Authors: Ginger Simpson
“Ellie?”
Her father hollered.
The timbre in his voice panicky.
“Where are ya?”
She raised her head cautiously. “Over here, Pa.”
Ty reached her first and knelt next to her. “Some of you get
out there and check the perimeter,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Make sure the
shooter ain’t gonna take anymore pot shots.”
He turned his attention to Ellie. “Are ya hurt?”
She questioned the concern in his voice. With her gone, his
future would be sealed. Pa already thought of him as a son.
Ty stood, switched his rifle to the opposite hand and
extended his free one to Ellie. He helped her to her feet and continued to
grasp her hand for far longer than necessary, in her opinion. She couldn’t
figure him out.
At his cocky grin, she jerked away and took a deep, breath.
Her stomach churned from fright, but something about his eyes calmed her. She rubbed
the back of her neck and forced herself to look away. She hoped she sounded
convincing as she squared her shoulders and turned back to face him.
“I’m fine…just a little shaken.”
Her mind screamed for her to keep her wits in front of him.
Any trace of weakness was the last thing she wanted him to see. He needed to
view her as his competition.
A threat.
Ellie snatched the hat from her head and dusted the leaves
and dirt clinging to the embarrassing dampness on the front of her clothing.
Free from confinement, her long hair cascaded past her shoulders and hung in
thick curls. Ty reached to pluck an adhering strand from her lip. Her heart
fluttered. She brushed his hand aside and took a quick step backwards. What
about his touch bothered her? Ellie lowered her eyes and swatted imaginary dust
from her pants.
Ben Fountain stepped around Ty and grasped his daughter’s
shoulders. His brow furrowed as he held her at arm’s length and inspected her.
“Are ya certain you’re all right?”
She shrugged free and began tucking wayward tresses back
beneath her hat. “I’m positive,” she said, hiding the last lock.
Whether scared or just plain mad, tears threatened to well,
but she managed a sheepish grin. “Pa, whoever fired that shot either had a
really bad aim, or just meant to scare me. It worked. I almost wet my pants.”
Her voice creaked.
She wanted to bite her tongue for admitting fear. Instead,
she forced a chuckle and struggled to dry her misting eyes. She wasn’t about to
bawl in front of the men, especially Mr. High-and-Mighty, Ty Bishop. She
refused to let him see her cry, and although her insides felt like jelly, she
maintained a brave front.
Ellie glanced in his direction. All the men, at least the
ones who weren’t out checking for the shooter, stood staring at her.
Some foreman.
Was Ty’s phony show of concern all the effort
he planned to put forth? She needed or wanted nothing except for him to tell
the men what to do. It was his job. Why wasn’t he doing it? They appeared to be
waiting for instructions.
“What are ya’ll lookin’ at?” she snapped. “I’m fine. No
sense wasting time, gaping. Why aren’t
ya’ll
finding
the polecat who took a shot at me?”
“Find the bastard or at least bring me some proof.” Ben’s
roar echoed his daughter’s sentiments.
“You heard the boss,” Ty barked. “Get mounted before the
trail gets cold. I’ll stay here in case the shooter decides to try again.”
Ellie’s jaw tensed. In case? Then what? He wasn’t much
protection the first time. She could have been dead for all his help, but as
usual, he assumed the “take charge” attitude she hated.
He hooked his thumbs on his belt and pranced around like a
Bantam rooster. If he was as smart as he often proclaimed, he would have
already had the men in the saddle instead of standing around.
All the hired hands except Ty made a beeline for the
barn,
and within minutes, mounted and rode out of the yard
and under the large letter “F” on the gated arch. He stayed behind, shadowing
her father like a calf wanting to nurse.
Annoyed, Ellie gritted her teeth and followed the two men as
they walked toward the barn, discussing what had happened. Between her molars
grinding and her jaw tensing, the muscle alongside Ellie’s neck throbbed with
pain.
“I doubt the varmint will try again,” Ty assured Ben. “I
think it was meant to scare us.”
“Us?” she mumbled beneath her breath.
If she was a hornet, she’d sting them both. They acted as
though she wasn’t even there. For heaven sakes, she was the one almost hit. If
the bullet had been meant to scare someone, it worked. Her neck ached as though
she’d been hit. She massaged the stiffness out of her jaw while her gaze darted
around the perimeter of the yard. Her near miss was an experience she didn’t
want to repeat. She inched closer to the barn and out of clear shot range.
Next to the white washed building, Ty opened the gate to the
corral that confined the stallion he’d been breaking. The black measured at
least sixteen hands, had regal bloodlines, a long flowing mane and a shiny tail
that almost grazed the ground. At Ty’s approach, the stallion snorted and
nodded his head nervously, pawing the ground with a front hoof.
Ellie understood the horse’s distrust. Critters had a way of
judging character that was most often right. A snake would likely cause the
horse to react in the same manner. She poised herself on the top fence rail,
waiting for the amazing Mr. Bishop to put on a show, or at least, include her
in the conversation.
Her father leaned against the rough-hewn fencing and patted
her leg, but his admiring gaze remained firmly locked on the young man taking a
rope from the fencepost and approaching the animal. Ty stopped, and while
expertly twirling his lasso, glanced up at Ellie. “You must be pretty shaken
up. That bullet came mighty close. Maybe you should go in and lay down for a
while.”
She glared down at him, feeling anger flaring its way up her
neck. “Don’t you worry about me, Tyler Bishop; I’m perfectly capable of taking
care of myself. And for your information, I stopped taking naps years ago.
Besides, I’d rather be out here watching ol’ Blackie show you he’s the boss.”
Ty’s lips thinned. He started to speak, but turned his
attention back to his horse.
Luckily, he moved his attention back to the stallion. Ellie
stood ready with a whole slew of comments to fling at him if he dared engage
her. While he might be her father’s choice as foreman, in her opinion, Ty acted
too dang high-handed.
She thought back to the day he rode in on his gaunt-looking
mount, in search of work—a drifter,
a nobody
. Her
father hired him on the spot. In her opinion, and to her dismay, Ty quickly
captured her father’s heart and assumed the role of male heir. Now, two years
later, she found the whole thing bothersome.
Ty slipped the noose over the stallion’s head. She wished
the animal would bolt and drag him. Nothing too injurious, just a little dirt
and a few scrapes.
She had to find a way to get rid of him, or at least, knock
him down a peg or two. The ranch was her father’s dynasty and it was only right
that someday down the line, Ellie would take her place as owner. Pa had worked
hard to build Fountainhead, not Ty.
Her gaze drifted to the flowing landscape. Nestled in the
Cumberland Mountains—just above Sparta, the ranch, aptly named, Fountainhead,
provided water to all the adjoining land by hosting the spring that fed the
streams and rivers. Bon Air, the area surrounding their acreage, had grown
quickly, with more and more people settling every day. Rumors spread by
newcomers boasted of the railroad coming.
Pa was fair-minded, but there were always those who wanted
more than their share and got angry when they didn’t get it.
Like Dude Bryant, their nearest neighbor.
Ever since he and his sons had moved onto the mountain, he’d
set his sights on every other piece of land in the area. He saw Ben’s ranch as
the hub of the empire he wanted to build.
Thoughts of the Bryants drew her back to the present. Why
hadn’t she thought of it? Surely, they were the ones behind the gunshot.
So far, Ty had only led his horse to the fence. Ellie’s
interest in watching waned. “Pa, do you suspect Dude and his sons had something
to do with the bullet that almost parted my hair?”
“It wouldn’t surprise me none,” Ty butted in. “They’ve let
it be known they mean to own this land someday, but it’ll be over my dead
body.”
“I don’t believe your name is Pa,” she snapped. “Don’t you
have a horse to break?”
It riled her when Ty acted as though the ranch belonged to
him. Why didn’t it bother Pa? He stood there and beamed over anything Ty did or
said. Pa didn’t seem to notice how much Ty annoyed her, or maybe he just didn’t
care.
If the frown etched on Ty’s face was any indication, he
cared. Ellie tried not to look smug, but if she annoyed him in any way, it
pleased her. At first, she’d been smitten with his rugged good looks, but when
his bossy attitude surfaced, he suddenly became less appealing. His refusal to
admit she could ride and rope with the best of them insulted her.
She focused her attention solely on her father. “Pa, why
don’t we go into town and get Sheriff Gamble?”
“That’d be a waste of time. Well, I’ll betcha—” Ty answered.
“Like I said, Pa, the Sheriff?” Ellie scooted along the
fence rail, situating herself between the two men and turning her back to Ty.
Ben grasped his chin between thumb and forefinger, appearing
to ponder the suggestion. “Well, Ellie, if you’d let Ty finish his sentence, I
think he and I agree. The Sheriff can’t pin anything on Dude and his sons
without a witness, and
nobody saw nothin’
.” Her pa
peered around her at Ty. “Am I right, son?”
Son?
Ellie rolled her eyes. Pa
actually said the word. She wanted to scream, but mustered enough strength to
stifle her frustration. “But, the Sheriff could always get a posse together and
show…”
“There ain’t
nothing
to show.
Listen to your pa. The Sheriff isn’t stupid, and as for a posse…well, there
aren’t too many men who want to make an enemy of the Bryants. Besides, we can’t
even prove it was them.”
He cut her off again. Damn him! Her fingernails bit into the
palm of her clenched fist. Ty paused long enough for his lips to curl into that
annoying grin that drove her crazy–the one that always appeared when he held
the reins.
He leaned on the fence rail. “We’ll handle
this
ourselves. Hopefully, the men will turn up somethin’.”
Ellie’s face burned, and it wasn’t from the sun. Why did her
father always let Ty have the final word? With hands on her hips, she swiveled
around and glared down at him.
“Well, Mr. Bishop, as usual, you seem to have all the
answers. While you might be afraid of the Bryants, I’m not. I won’t let them
run roughshod over me, or Pa. You sit back and plan how to take care of things,
and I’ll actually do something.”
“And what might that be?” Ty scoffed. “You’re just a girl.
You’d best leave things to the men.”
With a “humpf,” she jumped down from the fence and strode
toward the house. It took biting her tongue to keep her thoughts inside.
He ought not to act like he cared. She knew better. He only
wanted the ranch, but his time as foreman was limited if she had anything to
say about it.
Chapter Two
Ellie stormed into her room, slammed the door and tossed her
worn cowboy hat onto the bedpost. She plopped on her stomach atop her soft
feather bed, and heaved a loud sigh.
Resting her chin in her palms, her brow furrowed. “That man
is so darn infuriating! I just don’t know what Pa sees in him,” she muttered
through clenched teeth. Talking to
herself
had become
a usual occurrence, and she did her best grumbling in private.
She rolled over, stretched out across her colorful patchwork
quilt, and clutched a pillow to her chest. Her mind spun in a million
directions, while she tried to think of what to do to prove herself just as
capable as Ty, when it came to ranch business.
Rolling onto her stomach again, she absent-mindedly counted
the stitches holding the quilted squares in place. In almost every box, there
was a blue matching the color of Ty’s eyes. She sat up and shook her head to
clear the disturbing image. Why did he always invade her thoughts? Instead of
thinking of him, she ought to be finding a way to nail the Bryants’ hides to
the wall.
Dude and those twin boys of his, Jeb and Joshua, caused
nothing but trouble ever since they bought the land adjoining Pa’s. Well, at
the least Dude and Jeb
were a nuisance
.
Although, she didn’t really know them personally, she judged
the family solely from a few meetings in town and the chaos in Sparta since
their arrival.
Joshua seemed much different. He always doffed his hat and
smiled when she passed, but Jeb, on the other hand, appeared to be cut from the
same bolt as his Pa. Mean and selfish like the senior Bryant, Jeb made sure
everyone who listened, heard their plans to take over as much land as they
could.
“They sure aren’t getting Fountainhead,” Ellie muttered.
“Not if I have a say so.”
Her mouth widened into a yawn, and she stretched out on the
bed again.
Groggy, Ellie opened her eyes. She'd fallen asleep. How long
did she doze?
The morning sunshine no longer blazed through the window,
but a few visible dust motes danced in the lingering rays filtering through the
lace curtains. She sat up and combed her fingers through her tangled locks as
she recalled Ty’s smugness.
“Boy, I really showed him what I can do.” She gritted her
teeth.
“Well, I have to do something about him and those Bryants,
and the first thing is to become a better shot.”