Much Ado About Mavericks (11 page)

Jake kicked out the fire and picked up her saddlebags.  “Ain’t you forgetting something?”

“No.”  As if he could forget a damned horse nuzzling his neck and him thinking . . .  Or forget how his father got him in this sordid mess in the first place.  No, he hadn’t forgotten a single thing.  Never would.

She held up the bridles.  “I doubt you’ll get very far, very fast with a hobbled horse and no bridle.”

He snatched the bridles and put one on each of the three horses, then unhobbled them.  Women!  She might wear pants, rope like a tornado, and shoot straight as a carpenter’s ruler, but that catty remark was a woman’s if he’d ever heard one.

“Ben?”  Teddy tugged on Ben’s shirt.

“What.”

“Are you one of them fellers what can’t think right till you have your coffee?”

Ben gritted his teeth and leaned on his horse.  “I wasn’t, but I am now.”

*   *   *   *   *

Jake grimaced and slowly shook her head as she watched Ben miss again.  After an hour’s worth of practice, he still couldn’t get the loop to stay open over the horns she’d nailed to a log.  “Maybe you oughtta just practice twirling the loop over your head.”

“Nope,” he grunted as he tossed the rope again and missed.  “I can twirl the rope over my head all day for the next two weeks if I have to.  You go on to your chores--I’ll keep practicing.”

Sounded like a damned good idea to her, considering how frustrated she’d been while watching him.  She set the cowhands to repairing the holding pens, then went to the bucking pen to check out Slim and Crip.  Crip sat on a paint that stood stiff-legged, ears back, ready to explode.

“How many we got?” she asked Slim.

“About a dozen ready to ride
by all the hands except that
greenhorn. 
We’ve got a c
ouple dozen greenbroke. 
There’s
about thirty head to buck out, yet.”

Not good.  They had to have
ten
horses apiece for the roundup, with twenty men to outfit.  “We’ll have to go catch some more, then.”

“Naw, I figger each man’s already got
a dozen
mounts.  If these work out, we got enough.”

Jake took his word for it.  Times like these, she sure wished she’d had a chance to learn to sum and cipher.  Maybe this winter.  She could use Homer’s schoolbook.  Last winter, the boy had taught her to write her name along with all the letters and, with some effort, she could figure out a word here and there.  This year, she’d learn her numbers.

“I’ll send Crazy Jim to help buck out the rest.  Have Crip work with the greenbroke stock--his hip seems to be paining him some.”

Whip ambled up and leaned on the top rail of the fence.  “That paint gonna stand there all day, or, are we gonna have a show?”

Crip smiled, then dug his spurs into the horse’s side.  The beast erupted, rearing, then sunfishing all around the arena.  The old broncbuster sat tight while the paint did everything in his power to throw the man off. 

After quite a show, the horse finally came to a stop, lathered and panting.  Jake and Slim jumped into the corral and ran to the horse.  Jake grabbed the halter and Slim pinched the horse’s ear so Crip could get off without fearing the animal would start up again.

The old broncbuster crawled through the fence and stood by Whip.  Jake joined them while Slim put a bridle on the paint, ready to ride him out. 

“Damn, Whip.  Many more rides like that and you’ll be getting yourself a cook’s helper.”  He held his lower back with both hands and grimaced.

Jake cuffed him on the arm.  “I hope not anytime soon.  That ride was one helluva beautiful sight.”   The three of them watched Slim work with the tuckered out horse. 

“He’s gonna be a good one,” Whip remarked.  “Full of spirit, lots of heart.”

“Prob’ly a one-man horse,” Crip said, nodding.  “Big sucker, too. I believe he’s even bigger than Old Man Lawrence’s horse.”

“I’m sending Crazy Jim to help Slim ride the buck out of the rest of these,” Jake said to Crip.  “I want you working with the greenbroke stock.  And don’t you go getting your bloomers in a bunch, either.  We’re running out of time, and I want them horses trained as good as you can get ‘em.”

“Yes, sir.”  Crip saluted, then smiled.  “Them greenbroke horses are worse than the rough stock, though.  At least you
know
the rough stock’s gonna buck.”

Ben ambled to the fence, coiling his rope.  “I’ll help you.”   He flung the rope over his shoulder and took a wistful gander at the paint.  “Especially if I can have that one.”

After watching Ben ride the last few days, Jake considered it.  He had a good seat--at least when he was paying attention.  Still, Mrs. Lawrence would never forgive her if she set her son to doing something dangerous.  “Nope, you keep practicing your roping.”  She backed away from the fence.  “You fellers get back to work now.  I’ll have Crazy Jim and another hand over here shortly.”

After looking over the crew, she decided that the other hand would be herself.  None of the rest could be trusted to do a decent job of training, and they didn’t need any trouble with horses during the roundup.  Enough could go wrong as it was.  “Any of you know where Crazy Jim is?”

Every man in the place shook his head.  She checked all the outbuildings without success, ready to fire the damned shirker on the spot if she did see him.  As she stalked back to the corrals, she saw Suzanne behind the cottonwood tree--with Crazy Jim.  Smokin’ horse apples!  If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was sparking the girl.

Jake made a beeline for the two of them.  “Crazy Jim, haul your sorry ass to the bucking pen.  You’re broncbusting today, and I don’t want to see one more minute of shirking.”

“Yes, sir!”  He took off at a trot.

Suzanne spun on her heel, chin in the air, and headed for the house. 

“Suzanne, I thought you was waiting for Petey Blacker.”

She stopped dead in her tracks.  “Jimmy’s a nice young man.”

“Jimmy’s hurting for a poke, and don’t you forget it.”  Jake turned to go back to the corrals to make sure Crazy Jim did as he was told.  She’d have to have a talk with Suzanne, much as she hated to, because she doubted the girl had any idea how men thought.  Jake knew--she’d heard it all since the time she could walk. 

“Maybe I want a poke, too.”

Jake froze, then whirled toward Suzanne.  “Don’t you talk like that.  It ain’t ladylike.”

“You said it first.”

“I ain’t no lady.”  She strode to the girl and took her by the arm.  “Go on in the house, now.  I won’t tell your mama.”

Jake took her time walking back to the corrals, wondering if females did want pokes the same as men.  She knew for sure it wasn’t right for a woman to lay with a man unless she hogtied herself to him beforehand, but then, why was it all right for the men to consort with sporting women?  Men must want it more than women, was all she could figure.  And if they wanted it more than she’d wanted Ben the night they spent together, then she felt sorry for every damned one of them.

By the time she got back, Ben’s lasso hung neatly coiled from the gatepost, and he had mounted the big paint even though she’d told him to keep practicing his roping.

“Open the gate,” he said, reins in one hand and pulling leather with the other.

Jake rolled her eyes.  Not only had he disobeyed a direct order, he was a damned fool take that horse out.  A wild one like the paint could take off and dump Ben five miles from nowhere.  But Ben might as well learn the lesson now as latter.  She nodded at Crip, who swung the gate open.

*   *   *   *   *

Ben could only take so much high-handedness from Jake.   She wasn’t always right, no matter what Teddy and Homer thought.  He wasn’t a roper and never would be, but dammit all, he could ride.  In his college days, he’d made a few extra dollars training greenbroke polo horses.

Slim held the halter and Crazy Jim held the paint’s ear in his teeth.  Ben could feel the power building in the horse’s muscles so he didn’t want to wait any longer.  As soon as the gate opened, he hollered, “Let’s go!”

The paint jumped straight in the air on all fours.  He’d definitely got his second wind.  He bucked around the corral, then, seeing the open gate, took off full tilt.  Ben yanked on the reins, trying to get the horse directed to the road, but the beast took off past the cottonwood tree, barely missing the lowest branch, ran through the lawn, around the house, down a draw and up the other side.

Ben’s legs tired from gripping the horse’s side
s
and his arm ached from the jerking and jolting.  The huge, muscular beast ran like the wind and then ran some more--the sagebrush blurred past.  He galloped around the pile of boulders where he’d seen Fred a few days before, then the wild but exhausted paint skidded to a stop and bucked and bucked.  Finally, the lathered horse stood stiff-legged, ears pinned back, just like he’d started.  Ben nudged him with his spurs to get him to walk, but the old boy sunfished so violently, Ben nearly lost his seat.  Pulling leather, he finally regained his balance.

The horse stood, sides heaving.  Ben mused that he’d finally found a horse as stubborn as the woman who called herself “Jake.”  He looked around for landmarks to figure out where he was, then pressed his right spur in the horse’s side and pulled hard on the left rein.  The horse turned.  Now he was getting somewhere. 

It took at least an hour to coax the big paint to walk back to the ranch.  Ben smiled, feeling pretty good about himself.  This horse would be ready to go after a few more rides.  He patted the paint’s sweat-drenched neck, savoring the moment when Jake would have to eat her words.

Crip saw him and waved.  Ben waved back, looking for Jake.  He could hardly wait to see the look in her eye when he handed her the reins of a tamed horse. 

“You did it!” Teddy said, running toward Ben, arms flailing as he jumped over imaginary barriers.

The paint shied and took off at a dead run.   Ben’s thoughts turned to dread as he saw the cottonwood--and the blasted horse was running directly toward it.  If he stayed on course, Ben would be all right, but if he veered to the other side of the tree, well, that branch was awfully low.

But
if
Teddy kept running and the horse didn’t change directions, the boy would be smashed flat.  Ben spurred the left side and hauled back on the right rein.  The horse spun in a complete circle, then took off again.  Before Ben could get a good grip, he looked up and saw nothing but brown bark, and a helluva lot of it. 

The horse raced under the tree and the limb caught Ben right in the chest, raking him from the horse’s back.  He fell with a thud, flat on his back, then Teddy tripped over him and kicked him in the teeth.

Ben spit the dirt and rocks out of his mouth, moved his arms and legs to see if they were still there, then gently shoved the boy aside.  “You all right?”

“Sure.  I’m a cowhand.  Cowhands don’t get hurt.”

With great effort, Ben sat up, stifling a groan.  Ben was no cowhand and he hurt like hell, but Teddy didn’t need to know that.  Jake jumped on her blue roan with no saddle or bridle and took out after the paint.  She roped him and brought him back in short order.

She tossed the lasso on Ben’s shoulder, reminding him of his assigned duty.  He wiped the blood from his mouth where Teddy had kicked him.  “You better wash up,
Boston
.  You look like something that passed through the south end of a dog.”

*   *   *   *   *

Whip pulled Mabel to his chest and caressed her back as he nuzzled her neck.  “Don’t worry, sweetheart.  Ben’s not a boy anymore.”

She lifted her teary face to him and whispered, “He could have been seriously hurt.”

“Could’ve,” Whip agreed with a nod, “but he’s fine.  Your little boy is a man now.  He’ll do what he needs to do.”

Mabel pulled a hankie from her sleeve and dabbed at her pert little nose.  No matter what she ever did, from blowing her nose to chasing the lawyer out the door with a broom, she was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, and the only one he’d ever want.  He’d loved her for nearly thirty years, but this would be the best year yet--because some way, some how, he’d find a way around that will and marry the woman of his heart.

“He’s a lawyer,” she protested, “used to city ways.  It’s not fair to expect him to work the ranch.”

“No, it ain’t.  But that’s the way of it, and Ben’s up to the challenge.  He’s smart and he’s strong.  Ain’t no way that Ezra’s gonna beat him down again--I seen it in the boy’s eyes.”  He hugged her close again.  “You’ll see, too.”

She wiped her tears on his shirt.  “Suzanne’s gone for the night--when can we be together?”

“Tonight’s our night, angel.  I heard the crew cooking up a party to celebrate Ben riding that horse.  They’ll all be at the bunkhouse.  So where did Suzanne go?”

“She’s staying in town with Mrs. Hiatt.  I think she’s angry with me.”

Kissing her cheek, he lifted her chin with his forefinger and gazed into her eyes.  She was sweet as candy and twice as tasty.   “Naw, ain’t no one could ever be mad at you, angel.  The girl’s just mixed up some over man problems.  I heard her talking with Jake just the other day.  Plans to marry Petey Blacker, ‘cept he ain’t due back until spring.”  He chuckled and added, “I ain’t so sure poor Petey has any idea what sort of trap he’s riding into.”