High Desert Haven (The Shepherd's Heart) (19 page)

Jason made no immediate move. Instead, he hunkered down as best he could behind a small bush and scanned the area for any other accomplices. He saw no one.

Standing then, he cocked his rifle, the sound shattering the stillness of the evening like the first roll of thunder in a gathering storm. The man on the hill froze just a fraction of a second before Jason spoke. “Put that rifle down nice and easy.”

The man carefully eased his rifle away from his body and raised his hands off the ground.

“Mister, you get to your knees real slow and clasp your hands behind your head. You and I are gonna get to know each other tonight.” The steel in Jason’s tone was unmistakable, and the tall, lean man moved ever so slowly to comply as Jason trudged cautiously up the hill behind him.

Pulling a strand of rawhide out of his pocket, he cinched the man’s hands tightly behind his back and retrieved his weapon. Jason shoved him forward over the crest of the hill and down to the small level plain where his horse waited patiently. Pushing the shivering man to the ground, Jason set about starting a fire to warm the captive, whose clothes were soaking wet from crawling up the hill.

“Who are you?” Jason took in the man’s face. He had yellow patches under both eyes. It appeared that not too far in the past he had had two black eyes. His nose was crooked and swollen.
Black eyes from a broken nose?

The man grunted and glared at him, trying not to shiver so noticeably.

“You got a horse?”

A jerk of his chin indicated the direction from which they had just come, but other than that there was no reply.

Motioning toward a log with his rifle, Jason used his lariat to tie the man’s hands, still cinched behind his back, to a thick sturdy branch that could not be broken. The top of the short limb had a burl on it so the rope could not slip off the end. Unless his captive dragged the huge log with him as he went, he wouldn’t be going anywhere.

Jason retrieved the horse and brought it back to the fire. Finding a blanket in the saddle roll he unfurled it and settled it around the stranger’s frame.

The man looked a little surprised at this kindness but still didn’t speak.

Instead he looked away.

Jason cocked an eyebrow. “Why are you following me?”

Another guttural sound from the disgruntled captive. He was obviously put out at having been caught so easily in his own game.

Jason grinned suddenly. “Not a talker, huh? Well, that’s fine. But I have some business to take care of.”

Adding another stick to the fire, Jason mounted up. “Hopefully I’ll be back before you freeze to death.” Spinning his horse, he trotted off in the opposite direction than he intended to go. As soon as he was out of sight he circled around and went to check out the little crevice he had noticed earlier.

Just as he had hoped, the crevice was deeper than it appeared from a distance, or even from close up to a casual observer, and it formed a little steep-sided trail that led deeper into the hills.

When Jason topped out above an expansive valley he sucked in a deep breath of awe. At one end of the valley lay a good sized pond, now ice-covered except for the end closest to a small stream that cut a snaking black strip across the snow-blanketed basin. Not even the dimming light of the setting sun glistening off the thick blanket of covering snow could conceal the heavy grasses that would be a lush green come warmer months. This sight in itself might have been enough to take his breath away, but what affected him was what the valley contained: for spread across the white expanse of the basin was a herd of wild mustangs—the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen!

Below him, where the trail he was on spilled into the valley, a rock-slide blocked the path, effectively making a huge corral out of the basin.

As he swung down, pulling his binoculars to his eyes, a stallion lifted his head, nostrils flaring in the slight breeze that descended into the valley, and gave a sharp whinny. The heads of the rest of the herd snapped to attention, the last rays of a red-gold sun glimmering off their hides. After a moment of suspended stillness, the herd began to mill about nervously. He couldn’t get an exact count, but Jason guessed that there were at least two hundred head, most of them yearlings and two-year-olds. All marked with the Hanging T brand.

It was amazing to him that no one at the ranch knew about them. He considered, his eyes following the lead stallion. John must have brought those four fine-blooded broncs he had purchased and left them here in this natural corral with a herd of mares. For the past two years the herd had been left to run free and multiply. And hidden as they were back in this huge valley, which had plenty of shelter along one end where the brow of a hill jutted out to form a covered area, Jason could see how no one had known. Especially since John Trent apparently hadn’t told anyone of their existence.

There had to be suspicions, however, because many people had known that John had purchased four excellent horses. That might explain why the man who had been following him hadn’t made a move on him earlier. Maybe he’d been hoping that Jason knew something he, and presumably his boss, didn’t.

Who had sent the man? Jason mounted back up. He wasn’t likely to get that information from his uninformative captive. But the face of William Harpster sprang to mind and Jason contemplated on that. He hadn’t liked William from the first moment of their meeting but he couldn’t quite place his finger on why.

His thoughts turned to Nicki. He was honest enough to admit that his dislike of the man could stem from the fact that Nicki seemed to like him so much. Yet there was something deeper in it. Something rippled under William’s calm exterior, and Jason didn’t like it. He would keep his eye onWilliam.

Suddenly the tawny stallion gave another piercing whistle and the herd shifted as one. Rippling muscles launched into a smooth rhythm and the herd, manes and tails flowing behind them, cantered to the far end of the valley. A mass of glistening blacks, whites, tans, browns, and reds.

Jason let out the breath he had been unwittingly holding and tipped his hat at the sky in a salute of gratefulness for God’s guidance. The answer to his prayers had just arrived.

11

Brenda Jeffries finished putting the warm, heavenly scented bread rolls into the basket on the kitchen sideboard, covering them carefully with an extra towel so they stayed hot. Smoothing her apron, she glanced around the small space, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.

Rolf eased up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. “Ya aren’t gonna leave any o’ those for me?” He sniffed appreciatively.

Smacking his hand playfully, Brenda stepped out of the circle of his arms and faced him. “I can’t feed ya more’n you can work off in a day! If ya gain any weight, we won’t be able to move around in this palace.” She gestured magnanimously around the room.

Rolf laughed uproariously. Placing hands on his trim hips, he waggled his dark eyebrows. “Woman, I think yer askin’ for a takin’ down!”

From their place on the bed in the corner, where they had been huddled under a blanket reading a book, the children giggled, apparently excited by the knowledge of what the next moments would bring.

“Rolf,” Brenda shook an authoritative finger in her husband’s face, “don’t you do it! You’ll muss my dress and me just headin’ off a-visitin’!”

“Ahhh, Bren. No one’s gonna notice a few wrinkles on yer dress when they can look into eyes the likes o’ yours.” And with that, he lunged for her, a grin splitting his face from ear to ear.

“RoLLFFF!” Brenda’s squeal of mock alarm was accompanied by the excited cheers of her traitorous offspring.

“Get her, Papa!”

“Look at Mama run!”

“Around the table, Papa! The other way! Go!”

With a final lunge, Rolf had her cornered and Brenda threw up her hands in surrender as Rolf’s hands eased around her waist, settling threateningly just below her highly ticklish ribs. He cocked his head, winking at her. “Now, what were ya sayin’ ’bout my weight?”

Brenda pulled an innocent face. “Did I say somethin’ about yer weight, Love?”

“Yes, I believe ya did,
Love
,” he mimicked with a jab to her ribs that produced a squeal.

“Oh! Wait now.” She giggled, grabbing his hands and trying to move them away from her ribs. “I be rememberin’ a mite.” She scrunched up her face, biting her upper lip as though in deep concentration. His fingers moved toward her ribs. “Yes!” she spoke quickly before he could make contact, “I apologize, Love fer havin’ offended yer manly pride.”

“Mmm.” He stepped nearer, his face not losing its smile, but his voice dropping to a tone that only a wife would recognize. “Well,” he whispered, “mayhap I’ll let ya make it up to me when ya get back from visitin’.” His eyebrows pumped twice just before his lips settled over hers and Brenda heard three distinct giggles from her brood, although she knew that they couldn’t have heard their father’s deliberately low words.

As soon as Brenda left the house for her visit with the widow Trent, Rolf turned to his children. “All right ya passle o’ rascals. I have some work I need to be finishin’ in the barn, and you three have been cooped up in this house all winter long. Why don’t ya come out and join me? I daresay it might be warmer out there than ’tis in here. What do you say?”

A chorus of “Yes” greeted him, and he smiled as he held the door for them to precede him.

Satisfaction slid onto William’s face as he watched the little cabin through his binoculars. This was his chance. He had been waiting patiently since early that morning for the little wooden shack to empty of all its occupants so that he could begin his task, and now the opportunity was finally here.

He scanned his route of escape once more through the lenses, memorizing every twist and turn he would have to take to stay out of view. Another glance at the barn confirmed no one had come out.

He picked up the small can of kerosene and the box of matches and headed down the hill.

The squeak of saddle leather and the crunch of horse’s hooves in the crisp snow of the yard brought Nicki’s head up.

Diablo, the puppy, set to yapping by the door. She jumped up from the table where she had been darning a pair of Sawyer’s little socks and rushed to the window, hushing the dog. She hoped Jason had finally returned. She had agreed to give him a week. And this was the afternoon of the eighth day. All day she had been watching for him to come and had finally sent Tilly home early so she wouldn’t have to put up with any more of her knowing looks.

As she reached the window and rubbed a spot free of frost, she laid a hand across her chest, trying to still the racing of her heart. It wouldn’t do for him to see that his tardiness had caused her concern.

But it wasn’t Jason. It was Brenda Jeffries come for the visit she had promised at John’s funeral.

Nicki brushed aside her disappointment. She was just excited to find out if Jason had discovered anything that would help her save the ranch, not longing to see the man himself….

Glancing at Sawyer to make sure he was still sleeping soundly, Nicki eased her way out the door, puppy at her heels, to greet her friend.