Maggie's Beau

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

She was the most pathetic creature he’d ever seen. Perhaps if she were clean…. Beau Jackson shook his head. Even a bath wouldn’t do much for the bitch. Even now, she was snarling and showing her teeth, in a display meant to scare him from his own barn. Sides showing clear signs of pregnancy, the dog stood spraddle-legged in the aisle and dared Beau to come one step further. He was no fool, and so instead squatted in the wide doorway and held out his hand.

“Come here, girl,” he coaxed, balancing on the balls of his feet. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The dog backed up a few inches and growled again, a menacing warning. Yet her ears twitched forward, and if canine eyes could be called hopeful, Beau decided this one’s could qualify. His eye caught a movement in the shadows just beyond the dog, and his brow lifted in surprise.

“Well, I’ll be—looks like you got yourself a friend, honey.” His words were soft, meant to pacify the bedraggled animal before him, and for a moment, she relaxed her stance, her tail moving from between her hind legs to become a flag at half-mast. Crouching beside the feed barrel, a cat shifted and lunged to its feet, wavering uncertainly for a second or two, until it caught its balance.

“I’d say you’ve got a problem, kitty.” Beau felt his brow furrow and knew a moment of pity as he watched the gray cat move beyond the dog’s shadow. Three legs held the creature erect, a scarred area, bare of hair, revealing the site of the fourth missing limb. The cat balanced on its one remaining foreleg beside the dog and watched Beau with stoic indifference.

It was a stand-off, one he could not afford to continue. The dog would either attack or back down, and it was time to give her a chance to make that decision. Beau stood slowly, one hand on the butt of his gun. “You going to let me pass, dog? Or do we have to do this the hard way?”

The dog’s back ridged in protest as Beau spoke and her lips drew back over white teeth, even as a low, threatening growl announced her position.

“Damn. This isn’t my first choice, pooch. But I can’t let you take a chunk out of me, can I?” Beau drew his gun carefully, even as he reached for a rope that hung on the wall. If the dog lunged, he could fend it off with the heavy coil of rope, but if he couldn’t manage to chase it from the barn, he’d probably have to put a bullet in its head. And that didn’t sit well with him.

Not only was he opposed to putting down an animal unless there was no other choice, but it was a hell of a way to start the day. Especially since he hadn’t even had his breakfast. He took one step closer, prepared for the snarl that erupted from the animal.

What he wasn’t prepared for was the sight of a bare foot descending from the hayloft. It barely touched the top step of the ladder before its mate moved lower, and he was exposed to the sight of curving calves and slender feet. A drab, colorless skirt fell to cover the feminine limbs as their owner scampered to the barn floor and whirled to face him.

“Don’t you shoot my dog. She’s just scared you’ll hurt her.” The girl stepped forward, shielding the pair of animals, her narrowed eyes glittering defiance. Dark hair hung in disarray, its snarled length falling over her shoulders and partially covering her face. She snatched at the unruly mop and peered up at him.

“Who beat the tar out of you?” Beau asked, his voice quiet, even as his stomach roiled in disgust. She hadn’t narrowed her eyes at him purposely. One was almost shut, its lid puffed and purpled, a bruise covering most of her cheek. Blood stained the corner of her mouth and her lips were swollen and discolored.

“None of your business.” The dog moved to nudge its nose against the girl’s hand and Beau watched as her fingers spread to cover the furry head. “Just let us get by and we won’t bother you none.” The cat stood again, and hobbled to lean against the girl’s bare leg. She glanced down and reached for the wounded creature, her movement swift, her gaze returning quickly to Beau.

“I don’t think I can do that, ma’am,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t steal nothin’,” she told him sharply. “I just took a nap in your loft. We didn’t touch anything.”

“I wasn’t worried about that.” What he was concerned about was getting her and her menagerie better acquainted with the idea of eating breakfast.

She watched him warily. “If you’ll move out of the way, mister, we’ll be gone faster than you can blink.” She took one step toward him, the dog moving to her side, the cat creeping up to wind itself around the back of the girl’s neck.

“You got any belongings, miss?” Surely she hadn’t arrived in his barn without some sort of baggage, aside from the creatures she protected.

Her eye twitched and she hunched her shoulders, glancing to where the ladder led to the loft. “I left my stuff up there. Forgot it.”

Beau nodded. “Why don’t you go up and get it, and I’ll see what I can rustle up for breakfast for you and your critters.”

Stock-still, she watched him, her head turning a bit as she gauged his considerable length, her gaze finally coming to rest on the gun he held. “You gonna kill my dog?”

“Not till I feed her,” Beau said, sliding the pistol back into its holster.

“I don’t take somethin’ for nuthin’,” she said firmly. “I’ll earn the food.”

He hesitated, but only for a moment. He’d have to let her call the shots, most likely. Otherwise, she’d be gone in a heartbeat once he turned his back. “All right, you can do that. Come on up to the house and I’ll find some grub. Then you can work for a while in the garden, if you want to.”

Her chin stuck out mutinously. “I’d rather clean stalls.”

Beau swallowed a chuckle as she stood her ground, then shrugged. “That’s up to you. I just need to have the potatoes dug and the rest of the onions pulled.” At her glare, he relented. “Hey, if you’d rather clean stalls, by all means, have at it.”

She turned away, reaching for one of the pitchforks on the wall and he stilled her hand with a word. “No.” It was a firm command, and she was obviously used to the harsh tone he used, for she turned quickly, her expression fearful. “You can earn your food after you eat it, and after your animals get fed.”

Her head nodded slowly, her hand returned to clutch at the side of her dress and she waited. “Go ahead, mister. I’ll follow you up to the house.”

“Is your dog going to latch on to my leg when I turn away?” he asked, amusement coloring his words, hoping to lull her into conversation. He offered a smile and was stunned as she backed from him again.

“Maisie won’t bite you if I tell her not to.” She touched the dog’s head and the animal sat quietly by her side. “Go ahead on. We’ll follow you.”

Beau turned away, walking briskly toward his house, the silence behind him tempting him to look back. She was a fey creature, without much to recommend her. Somebody had trounced her good from the looks of it. And unless he missed his guess, she’d gone hours, maybe days, without food. It was no wonder she was wary of him, with his gun slung around his waist. He’d only worn it in case he encountered the snake he’d spotted last night. Rattlers were rare around the house and barn, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.

He hunched his shoulders and then stretched upward, bringing sore muscles into play. Damn, his day was shot all to hell and back and he’d hardly had time to rub the sleep from his eyes.

Maggie moved behind him, matching her steps to his, scampering as he outpaced her. Cat clung to her hair, balancing across her neck, and Maggie reached up to grasp the animal’s hind legs. Beside her, Maisie moved cautiously, and as they approached the back porch of the ranch house, the dog halted and growled a warning. Maggie touched the shaggy head and looked down.

“Your dog not partial to men?” The rancher stood on the porch and turned to face her. “She can stay out here. Hell, you can all stay out here if you like. Or come on in. It makes no matter to me.” He turned from her and opened the screened door, walking into the house.

“We’ll eat on the porch,” Maggie said, raising her voice so as to be heard. The screened door slammed and she climbed the steps with care, her feet tender from the long hours of walking on rough ground. She should have snatched up her shoes when she’d left, but Pa had been rustling around in the next room and she’d not wanted to take a chance on being caught. She’d skinned over the windowsill and landed on the ground with a thud, then snatched up her bundle and taken off like a streak across the yard, toward the woods.

Settling against the wooden corner post, she pulled the cat from around her neck. The wound was healing well, she decided, brushing back the hair to better make out the rough stitches she’d put in place. Her mouth drew down as she recalled the horror of a steel trap and the howls of the wounded creature who’d strayed into its jaws. Pa had nailed her a good one for hiding the cat and not giving away its whereabouts, but it was worth it. Already Cat was walking pretty good. Before long, she’d be…Maggie’s eyes dimmed as the creature’s hopeless future loomed before her. No longer would Cat be able to hunt for food, or protect herself from predators.

“I’ll take care of you. Don’t you worry none,” she murmured, her fingers tugging at the gray ears with tender caresses. Maisie watched from the grass below, sitting patiently, her gaze never swerving. “And you, too, Maisie.” Maggie lifted her shoulders, stretching, easing the cramps from sleeping in the loft. She’d settled down near the opening, watchful of her animals, and the floor had been hard and ungiving.

In the room beyond the screened door, sounds promised the coming of a meal, or at least some sort of hastily prepared food, if she was any judge. A pan clattered, a spoon scraped, and water was pumped into a container. Who’d have ever thought a man could put together something to eat? Pa wouldn’t have been caught dead dealing with the kitchen stove or making a meal for himself. But he always managed to be there when Mama dished things up.

Maggie leaned her head against the post behind her. For right now, for this moment, she was safe. If Pa was after her, she’d see him coming, for the lane was in sight. Beyond the barn, several men were heading in this direction, but they didn’t seem to be on the lookout, just making their way toward a long, low building where smoke drifted from the chimney and a clanging noise seemed to be a signal of sorts. She shrank within herself, lest she be seen by the men. Three of them there were, and so far they hadn’t taken any mind of her. She could hear them calling back and forth, and then they made their way through the doorway into the building next to the barn.

“If I was smart, I’d be out there eating with the hands.” The big man was behind the screened door, talking to her, and here she’d been so intent on watching the yard that he’d managed to creep up on her.

“Go ahead on,” she muttered, embarrassed at being caught unawares.

“I told you I’d feed you,” he reminded her, and pushed the door open. “Why don’t you come inside? I’ve put the coffee on the front of the stove and found some bread and butter and a jar of apples. There’s some meat left from yesterday’s dinner.”

“Don’t your wife cook?” Maggie asked suspiciously. “Ain’t she around?”

The rancher looked at her, and shook his head. “No wife, and the cook went to be with her daughter for a couple of days. I’m making do with leftovers, but I’ll probably eat with my ranch hands tonight.”

She leaned forward, peering suspiciously past him into the dim kitchen. “You all alone in there?”

He held the door wide. “Come take a look for yourself.”

Maggie edged closer to him, peering past his formidable bulk into the kitchen. An oblong table, covered with a checkered oilcloth centered the room, sturdy chairs positioned around it. Heat from the cookstove warmed her as she crossed the threshold, and the scent of coffee beckoned.