Miss Ruffles Inherits Everything (30 page)

“Stay here,” Ten said, already with one leg clumsily up on the fence.

“Where are you going?”

“If that dog can do it, I'm going to help him get Hellrazor into the trailer.”

“Stop! Please, you'll get hurt.”

“There's no time to put a saddle on a horse. Let me go while he's on the run.”

I realized I had been clutching Ten's arm. I released him, and Ten vaulted over the fence. He tried to run across the pasture, but immediately I could see he wasn't going to be fast enough to make it to the trailer before the bull caught sight of him. He was too stiff, one leg not quite strong enough.

I went over the fence, too.

“Fred!” I waved my arms and gave a whistle.

I had no idea what I was doing, but Fred understood. He zipped between Ten and the bull, drawing Hellrazor's attention long enough for Ten to grab the rails of the livestock trailer and climb up to safety. I took off across the pasture and soon clambered up beside him.

“Now what?” I panted.

Ten was grinning. “You're something. See if you can get Fred to herd him into the trailer. As soon as he's inside, I'll close the gate.”

“Okay, but—”

Ten grabbed me again. “Just don't get close to the bull. Make sure you can jump up here if he decides to chase you.”

He climbed down, and I cautiously followed his lead. I waved to Fred, and his keen gaze took in the open trailer gate. He grasped the situation and quickly began to complete the task.

The dog darted close to nip Hellrazor again, and the bull bellowed. But he moved again, kicking up dust, and Fred chased him toward the trailer. Hellrazor missed the entrance the first time, so Ten and I scrambled up onto the safety of the trailer while Fred circled him around again and made another attempt. This time, Hellrazor figured out that the best place to get away from the dog was the trailer. So he thundered up the ramp, neat as you please.

Ten heaved the gate closed and bolted it shut. Hellrazor gave a pathetic groan, declaring himself defeated.

Fred raced jubilantly around the trailer once more, then ran to me and barked.

Ten was laughing, and so was I. The adrenaline was like lightning inside me—bright and exciting.

Fred barked again, then wobbled unsteadily. His legs trembled. His eyes widened. He gave a little wheeze and dropped at my feet as if every bone in his body suddenly had melted.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

One riot, one ranger.

—MOTTO OF THE TEXAS RANGERS

“Heart attack,” I said, down on my knees in an instant. “Fred—Fred!”

Fred's eyes glazed over. His breath came in labored gasps, and foam gathered at his mouth. His ribs heaved with the effort to take in air.

And he stopped breathing.

“No!”

I rolled Fred onto his side and put my hand against his chest. I could feel no flutter of his heart, no breath in his lungs. I started doing compressions on his chest, pushing hard, up and down, up and down.

Ten hunkered down beside me. He cupped Fred's muzzle between his hands and bent to blow air into Fred's mouth. I pushed and pushed on Fred's chest; Ten blew. We kept it up for a minute, two minutes, three minutes. I knew I was crying and couldn't stop. Sweat ran down my arms, tears down my face.

“Switch places,” Ten said when I started to weaken.

We traded. I blew into Fred's lungs, and Ten thumped on his chest. I don't know how long we worked.

It was up to me to decide when to stop. I slowed down and finally sat back on my heels. I swiped my face with my arm. “It's okay,” I said in a small voice. “He's gone. You can stop.”

Ten gave Fred a few more compressions, then gave up.

We looked down at the motionless dog. Brave Fred. Sweet-tempered Fred. He had been a smart, hardworking dog with a lot of heart. He reminded me of somebody, but in that moment I couldn't think who.

Then I thought about Miss Ruffles. In her, there was the same tenacious courage and loyalty Fred had shown to me. She was every bit as tough and intelligent as he had been, only she was untrained. She needed help and guidance and discipline, that's all, to be just as dependable and brave as Fred had been.

I needed to find her. I needed to give her the chance to grow up into a great dog just like Fred.

“He's a little Texas Ranger.” Ten wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “One riot, one ranger.”

“What?”

“Texas Rangers—so tough you only need one to settle a riot.”

At those words, Fred gave a shuddering gasp and opened his eyes. He cast his eyes up at me and started to pant. He was smiling, too.

“You little sneak!” I cried.

Fred tried to struggle to stand up.

“Not yet, buddy,” Ten murmured. He pressed Fred back down onto the ground. “Take it easy for a minute.”

“I can't believe it,” I said. “He's alive!”

Ten was grinning. “I reckon it's just not his time yet. But it sure looked that way.”

Fred sat up as suddenly as he had collapsed. With a whine, he licked my face. I laughed unsteadily and hugged him close.

Ten sat back on his heels, shaking his head. “That's one tough little herder. I've never seen Hellrazor so confounded by a cur before.”

I wiped my nose. “It would be a shame for him to die after that performance.”

“Short of a trophy, he needs a beer and a girl,” Ten said with a grin.

“Is that rodeo talk?”

“Yes, ma'am, that's rodeo talk for winning big.”

I picked up Fred and carried him out of the pasture. Ten helped me get him through the gate and into the shade. Fred sprawled manfully on the ground, panting in the heat and taking his ease after a hard day's work.

Ten and I didn't have time for more conversation. A pickup truck turned into the lane and came barreling toward us, sending clouds of dust up into the sky. Fred swung his head to look, but I grabbed his collar.

Ten put his hat on, tipped back from his face. When he recognized the approaching truck, his expression turned worried. “I lost track of time. You shouldn't be here.”

“Why not?”

I saw why. In the passenger seat of the pickup truck was Trey Hensley. His little brother, Travis Joe, sat beside him. Another boy drove. When the truck stopped, two other boys came piling out of the jump seat of the vehicle, revealing a large Confederate flag sticker in the back window. Trey opened the passenger door and up-ended a bag of potato chips into his mouth before climbing down to the ground.

To me, Ten said, “The boys are here for rodeo practice. They show up every week when their mom has her appointment at the beauty shop.”

Travis Joe saw us and came running over. He had clearly not been informed of his mother's restraining order against me, because he had a big grin on his face and barely managed to stop himself before crashing straight into me.

“Hey!” he said. “Are you here to watch us ride? Hi, Miss Ruffles!”

He threw himself in the dirt and rubbed Fred between the ears. Fred accepted the attention without objection.

To Travis Joe, Ten said, “Go catch yourself a horse. Saddles are in the barn. You know what to do.”

“We're going to round up some steers,” Travis Joe said to me. He got to his feet. He wore a pair of cowboy boots with grubby jeans and a faded T-shirt that advertised the University of the Alamo. He had come to get dirty. Without his mother around, he seemed braver. He said, “I'm really good on a horse. I'm not bad with a rope either.”

“You're terrible with a rope,” Ten said on a laugh. “You ride Hondo because he makes you look good.”

“We're a good team,” Travis Joe said with delight.

The other boys were already sliding through the rails of the horse corral, and Travis Joe scrambled to catch up with them. The sleepy horses woke, and some of them tried to amble away, but the boys soon had halters in hand and were taking their animals into the barn for saddling.

If the older Hensley boy, Trey, knew anything about the restraining order, he wasn't letting it show. He had taken a long look at Fred but ignored me. He had a big gray horse in hand, and he led it directly into the barn without a glance in my direction. Maybe a little too obviously.

The other boys all gawked at me.

“I gotta go,” Ten said apologetically to me. “These boys will get away with anything if I don't keep an eye on them.”

“Even Travis Joe?”

“That one's liable to hurt himself. It's the other four who are future delinquents. I need to stay alert—and make sure they're on horses that'll keep their minds off making trouble.”

I couldn't help but smile. “Were you a delinquent at their age?”

He laughed. “Maybe a little. Look, I don't want you to lie, but it might work out best for you if you don't mention this to anyone unless you're asked. These boys come out here against their mother's wishes.”

I took a guess. “Posie's afraid they'll get hurt?”

“I can't blame her,” Ten said. “Travis Joe got real sick when he was little. But Hut Junior and I thought this would be good for him—for all of them. The kid's illness was a long time ago, and you have to live a life, you know? But Posie's still easily worried.”

I withheld my views on Posie. After all, Ten was marrying her sister.

He was distracted and already moving toward the barn. “Have you told anybody else about your theory? About Honeybelle? You should keep it quiet, too, okay? Let me think about what to do, and we'll talk about it. For now, go home, stay safe.”

“Okay, thanks. When can we talk?”

“I can't come tonight. Tomorrow I've got to haul livestock for the Junior Rodeo. The whole week is Junior Rodeo. It's a big deal here. But I'll stop by after, for sure. We have to figure out a plan. We need to get Miss Ruffles back. Can you hang on a little longer?”

“Yes,” I said, relieved to have an ally at last. “Thank you.”

“And then you can explain why you have a dog that looks so much like Miss Ruffles.”

I swallowed hard and nodded.

I gathered up Fred and carried him to the car. He was back to being lazy and flopped on the seat as if exhausted by his run with the bull, but he smiled at me.

“You're a delinquent, too,” I said to him as I started the car.

I pulled around and drove past the house, the corrals, and finally the barn. As I went by, I looked into the barn and was startled to find Trey Hensley staring sullenly back at me.

In front of him in the barn sat an all-terrain vehicle. I could see the dusty bumper sticker on it
.
I MAY GET LOST BUT I DON
'
T GET STUCK.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Sometimes the best cowboy for the job is a cowgirl.

—FLAT-OUT TRUTH

So Ten owned the ATV that my attacker had used.

Before I left his ranch, he had asked if I'd told anybody about my theory that Honeybelle had been murdered. He had said, “You should keep it quiet.”

My head reeled so hard that I had to stop the car at the end of his driveway to regain my wits. I put my forehead down onto the steering wheel and tried not to think what it all meant. The car's air-conditioning blew across my neck, drying the sweat but not clearing my head enough to make thinking straight possible.

Everybody knew everybody in this small town—everybody except me. I had Mae Mae on my side, and that was about it. And what kind of help could she be? Even Gracie was suspect now. She was having a fling with President Cornfelter. And she had typed up all the legal documents, so she knew the terms of Honeybelle's will and who knew what else.

And Ten … maybe I had decided to trust him too soon.

“I found my own adventure, Mom,” I said aloud. “But I don't like it much.”

Again I thought maybe it was time to bug out of Mule Stop. Just leave everything and go. Find a new place to live, a new job, new friends, a new life. I had been broke before, and leaving behind Honeybelle's money wasn't a big sacrifice. Inheriting a boatload of money had felt like a bizarre kind of miracle anyway—like winning the lottery when I hadn't bought a ticket. The kind of thing that ruined a person's luck for good.

Fred nudged my arm with his nose, and I turned my head to look at him. “You're thinking about Miss Ruffles, aren't you?”

His steady gaze met mine. He woofed softly.

“I can't abandon her,” I said. “Wherever she is, she needs help.”

Fred put one dirty paw up on my arm.

“You wouldn't give up, would you?”

He didn't answer, but held my eyes with his.

“One riot, one ranger. I guess that's me now.”

Someone rapped on the car window beside me, and I couldn't help myself. I screamed.

A friendly Blues Brother was bending down to look at me through the window, smiling. “Sorry to scare you. How you doing, Stretch? You okay in there?”

It was Mr. Costello. I realized that his rental car was parked a hundred yards down the road, engine running. His partner waved through the windshield. They must have followed me out of town and parked to wait for my exit from the ranch. Today he had finally taken off his suit coat and stood in the sunshine with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up.

I rolled the window down. “What are you doing here?”

“We took a drive to see the scenery. A lotta flat land around here, right? And not nearly enough trees.”

“You scared the hell out of me.”

“Now, now, don't get all mad, Stretch. You don't look so good. You feeling sick?” In a more belligerent tone, he demanded, “What's the bandage on your face for?”

“Does it strike you as ironic that you're asking after my health? Last I heard, you were threatening me.”

“Hey, nothing personal.”