Chapter 14
There was no laughter apparent in the small California town, as light in the sky promised an as-yet-to-appear sun's arrival within the next hour.
"Now, you make sure you use these, and change that bandage daily. The last thing you need is an infection." The voice carried a caring tone, as he handed the brown-paper-wrapped package to the mounted man.
Beth Alice smiled at him. "If it suits you we'd be glad to hear you made it safely."
"Yes ma'am. I'll be sure to let you know. Don't be worrying on me. I'm fine."
"Sure you are, son. Sure you are. Or at least you will be if you follow my orders, take it easy … and don't forget to keep that area clean."
The gruffness hid the truth. This boy had gotten to him. Had done nothing to make it happen, and had gotten to him, nonetheless. There was something compelling about him, something that made a body want to hold him close, keep him safe. Give him what he seemed to be missing. He couldn't be sure how it had happened, and couldn't deny that it had.
Heath turned his horse and gave a tug on the lead line, urging the other horses to fall in behind. As they started down the street he turned and offered a two-finger wave.
Nice folks. Sure were good to me. I'll let them know when I get to Stockton … set their minds to ease. Mama would be mightily disappointed if I didn't.
He rode steadily that day, keeping the pace slower than before. While he would have liked to have made up the missed time, he knew trying to move faster would ultimately cost him. His little mare had a smooth, even gait, and still he felt the landing of each hoof.
But, it was just pain, and nothing as significant as when he rode back to the town a few days ago. He could push it to that place he reserved for things that didn't matter. He'd done it so many times that, now, it seldom required effort on his part.
As he crawled into his bedroll that night, he looked to the stars and thought of his mama. Before he closed his eyes, he thought on his blessings. He had strangers come into his life, strangers who cared enough to help. He was alive. He was recovering … and he well could have been dead.
He was about to acquire enough money to take proper care of Mama for a bit. He had the start of a small herd that, God willing, would be his future. And he had Frank Sawyer in his corner … Frank who had cleared a path to possible justice for Cliff Ucroft. Yes, he was a fortunate man, rich in many ways. He would remember to be grateful for what he had.
Days later, when he looked down on the house, outbuildings and corrals of the place he'd been seeking, he indeed felt grateful. He'd made it. While the side still might be somewhat sore, especially when he neglected to push the awareness aside, he had made it without further mishap or delay. Furthermore, it looked like there would be room enough, and more, to pasture the animals he hoped to keep, at least until he could get to Strawberry and check on Mama and find a spot to start building his herd.
It was late when he rode into the yard. Not yet dark, but definitely late. He'd pushed a little harder this last day, knowing he must be close, and wanting to have this part done. Truth be told, he was also getting anxious to meet this lawyer fellow and learn about the plan to get Merton Greenley.
Frank had cautioned him about the need for patience, and he could manage that. He'd learned patience in the most demanding of circumstances, learned well, and then relearned in new circumstances. Patience he could do. For now, he just wanted to know the plan, most importantly, to know there was a plan.
As he led the string of ponies into the yard, and looked around, a man came out of, what he assumed was, the bunkhouse.
"Howdy. Hoping I've got the right place. This the Barkley ranch?"
"You must be Thomson. Nick is going to be one happy man to find you've arrived."
The man smiled at him and stretched out a hand, as he added, "Mac. Nick can wait. Let me help you get this bunch settled."
As Heath dismounted, Mac reached to take the lead line from him.
"We can put them in the big barn for the night." He pointed with his shoulder, as he started to walk in that direction.
"Give them a chance to get used to their new home. Get them a good brushing, a feed of oats, some fresh water, and a clean stall. Turn them out in the small pasture in the morning." He'd kept walking as he talked, had opened the barn door, and was now lighting some lanterns.
Heath had stepped in behind, leading Gal.
Boy howdy, this is some barn. Well, my little friend, we'll sleep warm and snug tonight.
Mac didn't seem to notice, or didn't care, that the blond worked in silence. He did notice that the man worked, and that the horses responded to his touch.
He knew Nick hadn't purchased them all … and was hoping to rectify that. He wondered which ones belonged to the boss. If Nick hadn't gotten the big, bay stallion, Mac could certainly see why he'd be determined to do so. Something about the blond, though, told him the boss might end up disappointed.
As they closed the last stall, and Heath reached for his saddle bags, he realized from what Mac had said that the man had made an assumption which he knew he'd have to correct … and insist upon. "Thanks, but this looks just fine for the night. Can spread out my bedroll in an empty stall, or in the loft. More than I need."
Mac looked at him. He knew Nick would expect to accommodate him in the big house, and something about the stranger told him he'd refuse. Figured if he could get him settled in the bunkhouse before Nick knew he was here, it would make it easier all around.
The barn wasn't going to work for Nick Barkley. No one, who was welcome by the Barkleys, slept in the barn. Could be interesting. Mac chuckled softly to himself. He couldn't quite say why, but his money was on the blond.
"Fine by me, but I'm betting you'll get an objection from Nick. A strong objection. Let's get you some food—cook'll have something can be dished up. Boss'll be easier on a full stomach, and I'm betting you didn't stop long enough earlier, for an actual meal."
"Can't say I did. Close enough to just push on through."
He followed the man back the way they'd come and through the door. He was impressed again. Looked to be clean, comfortable quarters. The men he saw looked at him with more curiosity than animosity. So, they were wary, but not unfriendly. Good sign. They liked where they worked, were loyal to the boss. He nodded and said nothing, following Mac over to a table, while the man requested some food from the cook.
In short order the request was filled, and Heath was enjoying the alleviation of the hunger that had been riding with him the last few hours. Mac was right. He hadn't stopped to fix a meal. He'd stopped a few times to let the horses graze for a bit, but not long enough to warrant building a fire and fixing something. He'd finished off the leftovers from the night before, at noon, and decided that would be it until morning. It wasn't a great concern. There were many a time he'd gone much longer than that between feeds.
Cook refilled his coffee cup and set a large slice of apple pie in front of him, and the lop-sided smile he got in return was thanks enough. He'd gotten the impression, from what had been said, that Nick had taken a real liking to the man with the horses. Certainly wasn't because they were alike, the cook thought, while at the same time agreeing that there was something likeable about the fellow.
"If you're done there, we can go let Nick know you made it. Give the family a break from his pacing."
Heath's head came up, surprise evident on his face. Mac laughed.
"Spend much time around him and you'll learn. Patience and Nick aren't much of a fit."
They'd left the building and were closing in the on the big house.
"Kinda guessed that … at the auction. Seems like a good man though?"
"No argument there. Nick's one of the best. Known him since he was a boy. He wasn't patient then either, but he was a good kid. His father would be proud of him. He's had some mighty big boots to fill since Tom was killed. Mighty big."
Heath said nothing, just nodded to acknowledge he'd heard the compliment … and the reverence.
And older, black man opened the door in response to Mac's sounding the knocker.
"Hello Silas. I'd like you to meet Mr. Thomson."
"Pleased to meet you Silas. Just Heath is fine."
"Well Lordy, Mr. Heath. Am I glad to see you. Everyone be glad to see you. Won't you come on in? I'll get Mr. Nick."
He returned moments later, trailing in Nick's wake.
"HEATH!"
He grabbed his arm with one hand and placed the other on his shoulder to steer him toward the parlor, causing Heath to react quickly to suppress the hiss that movement elicited.
"Come meet the family."
They were on their feet by the time he stood awkwardly before them, hat in hand, and saddlebags over his dusty shoulder. He hadn't failed to take in the surroundings.
Boy howdy, I don't think I belong in here.
Victoria moved forward to welcome him, acutely aware of his discomfort. "Mr. Thomson, welcome to our home. It is so nice to get to meet you after all we've heard from Nick. Won't you come have a seat?"
"Oh ma'am, I don't think so. I'm packing several days worth of trail dust, and I don't think you need it covering your furnishings."
"Nonsense. This is a working ranch. These furnishings have seen more than a smattering of trail dust. Nick, perhaps you'd like to get your guest a drink?"
She gave him that, I-said look before taking a firm hold on the young blond's arm. "Let me introduce you to the rest of the family. My son Jarrod."
She gave them time to shake hands before turning to Audra. "My daughter, Audra."
Heath nodded, blushed, and stammered. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Barkley." He got a full, dimpled smile in return.
"Nick said you're bringing some magnificent horses. I can't wait to see them."
Heath nodded … blushing again … and remained silent.
"Mac, you want a drink?"
"No thanks, Nick. I think I'll be heading back. We've settled the horses in the big barn. Made sure Mr. Thomson here, was fed. See you in the morning."
He executed a hasty retreat. He'd find out come morning who won the contest over the sleeping arrangements. He had no desire to witness the battle. His money still on the blond.