Lone Star Bride

“You ever consider bein’ a lawyer?” Hank asked with a grin. “You do a dandy job of defending the boy.”

“I suspect he’s too honest to be a lawyer,” Alexis said quietly, the coffeepot in her hand as she approached the table and the two men sitting there. “More coffee, Mr. Webster?” she asked.

“Thanks, I believe I will,” Jamie said, careful not to pay any particular attention to the girl. Woman is more like it, he thought glancing down to where her booted feet stood beside his chair. It was understandable that the men on this ranch were squabbling for the chance to court her. Causing discord among the men was forbidden, though, and he would not stand for it.

“And what do you do with your time, Miss Alexis?” he asked, picking up his cup.

“I cook a bit, ride a lot and in general do whatever needs to be done. I’m more interested in the young foals, but that job is pretty well already taken by men probably more capable than I am. My father won’t let me work on the roundup or in the branding pens, but I lend a hand with the orphaned calves when necessary. I’m real handy with a bottle when the mama has lost the battle and a calf is left alone.”

“A lot of those for you to tend?” Jamie asked, looking up at her with bland interest. At least he hoped his look didn’t hold a shred of the attraction he felt for the girl.

“Usually several in the spring, only two this year. We were lucky.” She turned and set the coffeepot back on the stove and hesitated.

“What do you plan on doing with your time, Mr. Webster?”

“Can we make it Jamie, or James?” he asked with a bland smile. “Whichever you like will do.”

She turned then, gave him a long look as if she read his thoughts, and her answer was what he had expected. “If you’ll be informal enough to call me Alex or Alexis, whichever you like.”

“I can do that,” Jamie answered quickly. “If it’s all right with your pa.”

“She’s her own woman,” Hank said, leaning back in his chair and smiling at his daughter. “I quit tellin’ her what to do when she started puttin’ her hair up.”

Jamie looked at Alexis, whose hair hung in golden splendor around her shoulders and halfway down her back. “And when was that?” he asked.

“Well, most of the time she’s all gussied up with that mop of hair on top of her head or hanging in a braid down her back. It’s usually only at breakfast time that we see her this-a-way.” Hank laughed and shot a tender look at his daughter. “I kinda like breakfast,” he said softly.

Alexis left the stove to fend for itself and circled the table to stand next to her father. “He’s a bit prejudiced,” she told Jamie, bending to plant a kiss on her father’s temple.

“I can see why.” Jamie swallowed the rest of his coffee and stood, wondering how those lips would taste against his own. “I’m gonna take a look around, if you don’t mind,” he said to Hank. “Kinda get the feel of things.”

“No problem with that. It’s all yours now, Webster.”

“Not really,” Jamie said, contradicting the man. “You’ll still have a bundle of work to do, keeping up with all the numbers and giving me tips. Right now I’d like to meet the men who are working close-by.”

“I wrote to Caulfield and told him I’d give you my support. I’ll be happy to do whatever you have in mind for me.”

It was almost too easy, Jamie thought. Too slick a turnover, with a stranger coming in and the foreman stepping back without an argument. And yet, maybe Hank was tired of the hassle involved with dealing with men and a ranch of this size.

“I’ll come out with you and we can ride around to where the men are working,” Hank said. “You want a different horse, or are you planning to use your own?”

“My gelding is pretty worn-out from crossing Texas in the past few days,” Jamie said. “What do you have in the barn?”

“A couple of nice mares and a hot-blooded stallion that’ll give you a run for your money. I guess you get to choose any horse you want, boss.”

Jamie lifted an eyebrow and hitched up his trousers, feeling his gun as it thumped against his thigh. “I’m not much for being the bossy type, Hank. I hope you know right off the bat that I’m not here to make any sweeping changes or chop any heads off. I’m just doing a job for my boss. And that’s the man I answer to in the long run.”

“I’ve already exchanged ‘howdies’ with Chet,” Jamie said. “Just haven’t shaken his hand yet.”

“Here’s your chance then,” Hank said as their horses moved to stand beside that of the ranch hand in question.

Jamie stuck out his right hand and Chet did not hesitate, grasping it in a friendly manner. “Yes sir, I’ve taken a gander at this fella before, Hank. He rides a right pretty horse.”

“Pretty horse?” Hank repeated, lifting his eyebrow as if he mocked the phrase.

“You know what I’m sayin’,” Chet said with a laugh. “If it was a mare, I’d call her a beauty. Since he rides a gelding, and a nice-lookin’ pinto at that, he’s simply pretty.”

“Chet’s our number one hand around here,” Hank said with a grin in Jamie’s direction. “He’s an old-timer. Been around for more years than I have.”

“This is home,” Chet said, with a trace of smug satisfaction in his voice. “I was raised here by my pa after my mother died.”

“Who else do we have working out here?” Jamie asked, nodding at Chet’s words. “I’ll warrant there’s no one else with your record.”

“Nope. But Slim comes right close,” Chet told him. “He’s been here since he was sixteen or so. A good man with horses. He’s out back with the horses right now.”

The girl had mentioned horses, he remembered, stating her liking for them. “You’re running a big herd of horses, along with your cattle here?” Jamie asked.

Hank nodded. “If it’s a bad year for cattle, drought or flood conditions or whatever might happen along to give us problems, we can rely on the horses to take up the slack. We had a big storm a few years ago in February, snowed us in for three days, and all the time we had cows calving out in the back forty. Lost twelve of our heifers and most of their calves. We’d just as soon not see that happen again. Winter storms can be disasters for us.”

“Why hadn’t you brought the cows in closer to the barn, knowing they were at risk?” Jamie asked, his words a blunt criticism of Hank’s actions.

“The storm hit before we were prepared for it. It had been warming up right well for a couple of weeks, and no one looked for snow, least of all me.”

“Maybe we’ll bring the pregnant cows in close next winter and keep them within sight. I’d hate to see that sort of thing happen again,” Jamie said firmly.

“You’re right,” Hank told him. “In fact, I’m beginning to think you’ll be good for the Clark ranch. You’re young and you’re bound to have fresh ideas.”

“That’s another thing. We’re gonna change the name of the ranch,” Jamie told him. “Until I get other instructions from Brace Caulfield, we’ll call this place the Double C. I’d like to see a sign put together and hung down at the county road. What do you think?”

“Clark and Caulfield, huh? Sounds all right to me.”

“Who can make a sign? A big one on a slab of hardwood,” Jamie asked.

Chet spoke up quickly. “That would be Woody, and you get one guess why we call him that.” His chuckle was short and he underlined his words. “The man is a whiz with anything to do with building stuff or working with wood. He’s been around for years, and the big house has a bunch of his furniture inside. Take a look at the tables in the parlor, Webster,” he said, his pride audible, as if he were, in some way, responsible for Woody’s reputation.

“I’ll do that.” Jamie looked around, back toward the barn. “Where is he now?”

“Working on new mangers for the standing stalls,” Chet told him. “We went over the barn pretty good, and Woody said they needed to be replaced. And what Woody says, goes, as far as fixin’ up the barn is concerned.”

“Sounds like a handy fella to have around.” Jamie said, thinking he’d like to meet this paragon of woodworking today.

“You’ll find out,” Chet told him flatly. “We all depend on Woody.”

Jamie turned his mount in a tight circle and headed back to the barn. “I’ll take a look here before we go any farther afield,” he told Hank. The stallion he’d chosen to ride was skittish, but Jamie held him in with a firm hand, and, once he’d dismounted, led him into the barn, seeking the man in question.

The sound of a hammer drew him down the aisle and toward the farthest stall. A big man, easily six inches or so past six feet tall, backed into the aisle ahead of him and turned to face Jamie.

“You must be Woody,” Jamie said. “I’ve been hearing about you.”