Much Ado About Mavericks (12 page)

Mabel sniffed and smiled through her tears.  “Peter’s a nice boy.  He’d be a good son-in-law.  Of course, I can’t say so much for his father.  You know that if we don’t comply with all the stipulations of the will, Harley Blacker gets the ranch and everything on it.”

Whip nodded.  “Everyone knows it.  Funny thing is, the way Blacker talks, I don't think
he
knows it.”  He kissed her again and escorted her to the barn door.  “I’ll be at the kitchen door in an hour or so.”

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then turned and ran for the house.  He shook his head and smiled.  That woman had more movement in her sweet hips than a gunnysack filled with two skunks and a rattlesnake.

*   *   *   *   *

Ben dunked his head in the washtub that his mother had filled for him.  Just as he got the worst of the blood and dirt washed off, Jake’s strays came running around the corner of the house and stopped in front of him.

“Me’n Teddy’s gonna teach you how to sweep out the barn.”  Homer said, bright-eyed and barely able to contain his excitement. 

Sweep the damned barn?  Frankly, all Ben wanted to do was sip a good stiff shot of brandy--or several--while sitting in his father’s easy chair the rest of the evening.  Sweeping barns held no allure whatsoever, especially since the chore required movement, and movement wasn’t real high on his agenda after getting knocked of the horse and kicked in the teeth.  Hell, even his eyebrows hurt.

“Yeah,” Teddy added.  “Jake said that’d keep you out of trouble for a while.”

Homer elbowed the younger boy in the ribs.  “You wasn’t s’posed to say that!”

Looking at his worn boots contritely, Teddy muttered, “Oops.”  Then he pulled on Ben’s shirtsleeve.  “But you gotta come with us, ‘cause when Jake gives you a chore to do, you better not shirk.  She can get real mean with shirkers.  She’ll fire your ass ‘fore you can look at her twice.”

“She can’t fire Ben,” the older boy explained.  “He owns the place.”

“Not yet.  And anyhows, she’d bust his chops all the way back to where he come from.  She don’t allow no shirking.”  He shook his head and crossed his arms across his chest to emphasize the point.

Ben dried his face and arms.  “Boys, I’d be happy to sweep the barn.”  He stifled a few choice curse words and threw the towel on the porch rail.  “Lead the way.”

Chapter 6

“No.”  Jake took the rope and showed Ben how to swing a loop one more time, wondering if he’d ever get the hang of it.  At the moment, she felt like hanging him.  “Don’t move your arm so damned much.  Use your wrist.”  She handed him the lasso.  “I told you that before.”

That a man could ride as well as he did but not be able to throw a decent loop hornswoggled her, but she was determined to teach this greenhorn how to be a cowhand.

Much as she groused about it, she had to admit she kind of liked showing Ben how to rope, especially when she stood behind him, her hand guiding his wrist.  Sometimes he leaned back against her breasts, and when he did her insides went all jiggly like calf jelly.  But mostly, she liked his smile when he did manage to throw a pretty loop, then would glance at her for approval. 

“This better?” he said, twirling the loop over his head in a nice, easy circle.

“Your loop ain’t big enough.”  She stood behind him and held his wrist, correcting his wrist movement.  “Now keep it twirling like this.”

Hell, he was almost as much fun to be around as the strays, only he made her feel things that she wanted more of--but at the same time she’d be just as happy if she never again felt that aggravating need for him to touch her.  Her lustful urges would be her ruination, of that she was sure.

“Now toss the loop at the horns.”

He did, and he missed.  Again.  “I’ll try again.”  He leaned back against her.  “You better show me again.”

Against her better judgment, she held
Ben’s
wrist and helped him with his motion.  She could feel his hard muscles in his arm with her other hand, and his back brushing her breasts.  “Twirl it three times, then let ‘er fly.”

Instead, he turned around and the loop settled neatly around the two of them.  He pulled the loop tight and grinned.  “I finally hit what I was aiming for.”

She wanted nothing more than to be tied up in that rope with him, but if one of the cowhands saw, she’d never hear the end of it.  Grabbing the loop, she flipped it over their heads and let if fall to the ground.

“Your roping lesson is over,
Boston
.”  She sucker-punched him and backed away.  “Practice by yourself.”

He stood tall when any other man would’ve been laid low.  “Jake, some things a man just doesn’t want to do alone.”

She stomped off, not nearly as mad as she’d told him.  But why he’d not want to rope alone, she’d never know.  Hell, most folks learned to toss a loop by themselves.

“Jake, Jake!”  Homer came galloping in on his Welsh pony.  “Our mare’s foaling!”  He drew the horse to a skidding stop beside her.

“Mares foal at night.  She’s just settling in.”

“No, sir.  There’s a hoof poking out of her butt.  C’mon!”

“Only one?”

“Yup.  One.”  He rode the horse around her.  “You gotta come
now
.”

She whistled for Blue.  He jumped the fence and trotted up to her.  “Where’s Teddy?”

“He’s at the Circle J with Brownie.”

“Outside the co
r
ral?”

“He was when I left.”

Grabbing Blue’s mane, she swung onto his back.  “Race you back.”  She just hoped to hell Teddy stayed away from that mare.  A five-year-old wouldn’t stand a chance against a foaling mare’s hooves.

*   *   *   *   *

Convinced that Jake needed help whether she knew it or not, Ben coiled the rope and slung it over his shoulder as he ran to the corral.  Somehow, he had to catch the big bay gelding without benefit of a rope.  He climbed the fence and jumped in.  The horses shied and milled to the other side. 

Shrugging the rope from his shoulder, he let out a loop, hoping that somehow or another, he’d be able to slip it over the bay’s head as he ran by.  He knew it would be the frontier’s version of a
Nantucket
sleigh ride, but he had to chance it.  Jake would have enough to do with that mare without having to worry about keeping two curious boys out of the way.

He twirled the loop to urge the horses into moving counter-clockwise around the pen.  Right-handed, he’d be a lot more likely to catch the gelding than he would backhanded.  He closed in, forcing the horses to move single-file.  As the bay trotted by, Ben slipped the loop around the old boy’s head.  The horse stopped dead in his tracks. 

Ben breathed a cheerful sigh--this horse was the first animal he’d ever managed to catch, and it had been easy.  Just then another horse ran between him and the bay, yanking the rope out of his hands.  Palms burning like blazes, he watched the bay rejoin the milling herd, rope trailing.  “Shit!” he yelled as he spit in his hands and rubbed them together to stop the burning.

He had no choice but to try to snag that rope, and he knew it would hurt like hell when he did.  But no way would he let Jake go through this alone.  If only one hoof was out, that mare and her foal were in serious trouble.  He made a grab for the rope but missed.  Instead, he slid on his knees in the manure.  “Damn you, come back here!” he yelled, shaking his fist.

He got to his feet just as the horses milled around again.  This time, he managed to catch the rope.  He held on and pulled.  The bay reared and neighed while Ben hung on, his palms on fire.  But he wasn’t about to let go.  “Come on,” he called, tugging on the rope. 

The horse trotted around the pen pulling Ben behind him.  But Ben managed to stay on his feet no matter what damage the rope was doing to his hands.  Little by little, he shortened the lead until he had the bay where he wanted him.  Now, all he had to do was get the gate open and lead the gelding through without letting all the other horses out.  He shoved the gate out just enough for one horse, then, holding the rope over the fence, guided the bay parallel with it, then squeezed through himself.

Deed done and the bay tied to a post, he relaxed some.  Next thing he knew, Whip was there with the tack. 

“Thought you could use some help.  I heard the boy telling Jake about the mare.”  He tossed the saddle blanket on the horse’s back and handed the bridle to Ben.  “I brung you some food, too.”

“Thanks,” Ben said, slipping the bit between the bay’s teeth.

Whip pulled the cinch tight and secured it.  “I’m thinking you might want to get yourself another pair of britches to take along.”  He cocked his head toward the manure on Ben's knees.  “That ain’t no way to go a’courting.”

“No one courts Jake.”  He mounted the horse and took the reins. 

Smiling and raising one bushy eyebrow, Whip chuckled and handed Ben a sack of biscuits and cheese.  “Not smelling like horse shit, you ain’t.”  

*   *   *   *   *

“Will Brownie be all right?”  Teddy squatted at the suffering Missouri Foxtrotter mare’s head and stroked her blaze.

Jake would’ve given her left nostril to know that herself.  This mare was the only blooded horse she had and the Circle J’s future depended on her.  “Only the Big Cowhand in the Sky knows that, Teddy.  All’s we can do is help her any way we can.”

The poor gal laid there, sides heaving and mouth foaming.  Jake really didn’t know what to do.

Homer tugged at her sleeve.  “Give me another job, Jake.  I want to help, too.” 

Teddy sent him a glower.  “You ain’t gitting my job.  I’m making her feel real comfortable, ain’t I, Jake?”

She forced as much smile as she could muster.  “You’re doing a fine job.”  Looking at the mare’s bulging hind end, she decided she’d have to reach in there to find out what was going on, and the mare wouldn’t like it much.  “Homer, I do have an important job for you.  Go to the bunkhouse and fetch a pair of hobbles and a soft rope.”

“Hell, Jake, she don’t need no hobbles.  She ain’t even walking.”

“I told you not to cuss ‘til you was twelve, and you ain’t twelve yet.  Now git.”

“Yes, sir!” he yelled as he ran off.

Wiping her brow with her sleeve, she let out a long sigh.  The chestnut raised her head a bit and Jake thought the poor gal knew just what she was thinking.  This was life and death for the mare, and for Jake it meant the difference between having a place of her own or working for others until she dropped dead. 

Just as Homer returned with the rope and hobbles, the sound of hoofbeats drew her attention to the rider racing toward the place.  Ben.  She swore under her breath.  He didn’t know a damned thing about foaling, and she sure didn’t need to be coddling a greenhorn while she was trying to keep her mind on her own business.  Especially a greenhorn as stubborn as him.

He tossed a bag at Homer, who caught it.  “Need some help?”

“I need a cowhand who can rope, is what I need.  Go back to the Bar EL.”

Ben dismounted and tied the big bay’s reins to the fence, then started uncinching the saddle.  He pulled the saddle off and untied the gelding, leading him to the other corral.  Walking up to the mare, he squatted down and pulled her tail to the side.  “Nothing showing.”

“No shit.  Now go on back,
Boston
.  I don’t need no help.”

“Maybe not, but you do need a friend.”

“Friend, hrmph!” Jake muttered.  “I got my strays.  Them boys help real good.”

“The operative word there is ‘boys.’  Homer, hand me those hobbles.”

The boy held them out, but Jake snatched them and attached them to the mare’s back legs.   “I’m aiming to reach in there to see what’s the problem.  You best stay back.”

“I’m staying right here in case she puts up a fuss, which she will.”  He looked Jake right in the eye.  “You’re not getting rid of me, so go ahead and get this over with.”

She shot him a glare, although deep in her heart, she actually was glad that he’d come to help.  It was doubtful that he’d do her any more good than Homer and Teddy, though.

The mare grunted and flopped her head on the ground.  Jake knew the horse was losing strength in a hurry, and the only hope to save her and the foal was to get the little one out of there as quickly as she could.  Damn, she wished she’d had more learning about this sort of thing.  Mostly, she’d dealt with cows.  She’d pulled lots of calves, but she had never assisted a mare with birthing.

“Teddy, you and Homer stand back.  Brownie ain’t gonna like what I’m gonna do, but I gotta do it.”

“She ain’t gonna die, is she?” Teddy asked, frowning.  “She can’t die.”

“No, Jake and Ben won’t let her.”   Homer took the younger boy’s hand and led him away.  “Let’s go fetch Jake some water.”

Jake nodded.  “Good idea.”  She rubbed her hands together as she watched the strays head toward the bunkhouse.  Not knowing was the worst thing.  She suspected the foal was turned around butt-first.  If so, and considering how big she figured the foal would be, there wasn’t much chance the little fellow would make it.  Hell, he could be dead already.