High Desert Haven (The Shepherd's Heart) (18 page)

No, the best thing to do was what he had decided last night. Take care of the new hand and then marry Nicki. That prospect alone would be worth the danger. But added to it there was the land… He snorted. Ah yes, with the land added in, he was within grasp of a very sweet pot, indeed.

Throwing back his shoulders, he glanced over himself, brushing off the trail dust and straightening his vest and tie. He adjusted his hat and deliberately adopted a smile. After all, he was going to see the woman that he hoped to one day make his wife; he should be happy. She needed to think he was happy. He
was
happy.

He reached for the dog, but it cowered away from his hand. Annoyed, he grabbed it by the scruff of the neck, shoving it into the front of his coat. His voice was low and controlled when he said, “Come on, pup. Let’s go make a good impression, shall we?”

With a click of his tongue, he started his horse down the hill.

Jason had been gone for six days when Nicki glanced up from where she was taking down the wash she and Tilly had done earlier that morning. William was riding into the yard, a huge smile on his face. She sighed. He was back and by his expression, her refusal had not deterred him one bit now that he’d had some time away. She snapped a pillowcase and folded it carefully. Could she learn to love William?

“Hi, beautiful,” he drawled, as soon as he was within range.

She bent and put the last sheet into the basket, lifting it to her hip. “Hi. I wasn’t expecting you back until tomorrow.”

His eyes raked her from head to toe. “I had someone to hurry home to.”

She grinned cheekily. “I’m sure your men will be happy to know you rushed home to see them.”

He threw back his head with a laugh that somehow sounded hollow. She frowned slightly as she headed for the house. He jumped down and followed her asking, “Is the boy around?”

“Sawyer?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s inside with Tilly, taking a nap.”

“Could you wake him up a little early?”

She turned to stare at him, not remembering the last time she had seen him show an interest in Sawyer. At the innocent grin she saw on his face, she couldn’t help but smile. “Why?” Her voice was leery.

He shrugged, doing his best to maintain an innocent expression, but Nicki saw a light of mischievousness glinting in his eyes. He only said, “It’s a surprise.”

She watched him for a moment, but when he didn’t volunteer any more information, she turned toward the house. “I’ll go get him up. Do you want him out here or in the house?”

“Better bring him out here.”

“All right. Give me a minute.”

She emerged into the bright sunlight shortly with the still-sleepy Sawyer in her arms. The toddler buried his head in her shoulder to shield his eyes from the sun.

Nicki glanced down.

Sitting at William’s feet was the cutest, golden puppy she had ever seen. She gasped with surprise at the sight.

Sawyer’s head popped up to see what had caught her attention.

The puppy looked up at them with soulful brown eyes, settled itself more comfortably on its haunches, and gave a little yip.

“Puppy!” Sawyer squirmed out of her arms in a flash and gathered the little dog into his chubby arms, trying to pick it up.

William chuckled. “Hold on now, boy. Don’t pick him up. We don’t want him to get hurt.”

Sawyer obliged and set the puppy back on his feet, choosing instead to pet his fur the wrong way. William squatted by him. “Here. Like this.” He took Sawyer’s hand and showed him how to pet the dog from head to tail. The pup ducked away from William’s hand, scooting in closer to Sawyer and licking his face with a long pink tongue that sent the toddler into a fit of giggles.

William stood and looked over at her with a contented grin. She smiled in return, blinking back emotions she was unwilling to show. This meant more than she could say. “Thank you for thinking of him.”

He nodded, satisfaction in his eyes.

“Would you like to come in for some coffee?”

“Yeah.” He smiled. “That would be nice.”

“Sawyer, come get your hat and mittens. Then you can play outside with the puppy for a while.”

“Okay, Mama.” The toddler raced for the house and was back out again even before Nicki and William made it to the door, one mitten on the wrong hand, hat tucked under his arm, and the other mitten gripped firmly in his teeth as he hurriedly tried to put it on his opposite hand.

Nicki and William chuckled, and William bent down to help. “Here boy, let me help you with that.”

Nicki moved on into the house to pour their coffee, shaking her head.

William. What a good neighbor he was.

The ride from one corner of Nicki’s property to the other, skirting every nook and cranny, had taken longer than Jason had hoped. And for all his searching, he’d found nothing. He was discouraged and was now on his eighth day, even though their deal had been for seven. There had to be some resource here that would help Nicki save her ranch.

All was just as it had been described to him. The cattle would live, although this hard winter was taking more than its toll on them. He made a mental note to recommend that Nicki plant several acres of hay in the spring to increase the winter feed supply. From what he had noticed, none of the ranches in this area supplemented winter feedings since the winters were usually mild. Still, even in a mild winter, the cattle would benefit from the extra nourishment.

He had also gone back to look over that stand of timber he had noticed on his way into the ranch. It was substantial, but Ron was right. There wasn't enough of it. And there was no way they could cut, haul, and mill the timber in the allotted amount of time, which was dwindling fast. Not to mention that strange clause in Nicki’s loan contract.

He needed to find a solution to Nicki’s problem soon. So far he had found nothing.

His mind went back to a conversation he and Ron had had that first night after he had convinced Nicki to let him stay and search for a way to help her.

Ron had mentioned that just after he had come to work for John, the man had bought some of the finest horses he had ever seen.

“I’m not much of an authority on horse flesh,” Ron had said, “but those broncs looked to have some good blood in them. And John told me he paid a hundred dollars apiece for ’em. He rode off with ’em the next mornin’ and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of ’em since. I don’t know what he done with ’em.” He shook his head. “If he sold ’em, then we don’t have a hog’s chance on sausage-makin’ day of saving this place, but if he didn’t....” He had shrugged meaningfully.

Their only hope of saving the ranch was to find those horses, and so far, Jason hadn’t seen even a tail hair of a horse out here.

Yet he still found himself skeptical. What could four stallions do for them? Bring in about four hundred dollars…that was, if they were worth as much as Ron said they were…and that wasn’t nearly enough to pay off Nicki’s debt. Still, if they sold the stallions and all the cattle for top dollar they might just break even. They would have to start over from nothing, but they would be debt free. It was this thought that pushed him on.

But his luck did not change.

The sun was descending toward the western horizon when he swung down from his saddle in disgust and lifted his canteen to his mouth. Pulling the collar of his long, warm coat up around his neck, he stared off at a snow-whitened saddleback ridge on the horizon, wondering how he would explain his failure to Nicki. Her deep brown eyes, full of sorrow and uncertainty, swam before him and he rubbed a hand across his face, wishing there was something more he could do. He fixed his eyes on the horizon again,
Lord, you brought me here for a reason, didn’t You? What was it? Isn’t
—

He never finished the prayer. Reaching into his saddle bag for his field glasses, he trained them on the ridge in the distance. “Lord, please let that be what I think it is.” This time his prayer was spoken out loud. He replaced his binoculars, mounted up, and headed in the direction of the ridge across the valley.

His horse, a good mountain-bred mustang, was used to traveling in thick snow, a fact for which Jason now found himself extremely thankful. As he made his way up into the small hills surrounding the ridge he had seen through his binoculars, the snow got deeper. The horse was jumping through drifts sometimes up to the stirrups and Jason reached down, making sure that his snowshoes were securely fastened in their lashings. It would not do to lose them now. If his horse mired down, he would need them. Coming to a windblown level plain, he stopped to let the horse catch his breath. He raised the binoculars to his eyes once more.

This time, as he lowered the binoculars and scrutinized the ridge with his bare eyes, he turned full circle, eyeing the countryside all around him and checking his back trail.

Several times in the last few days he had felt someone watching him, and had even, on one occasion, seen a rider disappear over the skyline of a knoll just as he had turned in that direction. Someone was trailing him, and he didn’t like it. It wouldn’t do to lead them right to what he hoped would be the salvation of Nicki’s ranch.

He hadn’t realized how exceptional Nicki’s spread was until he had spent this time inspecting the place. None of the ranches around for miles had the excellent water access that Nicki had from her property.

The Deschutes River, the main water source for the Hanging T and any other ranches in this area, ran along the bottom of a canyon with steep sheer walls, but at some points the canyon walls seemed to lean outward, forming easy, slanted descents instead of sheer drop-offs. Nicki’s land had the only easy descent to the river bottom that Jason had seen for miles, and he had taken the liberty on his first morning out of riding up and down the river for several miles in each direction.

Nicki’s land also had a seasonal creek that ran with several inches of water.

Cows walked off much of their weight trying to find water. Using the narrow trails that hugged the canyon walls the cattle on the nearby ranches would lose a lot of weight just getting to and from the crystal clear Deschutes River. In the winter, some would slip to their deaths from the icy, narrow paths.

Many a man would do just about anything to have this acreage!

Jason had learned, from his years in law enforcement, that patience often saves a man’s life. He was itching to search out the small crevice he had noted in the ridge just across the valley, but his instincts held him back. Why hadn’t the person following him made a move against him yet? If they were friendly, they would have approached him openly. And he had only been in the area for a few days, so he had made no enemies.

Of course he couldn’t rule out the possibility that an outlaw from his past—maybe someone he had helped capture—had gotten free and come after him, but he didn’t think that was likely. No. This was someone who didn’t want him finding information that would help Nicki. So why hadn’t they simply made their attack on the first day? Unless they were under orders to wait for something.

He sat, waiting. He would have his answers sooner than later. He flexed his gloved hands, bringing first one fist to his mouth to blow on his fingers and then the next.

His horse stamped impatiently, its ears pricking in the direction of a knoll off to his right. Jason turned, scanning the hill for any signs of movement. A snow-white jack rabbit dashed down the hill, ears laid back flat against its head. That was all the proof he needed. Jason slid to the ground, pulled his snowshoes loose, and slipped them on.

He dropped the reins on the ground, knowing that his well-trained steed would not move from his spot. Shucking his rifle from its scabbard, he eased off around the lee side of the hill. There was no cover to speak of, only sagebrush and scraggly snow-dusted junipers, but his years as a lawman had trained him well in the art of keeping out of sight.

Slinking through several gullies, always being sure to stay below the skyline, Jason made his way around to the back side of the hill the jack rabbit had just descended and was not surprised to see a tall, lanky man doing a belly crawl toward the crest of the hill, a long-barreled rifle in one hand.