Weathered Too Young (11 page)

“You worried about Chet, boss?” Ralston asked in a whisper.

Slater nodded.
“That boy favors hard liquor too much for his own good.”

“Oh, don’t worry none, Mr. Evans,” Grady whispered, leaning forward and offering a reassuring nod to Slater.
“Chet said he was headin’ home.
Said his thirst was too mighty powerful to quench at the bar…that he needed to get home and take care of it.
I figure he’ll just fall right into bed…if’n he makes it back to the bunkhouse, that is.”

Ralston
chuckled, but
Slater did not.
Tom and Eldon frowned as well.

“He wouldn’t do nothin’ to Miss Lark…would he, do ya think?” Eldon asked.

But Slater’s instincts had already warned him that a drunken Chet Leigh should not be anywhere near Lark.
Chet Leigh had proved himself to be an ugly drunk once before.
In that moment, Slater wished he and Tom would’ve let Sheriff Gale lock the boys up for a night the time before when the boys had gotten into trouble in town after drinking.

He was on his feet in an instant.
He did not pause to see if Tom or anyone else would accompany him.
Simply he strode from Tillman Pratt’s drama house and across the street to where Smokey was tied to the hitching post.

“Slater!” Tom shouted as Slater rode off at a mad
gallop.

He
knew Tom would follow—Eldon too.
Gritting his teeth with anger
,
he determined that if Ralston and Grady weren’t back to the house near to as close as he was—well then
,
they could spend the winter somewhere else.

“Come on, Smoke,” Slater growled
,
leaning forward in the saddle as the horse raced toward the
ranch.
He
would beat them all home—he knew he would.
Smokey was the fastest horse in three counties, with endurance the like he’d
n
ever seen.
It was five miles back to the ranch, and he’d run Smokey all the way.

Slater didn’t like Chet Leigh
;
he never had.
He’d only hired him on at Ralston and Grady’s assurance he was a good cowboy.
Chet did prove to be a good ranch hand and cowboy
,
but Slater had never been convinced of his possessing a good character.
Furthermore, he wasn’t as blind to Chet’s infatuation with Lark as Eldon might have thought.
He’d seen the way Chet watched her—seen the smile spread across his face whenever he did watch her.
He and Tom shouldn’t have left Lark home alone.
He
shouldn’t have left her home alone
. A
fter all, he knew far more about the likes of Chet Leigh than Tom did.
He should’ve known better.

He cl
e
nched his jaw tight
,
tried to concentrate on Smokey’s pace—on the horse’s breathing—on the sound of muscle and leather straining.
There was a good rhythm to it.
He’d be back at the ranch soon—but would it be soon enough?

The knock on the door startled Lark.
She’d been reading for hours—reading about Injun Joe
,
about Tom and Becky trapped in a cave.
Thus, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the hammering at the door.
At first she wasn’t sure whether her heart was hammering so brutally in her chest that she’d imagined the beating on the door.

“Miss Lark?” came a man’s voice from the other side of the door.

Lark sighed with relief, placing her hand on her bosom to try and settle the mad racing
within.
“Chet
?
Is that you?” she asked.
She indeed recognized the cowboy’s voice
. S
till
,
something told her to be wary.

“Yes, ma’am,” came Chet’s friendly assurance.

Breathing another calming sigh, Lark opened the door to find it was indeed Chet standing on the porch.

“Did you all have fun in town?” Lark asked, glancing past him to see if the other men were home as well.

Chet smiled
a
knowing, rather devilish smile
that
did not comfort Lark in any
regard.
“No,
ma’am,” Chet said.
“I figure on havin’ my fun here…now.”

“You’re drunk,” Lark said, noting the harsh scent of whiskey about him.
“You better get to the bunkhouse and sleep that off before morning.
I’m certain Slater and Tom don’t have much tolerance for drunkenness.”

A low, rather threatening chuckle emanated from Chet’s throat as he pushed the door wide open, stepping into the house.
Slamming the door closed behind him, he drew the small bolt.
Suddenly, the Evans
es
’ ranch house did not seem as safe as it had a moment before.

Though she’d hoped her instincts had been wrong, Lark knew they hadn’t been.
Chet meant her harm
,
of one sort or the other.
She shouldn’t have opened the door—but it was too late now.

“If your intentions are not honorable
—
” she began.

“I ain’t had an honorable intention in my life, girl!” he growled, reaching out and taking her face between his hands.

But Lark was not without experience where the vile intentions of some men were concerned—nor was she without a sense of self-preservation.
She stomped on Chet’s foot with the heel of her boot
and
drew her knee up to hit him below the waist where she knew it would cause the most
pain.
Chet
doubled over, but only slightly.
No doubt the whiskey Lark could smell on his breath had somewhat numbed his sense of pain.

She cried out as he reached out
,
taking hold of her arm in a firm grip.
Still, she was not so easily assaulted.
She raised a foot, kicking him in the stomach.
This time when he doubled over, Lark turned and bolted toward the back of the house.
Chet was quick, however, and Lark gasped as she felt him take hold of her hair at the back of her head.
He pulled hard on her braid
,
and she crumbled to the floor.

“Let go of me!” she shouted.
“Don’t you dare touch me!”

“You’ve got spirit, girl!” Chet chuckled as he took hold of her shoulders and pushed her back to the floor.
“I’ll give ya that.”

Lark fisted one
hand
,
hit
ting him square in the jaw with as much force as she could
muster.
Chet
shouted, letting go of her as he put a hand to his chin.

Frantically, Lark scrambled away from him
,
but she was not quick enough
,
and his grip on her ankle found her facedown on the floor once more.

“You best quit fightin’ me, girl,” Chet growled.
“You’ll have more fun if ya just give up.”

“I’ll die first,” Lark cried, tears escaping her eyes to stream down her face.

“No,” Chet chuckled.
“No…you won’t.”

Easily he flipped her over to her back on the floor.
Lark beat at his chest, his arms, his face, but he was unaffected.

“Shut your mouth,” Chet growled, clamping a whiskey-scented hand over Lark’s tender mouth.
 
“What do you think, girl?
You think us boys are just gonna sit by and watch them Evans brothers have all the fun?”
He
chuckled, maneuvering
her body so that he was soon sitting down hard on her legs
,
hovering over her like some wretched disease.
“No, siree.
I figure it’s time Slater and Tom Evans learned to share a little of the goods they got.”

Desperately, Lark
struggled and slapped
Chet Leigh hard across the face—attempting to pull out a handful of his
hair.
She
was startled into stillness when the back of his hand brutally met one side of her face.
Again he
hit
her
,
sending her senses reeling with explosive pain and dizziness.
She tasted the blood as it entered her mouth by way of her damaged lip.

Summoning every ounce of courage and life-saving determination she could, she said, “You hit me again, Chet Leigh…and I swear…I swear to you I’ll gouge out your eyes.”

“Don’t you make to threaten me, girl,” he breathed, chuckling as he bent and kissed her cheek.
“Don’t you dare…or I might have to knock you out cold and then have my fun.”

Again he hit
her
,
and
Lark’s consciousness reeled.
She felt his mouth on her neck, but her arms were too weak with the pain at her face and the whirling in her head to return the abuse.

“What?” the drunk breathed, suddenly.

Lark blinked—thought she’d heard something too—a loud thud
,
as if something had been hurled against the back door.

“Who’s that?” Chet shouted.
“Is that you
,
Ralston?”

The sound of shattered glass hitting the floor helped draw Lark from the painful stupor Chet’s beating had cast over her.
She heard Chet swear—saw an arm reach through the now broken window next to the back door and pull the bolt.
A moment later, Slater burst into the house.

“Why you filthy son of a…” he growled, taking hold of Chet by the back of his shirt collar and pulling his body from Lark’s.

Slater didn’t pause
,
and Lark winced as she saw his fist meet directly with Chet’s jaw.
The loathsome cowboy reeled—stumbled—but he didn’t fall.

“Get on yer horse, boy!” Slater shouted.
“Get on yer horse and ride outta here!”

“What?” Chet said, wiping the blood from his nose.
“You’re sending me off?
Just for havin’ a little fun with
yer girl
here?
I ain’t done nothin’ that you ain’t done a hundred times!”

Lark gasped as the brutal power of Slater Evans’
s
fist met with Chet’s jaw again.
This blow sent the man to his knees and his mouth to bleeding too.

Chet
chuckled and spit
blood and saliva from his mouth as he shook his
head.
“You’re
a tough old dog, Slater Evans
.
I’ll give ya that.”

Lark rose to her feet, wiping tears from her face as she watched Chet struggle to stand.
Yet stand he did
,
spitting once more
,
this time on Slater’s boot.

“And you’re a sturdy drunk
. T
hat’s all I’ll give ya,” Slater growled.
He looked to the blood and saliva Chet had spit on his boot.
“But ya know what?” he asked.

Chet’s eyes narrowed.
“What’s that?”

“These are my good boots,” Slater growled an instant before his fist sent Chet sprawling to the floor a third time.

Slater didn’t pause for Chet to regain his senses.
Instead, Lark watched in horror as Slater fisted Chet’s hair in one hand, delivering another brutal blow to his face—and another.
He released the cowboy then, and Chet’s head hit the floor.
The man was still
conscious, however
, as Slater began to pace back and forth in front of him—fury causing his powerful body to tremble.

“You dared to come into my house?” Slater growled as he paced.
Lark thought he looked more like a mountain lion stalking his prey than a man.
“You dared to come into my house…and lay yer hands on that girl?” he shouted, pointing to Lark.
Instantly, he quit his
pacing and hunkered
down before Chet
,
taking hold of the front of his shirt.
“I’d as soon kill ya as look at you, boy!”

“You wait, Evans,” Chet growled.
“You wait
’
til I’m sobered up.
We’ll see if you can knock me down when I ain’t drunk.”

“I could kill ya easy,” Slater threatened.
“Drunk or not.”

Lark cried out as Slater delivered another powerful blow to Chet’s
face.
“If
you’re wantin’ me to prove it…”

“Slater!”

Lark sobbed as she turned to see Tom step through the back door.
Eldon was with him
,
Ralston and Grady looking on from behind.

“Let him go, Slater,” Tom said.
“Just let him go.
He can ride out
,
and we’ll be done with him.”

“You don’t know what his intentions were here,” Slater said, wagging a finger at Tom with one hand as his other held tight to the front of Chet’s shirt.

“I’m sure I do know,” Tom said.
“But ya gotta let him go.
Let’s just tie him to his horse and send him off.”

Lark watched Slater’s eyes narrow as he looked to his brother.
He nodded.

“You’re right, Tom,” Slater said then.
“I oughta let him go.”

Lark cried out, however, as Slater delivered one last powerful blow to Chet’s face.
Angrily he shoved the man backward as he released his hold on the front of his shirt.
Chet fell, sprawled on the floor—unconscious.

Standing, Slater
wiped
the blood and saliva from
his
boot on Chet’s trouser
leg.
“He
spit on my good boot,” he said to Tom.

“He shouldn’t have done that,” Tom said, shaking his head.
“But he’s out cold now.
So let’s just move on.”

“Matilda gave me
these
boots…last Christmas,” Slater said.

“I know she did,” Tom said.
“It was a right thoughtful gift too.”

“Damn right it was,” Slater
mumbled,
nodding emphatically.

Lark was trembling.
It was obvious Slater was infuriated.
She knew the meaningless banter between the brothers was their way of settling
themselves.
She
watched as Slater’s broad chest and shoulders rose and fell with the labored breathing of restrained fury.

His eyes narrowed
,
and he pointed to Eldon
and
then to Ralston and Grady
,
who stepped into the house
,
mouths gaping open in astonishment as they stared down at their unconscious
friend.
“None
of you other boys…none of you got any ideas where Miss Lawrence is concerned…now do ya?” Slater asked.

“No, sir,” Ralston breathed, shaking his
head, nearly
quaking with fear.

“Grady?” Slater asked.

“No, sir,” Grady assured his boss.
“Not me, sir.”

“Eldon?”

“I ain’t that sort,” Eldon said.
“You know that.”

“All right then,” Slater sighed.
“Drag him outta here.
Make sure he’s gone before I wake up in the mornin’.
If he wakes up in the night…you best see him on his way, boys.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Evans,” Grady said as Ralston and Eldon nodded.

With trembling hands, Lark brushed the tears from her cheeks as the three conscious cowboys dragged Chet’s limp body from the house.