Petticoat Ranch (30 page)

Clay was going to give his wife the spanking she deserved.

He pulled her close up against his chest so she couldn’t see his expression. He was pretty sure that what she’d see was disgust. He was disgusted with himself for tricking the poor, foolish, little female into promising to mind him by using such wily methods as sweet talk and gentle touches.

He was finally figuring it out. Women weren’t really that much trouble to manage. They needed to be handled like a fractious horse for the most part. A firm hand mixed with patience, careful training, and a pat now and then.

He’d almost gotten the girls trained to the ways of ranch life. He was very satisfied with their progress working the herd. They’d been hopeless at first, but these last few days all three older girls had begun dropping their loops over running steers. They were coming along faster than he had dared hope.

Now he was starting to make some progress with their headstrong mother. At that moment, he was really glad Sophie was pulled up close because Clay couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

As they wound down the steep mountain path, the sun began to
drop behind the trees. The night birds sang their songs, and the soft
clop
of the horses’ hooves lulled his mule-headed wife into relaxing. He glanced down and saw that avoiding her sharp gaze wasn’t necessary. She’d fallen asleep. She was resting just like he’d ordered.

His smiled widened until he almost chuckled out loud as he looked down at her. Her eyelashes brushed across a faint bloom on cheeks he thought were too pale. Her pink lips were slightly pursed until he was tempted to kiss them.

In sleep she was perfect innocence, perfect peace, perfect obedience. He suspected it wouldn’t last. But now he knew the trick. Now, today, finally, he’d learned how to handle her—his wife, the green-broke filly.

Clay didn’t wake her when he carried her into the house. The girls gave him anxious looks, but he held his finger to his lips and walked on into their bedroom, tiptoeing so his spurs didn’t jingle her awake. He lay her down and walked back out.

“We’ve got three extra men for supper, girls. But we won’t be ready to eat for a while. We’ve got business in Mosqueros.”

“Is there something wrong with Ma?” Beth wrung her hands and looked at the bedroom door. “You didn’t—I mean, were you upset to find her up there?”

“If you mean did I give your ma’s backside such a tanning when I found her on that mountainside that now she’s fainted dead away, the answer’s no.” Clay pulled his leather gloves from behind his belt buckle. “She was just tired and she fell asleep on the ride home.”

“Who were the men you brought back draped over the saddles?” Sally peeked out the window.

Mandy and Beth ran to the window and stared out.

Clay wondered why womenfolk had to talk over every little detail of what went on. “Those men tried to waylay me on the trail. The other men who road in with us helped us sort things out. Two of them are old friends of mine, and the other one is Adam. I know your ma has talked about him.”

“Ma always spoke kindly of Adam.” Sally turned back to Clay.
“That’s him? The one with the black skin?”

“That’s him.” Clay tugged his gloves on.

“Was the sheriff up there with you, too, Pa?” Beth asked.

“No, the sheriff wasn’t there.” Clay needed to get moving to take the prisoners to town. He didn’t have time for chitchat. He struggled to speak calmly because he knew the girls were prone to tears, even with the new house rules. “We’ll see him when we take those men into the jailhouse.”

“We might be hard-pushed to find food for all of them,” Mandy said.

“You’ll figure something out.” Clay headed for the door.

“Do we need to feed the prisoners, too?” Beth glanced at the pot on the stove.

Clay turned back. “No, of course you don’t have to feed them. We’ll be leaving them in town.”

Sally stared curiously out the window. “What about the sheriff and the banker?”

“What about ’em?” Clay tried to follow their winding female thinking.

“Do we have to feed ’em?” Sally asked.

“Well why on earth would you have to feed them?”

“There’s more’n just them. That one’s a deputy, and the other’s. . .I don’t know. We’d best get to peeling taters.” Beth turned tiredly from the window.

“You don’t have to feed that many people. Just the three I told you about. The others aren’t here.”

“Yeah, they are, Pa. The sheriff and his deputy and Banker Badje. And a coupla other men.” Mandy pointed out the window.

Clay went quickly to the window and saw what had prompted the girls’ questions. Sheriff Everett was in the ranch yard, holding one of the dry-gulcher’s heads up while he studied his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me the sheriff was here?”

“I thought we just did.” Beth set the potato aside.

Clay clapped his hat back on his head. “I want your ma to rest, so keep the noise down.”

He strode across the yard to greet the newcomers, who were talking with Buff, Luther, and Adam. His ranch hands had started straggling out of the bunkhouse as they finished eating, interested in what was going on.

The sheriff turned as Clay walked up to him. “They told me what went on up on the mountaintop.”

“Only a Texan would call that anthill a mountain.” Luther shook his head in disgust.

Buff grunted.

The sheriff ignored them both. “These rangers came to town in answer to a telegraph I sent about another matter.”

Clay recognized one of the rangers. “Howdy, Tom, I’ve been meaning to get in touch with you but I haven’t had a chance. I’ve been keeping my eyes open, but I haven’t had anything to tell.”

Texas Ranger Tom Jackson reached out his hand. “Looks like you been busy.” He introduced the other ranger as Walt Mitchell.

“Busy don’t begin to describe it.” Clay shook both men’s hands. “Do any of you recognize these men?”

“I think I’ve got posters on a couple of ’em.” The sheriff studied the men. “I’ll take ’em into town and lock ’em up.”

Clay jerked his thumb at Percy. “That one threw a knife at me from cover when I was riding down the trail.” Clay glanced down at his blood-soaked sleeve. “He was trying to kill me plain and simple. And since he had a gun on him whilst he used his knife, I’ve got to figure he wanted to kill me quiet.”

The rangers’ sharp eyes went to the wound on Clay’s arm. Clay realized how much it hurt. He didn’t have time to fool with it now.

“I was aiming at a grouse,” Percy snarled from his awkward position over the saddle.

The whole group turned toward him. He’d pushed the gag out of his mouth, and now it rested between his upper lip and his nose.

“When you messed up my throw, I got mad for a minute,” Percy growled. “I wouldn’ta done nothin’ to you.”

“I reckon he used his knife so they could sneak on down to the house. They said right out loud they were after Sophie, too.” Adam crossed his arms and stared with cold eyes at Percy. “I heard it clear as day.”

“Percy was the one doing the knife throwing,” the man hanging over the horse next to Percy said around his loosened gag. “We didn’t know he’d tried to kill someone. We just came along and tried to help out our saddle partner.”

“Shut up, Jesse.” Percy awkwardly elbowed Jesse. “You’re in this just as deep as I am.”

“We were there, too, Sheriff.” Luther stepped up beside Adam. “It was as cold-blooded as it gets.”

“Heard it.” Buff nodded in agreement.

“His friends here backed him up all the way, even with Sophie. . .” Clay’s voice failed him for a moment as he thought of Sophie, standing in the middle of these cutthroats. He tried again. “Even with Sophie right in the middle of it.”

“Ain’t too many men low-down enough to kill a woman,” Adam said fiercely.

“They were planning to kill her even before I came down that trail,” Clay went on. “They said they were planning to see to her sooner or later, so it might as well be now. They said those very words to me before my friends here bought into the fight.”

“He”—Luther pointed toward Jesse—“said, ‘She’s seen us now. We can’t let her walk away.’ ”

The sheriff looked at the men standing around Clay, and they all nodded.

Mr. Badje broke into the conversation. “None of these men was the one who wanted to buy McClellen’s land.”

“What do you mean buy my land?” Clay raised his eyebrows in surprise. “My land’s not for sale.”

“I reckon they know that, Clay.” Sheriff Everett jerked his head at
the outlaws. “Why else would they think they needed to kill you?”

Clay pulled his hat off his head and whacked at his pants. His nostrils filled with the honest scent of sweat and trail dust—a smell he worked hard for and was proud of—while men sneaked around in the woods plotting his death to take what they couldn’t earn. “You’re saying you’re out here about some other man who wants to buy my land?”

“He came into my bank saying he heard the Mead spread was for sale.” Badje’s arms swung out from his sides. The banker’s black suit was wrinkled and dirty, completely out of place with the Western dress of the other men, and in utter contrast to the rough hides and leather clothing of Buff and Luther. “When I told him it had been sold, he went crazy. I thought he was going to attack me, he was so mad.”

“He tore up the Paradise about a week ago, too,” the sheriff added. “Big man by the name of Judd Mason.”

“Judd?” the feminine voice from the house behind them turned them all around in their tracks.

Clay groaned aloud and plunked his hat back on his head. His little filly had taken the bit in her teeth again.

S 
E V E N T E E N
        

S
ophie strode toward the crowd of men. With the sheriff ’s group and the cowhands and the prisoners, it had grown to the size of a town meeting. She wasn’t sure it was safe to take her eyes off her cranky husband, but she had to. What Royce Badje had just said was too important.

“Royce, did I just hear you say his name was Judd?”

“Sophie, I told you to stay in the house and rest.” Clay tugged the brim of his hat down until Sophie couldn’t see his eyes. “I don’t want you out here listening to talk of a man who went crazy mad and tore up saloons. It ain’t fittin’.”

Sophie didn’t even glance his way. She said to the sheriff, “A man called Judd was chasing after Clay on the night I met him. I recognized Judd as the same man who killed Cliff two years ago. This man after our land must be the same man.”

“More’n likely.” The sheriff ’s eyes sharpened with interest. “Describe him.”

“He was a big man, like Royce said. Rode a horse with a J B
AR
M brand.”

“J B
AR
M,” Adam exploded. “The men who stole my cattle and killed my partners had horses with J B
AR
M brands.”

Sophie again saw the fury in her old friend. She could see it ran deep, and it scared her. She knew the look of vengeance. She’d seen it in Clay. Who was she kidding? She’d seen it in herself.

She didn’t want Adam to be eaten alive with the thirst for revenge. Silently, in her heart, she said,
Help me
.

Luther turned and looked at her funny. He said rather tiredly, “What now?”

Sophie covered her mouth with her hand as if she could keep her prayers more private by the action. She looked sideways at Adam to see if he was still being directly connected to her prayers. He didn’t seem to have heard her, and while that was normal, it worried her. She was afraid his hate was overwhelming the part of him that was open to God.

With a short shake of her head, she remembered why she’d come out here. She threaded her way through the crowd of men to Clay’s side and pulled scissors out of her apron pocket. “Hold still while I bandage this.”

Clay pulled away from the hand she’d latched on his blood-soaked sleeve. “Confound it woman, it’s stopped bleeding now. It’ll wait till later.”

Sophie turned to the sheriff. “Josiah, would you mind arresting my husband until I can mind this wound?”

“Let her see to it, Clay.” Josiah ambled over. “You know better’n to ignore an injury like that for long.”

Clay growled under his breath, but he stood still for Sophie’s nursing.

“These men we have right now are part of a lynch mob,” Luther interjected. “They killed three men, and they had Adam’s horse and his partner’s gun.”

Dead silence descended on the group. While Sophie tried to gently clean and bind Clay’s arm, she was adding up all the information just as she could see everyone else was.

Luther walked over to stand beside her. He didn’t speak, but she knew he wanted an explanation for her latest prayer.

Finally, into the silence, Ranger Jackson spoke. “It’s gotta be the same gang who’s done all of it.”

Ranger Mitchell added, “It’s the vigilantes that have been roaming
these hills for years. We’ve been looking for them, and it looks like we just swept up a big ol’ handful of ’em. That means if Mason is the boss, he’s got to be close around here.”

“If Mason is interested in the ranch today, he might have killed Cliff all that time ago so he could have it.” Clay ignored Sophie prodding at his wound.

“And now he sends men to kill you so he can get it,” Royce Badje said.