Читать книгу A Cowboy For Clementine - Susan Floyd - Страница 8

Los Banos, California, late January

CLEMENTINE WELLS STOPPED her horse, Archie, on a steep slope and stared straight ahead, trying to peer through the brush that covered most of the pastureland on her family’s 16,000-acre ranch. She thought she was mistaken, that she was seeing some kind of mirage.

She had known that she’d been duped, known that the man who’d sold her all the calves at a greatly reduced price saw inexperience tattooed across her forehead. She’d felt like a monster, branding those little calves with just nubbins of horns on their heads. Nothing big enough to even trim. Some of them had looked as if they’d been snatched from their mothers a mite too soon. She’d worried all through November she’d been sold runts that would be devoured by the cougars or would die in the cold. So she’d spent much of her time watching them, riding up to check on their progress and their growth. When her parents had come for Christmas, her father’d been impressed. He’d clasped his big hand on her shoulder and squeezed, telling her she’d done a good job, and she’d basked in the glow of his praise.

Her parents had left two days ago, and she’d ridden into the mountains today to check again. At first, her fears had seemed confirmed. The cows weren’t where they were supposed to be at this time of year. She’d trailed endless paths hoping that at least a few had survived the December storms that usually brought them in closer to the ranch. Now, as she spotted the cow she and her dogs had spent the past half hour tracking, she realized she’d been worried for nothing.

The cow had taken them on quite a trek, and, with a surge of triumph, Clem saw that it had led her to a shallow valley where there were others, the Wells family brand prominent on their rumps. Clem smiled with relief. These cows weren’t lost or dead. And the growth of these runts was very encouraging. It looked as if the joke was on the man who’d sold her the calves so cheaply. Why, if they continued to graze and grow at the rate they were, they’d be close to eight hundred pounds by April.

Elation ran through her and Clem allowed herself to smile. Her mother had been right. She was capable. Being taken care of first by her father and then her ex-husband hadn’t ruined her for life. She was able to stand on her own feet, admittedly with some help. But this was her herd, these were her cows. Finally, she’d done something in her thirty-two years of living that would actually pay off.

Archie whinnied and Clem looked around to see she wasn’t the only thing following the cow. Behind her was another one, wearing her brand, staring at her. Clem felt a little uneasy. Cows were prey animals. They wouldn’t venture so close. In fact, as a rule, they skittered away when something threatening approached.

This cow appeared neither threatened nor skittish. Instead, it shook its head before lowering it and pointing its horns at Clem.

Impossible. Clem thought with a laugh. Cows weren’t aggressive, though this one sure looked like—

The cow charged.

Archie stepped backward, and with her voice stuck in her throat and her heart pounding in her ears, Clementine Wells did what all good cowboys did in such a situation.

She ran.

She wheeled Archie out of the way and let him go, calling to her dogs at the same time. She could hear the sound of hooves pounding behind her, but was too afraid to look. Suddenly, Clem realized that for months she’d been worried about the wrong thing. Her cows were thriving in the Diablo mountain range. In the spring they’d be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. But cows only made money after they were rounded up and brought to market. At the best of times, with the gentlest of cows, roundups were hard. These cows were feral, getting them out of the mountains was going to be a nightmare.