Much Ado About Mavericks (35 page)

When the kids had eaten, she sent them back to camp, but she stayed by the creek.  “I’ll be up in a while.  Ask Whip if you need anything before you hit the sack.”

Watching the moonbeams ripple on the surface of the bubbling water, she tried to straighten out her head about Ben Lawrence.  While her heart jumped like a jackrabbit every time she caught a glance at Ben, at the same time she felt like last week’s whiskey bottle—hollow and tossed in the garbage.

Hell, she thought as she pitched a small rock in the water, she’d lived twenty-four years without him, and she could live without him again.  Just fine. 

Damn fine.

She bit her lower lip and fought the hot tears that threatened.  If anyone caught her acting like such a bawl calf, she’d just die.  No man—
no
man was worth this sort of grief. 

After a few deep breaths, the danger of tears went away.  She kneeled and splashed cold creek water on her face, swiping her sleeve across her cheeks to dry them.  Might as well head back to camp and bed down, she mused.  A man faces obstacles head-on.

But then, the one thing she’d learned from Ben was that there were some parts about being a woman that weren’t half-bad.  Like when he kissed her.  All those places. 

She shivered at the thought and warmth crept in all the places he’d touched.  No better pleasure could be had, that she knew.  And never would she have that pleasure with anyone but Ben.  She stood, still staring at the moonbeams on the water.

“Jake?”  Her heart did a double-dally when she heard Ben’s voice. 

He wrapped his arms around her and laid his lips over hers before she could say a damned thing.  But then, she didn’t really want to, what with her innards buzzing so.

As he pressed his hardness into her, Jake nearly shucked his clothes off right then and there.  Pulling away and gasping for air, she hissed, “What the hell’s gotten into you,
Boston
?  We’re within shouting distance of the camp.”

Pulling her close again, he murmured, “You.”  He nibbled on her earlobe, nearly making her knees buckle.  “I want to be in you.  Now.”

Her heart raced and her belly grew hot.  But she couldn’t have him—they’d played with dynamite already and who knew when there’d be an explosion. 

“It’s late,
Boston
.  Go to bed.”  Her words didn’t have nearly the force she intended them to have.

“That’s exactly what I want to do.  With you.”

And what she’d die to do, too.  Once he left for the east, she’d never have such glorious pleasure again.

“Ah, hell, one more time wouldn’t hurt.”  She wondered who the hell said that.  Surely not her, the foreman of the Bar EL.  It was
her
, the silly woman who wanted Benjamin Stoddard Lawrence to be hers forever. 

The silly woman won out.  She plunged her hand down his britches and felt that wondrously hard, velvety part of him that had given her so much pleasure.  His sharp intake of air told her she’d hit paydirt.

“Like that,
Boston
?”

“Yes,” he groaned.

“Want more?”  She squeezed his rod and rubbed back and forth.

He pulled her shirttails up and swept his hands underneath, cupping her breasts.  “Oh, God,
yes
.”

When he caught her nipple with his fingers and lightly squeezed, her knees nearly failed her.  She grasped him around the waist with her other arm while she continued to rub him.

Suddenly, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from him.  “The party will be over before the shooting starts if you keep that up,” he said, sounding half strangled.  “There’s a little stand of junipers down by the herd.  Let’s go there.”

She knew she shouldn’t, but all her sense seemed to have left her.  “All right.”

Just then she saw a shadow of a man picking his way across the rocks, heading toward them.  She pushed Ben away, shut her eyes, and sighed.

“There you are, old fellow!”  He clapped Ben on the shoulder and chuckled.  “Don’t forget our little contest in the morning.”

Contest?
  “This ain’t no place for games, city boy.”

Ben’s eyes hardened as he glared at Reginald.  “This is no game, Jake.  This man intends to dishonor my sister, and I won’t have it.”

Jake jammed her hands on her hips, knowing Ben must not think a whole helluva lot about
her
honor, then.  “If I hear one single gunshot around my herd, I’ll shoot both of you in the head.”  She snorted.  “And anyway,
Boston
, you got a real funny way of looking at honor.”

“We’re not shooting,” Reginald corrected.  “We’re fencing.”

“Oh, well that ain’t so bad—except we don’t allow no fences up here.  It’s open range.”

Ben shook his head.  “He means fighting with swords.”

“You’re shittin’ me!  Ain’t no one stupid enough to do that.”

Reginald tossed his head back and laughed, then quipped, “Lots of fellows at Harvard are.  Ben and I are both the champion fencers of our classes.”

Be that as it may, she still had a roundup to run.  “You distract my men, and the both of you’ll wish you’d never been born!” Jake stomped off, wondering how the hell she’d handle this mess.

*   *   *   *   *

Ben crept into her thoughts every time she shut her eyes, then she’d have to concentrate on something else to get him out.  She lay on the hard ground with her eyes wide open, but the stars brought Ben right back into her mind. 

Just as Jake got herself calmed down enough to get a little shut-eye, she heard cattle bellowing and men’s shrill whistles.  Being half asleep, it took a moment for her to realize what was happening.  She rolled out of her blankets and yanked her boots on.  “Rustlers!” she yelled as she ran for the remuda.  “Get the hell up, boys, we gotta fetch our cows.”

Crazy Jim hopped as he pulled his boot onto his foot.  “Might have us a hanging, too.”

“Just might.  Take a dozen men and circle around to the east of the creek.  See if you can find those cows and settle them down.  Send a dozen more with Fred and have him take the west side—same orders.  I’ll take my crew to the south.”  She grabbed Blue’s mane and leapt on. 

A few other hands rode bareback, too, but most had grabbed their gear and were hastily saddling their horses.  Crazy Jim rode up to Jake.  “Fred ain’t here.”

“Ain’t here?” 

“Nope.”  He pointed to a group of cowhands, already mounted.  “Them fellers said he never come back for supper.”

“All right, get a move on.”

“Yes, sir!”

As foreman, she had to protect the main herd, and give orders to all who ride in.  So who the hell had enough grit to chase those bastards down?  Only one man.

As one crew galloped out, she rode over to Ben, who’d saddled and mounted the big bay.  “You’re taking Fred’s bunch,” she pointed her thumb over her shoulder, “and riding west.  Gather as much of the herd as you can.  And if you see Fred, I need to talk to him.” 
And fire his sorry ass
.

“I’m going after the rustlers.  Get someone else.”

“I hate to tell you,
Boston
, but the rustlers probably
are
west—that’s where I heard all the noise.”  She tipped her hat at him.  “You got your work cut out for you.”

He checked the ammo in his Colts, then motioned to the other men.  “Let’s go!”

She only hoped that if he ran into trouble, he could hit what he was aiming for.  He didn’t do so good the last time. 

Reginald rode up to her and, with a wide grin said, “Which group am I going with?”

“You’re staying right here, watching the women.”

“Ah, Jake, you’re a woman—you stay.”

She knocked him off his horse, growling, “You must have a short memory.”   Too bad she couldn’t fire dandy greenhorns.  Waving at her restless crew who waited for orders, she hollered, “C’mon, boys!”

She took out as fast as she could, although the darkness and the rugged country hobbled her efforts.  In a few minutes, they reached the main herd.  From the dim moonlight, she figured quite a few were missing--the rest milled around, bawling.  She and every man on her crew knew it wouldn’t take much for them to stampede.

“Circle ‘em, and sing your sweetest songs,” she whispered. 

*   *   *   *   *

Ben rode west, across the creek and up the next hill.  Silencing his men, he listened for bellowing cattle.

“Hear that, boss?” one of the men asked.

“Yes, but with the noise bouncing off all these hills, it’s hard to tell which way they’re headed.”   He held up his hand, quieting them again, and listened.  “I think they’re headed north,” he cocked his head in that direction.   “We’ll ride north, but I want you to pair up and ride up each gully.  Be quiet, and be careful.”

Before they had a chance to pair up, Crip rode over to Ben and said, “I’m riding with you.”

“I think I should,” one of the men argued, and each of the others argued that
he
should.

Ben nodded at the men and smiled at Crip, appreciating the broncbuster’s confidence in him.  “Crip, come with me.”  He turned to the other men.  “The rest of you have your orders.”  It wasn’t too long ago when none of them would have wanted to ride with him.

“I want each of you to check the ammo in your pistols right now.”  He waited for the clicking of the cylinders to stop, then said, “Keep your ears open and your mouths shut.  Otherwise, the rustlers might use you for target practice.”  He looked at each man, making sure he’d listened—and heard.  “All right, let’s ride.”

The half-moon cast an eerie dim glow on the sagebrush-covered hills.  He and Crip rode for an hour, occasionally hearing a bawling calf, and less often, the whistles of the rustlers.  Every once in a while, when the two of them were atop a hill, he caught a glimpse of a couple of the other men.

Ben remembered a good crossing place in the creek, and motioned for Crip to follow him closer to the creek, reasoning that the rustlers would choose the flattest ground to drive the herd.  As soon as they descended the last hill, he saw tracks.

“Look here,” Crip whispered, pointing to the ground.  “This here’s the trail.  At least a hundred head have been through here.  The cowshit’s still steaming.”

“Go tell half the men to join us.  Tell the other half to watch our backs.”

Crip tipped his worn hat and rode off. 

Ben made fairly fast time, given the darkness, and wondered when the rest of the men would catch up with him.  The mooing grew louder, although he hadn’t heard a whistle for a while.  Figuring that the rustlers had made camp, he dismounted and rested his horse, waiting for his crew. 

“There you are, old fellow!”

Ben nearly pasted Reginald in the face before he realized who it was.  “Quiet!” he whispered harshly.  “The rustlers aren’t too far ahead, and the sound carries for miles in this country.”

Reginald dismounted and pulled out a cigar.  “Want one?”

“No, and neither do you.  What the hell are you doing here?”

He shrugged and said, “Jake wouldn’t let me go with her, so I followed you.”

“Who’s with the women?”

“I don’t know.”

“You left them alone?”  Ben clenched his fists, itching to punch him right in the face.  “With rustlers about?”

Putting the cigar back in his pocket, Reginald said, “I thought rustlers wanted cows, not women.”

Ben grabbed his former friend by the shirt collar, then eased up when he saw the shiner.  “Jake wouldn’t let you go, huh?”

“Seems as though she had much the same reaction as you.”

“Got a pistol?”

“Sure do,” Reg patted his shirt.  “A nice little pepperbox.”

“Shit, Reg, that won’t help much.”

“I brought my sword-cane.”

Ben snorted.  “Oh, that was thoughtful.”

At the sound of whistles and a few
hyahs
, Ben hushed Reginald and mounted his horse.  Motioning for Reg to follow, Ben nudged his horse to a walk, listening and peering into the dark as best he could.  From the sound of things, the rustlers were again moving the herd.

“What’re you going to do if you actually catch up with these ruffians?” Reg whispered.

“Run them off, and take my cows back.  Keep an eye out, because I plan to catch these bastards after the roundup’s over.”

“Why, old fellow, you’ve lost your lust for adventure.”

“Hardly, but I pick my battles.  Now be quiet.”

*   *   *   *   *

Although faint, gunfire spooked the herd.  Jake’s heart pounded when she heard the shots, praying that Ben was all right.

“Bunch them up and mill ‘em!” she yelled as she nudged her horse to a trot.  With the darkness she couldn’t go any faster.

She had to get to Ben.  From the sound, she pretty well figured they were in a gully northwest of the herd.  Whether she could make it there in time to help was doubtful at best, but she had to try.  At least she knew the lay of the land better than any man around.