Chapter Sixteen
Caleb guided a group of young cows into Copper Bend with Russ riding beside him, every familiar building stirring memories he would have preferred to leave buried.
Six years hadn't erased the whispers. Men still watched him from storefronts, some nodding politely while others looked as though they expected their stolen cattle from years ago to appear behind him.
Russ glanced over. "If you keep scowling at the whole town, Mercer will think you're here to fight him."
Caleb loosened his grip on the reins. "I'm here to sell cattle."
"Then let the cattle do the talking."
This sale needed to cover fencing supplies and wages, with enough remaining to replace the medicine used after the recent sickness among the calves. Any lower offer would force him to sell breeding stock before winter, and that choice would weaken the ranch long after the present trouble passed.
Daisy moved beneath him with her usual patience as the stockyard gate came into view.
Several men stood near the outer pens, and Caleb recognized Nicholas Mercer before Russ even pointed him out.
Mercer looked exactly how Caleb expected a cattle buyer to look: plain coat, clean boots, and the patient expression of a man who made his living finding flaws in good stock to drive down the price.
Mercer watched Caleb dismount, letting his gaze remain on him longer than courtesy allowed. “Whitaker,” he said, offering no greeting beyond Caleb’s name.
Caleb had expected as much. His reputation usually entered a room before he did, leaving him to spend the rest of the conversation trying to catch up.
“Mercer.” Caleb looped Daisy’s reins around the hitching rail before facing him. “I appreciate you meeting us.”
Mercer looked toward Russ instead. “Harlan said the herd was worth my time.”
Caleb gritted his teeth, refusing to let the heat of anger consume him. Losing his temper would satisfy his pride for half a minute, then leave all of them paying for it through winter.
“It is,” Russ replied, resting one boot against the lower rail of the nearby pen. “You won’t find stronger yearlings this close to Cheyenne.”
Mercer’s mouth moved without becoming a smile. "Strong cattle are one thing. Knowing where they came from is another."
The insult landed exactly as Mercer intended, dragging old anger to the surface, but Caleb let it cool again.
Amy was waiting at the ranch with Noah and Maggie, all three of them depending on him to bring home enough money to keep the place going.
He needed to remain focused on that to get him through.
"The herd belongs to the Bell-Whitaker Ranch," he said, meeting Nicholas Mercer's gaze without wavering. "The ownership records are current, and every brand matches the county register."
Mercer's expression barely shifted. "What about the accusations?"
"You came here to inspect cattle," Caleb replied, keeping his voice level. "I'd rather you judge the herd than listen to old rumors."
Russ rested his forearms on the fence of the nearest pen, looking far too relaxed for a man standing in the middle of a tense negotiation. "Unless gossip pays better than beef these days."
A corner of Mercer's mouth twitched before he tipped his head toward the stock. "Show me."
He spent the next hour working through the yearlings with methodical care, checking teeth, hooves, and muscle while Caleb answered every question without hesitation. Russ moved the cattle through the pens with practiced ease, quietly supplying weights and breeding records whenever Mercer asked.
By the time the buyer reached the last yearling, his attention shifted from finding faults in the cattle to measuring the man selling them. "You raised these yourself?"
"Most of them."
Mercer rested both hands on the top rail and studied the cattle once more. "Harlan tells me you'll have another group ready before winter."
"If the price stays fair."
"That depends on whether trouble keeps finding your ranch.”
Caleb held his expression steady, though the remark caught his attention. Word about the cut fence had spread farther than it should have, which meant somebody wanted buyers believing Bell-Whitaker Ranch was desperate.
“The fence was repaired,” he said, “and the herd never lost condition.”
“You still lost two heifers.”
Caleb glanced toward Russ, who gave the slightest shake of his head.
Mercer noticed. “News travels.”
Russ’s grin carried more amusement than warmth. “Funny how it always seems to travel straight to where it can do the most damage."
Caleb stepped closer to the gate, drawing Mercer's attention back to him. "You've inspected every animal we brought. Let's settle on a price."
Mercer led them into the office, opened his ledger, and named a figure that fell well below market value. Caleb let the silence linger while he considered it. Mercer shifted in his chair, waiting for an argument that never came.
Instead, Caleb laid out the facts one by one, walking him through the condition of the herd, the renewed army contracts, and the savings Mercer would gain by combining shipments.
Russ quietly produced the ranch records whenever Mercer questioned a number, leaving little room to challenge the figures.
Mercer tried anyway. "Your reputation still makes this purchase a risk."
Caleb folded his hands on top of the desk. "My reputation won't change the weight of those cattle."
Years ago, he would've answered the insult with one of his own before walking away.
Pride had served him well when he'd only needed to look after himself.
These days he had a ranch fighting to survive, two children counting on him, and a wife who believed he could hold everything together.
That mattered more than winning an argument.
He named his price.
Mercer leaned back, studied him for a long moment, then wrote another figure in the ledger and pushed it across the desk.
Caleb read it carefully.
The offer still fell short of what he'd hoped to earn, but it would repair the fences, cover the hands’ wages, and carry the ranch through the first half of winter. He looked toward Russ, who gave a measured nod. “You arrange transport within ten days.”
“Seven.”
“Nine, unless you pay for the extra hands.”
Mercer considered him before nodding and noting the change. “Nine.”
Without giving Mercer the satisfaction of seeing his relief, Caleb reached for the pen and signed, although his shoulders only eased fully once Mercer added his name as well. The ranch had not been saved by this one sale, though it had gained enough time to fight for the next one.
Mercer dusted the wet ink with blotting sand before shaking the page clean. “I expected you to be harder to deal with.”
Caleb stood and accepted his copy. “I can’t imagine why you would think that.”
The buyer’s mouth curved faintly. “Men said you had a temper.”
“They were right.”
“What changed?”
Caleb folded the agreement and slipped it into his coat. Amy’s face came to mind, flour dusting her apron while she looked at him across the kitchen, Noah and Maggie beside her, both waiting to see whether he would bring tension into the room or leave it outside.
“I found reasons to learn to control it,” he said.
Mercer watched him without asking more. “Have the herd ready.”
“They will be.”
Caleb stepped outside with Russ, and the afternoon air felt clearer than it had when they arrived. Daisy lifted her head near the hitching rail, her ears turning toward him as if she could tell his mood had improved.
Russ untied his horse. “You nearly sounded respectable in there.”
Caleb secured the agreement inside his saddlebag. “And you nearly sounded useful.”
He turned Daisy toward the road, and allowed the satisfaction of the signed agreement to follow him out of town.
The stares remained as he and Russ passed the mercantile, although they felt less powerful than they had that morning.
A man near the blacksmith offered Caleb a cautious nod, and Caleb returned it without wondering whether it was pity or respect that had prompted the gesture.
By the time the ranch appeared beyond the final rise, the setting sun had warmed the windows and cast the barn into shadow.
Noah stood near the corral holding a bucket with both hands, while Maggie followed him with Eloise tucked beneath her arm.
Amy emerged from the house as Caleb and Russ reached the yard, and the sight of her waiting on the porch gave the day a meaning no signed contract could have carried alone.
She watched him dismount, her expression alert, like she had spent the afternoon preparing herself for bad news. Caleb wanted to tell her the sale had succeeded before worry reached her eyes, but Noah hurried across the yard and caught his attention. “How did the meeting go?”
“Mr. Mercer agreed to purchase the cattle.” “
Noah stopped near Daisy’s shoulder. “All of them?”
“All the ones we planned to sell.”
The boy’s serious face brightened. “Does that mean we can fix the north gate?”
“It does.”
Supper was waiting when he entered the house, filling the kitchen with the scent of roast chicken and another apple pie they had baked that morning.
Caleb washed at the basin before taking his place, where Noah explained how many eggs he had gathered and Maggie corrected him twice over details that had little to do with eggs.
Amy sat across from Caleb, watching him between the children’s conversation. Her hair had loosened near one temple, and the escaped curl moved whenever she turned her head.
“You seem pleased,” she said after Noah began cutting his potatoes. “Despite riding into town looking as though you expected a public hanging.”
Caleb lifted his brows. “I was preparing for a negotiation.”
Amy smiled as she broke off a piece of bread. "Well, it’s easy to see things went your way. You haven't frowned once since you walked through the door."
Caleb looked around the table, taking in Noah arguing with Maggie over the last roasted carrot while Amy watched them with quiet amusement. The house felt so alive.
“Should I look some other way? A man can’t be happy coming home to his stubborn wife and two troublesome children?” he asked, allowing the humor to cover the deeper feeling without hiding it completely. “The ranch is still standing, so I must be blessed.”
Noah stopped eating and looked at him, his eyes wide. "You called us yours."
Caleb's hand paused halfway to his coffee cup. He hadn't meant to say that aloud.
Maggie's face lit up. "I like being yours."
Amy’s cheeks turned pink before she lowered her gaze toward her plate. The smile she tried to suppress appeared anyway, softening her features until Caleb forgot what he had intended to say next.
He realized he wanted Amy to smile at him again tomorrow. More troubling still, he intended to find a way to make certain she did.