong?”

Jennie jumped in the saddle, causing her horse Dandy to dance to the side. “No. Why?”

“’Cause you’ve been chewing that thumbnail of yours for the last five miles, and I’m wondering if there’s any of it left.”

Jerking her hand from her lips, Jennie stared at her thumb. All of her nails were worn from constant work, but the one on her thumb resembled the jagged edge of a saw blade. This fingernail always worked its way between her teeth when she was nervous or had a lot on her mind.

“I’m fine,” she said, shrugging off his keen observation. She pretended to focus on the road ahead, though she knew every rut and bump from memory.

Her thoughts soon returned to the man beside her. Surely she could get along without help a little longer—she’d been doing things alone ever since her father had died. And having a stranger around the place might interfere with her plans to save the ranch.

Yanking back on Dandy’s reins, she twisted around to face Caleb. He tweaked an eyebrow at her sudden movement, but he pulled his horse to a stop, as well.

“If you don’t want to take this job, I’ll understand. We can split company right here.” Thankfully she couldn’t see his face very well in the fading light. “I appreciate all you did for me today, but like you said, you don’t know much about cattle ranching.”

“Am I being let go?”

Jennie blinked in surprise. Was he teasing her? Her jaw tightened, and she drew herself up. “I didn’t mean that. But you and I both know there are other better-paying jobs. You can stay the night with us, and then in the morning—”

“I’d like to at least have the job a full day, Miss Jones, before you decide anything.”

She frowned at his amused tone. It was a risk to employ him after what he’d seen on the trail, and yet, she wanted him around. He was the first person in a long time to offer help without ulterior motive—first in the mercantile, then again today.

“All right.” She rubbed the reins between her fingers. “You can try the job for six weeks. I’ll pay you for your work then. If we’re both not satisfied, you’re free to move on.”

“Fair enough.”

They moved their horses forward a few steps before Jennie felt compelled to stop again. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t say anything about the shoot-out with those men. I wouldn’t want to worry my grandmother.” For more reasons than one.

“I’ve found it’s better sometimes to leave well enough alone,” he said, his face turned toward something in the distance. “No need to drag the details into the light.”

“Thank you.” His compassion brought her a twinge of guilt when stacked against the truth, but Jennie easily pushed it aside.

She led him up the road, past the bunkhouse, to the barn where they both dismounted. The doors stood ajar, and through the opening, the soft glow of a lantern spilled out. Will had obviously anticipated her arrival.

With a grateful sigh, she pushed open the barn doors and guided Dandy into his stall. She gave him an affectionate pat on the rump as she closed the pen door. “You can put your horse in that last stall,” she told Caleb.

The other two ranch horses, Chief and Nellie, whinnied at the new company.

“Would you mind unsaddling them both?” Jennie removed the full saddlebag and flung it over her shoulder.

“You don’t waste time putting your hired help to work, do you?”

“I need to take care of something,” she said, ignoring his teasing. “There’s hay in the stalls and the currycombs are over there.” She waved a hand at the crude table littered with brushes. “I’ll meet you back here to take you up to the house and introduce you.”

Caleb tipped his hat. “Will do.”

Jennie left the barn. She headed at an angle toward the house, then doubled back in the direction of the empty bunkhouse. She tried to force thoughts of hiring Caleb from her mind. There was one more task she needed to do, and she’d need all her wits about her. She’d been successful today in getting more money to save the ranch.

Now she had to pay the price.