Much Ado About Mavericks (8 page)

“I wouldn’t fold your hand yet, Jake.  Like I said, that boy’s got a helluva strong heart.”

And if she wasn’t damned careful, he’d have hers, too.

One by one, the men finished eating and left to saddle up.  After they’d all gone except Ben and Whip, Ben threw his plate in the wreck pan and sat on the bench directly facing her.

“I’m working the roundup, so I’ll be needing roping lessons.  I guess that’ll have to wait until you get back.”

Jake stopped chewing.  Had she heard right?  But she wasn’t about to let Ben know he’d thrown her for a loop.  “You guess right.  It’ll take two days to drive the feeders up to Silver, and another day to ride back.  Meantime, I s’pose I could start you up with a rope and a pair of horns.”  She stood.  “Homer, go to the storeroom and fetch a lasso.”

She tossed her plate in the wreck pan.  “Whip, see to it that Ben here’s set up.”  Pulling her hat down low on her forehead, she left before she made a fool of herself.  Maybe it was a good thing she wouldn’t be seeing him for three days.

*   *   *   *   *

Ezra Lawrence sat on the old nag Rastin had bought for him in
Boise
City
.  Ezra hated the damned horse, but it was the best he could get on short notice.  Feigning his own death had its complications, he’d learned—one of them being he had to give up his favorite mount.

Other than that, things were working out his way.  That worthless boy had come out from
Boston
expecting to be handed a fine working ranch.  Ezra chuckled at his own joke.  Skeeter had had his comeuppance when he’d learned that he’d have to work for it.

Damn, where the hell was Fred?  Ezra looked at his pocket watch again.  The bastard was almost an hour late.  Untrustworthy, too.

He’d have given anything if his own seed had been half the man that Jake O'Keefe was, though.

Finally, he saw Fred racing toward the boulders where Ezra waited.  About damned time.

“Jake’s herding the feeders to Silver today.  I’m only going to Oreana, though—be back tomorrow.  Most of the hands is going on to Silver with Jake, but Ben ain’t going at all.”

Ezra nodded.  He didn’t think Skeeter would want to get his hands dirty on even a short trail ride.  “Is he showing an interest in the ranch?”

With a shrug, Fred said, “He came to the bunkhouse for breakfast.”

“Are you paying attention to Suzanne?”

The young fellow’s cheeks flushed red.  “She don’t seem to want no courting.”

“Do it.  There’s a dance the night before roundup.  Make her your wife.”

Fred gulped.  “What if she don’t want me?”

“Make her want you.  If you don’t marry her, I’ll not have you as foreman once we get rid of Skeeter and Jake.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir!”

Ezra turned his horse and looked out over the valley.  “Beautiful land.  My land.”  He shook his head.  “Well, Fred, you know what to do.  I want Skeeter to face a few problems.  I want a hole in every fence on the place by the time Jake gets back from Silver.”

Chapter 4

Ben spent most of the day perusing his father’s miserable excuse for bookkeeping, then decided he’d better ride the forty-five miles to Oreana, do a few errands, and wire his Boston bank for some funds to pay bills.  The Bar EL owed a big bill to the Henderson Feed Store and quite a bit to the blacksmith, as well as to several other smaller vendors.  Until he could access the money in the ranch’s accounts, he’d have to chip in.  At the same time, he might as well get the money to buy the Circle J for Jake.  No matter what happened he’d make damned good and sure she got that ranch.

One of the broncbusters roped the big bay for him--Ben refused to call that horse “Skeeter.”   He saddled the horse, then went to the house for a bag of food and a canteen to take with him.

“I want to go!” Suzanne begged.  “
Daisy just got married and I want to see her new husband.  Besides,
I want to get some things from
Gardner
’s Mercantile for the dance.”  She cocked her head and looked at him from the corner of her eye.  “You do remember the dance?  We always have one the night before roundup.”

The dance.  He chuckled at the thought of Jake in a dress—probably wearing her six-shooter and Stetson with it.  “I remember, but you can’t go with me this time, little sister.  It’s a three-hour hard ride one way.  Besides I plan to stay there overnight.”

Suzanne stuck her lower lip out and pouted.  “If you’re staying overnight, we could take the wagon.”

“No, I’m riding alone.  Besides, you can order anything you want from Mrs. Hiatt.  I’ll be settling up our account tomorrow, and she’s getting a new shipment in next Thursday.”

“Oh, please?”

“No, Suzanne, everyone’s gone.  Someone needs to stay with Ma.”

Suzanne nodded slowly and shoved a flour bag of biscuits, ham, and cheese at him.

“Thanks, little sister.”  He kissed her on the cheek and mounted up.

A few miles south of the ranch, he saw Fred riding away from the boulder cliffs to the west and wondered why he wasn’t with the rest of the cowhands.  The man bothered him for some reason, but Ben dismissed the notion.  He’d been touchy about things lately, and there was no use blaming anyone except his dear old dad.

The next day,
Ben
arrived back home and immediately dived into
straightening out the Bar EL finances
.  It was a wonder
how the hell his father ever made it at all. 
Too
,
Ben
wanted to practice his roping so he wouldn’t embarrass himself in front of Jake. 
He spent then next two days scouring the ranch’s ledgers instead of practicing
, and he
guessed she’d be
impatient with his ineptness.

Two days later, she confirmed his suspicion.

“I’ll tell you one more time.”  She let out a sigh and coiled his rope, then gave it back to him. “Let out your loop so’s it’s about three or four feet across, then, holding the knot with the trailing rope on your thumb side, twirl the loop over your head.”

He gave it a try, but the loop didn’t open and he whacked her on the side of the head.

“No, no, don’t just use your elbow. You got to use your wrist.”  She moved her wrist in a circle.  Then held his wrist and did the same.  The problem was, he was a whole lot more aware of her hand on his wrist than he was the action he was supposed to be learning.  And the
softness
of her breasts
pressing
his back when she leaned against him.

“I see,” he said, hoping she’d move away while he could still think.  “I’ll practice this afternoon while you’re doing whatever you do.”

“All right, as long as you got it.”  Mercifully, she stepped back.  “It’s all in how you move your wrist.”

Ben tried again, and finally the loop opened enough to actually be of use.  He prayed he’d learn to be at least competent at roping.  Jake would never think he was worth a damn if he didn’t catch on, and soon.  But he’d never gotten the feel of the rope when he was a kid, and that’s one of the things his father had hated about him.  Maybe with time passing and a more coordinated body, things would be different.  He’d sure as hell try.

“That’s right, Ben.”  She circled her wrist again and smiled.  He wished she’d smile more.  “You just keep a’twirling that loop.  When you get good, let out a little more rope and make your loop bigger, then get good with that.  When you can twirl a four-foot loop over your head for a few minutes, then you’ll be ready for your next lesson.

After about an hour, he thought his arm would drop off from fatigue.  Just as he was about to quit, though, Teddy, bounded up on his pony and hopped off, saying, “I can teach you to rope anything.  Jake says I’m the best hand she’s got, and she’s never wrong.”

Ben chuckled, remembering he’d heard the boys say that before.  He wondered if they really thought so, or if Jake had filled them full of it.

“I can teach you to spit now, too.”  He pressed his lips together and gave one quick nod.  “Spittings mighty important to a cowhand.”

His arm did need a rest.  Even a spitting lesson sounded like a welcome reprieve.

“First, we gotta have a target.”  The boy ran to the side of the barn and fetched a block of wood, then placed it about three feet in front of Ben.  “I’ll be starting you off short, you being a greenhorn and all.”

“I won’t be when you’re done with me.”

“Nope.  I’m the bestest teacher.” The boy jutted out his chin and added, “Jake says so, and she’s—”

“Never wrong,” Ben finished for the boy.

“Nope, never.”

“I’m in good hands, then.  Let’s get started.”

“Well, first you suck your mouth around and work up a good bunch of spit.”  He worked his mouth a bit.  “But you don’t open your lips because then you’ll drool down your chin and everyone’ll laugh theirselves silly.  C’mon, you try it—the spit part, not the drooling part.”

Ben laughed.  “All right, I’ll give it a try.  But I don’t pretend to be able to spit half as well as you.”

Teddy puffed out his chest.  “Prob’ly not.”

Ben worked up a mouthful of spit, then nodded at the boy.

“Now you kinda halfway swaller only not really, and let your spit get mixed in with that slimy stuff on the back of your throat.”

Not ready to strangle himself yet, Ben nodded, pretending he’d already done it.

“Now you hawk it all up and kind of make it into a little ball on your tongue.”

Teddy made the familiar disgusting sound, and Ben did, too.  Frankly, he’d been quite good at spitting when he was a boy, but he’d never tell Teddy that.

“Then, let ‘er fly.”  Teddy’s wad flew four or five feet past the block of wood.

Ben, not using full force, landed his wad a few inches from the target.

“Benjamin Stoddard Lawrence!  What are you doing?”  His mother stood behind him, her hands jammed on her hips and a look of abhorrence on her face.

He felt about the same as when she caught him and Petey Blacker competing to see who could piss the highest on a fencepost.  “Uh . . .”  He put his hand on Teddy’s shoulder.  “Teddy was just teaching me the finer points of being a cowhand.”

The boy nodded.  “Yup, and he ain’t too bad, neither.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed.  “Supper will be ready in half an hour.”

“I’ll be eating at the bunkhouse, Ma.  I have a lot to do.”

“Do?”

He nodded.  “I’ll be going on the roundup.  Today, I’m learning to rope.”

“Looks like it,” she murmured as she turned and walked toward the house.

*   *   *   *   *

Ben seemed interested enough
, asking good questions
as Jake showed him around the Bar EL.
  “Are you going to give me a tour of the Circle J, too?”

“Yep.”  A little buzz in Jake’s heart made her smile at the thought of her very own ranch, and she hoped he’d see why she loved it so much.  “C’mon.”

The morning sun’s rays warmed her face.  Taking a deep breath of autumn air, she mused that no place on earth could be better than the Circle J in September.  She smiled as she looked across the valley to the
Owyhee
Mountains
, admiring their shades of purple.  Some people thought this land was ugly.  They thought there had to be trees everywhere, or else grass everywhere. 

But she admired the delicate beauty of the rugged desert land—sagebrush and boulders, alkali dirt and wildflowers,
Jump
Creek
Canyon
and the
Snake River
—all of it.  This country was as much a part of her as her right arm.

Too bad the man riding beside her could never feel the same.  Ben had forsaken the Bar EL, the land, and the people who eked a living from it, in favor of
Boston
’s high living and prissy women.  No one with alkali dirt in his veins could have ever done that.

“So this is your ranch,” Ben said, shaking her away from her thoughts.

“Yup.”  She pointed to a small hill with a lone juniper perched on top on their right.  “Over that ridge yonder is the bunkhouse and corrals.”

“Show it to me.” 

His expression looked earnest, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to show him the humble beginnings of her place.  Hell, she hadn’t even scraped the money together to build a barn yet.

Still, she’d worked hard for it—and building it—and she did want to show off a bit.  “Sure.”  She turned her horse.  “We can pick up the trail on the east side by the river.

“I’ll race you,” he hollered, surprising the stuffing out of her.  He kicked his big bay into a gallop.

“No damned city slicker’s gonna beat me,” she shouted back, and took out after him.

The bay’s long legs and strong heart made him nearly unbeatable, but Jake knew the land and Ben didn’t.  While he raced directly across the flat toward the hill, she guided old Blue through the rocks and brush ahead until she passed the gully she knew he’d find soon enough.  She chuckled, wondering if he’d have the guts to go down it, or if he’d fall on his ass when his horse skidded to a stop in protest.  Either way, she’d beat him.