Miranda And The Ranch Hand (Domestic Discipline Romance) (10 page)

“I just got used to having you keep me warm at night, and now you’re leaving. I’ll be so lonely—counting the nights till you return,” Miranda said seductively.

“Don’t try to distract me with your womanly wiles, wife. I’m really worried about you being here on the ranch practically alone next week when most of the men head off for round-up.”

“Dylan, I’ll be fine—no unnecessary chances, I promise. But you know I can’t go on the round up. We’ve got three cows with late calves coming anytime, plus there are two more over at the Townsend place. And since I was able to save those unborn calves at Towns End after their mothers were killed in a stampede, some of our neighbors are finally taking me seriously as a vet. John, Sr. actually brought one of his sick colts here to the clinic. To leave now would undermine everything I’ve managed to accomplish in the past few weeks. Besides, somebody’s got to do the chores around here while everyone’s gone.”

“All right, just try to stay out of trouble, and still be in one piece when I get back!”

Miranda stuck out her tongue at him and he playfully swatted her behind. Then he saddled up Black Lightning and led him out of the stables. Before he mounted up, he turned to Miranda and kissed her as if she was the last oasis in the desert and he was determined to drink enough of her to last a while. When he pulled away she was breathless and weak-kneed.

“Come home soon, my love,” she whispered as he rode off.

Two days later, it was her brothers and a dozen ranch hands she was seeing off. Again, she promised more than once to stay out of trouble.

“You know, I’m not nearly as wild as you all seem to think. I really can be responsible and take care of things around here, including myself!” she said indignantly.

Marcus laughed and pointed out that it was actions, not words that counted.

“Seriously, sis, I know we haven’t had any trouble since Dylan took down those renegades last summer, but I just have a bad feeling. There’s something unfinished there, and until we know for sure who was behind those raids, I won’t rest easy while we’re away from the ranch. Just be careful, and make sure you’ve got your pistol with you at all times when you’re away from the ranch house.”

“Honestly, Marcus, I will be careful. Heck, Dylan will flay me alive if I have even a scratch when he gets back, so I’ve got plenty of incentive.”

“Do anything reckless or impetuous, and you won’t have to wait for your husband to return. Marcus or I will tan your britches!” David threatened. Miranda once again stuck her tongue out, this time at her brother.

“Keeping up your brat image, even as a married woman, I see,” he teased.

“Only when provoked, brother dear! Now I do believe you’ve got some longhorns longing for your sparkling repartee. Perhaps they’ll actually find your jokes funny?”

“I swear you two are worse than a pair of rams butting heads over territory. David, let’s hit it before we lose any more daylight. Mandy, you and Jenna take care. We should be back in a week or so.” Marcus turned on his horse and headed out to the south pastures where the trail crew and the longhorns going to market were ready for the cattle drive into Austin.

“Good luck at market,” Miranda called out as her brothers left.

Her brothers and the other cow pokes would meet up with wranglers from neighboring ranches, and they all would drive their herds across the river together, to the stockyards outside of town for the auctions. Double-R head always fetched a good price at market, and this looked to be another good year, despite the dozen or so cattle killed by the renegades.

With Dylan and her brothers gone, Miranda worked hard from sunup to sundown side by side with the four hands left behind to tend to the cattle that didn’t go to market, as well as the horses and other chores around the ranch. In the evening Jenna would bring dinner down to the bunkhouse and Mandy would eat with the men. They teased her about married life and she gave it right back to them. Then after supper she’d ride up to her new home and work on it until she was too exhausted to think about anything but sleep. She was asleep most nights before her head hit the pillow—and before she could feel the emptiness in her bed and in her heart without Dylan.

On the fourth night after her brothers’ departure, she was down on her hands and knees rubbing oil deep into the wood floors to bring out a shine. It was backbreaking work, but the resulting luster on the floors was worth it. She daydreamed about living here with Dylan, and having children to make this beautiful house truly a home.

Suddenly her dream was shattered by the sharp crack of rifle fire. She stopped and listened—had she really heard rifle fire? Then it came again, and it was coming from the south pastures where the remaining cattle were grazing.

“Oh God, please no, not again!” she prayed silently. The fear of that night more than three months ago came flooding back. She could almost feel the pain of being shot again. She knew she should stay put until the shooting stopped and she heard the renegades ride away, but the third shot galvanized her to action. There were no Rangers to stop the slaughter tonight. She grabbed her gun and her medical bag, which she always carried now, mounted Windfire and rode cautiously in the direction of the rifle fire.

Before she got to the outskirts of the south pastures, she dismounted and made her way silently through the last few protective feet of trees and thicket. She could see three men with bandanas covering most of their faces. Two were still on horseback; the third one with the rifle was aiming at another cow. She crouched down out of sight, took aim herself and shot the bandit in the shoulder he had the rifle resting on. He dropped the rifle, screaming in pain. The other two pulled their guns and turned to fire in Miranda’s direction, but they weren’t sure where she was. As they drew, she now knew which arm and shoulder to aim at. She took out each of them in rapid fire. Only the third one even got a shot off and it went wild.

She wasn’t bragging when she had told Dylan she was a good shot. Her brothers had seen to that. But as angry as she was at the slaughter of innocent animals, she wasn’t a killer. She couldn’t bring herself to kill these renegades. She just prayed that taking out their shooting arms would scare them off, rather than fire them up to come after her. She held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest, ready to mount Windfire and run for her life, when she finally heard one of the varmints say, “Let’s get out of here—the boss will skin us alive if we get caught!”

She watched as they rode off, heading north. Miranda was about to do the same, heading back to the ranch for help, when she noticed one of the cows they’d shot was one of her mothers-to-be. The calf was due any day, so she knew if she could deliver it right now, it might live. She didn’t have much time—the calf would die without oxygen and sustenance from its mother.

Miranda whistled for Windfire, mounted and rode over to the dead cattle. She kneeled down by the dead cow. With tears in her eyes at the needless slaughter, she went to work. Taking her longest scalpel, she began to cut through the cow’s tough hide and then multiple stomachs to get to the womb. She could feel the calf kicking as its oxygen supply dwindled. She got to the little guy in minutes and pulled him free of his mother.

She was working so feverishly to save the calf, she never heard someone come up behind her. As she was cutting the umbilical cord, she heard a deep voice dripping with sarcasm, “How touching!” She never had the chance to turn around and see who was there—she just felt a sharp pain at the base of her neck, then everything went black.

Miranda came to several hours later to a thunderous pounding in her head. As she tried to sit-up and take in her surroundings, she was hit with more pain. Her ribcage felt like she had been sucker punched. She figured she was probably black and blue from being tossed over the saddle of a horse on her stomach to be brought here—wherever here was. She was in a dark room, on a cot. She could tell it was still dark outside and the door to the room was open slightly. Through the fog in her head, she heard angry voices.

“You’re an idiot for bringing her here!”

“Hey, I just thought if one ‘hostage’ was good, two would be even better—I know her brother’s supposed to talk to the legislature, too.”

“This is why I don’t pay you to think—just to shoot. First of all, you seem to forget, I’m not really a hostage—we’re just going to make my father
think
I’ve been kidnapped. After we blackmail him into supporting the independence vote, and I’m supposedly released, I can convince him to keep quiet. Secondly, the reason the freedom fighters even care about my father’s support is because he heads the Cattlemen’s Association. Mandy’s brothers are powerful around here, but they don’t hold much clout statewide. Besides, have you forgotten, by taking her you’re bringing the wrath of the Rangers down on us again! For God sakes, she’s married to Dylan Wrightman, who took down my first crew!”

“Geez... relax will ya! I’ll just take her back and dump her with the dead cattle.”

Miranda was too stunned to hear anymore. As the second man talked, she was sure she recognized the voice. But her mind couldn’t accept it—she must be hearing things. Then he said the words that sealed his identity—his father was the head of the Cattlemen’s Association. Her lifelong best friend, John Townsend, Jr. was behind all the brutal killing and dismembering of the local ranchers’ cattle and horses!

A third voice brought her out of her shock. “I’m afraid we can’t take her back now—she’s awake and I reckon she heard a good bit of what you just said, boss!” He turned to Miranda and she could see he was one of the bandits she had wounded. “So lady doctor, do you mend as well as you shoot? Cause there’s three men here with bullet holes, thanks to you! And I figure if you can’t do nothin’ to treat us, we ain’t got much use for you.”

“Shut up, Wyatt!” John walked into the room with a look of concern on his face. He bent down to Miranda, “Are you all right, Mandy?” He reached around to the back of her head and gently felt the knot where she’d been hit with the rifle butt. “That’s a nasty bump there, kiddo. You’re going to have a hell of a headache for a few days.”

Miranda couldn’t believe he was talking to her as if nothing had happened. “John, why? All that livestock, slaughtered. I don’t understand.”

“That’s just it, Mandy, you don’t understand. None of the ranchers around here do. This is the survival of Texas we’re fighting for. We can stand as an independent Republic! We shouldn’t rejoin the United States. But that stubborn Texas pride of my father and your brothers and others like them is blinding them to reality!” Miranda had never seen such passion in John about anything. He had always been the reluctant follower on her wild misadventures.

“John, what are you going to do with me?”

He ran his hand through his hair in a familiar nervous gesture. “Dammit, I don’t know. I never wanted you in the middle of this. No one was ever supposed to find out I was with the freedom fighters.”

“Well, if she can’t be a hostage, then we’ve got no choice—she can ID us—we’ve got to kill her!”

“You lay another hand on her, Bryant, and I swear, I’ll kill you myself!” John warned. The other man immediately backed off at the menace in his boss’s voice.

“John… please—”

“Oh, be quiet, Mandy! I need to think,” he said harshly and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Miranda was left alone in the dark, cold room. Her tears fell unchecked. She wept for the dead animals, for a friendship lost, for her own future and that of a Republic.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch the first light of day was creeping over the horizon. Mickey, who had stayed behind with three other cowhands to keep the ranch going, was awakened by a horrible screeching sound. It sounded like a horse in extreme pain. He jumped out of his bunk and ran outside. He saw Windfire kicking up his front legs and almost howling. The horse was saddled, and Miss Miranda’s saddlebags were still attached. This wasn’t good.

Mickey grabbed the stallion’s reins and settled him a little—then he ran up to the ranch house and pounded on the door. Jenna had just started breakfast in the kitchen.

“What in heavens name is all the racket?”

“Ma’am, is Miss Mandy in? Windfire galloped back to the stables, all saddled up without her, and now he’s kicking up and whining like something’s wrong!”

“Goodness sakes! Mandy! Mandy, are you up there?” Jenna and Mickey headed upstairs to her room, but the door was open and the bed still made from the day before.

“I’ll get the other boys. We’ll start a search immediately. Don’t worry, ma’am, we’ll find her,” Mickey said with more confidence than he felt. He wished Dylan or her brothers, or even his uncle Howie were around.

“She usually heads up to the house they’re building up in her meadow above the south pastures after supper. Maybe she just fell asleep up there—she’s been working herself near to death ’cause she misses that husband of hers so much.” Jenna didn’t know what she’d do if something happened to her baby, which was how she’d always think of Miranda.

Mickey ran down to the bunkhouse, got the other hands up and told them what had happened. Within minutes they were all mounted, packed and ready to go. Mickey decided to let Windfire loose and see if the stallion might lead them back to the last place he and Miranda were together. Windfire took off full speed, and they had a tough time keeping up—but he was definitely headed to the south pastures.