Dawn Comes Early (20 page)

Kate glanced at her but remained silent, which was annoying to say the least. On the other hand, Bessie had to give the girl credit for loyalty. Most people jumped at the chance to gossip or otherwise say something unpleasant about the owner of the Last Chance Ranch.

Mr. Green finished packing Kate's order. “I'll help you carry your purchases to your wagon, ma'am.” He walked around the counter, lifted the wooden crate, and started for the door.

“Thank you,” Kate said. “That is very kind of you.” She turned from the counter. “It was nice seeing you both again. Good day.” She then followed Mr. Green outside.

Bessie stood staring after her. She couldn't believe Kate planned to stay single just to appease Miss Walker. It made Bessie sick just thinking about it. Not only was the girl a looker, her speech was so polished a person could skate on it. What an utter waste. Bessie couldn't imagine anything worse than staying single. She was willing to bet that the good Lord wasn't all that in favor of it either.

Bessie tapped a finger to her chin. “Do you think she'd make a good match for Luke?”

Lula-Belle studied the label on a can of peaches. “The only thing that girl is interested in is the ranch.”

It certainly appeared that way, but Bessie wasn't willing to give up so easily. Marriageable women were few and far between and she had two nephews in dire need of wives. What a pity that she only had a hundred days in which to work. Still, a lot could happen in that short time. If she played her cards right, Luke and Kate might even fall hopelessly in love.

Humming the tune of the “Yankee Wedding March,” Bessie rushed her sister through her shopping and dragged her out of the store. No time to waste. A hundred days!

Nearly a week later Kate followed Ruckus's mule-drawn wagon out to the southeast corner of the ranch. Ruckus insisted she ride her horse for practice rather than ride in the wagon with him. The wagon was loaded with fencing supplies, cattle remedies, and salt licks.

She and Decker had formed an understanding—or at least she hoped so. She would refrain from hopping, bouncing, kicking his sides, or roping him, and he would refrain from bucking, kicking, taking off at a run, and otherwise trying to unseat her.

Ruckus brought the wagon to a halt. He pointed to the barbed wire fence running the length of the property. “We're moving the herd out of open range for brandin'. The first thing any self-respectin' steer will do is walk the fence to check out its new paddock. It's up to us to make certain no side of beef leaks through the bobbed wire.”

Kate was eager to get started. Fixing fences didn't sound that hard. After mucking out stables, cleaning the barn, and learning to ride, she looked forward to doing something that didn't involve dirty hay or falling off a horse.

Ruckus hopped to the ground and pointed to a gap in the barbed wire. “See that there?” He tossed her gloves and donned a pair himself before leaning over the back of the wagon to snip off a piece of baling wire with fencing pliers. He then showed her how to fix the fence by wrapping wire around a nail to tighten it.

“That should do it.” He stepped back. “There's something satisfyin' about mendin' fences. Don't much matter if it's the wire type or the human type.”

“What? No Bible verse?” she teased.

He grinned. “How about this? God says if you're holdin' a grudge you plumb better get over it or you'll be as sad as a tick-fevered dogie.”

She grinned back. “I didn't know God spoke western-like.”

“God speaks all languages and he don't just use words.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Anyone you need to forgive, Goldilocks?”

She thought about the father who deserted her, the mother who neglected her and clamped down on her jaw. “No, no one,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Hmm. Guess you can call yourself lucky then. Come on, let's get to work.”

He let her fix the next gap they found. Tongue between her lips, she twisted the wire tight as she could. She was all thumbs at first, but it didn't take long to get the hang of it.

A cloud of dust signaled a horse heading in their direction, but Ruckus was able to identify the rider as Feedbag long before he reached them. “Looks like trouble.”

“We found a band of sheep in the northern section,” Feedbag called upon reaching them. “That's why our beeves refuse to go there.”

Ruckus muttered beneath his breath, then immediately lifted his hand up to the sky in apology. “Sorry, God, but you know the trouble those four-legged underwears cause.”

As if to concur, Feedbag spit out a stream of tobacco juice.

Kate looked from one grim face to the other. “What kind of trouble?” In Boston sheep were valued for their wool.

“There ain't nothing left when they leave,” Feedbag growled. “They eat the grass to the roots, dig up the dirt with their sharp hooves, and leave a terrible stench. No self-respectin' steer would be caught dead on the same range as a hoofed locust.”

“Can't blame 'em. Can't blame 'em a bit,” Ruckus said.

“The others are pretty riled up. If Stretch and Wishbone have their way, that herder will be tradin' in his woolies for a wooden overcoat.”

Ruckus glanced at Kate and hesitated.

“You go. I'll finish here,” she said. She didn't want anyone dying on her account, even if he was a sheepherder.

Ruckus dropped the roll of wire and pliers in the back of the wagon. “I'll need your horse. You can drive the wagon.” She nodded and he quickly mounted Decker.

“Watch out for snakes and other fiends.” He touched his hat and he and Feedbag rode away.

Other fiends? She glanced around. Her imaginative mind kicked into high gear. What if she ran into Cactus Joe? Or rustlers? Or rattlers? What then?

She scanned the ground for reptiles and jumping cacti before looking the short, thick-headed mule square in the face. His name was Gus. “It's just you and me.”

The animal wiggled his long, pointed ears and let out a loud
hee-haw
.

She climbed onto the wagon seat and grabbed hold of the reins. “Giddi-up.” Nothing. “Come on, Gus, go!” The mule stayed put and, if anything, looked even more stubborn.

“I guess we're going to have to do this the hard way.” She climbed out of the wagon, grabbed hold of the bridle, and pulled. When that didn't work, she straddled the wagon tongue and pushed the mule from behind, keeping her head away from his swishing tail. Still, the mule didn't move.

Hands on her waist, she debated what to do next. She was almost out of drinking water so she couldn't stay there. Who knew when Ruckus would return?

The closest windmill was only about a quarter of a mile away. She decided to walk to it, fixing any needed repairs along the way. Her mind made up, she snipped off a length of wire, grabbed the pliers and canteen, and began walking. A slight breeze helped cool her down but it was still hot.

A short distance from the windmill she spotted a gap in the fence. She slid down a slope and crossed over a dry gully before reaching the barbed barrier. She measured off a piece of wire and wound it around the post like Ruckus showed her. She was in luck. The gap was small and required little effort to repair. Satisfied that the wire would hold, she climbed back up the incline and headed for the windmill.

A strange snorting sound startled her. She stopped in her tracks and glanced over her shoulder. A wild boar stood not more than twenty feet away. It was a strange-looking animal with salt-and-pepper hair, short skinny legs, and small beady eyes that stared at her from above a piglike snout.

Kate took a step forward. The boar didn't move. Encouraged, she took another step.

This time the animal bent its head, tusks pointed like daggers. For a moment it didn't move, then all of a sudden it grunted, wiggled its ears—and charged.

Kate dropped everything and ran.

Chapter 17

Was there a woman in the world so devoted as to sacrifice herself to save the man she loved? Yes, there was but one. She would swim the deepest sea or climb the greatest heights to save Brandon, for her love for him was matchless.

S
he barely managed to grab hold of the windmill ladder and pull herself up before the hog lunged, missing her leg by inches.

She scrambled halfway up the windmill before she dared look down. The animal grunted and rammed the ladder with its tusks ten, twenty, thirty times and showed no signs of stopping. The ladder shook so hard Kate feared it would break. The wind picked up and the windmill blades turned faster. Climbing onto the platform was out of the question. She had no choice but to stay where she was.

“Go away,” she yelled. “Shoo!” She pulled off a glove with her teeth and tossed it at the hog, but the battering of the ladder continued.

Kate leaned her forehead against a rung, closed her eyes, and held on tight.
God, please make it go away
. Surprised to find herself praying, she bit down on her lower lip. It wasn't like her to turn to God as the first response to trouble. If she hung around Ruckus much longer she wouldn't recognize herself.

She glanced at the sky. Even if by some miracle God did answer prayers, she doubted he would bother with hers.

She peered downward. The wild hog had stopped butting its head against the ladder but still hadn't left. Instead, it rooted around the base of the ladder, grunting. She threw down her other glove to no avail.

Shuddering, she forced herself to think, but that only gave her imagination full rein. What if the hog remained there all night? Or she fainted from dehydration? What if the dreadful beast battered the ladder until it broke? Every possible scenario raced through her mind, each more frightening than the previous one.

After crying herself to sleep for the first sixteen years of her life, she'd vowed never to shed another tear. Any failings to adhere to her vow had been due to physical pain, not emotional. But today she was hot and scared and tired and confused and . . .

Brandon heard the woman's cry for help and urged his horse to go faster. Ahead a windmill rose high above the ground, the tail turning toward the wind. At last he spotted her halfway up the tower, her long curls tumbling from beneath her felt hat. On the ground below was the meanest-looking critter this side of the Gila River. He pulled out his gun and fired. Bang, bang, bang!

Dismounting, he looked up at the woman still clinging to the ladder. “You can come down now,” he said. “It's safe.
”

Kate blinked. Surely she was hearing things. That wasn't Brandon's voice; it was . . .

Her eyelids flew up and she peered at the ground. Ruckus stood at the bottom of the ladder beckoning to her. “You can come down now,” he repeated.

She almost collapsed with relief. She couldn't believe her eyes! God did answer prayers!

“Am I ever glad to see you,” she cried. Legs trembling, she slowly descended the ladder.

Ruckus laughed. “Now that's what I call being high on the hog.”

She stepped off the lower rung of the ladder and glared at him, hands at her waist. “It's not funny. That . . . that beast tried to attack me. If you hadn't come along I could have been eaten alive. Or died of thirst. Or been carried away by vultures or . . .”