Читать книгу Lady Outlaw - Stacy Henrie - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Jennie approached the bunkhouse from the back, pausing in the shadows. She set down the saddlebag and called in a low voice, “Nathan?”

The only sound was the chirp of crickets, but Jennie knew better. Brandishing her pistol, she managed one step forward before an arm wrapped itself tightly around her waist.

“Evening, love.” Nathan’s deep voice murmured in her ear. “Glad to see you’re still in one piece.”

The scent of alcohol and cigar smoke that typically accompanied him made Jennie wrinkle her nose. She pushed the barrel of her gun into his side. “Let go.”

Nathan laughed, but he released her. “Were Bart and his gang where I said they’d be?”

“Yes. Everything went exactly as we planned.” She decided not to mention Caleb’s help. Though in her mind, the deal she had with Nathan Blaine was strictly business, she knew he wouldn’t be pleased to hear about a new man in her life.

She stuck her gun back in place and knelt beside the saddlebag. Opening it, she rummaged through the supplies and drew out two thick wads of cash. She stood and handed him his money. She hated parting with half of the four hundred dollars she’d taken, but Nathan’s help was worth every cent. His ability to mingle discreetly with outlaws had provided Jennie with the information she needed to accomplish her second and third robberies.

Nathan ran his thumb through the money and slipped it into a knapsack on his shoulder. “I knew you had pluck,” he said, leaning too close, “the moment you walked into the saloon with your chin all stuck out and your eyes all determined.”

Jennie cringed at the memory of standing in the noisy, suffocating saloon, searching the crowd of leering men for someone to help her. “Is that why you agreed to work with me?” she said in a teasing tone even as she took a deliberate step back, putting needed space between them.

“Maybe, maybe not.” He grabbed her hand and placed it against his chest. Jennie squirmed, but Nathan wouldn’t let go. Even in the dark, she could sense his ogling gaze. “Why not give up tryin’ to save your ranch and come make some real money with me? With your beauty and the way you handle a gun, we could take on banks or trains. We’d live like royalty.”

Pulling her hand free, Jennie stared past him at the barn and house. The moonlight shone down on the peeling paint of both buildings and the corral fence with holes large enough for a calf to squeeze through. There were other problems she couldn’t see, but they were as apparent and real as the tattered ranch around her—the looming deadline from the bank and the two or three sets of bandits she’d still need to take from in order to meet it.

But I would never stoop to become a bandit myself.

“No, Nathan,” she said, shaking her head. She wouldn’t quit. She needed this land, and it needed her. “I’m going to make this place what it used to be.”

He shrugged, but his disappointment hung in the air between them. “So long, love.”

Jennie watched him swagger away before picking up her saddlebag. She slipped into the bunkhouse and knelt in the corner opposite the door. Pulling up the loose board, she placed her two hundred dollars inside the small space. She’d keep it hidden here until she could travel to Fillmore and give some of it to the horrid Mr. Dixon.

After replacing the board, Jennie stood and brushed off her skirt. A thin layer of dust typically covered the unused bunkhouse. It served as another reminder of the failing condition of the ranch. Even before her father had died, they’d been forced to let go of their three ranch hands. With so few cows, she and Will had managed to keep up, but the new group of calves meant more work now.

Thankfully the money she’d relieved Bart of would pay for Caleb’s help and hopefully keep the ranch going a little longer. Maybe Bart and his thugs would even see the futility of robbing innocent people. At least she only took money from crooks and used it for far better purposes than drinking or gambling or immoral company. Once my debt is paid in full, I’ll be done with all of this.

Leaving the bunkhouse, she walked quickly to the barn. She wanted to see her family, introduce them to Caleb and climb beneath clean sheets.

The barn doors were shut, though Jennie was certain she’d left them open when she went to meet Nathan. Shrugging off her forgetfulness, she entered the barn. The building stood dark. Jennie hurried back outside and scanned the yard. Where had Caleb gone? She glanced at the house. A light in the kitchen threw shadows against the curtains—three shadows.

“The nerve of that man!” she muttered as she marched toward the porch. Why had he gone to the house without her? What would he tell her family about fighting Bart and his thugs? She quickened her steps as anger rose inside her. Hiring Mr. Johnson might prove to be a bigger disaster than she’d imagined.

* * *

“Did you get enough to eat?” Jennie’s grandmother, Grandma Jones as she’d introduced herself, asked from across the table.

Caleb finished up his last bite of rabbit stew and patted his stomach. “Yes, ma’am. Best meal I’ve had in months. Better than any boardinghouse, for sure.”

He hadn’t meant to come inside without Jennie, but the moment his boots had hit the porch steps, her brother and grandmother had come to the door. He’d hurried to explain his presence, choosing to voice just the basic facts, as Jennie had requested. He and Jennie had met outside of town, and she’d hired him when he had mentioned needing a job. Jennie’s grandmother had welcomed him with a warm smile and invited him right in for supper.

“You could learn a thing or two about manners from Mr. Johnson, Will,” she said to the boy seated on Caleb’s right.

Will rolled his eyes as Grandma Jones took Caleb’s plate to the sideboard. The boy and his grandmother looked alike with the same green eyes and brown hair, though hers was streaked with gray.

The front door slammed shut, and a moment later, Jennie appeared in the kitchen doorway, a frantic look in her eye and a smear of dust across one cheek.

“There you are, Jennie.” Grandma Jones walked over and wiped away the dust on Jennie’s face with her apron. “I stalled supper as long as I could, but you know Will—always hungry.”

Her brother paused long enough over his second helping of stew to smile at his sister.

“Would you like supper?” Grandma Jones asked Jennie.

“Yes, please.” Jennie scowled at Caleb as her grandmother crossed to the stove to fix up a plate. “I thought we were coming in together, so I could properly introduce you.”

Caleb didn’t miss the tense quality to her voice. She thinks I told them about the ruffians chasing after her. He gave a quick shake of his head, trying to communicate that he hadn’t broken his word, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“No need for such formality.” Grandma Jones smiled at Caleb over her shoulder. “We heard somebody outside and found this handsome, half-starved young man standing there.” She set Jennie’s supper on the table and sat down. “Did you have a good trip into town?”

Jennie nodded before frowning at Caleb. “I’ve hired Mr. Johnson to help us around the ranch.”

“I told them why I was here,” Caleb said, matching her level look with one of his own.

“You did?” Jennie sank into an empty chair, glancing at each of them in turn. The delicate muscles in her jaw tightened.

“What a blessing you two ran into each other,” her grandmother said. “It’ll be nice to have an extra pair of hands around here, what with all the new calves.”

The tight lines in Jennie’s face relaxed and she shot Caleb a grateful smile. “It will, won’t it?”

“You a cowboy?” Will asked him.

“No. But I’m a fast learner.”

Grandma Jones stood and lifted Will’s empty plate. “Take the lamp from the parlor, Will, and show Mr. Johnson to your father’s old room.”

“I couldn’t intrude like that,” Caleb said. “I don’t mind sleeping in the barn or the bunkhouse—”

“Nonsense.” Grandma Jones waved away his protests. “As long as you’re working here, you’re welcome to the room. It’s a bit dusty, but it’s a far cry better than the bunkhouse or barn. And if there’s anything else you need, Mr. Johnson, just holler. Breakfast is at dawn.”

“Thank you. And please, call me Caleb.” Smiling at her, he rose from his chair and gathered up his things from where he’d set them in the corner. “Good night to you both.”

“Thank you,” Jennie mouthed to him when Grandma Jones moved to the sink. Caleb doffed his hat to her, glad she knew he’d kept his word.

He met Will in the hallway and followed him up the stairs. At the first landing, Will opened a door on their left and stepped inside.

“This is Pa’s old room.” He set the lamp on the dresser near the door.

Caleb surveyed the small but tidy room. After sleeping in barns, out in the open, or in crowded boardinghouses for almost three years, the thought of having his own water basin and a real bed all to himself made him feel like a king. Perhaps the accommodations and the family’s kindness would outweigh the low pay.

“Looks comfortable,” Caleb said, dropping his pack onto the bed’s faded patchwork quilt. “How long’s it been since you had hired help?”

Will leaned his long body against the door frame. “Before our pa died. The only man that’s come around recently just talks to Jennie.”

“She hire him to help, too?”

The boy shook his head. “I thought that’s what she was doing, but she’s never introduced him or invited him up to the house. He seems a bit rough, though, you know?” He lifted one shoulder. “I haven’t asked. I’m just glad you look a bit more...respectable.”

“I appreciate that.” Caleb placed his few belongings in the dresser.

Sounded to him like Jennie had a beau. Seemed like everyone his age did, though Caleb didn’t mind so much. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever care that deeply about a person again. Maybe his only chance for love and marriage had died when Liza did.

“I’m glad you took the job, even if you are a tenderfoot.” Will grinned. “Jennie’s been running things pretty much by herself since Pa passed. I try and help, but we need more than the two of us to make this place good again.”

“Mind my asking what happened to your father?”

“No.” Will put his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor. “Some Indians were rustling our cattle and Pa went after them. He was shot in the stomach with an arrow. He died before the doctor could get here.”

“I’m sorry.” Caleb hated how trite the expression sounded, conveying so little of the sympathy he felt at the family’s loss.

Will lifted his head and offered another shrug. “It’s all right. I just don’t think Pa meant for Jennie to do so much by herself. That’s why I’m glad you’ll be helpin’ us, Mr. Johnson. I mean, Caleb. Good night.”

“Night, Will.”

The boy left the room, shutting the door behind him. Caleb wandered over to the window and pulled back the thin curtains. Shadowed hills merged into mountains in the distance. He let the curtains drop back into place and removed his money pouch from his shirt. He set it on the dresser as he prepared for bed.

Before climbing beneath the covers, Caleb knelt on the hardwood floor. He thanked God for the new job, even with the low wages. Clearly he was needed here. “Help me be an instrument for good with this family,” he prayed. “And grant me patience as I work toward my plans.” He ended his prayer and slipped his pouch under the mattress before he got into bed.

Every dollar he earned put him one step closer to starting his freight business. One step closer to that new life he’d planned for, free from all reminders of his past. Compared to that, a few months being a cowhand was a small price to pay.