Heart of Trust (Hearts of the West, #1)

Chapter 4

He couldn’t let a beating—a beating that he’d had more than a week to recover from—stop him from working this ranch to the best of his ability. If he were going to laze around all the time and worry about a few aches and pains, he might as well invite Dalton or Jensen to take over.

He patted his gelding’s neck.

He’d check on the cattle and drive them closer to the ranch house before midmorning. No need to let them wander over onto another ranch.

A stiff wind toyed with the grass and tugged at his hat, but the sun beaming on his shoulders canceled out any coolness the wind offered.

He reined in the gelding at the top of a small rise.

No sign of the cattle. Strange when they normally stayed in this general area, content to graze on the dense grass. He pushed his hat back on his head and tapped his heels against his mount’s sides.

A dull ache played through his ribs, and he pressed his hand against the worst of it.

Jensen or Dalton had better not have had anything to do with the cattle’s disappearance. And they sure enough had better not be planning some kind of trap.

He lowered his hand to the revolver holstered at his hip and angled in the saddle.

No riders charged his way, and no clouds of dust hugged the horizon.

Turkey vultures circled to the west, but the only thing in that direction was a dead-end canyon.

Heaviness settled in his gut.

Maybe for no reason. Some animal had probably dragged itself in there to die, but it wouldn’t hurt anything to check things out in case one or more of the cattle had been injured. Surely that many turkey vultures wouldn’t flock over one dead rabbit or coyote.

He turned his horse’s head west. He’d put his mind at ease if nothing else—or confirm what his gut was telling him.

The gelding’s long strides ate up the distance.

No one crouched on the canyon’s rims, and no sunlight glinted off rifle barrels. This was no trap.

At the mouth of the canyon, the gelding tensed beneath him and sidestepped. A breeze flooded his face, carrying an odor that’d hung over every battlefield, an odor that twisted his gut.

Decaying flesh.

The bodies of men and horses, swollen from the heat. The clouds of flies. The birds circling overhead.

Nausea pushed at his throat, and he fired a single shot in the air.

The turkey vultures scattered.

No, this wasn’t a trap. Whatever had happened here had happened long enough ago for decay to have set in. But whatever had died in here was no single animal.

He dismounted and secured the gelding to a low-hanging branch. No need in causing the animal further panic. The gelding was nothing like the battle-trained mounts he’d ridden during the war.

The air grew close, filled with the scent of death, as he took step after heavy step into the canyon. From the tracks in the loose dirt, cattle and horses had passed through at a rapid pace.

He rounded a bend and strode into the almost circular end of the canyon.

His boots rooted to the parched ground, and heat roiled through his chest.

All twenty of his cattle lay in the dust. And all of them had multiple bullet holes in them.

Shouldn’t he have heard that many shots?

The smell had been enough of an indication to let him know what’d happened, but seeing it was different.

Senseless waste. This was the work of Jensen, or Dalton for all he knew. Cowards who wouldn’t stand and fight a man face to face. But if they thought he would run to them and give in, they were wrong.

Dead wrong.

Dead. They were all dead.

She curled her arms to her middle and breathed in air scented by supper. An aroma that now turned her stomach.

“Why?” A question she didn’t even need to ask, but it slipped out anyway.

Jake stood with his back to her, tension in the hard set of his shoulders and neck. He faced her, a muscle in his jaw pulsing. “I’ll find out who did this.”

And when he did that, he’d get himself killed. “No, please don’t. Please.”

He pressed his lips together. “There’s nothing else to be done. I’ve got to show them that this doesn’t change anything.”

Nothing she said or did could change his mind, but she had to try. “Please don’t. There’s too many of them. I...”

He folded his arms across his chest. “What? You’re ready to give up? Run out of here with your tail between your legs? That’s not like you.”

No, it wasn’t. “I don’t want that. But I’m...scared.”

He lowered his arms to his sides, some of the stiffness leaving his body. “I’m not gonna sit here and wait for them to come to me on their terms. There’s a time to confront them.”

He’d been badly beaten the last time he’d done that. “There’s too many of them.”

“There’s always gonna be too many of them. And there’s always gonna be some excuse to be a coward and hide from them.”

Weight pressed over her.

Lord, please...

What did she even pray?

“What are you going to do? Ride in there and gun them down? You don’t even know who’s responsible for sure? It’s foolishness. Pure foolishness.” Her voice skated upward.

She needed to calm down. She needed to think. She needed to pray.

He paced from one side of the room to the other, boots loud against the floor. “I’m going to find out who’s responsible. And I’ll take it from there.”

“How? By getting yourself killed? By leaving me a widow?” That wasn’t calm. That wasn’t calm at all.

He scuffed his hand across his jaw like he hadn’t even heard what she’d said. That was likely for the best. “Jensen’s men—I’m guessing they’re behind this—have a habit of being at the saloon in town from what I’ve heard. At least the foreman and a few others.”

“All the time?”

He shook his head. “Payday. That’s today for Jensen’s bunch.”

How did he know that? Had he heard Jensen’s men talking about that the day they’d beaten him?

“But...what if...?” What if they beat him again? What if they killed him? Yes, the saloon was a public place, but the townspeople would likely not be willing to challenge a group of cowhands bent on destruction.

He let out a rough breath and stilled. “Quit worrying for once. Hiding out and waiting for them isn’t going to solve this.”

Neither was getting killed.

Late afternoon sun beat down on Jake’s back as he rode into town. Women hurried along the boardwalks, packages tucked under their arms and children trailing along behind them. A wagon heavy with supplies trundled down the street, and two dusty ranch hands dismounted in front of the saloon.

He swung down from the saddle, secured his gelding to the hitching rail, and stepped onto the boardwalk.

Georgia had made it clear she didn’t approve of this plan, but it was the easiest way to find out who’d slaughtered his herd. Well, at least it was easier than charging onto Dalton’s or Jensen’s ranch and hurling a bunch of accusations.

That was a good way to get killed.

But maybe this was too.

Yet a public place was a far cry safer than the hostile territory of either man’s ranch.

He pushed through the saloon’s swinging doors. The heavy odors of smoke, sweat, perfume, and cheap whiskey slapped him in the face. Cowhands crowded around the bar, their raucous laughter echoing off the wood-beamed ceiling. Several old-timers played cards at a rear table, and at a table to their right sat some of Jensen’s boys.

The barrel-chested man—Jensen’s foreman—lifted his head.

Jake gave a nod of acknowledgment then sat down at a table hopefully near enough to hear their conversation but not close enough to raise their suspicions.

Pain meandered through each of the bruises the cowards had pounded into him, and heat built in his chest.

Jensen had a lot of nerve to order his men to shoot down twenty head of cattle and expect to get away with it.

The foreman tossed back his shot of liquor and focused his attention on his men.

“What’ll you have?” One of the saloon girls stilled in front of his table and trailed her finger across his cheek.

He shifted to the right just enough that she had to lower her hand. “Whiskey.”

The girl swished away and returned a few moments later to plunk a glass in front of him.

“Thanks.” He picked up the glass and lowered his head.

Even though as tempting as it would be to drink enough to clear the smell and sight of the decaying cattle from his mind, he’d leave the liquor untouched. He needed a clear head to deal with Jensen’s boys.

The woman’s heels tapped away.

Jensen’s foreman sauntered over and propped his hands on the table. “Heard you had some trouble, Aymes.”

That was a clear admission of guilt.

The man needed his face bashed in.

Yet losing control wouldn’t help a thing. He had to keep his wits about him if he wanted to stand a chance against Jensen and his boys.

But if the man wanted to try something, he’d be ready for him this time. And he wouldn’t hold back.

“That so? You know something about that?”

A slow grin spread across the man’s face. “And what if I do?”

He might as well shout his guilt to the whole saloon. The man was nothing but a coward. A low-down coward.

Jake threw a couple of coins on the table, shoved his chair back, and pushed to his feet.

The man took a step back, his grin growing broader. “Gonna do something about it?”

“Tell Jensen to keep his men off my ranch unless he wants them shot. I won’t give another warning.”

Two could throw around threats.

Quick backward steps brought him to the saloon doors. He pushed through them, mounted up, and turned the gelding toward home.

A jaunty piano tune spilled from the saloon.

Jensen’s men wouldn’t come after him. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow.

But he’d be ready for them if or when they did.

They’d pushed him too far.

The door swung open, and Jake stopped in the doorway. Safe and unharmed though weariness marked his face.

Thank you, Lord.

She drew a quick breath then let it out. “What happened? Did you find out anything?”

“It was Jensen’s doing. That much is clear.” Hardness edged his voice.

She took a few steps toward him then stilled. He’d been more than short with her earlier, had discounted her concerns.

Yet she’d also lashed out at him. She’d lashed out at him when she could’ve never seen him again.

She closed the distance between them, wrapped her arms around him, and held on. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

His hand skimmed up and down her back. “I am too.”

After a few moments, he released her, pulled out a chair, and sagged into it. Lines etched his bruised features.

What were they going to do? They didn’t have the money to replace any but a few of the cattle, and the horse training Jake planned to continue doing wouldn’t pay nearly enough to cover the taxes they’d owe on the ranch. Even if Jensen and Dalton stopped tormenting them right this minute, there was still a big chance they’d lose the ranch.

They’d come all this way to fail before they’d even started.

Why, Lord? Why?

She lowered herself into a chair beside Jake. “You’re feeling worse, aren’t you?”

The ride to town couldn’t have helped all his aches and pains.

He lifted one shoulder. “I’m all right all things considered.”

Those things he was considering were too much for him to be anywhere close to all right.

She rested hands that shouldn’t be unsteady in her lap. Asking him what they were going to do wouldn’t help a thing. Neither would berating him for going into town and confronting Jensen’s men. Neither would questioning why they’d come out here in the first place. Neither would dissolving into a puddle of tears.

So she’d do none of those things.

She pushed to her feet. “Are you hungry?”

He gave a single shake of his head.

Well, supper could simmer on the stove until they were ready for it later.

Lord, You know what’s going on with this. You know how it will end and what will happen before it ends. Help me trust You.

Heat invaded her eyes, but she blinked it away.

If she started crying, Jake would try to comfort her, and he didn’t need that on top of everything else.

She grabbed a cloth and ran it across the table even though she’d already wiped it off this morning. Then she lifted the broom from the corner where she’d propped it earlier and began sweeping.

No, chores that didn’t need to be done wouldn’t completely take her mind off of things, but at least they’d keep her moving and give her something to do. Something to fill the silence that hovered in the cabin. Something to push the situation to the far corners of her mind—even though that was likely hoping for too much.

Jake nodded at the floor. “You’re sweeping up nothing.”

He had to be exhausted given that he was pointing out the obvious.

“I know.” Somehow the words came out steady. And steady they would remain. There wasn’t any other option. “Sometimes nothing needs to be swept up.”

His cocked head and furrowed brow proved he thought she’d lost her mind at least a little bit.

That was fine. She likely was losing her mind at least a little bit.

Once the nonexistent dirt had been eradicated, she returned the broom to the corner of the room. Now what? The food was ready should Jake ever be hungry. The floors were swept. The table wiped down. She’d taken the laundry from the line earlier, folded it, and put it away.

There was nothing to do other than sit down beside Jake and try to remain calm. Even if that calm were only an illusion.

She settled into the chair and took a few long, deep breaths.

Please help me. Please protect us. Please fix this. And even if You choose not to, please help me trust You.

The stallion twisted beneath him, and he tightened his legs. One mouthful of dust was more than enough for this morning. And the accompanying contact with the ground had been more than enough to set his bruises to throbbing despite the more than three weeks that’d passed since the beating.

“Open the gate.” The stallion needed to run and expend some of this endless energy. The animal had been brought to him mostly trained but still a little unruly.

Georgia swung open the gate, lips pressed into a thin line.

She worried too much. Thought he was as fragile as china.

The stallion shot through the gate, and his long strides ate up the distance. After several minutes, the horse settled into a steady lope.

Huge clouds of dust stood to his west, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Everything had been quiet since he’d found the slaughtered cattle and confronted Jensen’s men.

Too quiet.

But it looked like that was about to change. It looked like either Dalton had decided to run his cattle on this ranch or Jensen was riding in with way too many men.

Either way, this couldn’t turn out well.

He turned the stallion west and let his hand drift to his revolver. Too bad he’d left the rifle at home. It’d be a lot better of an option in this situation.

God, please give me wisdom. And please don’t let this be what I think it is.

He topped a small rise then reined the stallion in. The horse danced beneath him in eagerness to keep loping.

Hundreds of cattle milled before him—cattle wearing Dalton’s brand.

The man had pushed too far. Much too far.

Curse words swarmed through his head and settled on his tongue, but he bit them off. He urged the stallion forward and cut along the edge of the herd toward the man sitting astride his horse a hundred yards away.

The stallion tossed his head and snorted.

Dalton glanced up and guided his mount away from the milling cattle and the men herding them.

Keep me calm. Don’t let me escalate this situation before it’s time.

Dalton reined his horse to a halt and nodded in greeting. “Something wrong?” Given his mild expression and the way he took his booted foot from the stirrup and propped it over the saddle horn said he didn’t expect any trouble.

Well, he’d figured wrong. A man got trouble when he ran his herd on another’s land without permission.

Jake eased the stallion to a stop. He’d have to keep a tight rein on him or he’d spook for sure. Something he didn’t need to worry about when he had to deal with Dalton. Dalton—a man who had a lot of nerve or was just plain foolish. “Get your herd off my land.” Land he’d bought free and clear.

Dalton tipped back his hat. “You gonna make me?”

This was a man unaccustomed to taking orders, a man who’d fought long and hard for the privilege of giving those orders. He could show such a man no weakness.

Too bad he already had. Too bad Dalton had been the one to drag him back to Georgia after Jensen’s men had beaten him. Then again, if Dalton thought him weak, he wouldn’t consider him much of a threat. And underestimating an opponent was one of the quickest ways to be defeated.

“Are you gonna make me?”

“If I have to.” Dalton wouldn’t stop with running his cattle on this land. He’d take everything.

Dalton swung his foot into his stirrup, a wry smile twisting his lips, and lowered his hand to the revolver holstered at his hip. “Go ahead. Make me.”

“I’m not fool enough to draw on you.” No matter what Dalton thought. He’d be dead before his revolver cleared leather.

Seconds ticked by in silence, then Dalton slapped his horse’s shoulder. “They’ll be off by nightfall.”

What? Would Dalton back down that easily, or was this some new trick?

Dalton laughed. “I ain’t no fool, Aymes. You’ve got guts.”

Without another word, he reined his mount around and yelled for his men to head the cattle back to his land.

And they did just that.

Which made about as much sense as anything involving Dalton.

He loosened his hold on the reins, and the stallion pranced to the side.

What was going on here?

“I don’t understand what he’s up to.” Jake pitchforked more straw into the stall, yet his shoulders remained stiff.

She wiped her hands on her skirt. “I don’t either.”

Jake turned and spiked the pitchfork tines into the ground. “I understand Jensen. He’s easy to read. But Dalton...something’s up with him.”

That was true. He’d helped her after Jensen’s men had hit her over the head. He’d brought Jake back after Jensen’s men had beaten him. Now, he’d backed off much too easily.

Yet he’d threatened them, and he’d made his intention to possess the ranch more than clear.

She ran her tongue across her lips. “Maybe...maybe it’s his way of manipulating you so you’ll sell out to him? He could be attempting to gain your trust?”

“I don’t know.” He jerked the pitchfork from the ground. “That’s what bothers me. I can’t deal with him if I can’t figure out what I’m up against.”

“Maybe he’ll make himself clear?” She really did need to stop speaking what should be statements as questions.

“Maybe.” He threw another load of straw into the stall.

But when Dalton did make himself clear, it might be too late.

Sunlight streamed into the barn, illuminating motes of dust. She should appreciate the sight, but appreciating much of anything lately was difficult.

She swiped a trickle of sweat from her cheek. “He really left? Just like that?”

Why had she asked those questions? Jake had already told her what’d happened. She looked like more of a fool than ever.

Jake gave a single nod. “I thought he was fixing to draw on me, but then he backed off. Told me I had guts.”

The same thing Jake had told her before. She shouldn’t have made him repeat himself for nothing.

He let out a harsh laugh. “Not sure that’s true. He could’ve killed me if he’d gone for that gun. I’m not all that quick.”

She’d have nightmares tonight if he kept talking like that. “It didn’t happen.”

Thank You that it didn’t happen. Thank You a thousand times.

She swallowed against a throat that’d gone much too dry. “Would you like for me to bring in the horses?”

After his nod, she slipped from the barn and freed his gelding from the hitching rail in front of the barn. The horse snuffled the side of her neck, and a slight laugh slipped free.

It’d been too long since she’d laughed.

She stroked the animal’s jaw and led him into the barn.

Jake took the lead rope from her and settled the gelding in his stall. He closed the stall door then met her eyes. “Things will be easier soon.”

If only he could know that for sure.

She dredged up a smile. “I hope so.” But hoping wouldn’t bring such a thing to pass.

With quick steps, she crossed to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her head to his shoulder.

If only she could pause time. Not for years. Not for eternity. Just for a few minutes.

He put his arms around her and pulled her closer.

She breathed in the scents of horse, sweat, and straw.

He tilted her head up and brushed his lips to hers. “How about a ride later?”

“I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”

The cooler temperatures of evening. No danger in sight. His beautiful wife by his side.

It was the perfect time for a ride.

Well, maybe it’d be the perfect time for a ride if Georgia would so much as smile. As things stood, she stared straight ahead, brow furrowed. Much the same as she’d been during their last evening ride. Not normal when riding always made her happy—and when she’d enthusiastically agreed to the ride.

He reined his gelding closer to hers and touched her shoulder. “Everything all right?”

A foolish question. Not much was right these days, and she was taking it hard.

She glanced his way and blinked a couple of times. “I suppose I’m tired.”

“You should’ve told me. We could’ve stayed home and rested.”

She ran her tongue across her lips. “This is better. Getting out in the fresh air will help.”

It didn’t seem to be helping all that much.

God, comfort her. And help me to be able to comfort her in whatever way I need to.

She nudged her gelding into a trot, and he followed suit.

Wind tugged at his hat and fanned even more of the day’s heat away.

She again looked his way, this time with something of mischief in the quirk of her eyebrows. But it was a forced mischief. “Do you remember the first time we went on a ride after we got married?”

He would play along. Maybe it’d help her feel better. “There’s not any way I could forget it.” Not when it’d ended up with both him and Georgia sloshing around in that green-covered pond.

A hint of a smile played across her lips. “You didn’t have to come in after me.”

What kind of man would he be if he didn’t come to the rescue of his bride? “You didn’t have to fall in.”

“It wasn’t completely my fault. Rosie spooked at that bird. What kind of horse spooks because of a bird?”

He chuckled. “What kind of rider manages to fall into a pond?”

She shot him a fake glare, some of the tension easing from her features. “I thought I’d die from embarrassment.”

Until she’d started laughing. “You were fine.”

“If I remember correctly, you found the addition of green pond slime to make me quite beautiful.”

Might as well steal a few kisses while they sat in the sun to dry out.

“It wasn’t the pond slime that made you beautiful.”

A hint of red colored her cheeks. “Now you’re resorting to flattery.”

Not in the least.

But talking about the memory was taking her mind off of things. Might as well take her mind off of things even more.

He leaned toward her.

She met his kiss then pulled back a moment later. “I do believe you’re trying to get me to fall off again.”

“You shouldn’t accuse me of such things.”

Her lips twitched, and a slight laugh slipped out. “Oh yes, you’d never be guilty of anything mischievous. Never ever.”

He ran his hand down the gelding’s neck. “I’m as innocent as they come.”

She gave an indeterminate hum. “Then how about the time...?”

He held up a hand. “How about the time you asked for help gathering eggs when you knew good and well that rooster was going to chase me all around the barn?”

This time, she gave in to a true smile. “Why ever would I ask for help with that? It’s not like he ever did the same to me just the day before. Never ever.”

He chuckled along with her. They’d needed this ride—this reprieve from all of Jensen’s and Dalton’s schemes.

But a reprieve could last only so long.

Smoke hung heavy in the air. The flames crept closer, devouring everything in their path. A scorching wind launched ashes and sparks against her skin. Heat pressed her back—back against the cabin’s rough exterior.

Arms grabbed her from behind. She screamed, kicked, and squirmed. Yet her arms and legs might as well be encased in stone.

“Georgia. Wake up.”

She gasped in a breath tainted by smoke and bolted upright. Sweat soaked her nightclothes and glued her hair to her face. She pulled in a shuddering breath. A dream. It’d been only a dream. A dream brought on by too many threats and worries.

But a flickering orange glow lit the room in an eerie light, casting Jake’s face into hard planes.

“Barn’s on fire.”

No. Not this. Couldn’t those cowards leave them alone?

Jake’s footsteps echoed from the room, and the front door slammed behind him.

She couldn’t just lie here. He would need help putting out the fire or, if it’d already progressed past the point of saving the barn, keeping it from spreading to the house or property.

She stumbled into the main room.

Shrill screams cut into the house.

No.

The horses. And Jake would try to save them. Of course he’d try to save them. And he could easily find himself trapped by the fire.

Please, please protect him.

She yanked the door open.

Thick smoke washed over her, and her breath caught in her throat. Flames consumed the entirety of the barn, their greedy tongues licking through the cracks between the boards. A shadowy figure ran through the barn door, his hand wrapped around a horse’s lead rope. The animal reared, dragging Jake from the ground. He pulled the horse to all fours and brought his hand down hard on the animal’s rump.

Water. They needed water to keep the fire from spreading to the house.

She clenched the hem of her nightgown in her fists and ran. Heat rolled off the inferno in waves, creating a wind that swirled the hair that fell from her braid. She slumped halfway over the well’s stone structure, coughs tearing through her. But there was no time for weakness.

She filled a bucket.

Then Jake was beside her, grabbing the full bucket and throwing a few empty buckets at her feet.

She filled one after another, handing them to him, filling the ones he’d emptied onto the barn. Until her arms burned with a fury of their own. Until her eyes and nose streamed from the constant onslaught of smoke. Until the barn was no more than a smoldering pile of debris and dawn lit the horizon.

Lungs burning, she fell to her knees.

Hands settled over her shoulders and eased her onto her back. An arm slipped behind her shoulders, lifting her up. “Breathe. Just breathe.”

She did as the harsh whisper had instructed.

Jake leaned close, his own body shaking as he coughed. Soot smeared his face and clothing.

She blinked stinging eyes.

Thin streams of smoke still plumed from the ruins of the barn, almost as if it were taunting their efforts to contain it.

“It’s gone.” The words were no more than a croak, and she dissolved into a fit of coughing.

And it’d been intentional. Set by either Dalton or Jensen.

After her coughing eased, Jake helped her to her feet and guided her to the porch steps.

She sank down, and he lowered himself beside her.

Why had this had to happen? Why couldn’t these cowards leave them alone? What had she and Jake ever done to them?

He ran a hand down his face. “We can rebuild.”

She clenched her hands into fists, and burning seared her palms. She hissed in a breath.

“You all right?” He took her hands in his, eased her fingers away from her palms, then turned her hands over so her palms faced upward.

She winced. Only a bloody mess remained of the blisters she’d developed while bringing up the water. “Yes.”

Even if that answer were the furthest from the truth.