Much Ado About Mavericks (23 page)

“Let’s go to the house.”  Without waiting for her assent, he pulled her across the well-graveled barnyard to the house.

“But Benjamin, I missed you.”

“Like hell.  You’re so transparent, it’s embarrassing.” He shoved her toward Suzanne’s room.  “Now find a decent dress and get changed.” 

As soon as she entered the room he slammed the door and stomped out of the house.  Jake--he had to find Jake and explain.  Stopping short, he ran his fingers through his hair.  Explain what?  That he’d thought he could make a life with that calculating woman?  Hell, Jake probably didn’t even know what ‘calculating’ meant.

There certainly wasn’t a calculating bone in her body.  Jake was a straightforward person.  Honest and hardworking.  The complete opposite of Patience.

Or her brother.  Ben doubted that Reginald had even wanted to come out west.  He enjoyed the good life in
Boston
with his vintage whiskey and his high-priced women.  In fact, maybe Reginald would talk some sense into his sister, although Ben knew for a fact that Patience could convince her brother to do darned near anything.

He moved to the dark area by the barn door where he’d given Jake the adoption papers, and waited until his heartbeat slowed to normal.  Taking a couple of deep breaths, he went
back to the dance
.

He spotted
Jake right away
and
tapped her partner’s shoulder.  “Sorry, cutting in.”  Once Jake was in his arms, he danced
out back.  “Jake, her coming here was not my idea.”

She shrugged.  “Don’t matter.  You’ll head back to
Boston
and marry up with her.”

“I’m still riding in the tournament tomorrow.”

He waited for her to say something
—
anything.  When she didn’t, he said, “I’ll be riding in the roundup just like I told you I would.”

She still didn’t say anything, just glared at him. 

“Jake, I don’t go back on my promises.  I’ll meet every stipulation of that pathetic excuse for a will.”

“Well, good for you.”

He winced at her sarcasm.  “I
care
for you, Jake.”

She backed away from him, glaring.  “Ain’t that nice.  I care about them cattle out there, too.”

Catching her around the waist as she tried to brush by him, he pulled her to him and kissed her deeply.  “Aw, Jake, you’re the most magnificent woman I’ve ever known.”

Pushing away, she said, “Memories,
Boston
.  That’s all I am and don’t you forget it.”

“I haven’t proposed to Patience.”

“You will,” she said as she left him standing there, empty hearted and frustrated.

*   *   *   *   *

No sooner had she got the strays to bed than someone pounded on the damned door.  She flung it open, and whispered harshly, “Quiet.  You’ll wake the crew.”

Ben stood there, hat in hand.  She slammed the door but he caught it and came into the bunkhouse.  “We can talk inside, or outside.”

“Go back to the Bar EL,
Boston
.  We ain’t got a damned thing to say.”  She grabbed the lantern and stepped outside anyway, figuring he’d make a fuss.

He did.  “Why are you so angry with me, Jake?  It’s not as if I hadn’t told you about Patience.”

“
Boston
, how the hell could such a smart man be so all-fired stupid?”

He looked like he’d been hit in the forehead with a fresh cowpie.  Good, ‘cause she felt the same way.  His shoulders slouched as he picked up his horse’s rein.  “See you tomorrow.”

He’d given up a little too easily, but she waited until he rode into the darkness before she went back into the bunkhouse.

She tossed all night and when she got up the next morning she could’ve torn a grizzly bear’s head off with her teeth.  Her mouth tasted like she already had.

“Get up, cowhands.  We got a big day ahead.” 

Stumbling outside, she doused her head in the icy water of the horse trough and threw her waist-length hair back.  Combing it was a pain in the ass--she oughta just whack the damned stuff off.  Finally getting the rats out, she braided her hair and jammed on her hat.

Homer came out first, dressed in clean clothes.  “I’m riding a bronc today,” he announced with his chest puffed out.  “Crip said he had one just for me.”

Jake nodded and smiled her approval, even though she hadn’t let him ride last year.  He was seven years old, plenty old enough to buck out a small horse.  Hell, maybe she’d been a might too easy with the little ones.  She’d been bucking out roughstock since she was Teddy’s age.

The morning passed like lightning.  She had a helluva time keeping the Bar EL hands’ minds on their chores, but finally she told them all to go to the round pen.  The tournament was about to start.

“Good afternoon, Jake!”  Suzanne had stacked dishes and several loaves of bread on the table in the barn. 

Jake waved and ambled over to her.  “Is that Patience woman still here?”

Suzanne puffed out her cheeks and blew out.  “My stars, yes.  She’s prancing around here somewhere in my best dress.  She hogged up the mirror for over two hours this morning.”

“I ain’t surprised.”  Jake watched Suzanne slice the bread and waited to see if she’d say where Ben was.

“Ma sent word to the marshal asking him to bring out Patience’s trunks from
Henderson
.  I told her she should leave them there and send the witch back to
Boston
.”

When she finally wound down her griping about Patience, Jake went to see how Whip was doing at the roasting pit.  “You seen
Boston
?”

“Nope.”  While Whip turned the spit of beef, Mabel scurried about, fetching and carrying for him.  The minute he needed anything, Mabel was right there.  But if they were both happy, what the hell.

All the cowhands from the Lazy B stood by the roasting pit with Harley and Peter Blacker.  Jake joined them.  “Glad you could make it, boys.”

“You riding today?” Big Al asked.

“Yup.”  Tilting her Stetson over her eyes, she said, “We got every single man on the Bar EL signed up.”

Peter leaned toward her.  “Ben?”

“Yup.”  She slipped her thumbs under her belt.  “Even Homer.  He’s seven.”

She moseyed to the corral where Sli
m
and Crip had herded the mustangs.  Handing Ezra’s watch to Crip, she said, “I brung the old man’s timepiece.  Take care of it.”

Crip studied the flowery design etched in the gold.  “Thanks,” he said, sliding it in his vest pocket.

“Got any rank ones?”

“Sure do,” Crip said.  He nodded toward the other side of the pen.  “That black over there ’druther eat your guts as stomp your face in.”

She watched the stallion as the horses milled around.  He was a cocky one, all right.  Strong, lean, and snorting fire.  “What’s his number?”

Hooking his boot over the bottom rail, Crip rested his chin on the top of the fence. “One.  Ain’t a horse in the bunch what could hold a candle to him.” 

“Mighty fine piece of horseflesh.  How long do you think a feller has on him?”

“If he
sticks for
one jump, he might
stay on
for two more.  If he’s lucky.”

“After the tournament, turn
the black
and two of the best mares loose.  They’ll breed us some fine horses for next year.”

“If we can catch ‘em.”

She slapped him on the shoulder.  “You always do.”

On the front porch of the house, Ben bent over and buckled his chaps.  She admired his strong shoulders and cursed her heart for doing the two-step every time she caught sight of him. 
He could sure do a pair of chaps proud.

As he bounded off the steps, Henry came at him full force and gave his legs a bear hug.  Ben picked her up and chucked her under the chin.  Hell, he should have been her mother.

Then Patience opened the door and yelled, “Benjamin, we’re not done talking yet!”

Without looking back, Ben bounced Henry on his hip and headed for the corral where the other Bar EL hands were mingling with those of the Lazy B and other ranches around.  All of them would be on the roundup, and this was their last relaxation for over a month.

Jake made her way in that direction, too.  It was time to give ‘em their talk.  The Bar EL had won the tournament the last two years, and she wasn’t about to lose to the Lazy B or any other ranch while she was foreman.

“All right, boys, it’s about time we got our teeth set straight and pucker real tight.  Them hands at the Lazy B think they got a winner this year, but I think you fellers can whoop ‘em with one hand tied behind your back and your bloomers on.”

Crazy Jim hollered, “Hell, Jake, you won first every time you ever rode.  All’s we gotta do is show up.”

She waited until the guffaws died down.  “We got a mean one over in that corral.  See that black?”  She cocked her head toward the snorting beast.  “He’s a widdermaker.  You draw him and you’ll either win the whole damned thing, or end up flat on your back with your teeth kicked in wishing you was dead.”

“Know anything about him?” one of the cowhands asked.

“Crip says he ain’t got no pattern.  What he did last time, he won’t do this time.  So just pucker up, hang on, and help yourself to a good dose of try.”

Just then Patience swished in.  “Oh, Benjamin!  You can’t mean to ride one of those wretched brutes?”

The men all laughed and Ben told her, “If you don’t want to watch, get back in the house.”

“I won’t!” 

Jake half expected her to stomp her foot, but she didn’t.  She was a lady, of course.  A screeching, nagging lady.  Jake was never so glad she was just a cowhand.

“You will,” Ben said firmly.  He put Henry down.  “I mean it, Patience, don’t bother me this afternoon.”

The other men were still while Ben and Patience stared each other down.  Finally, she backed off.  “I’ll remember this, Benjamin.  I’m quite certain that Daddy won’t be amused.”

Ben tipped his hat to her, then turned away.  “How about it, boys, are we ready to ride?”

“Yeehaw!” came a chorus of voices, accompanied by thirty hats thrown in the air.  All except for Henry’s--hers hit Ben in the nose.

Reginald trotted from the house carrying his derby.  “Ben, old boy, may I take part in your little tournament?”

The cowhands guffawed.  “We’ll put ‘im on the widdermaker.”

“It’s up to Jake,” Ben told Reginald.  “She’s foreman here.  She says who rides.”

The dandy’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened.  “Good gravy, I never thought you’d be working for a woman!”

Jake’s temper got shorter by the minute.  She grabbed him by his starched collar and lifted him up until his toes dragged the dirt and banged him against the fence.  “Ask nice, greenhorn.  We put stock in manners around these parts.”

“You might as well apologize while you’re in the air, Reg,” Ben suggested.  “It’ll be easier that way.”

Reginald gasped and gulped, punching at her.  She didn’t mind taking a few hits--she’d hold him up there until he passed out if that was what he wanted.  “Well?”

“Lord Almighty!”  He coughed, his eyes wide, looking to Ben for help.  “I’m . . . uh . . .”

She tightened her grip on his collar.  “I’m waiting.”

“I’m, uh, sorry.”

“Who are you saying that to?”

He splutter some more.  “Wh--why, to you.”

“I ain’t the one you insulted.  You owe your sorries to every hardworking cowhand what rides the Bar EL brand.”  She shook him again.  “And to the man who owns this spread.”  His color was a bit high, but Jake couldn’t feel sorry for the ninny.

His gaze darted back and forth.  “I humbly apologize to you all.”

Jake dropped him and he slouched to the ground.  “You can ride,” she said as she strode away.

*   *   *   *   *

Dust lingered in the crisp September air as Ben leaned on the fence and watched the youngsters ride.  After Homer rode, Teddy and Henrietta wanted to ride, too.  Jake roped a couple of calves for them, saying they were too little for horses.  The two kids weren’t all that happy with having to ride calves, but they got a big cheer from the audience. 

Teddy took off his hat and bowed to the crowd, getting an even bigger cheer.  Ben shook his head and chuckled.  That boy would be president of the
United States
someday.

“All you boys gather ‘round!” Whip bellowed, holding his hat filled with numbered papers.  “Time to draw for round one.  The ten who ride the longest, you get to go to round two.”

There were probably sixty cowhands ready to compete.  And Reginald Morris.  Ben took him in tow.  “Let’s go.”

“What are we doing?”

“Whip assigned each horse a number.  We’re drawing numbers from his hat to see which horse we ride in round one.  If you want to bow out, now’s the time.”