Last Chance Cowboys Page 15

  It was fully dark by the time he reached their homestead. He guided his horse slowly through the clusters of sheep grazing on the open land outside the fence surrounding the house and outbuildings. Once again, he was struck by how often he had visited this ranch as a boy, when cattle had grazed here. He could not deny the difference between cattle and sheep when it came to the land. The grass he crossed had been chewed down to the root, and there were gouges in the earth that he never saw in cattle land. But there were also shoots of new growth, something he realized he would not see where cattle grazed.

  He reined in his horse when he came in sight of the house and yard and took stock of who was around. Lottie Galway was no doubt inside the house, its windows glowing with the light. He had no idea what he’d hoped to accomplish by coming here, especially at this hour. He was prepared to head back when he saw Addie’s buggy tied up outside the house. He knew she’d come for Galway’s wife, but what if Joshua had taken a turn for the worse? Nell would never forgive him if she learned he’d ridden all this way and had failed to check on the boy.

  As he approached the house, one of the Galway boys emerged from the barn, then immediately ducked back inside. He reappeared with his brother and Ernest Stokes. Ernest carried a lantern, but Trey saw they were unarmed as they watched him dismount and head up the porch steps. Trey nodded to the trio but kept walking. The front door was open, barred by a screen door, beyond which he could hear the clink of crockery from the kitchen and the low murmur of female voices. He knocked.

  A woman he recognized from the church social came down the hall, wiping her hands on a towel. She stopped and stared when she saw him, her mouth open, before hurrying back to the kitchen where the chatter increased in both volume and intensity.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” he heard Addie say, and seconds later, she was striding toward him. “Not your best idea,” she muttered as she pushed the screen door open and stepped out onto the porch.

  “I thought I should check on Joshua,” he said, ignoring her reprimand.

  “Joshua is fine. Lottie Galway, on the other hand, is anything but fine. Seeing you might just undo the little I’ve been able to do to calm her. You should leave—now.”

  She glanced beyond him, and Trey turned. He saw that the Galway boys and Ernest had moved closer to the house. They now stood just outside the front gate. “Maybe I should take Joshua back to my place,” he said.

  “The boy is in no danger here. I would think you’d be more worried about Nell.”

  “Nobody is going to hurt my wife,” he said.

  Addie sighed. “A group of ‘nobodies’ burned her house to the ground, in case you forgot.”

  Trey drew in a long breath. “Have they set a time for Galway’s funeral?”

  “The day after tomorrow, and please do not tell me you plan to attend.” Addie actually grasped his arm.

  “I’m thinking of Nell. He was her brother after all.”

  Addie rolled her eyes. “You are determined to go looking for trouble, Trey Porterfield. Tell Nell she should stay put. She can pay her respects once the dust has settled. Feelings are running pretty hot right now, and there’s no reason to stir that pot.”

  “Can I at least see Joshua so I can assure her that he’s all right?”

  “Take my word for it, Trey. The boy is fine. He misses his mother, of course, but he’s best off here. As you said, this is family.”

  The way Addie placed her emphasis on the word family left no doubt that he was intruding.

  “I’ll be going then,” he said.

  “Good plan.” Addie folded her arms and waited, and he understood she would not go back inside the house until she was sure he was gone.

  The Galway boys stepped closer as he opened the gate. Ira glared at him, but it was Spud who spat at him, landing a glob of saliva squarely on his cheek. Trey wiped it away with the back of his hand, then mounted his horse and left.

  As he covered the distance he’d traveled so many times before, Trey tried to work out what he might say to the other ranchers. Pete Collins would be all fired up and no doubt refuse to even listen. The truth was, Trey was fairly certain Collins had been behind the burning of Nell’s home. Until he had proof, though, he would treat Pete the same as any other neighbor. The man had a following of those who believed the only answer was “them or us.”

  Maybe if he could get Jess to talk to the cattlemen. After all, the ranch belonged to his siblings as much as it did to him. But while Jess might not go along with Pete on most things, the two men were in total agreement when it came to thinking Trey had made a real mess.

  Still…

  Crack!

  A shot! Close—too close.

  Trey headed for the shelter of a cluster of trees. He hunched low, making himself as close to being part of the horse as he could.

  A second shot whizzed past.

  He reached the trees and slid from the saddle, pulling his rifle from its sheath as he did. Slapping the horse’s rump to send it on its way to a safer place, he took up his position behind the thick trunk of a Gambel oak. The cover of night worked both for and against him. In the trees, he would be harder to see, but the inky night also made it impossible to mark the position of whoever might be stalking him.

  He waited.

  All was quiet.

  The cry of a night bird startled him, and he tightened his grip on the weapon. But then he loosened it. What was he going to do? Kill whoever was shooting at him? What would that solve?

  Trey waited.

  Finally convinced his attacker had given up or perhaps only meant to warn him, he gave a low whistle, and his horse ambled over to the trees. Using the horse as shield between him and anyone who might still be waiting to take a shot at him, he put away his rifle. Following the nearly dry creek, he headed home.

  Nell was in the yard when Trey got back. The night air was chilly, and he saw she wore no wrap. “Go inside, Nellie. I’ll be right there.”

  Ignoring his instruction, she walked alongside as he rode to the corral. “Where were you?”

  “I went over to your brother’s place,” he admitted.

  “Oh, Trey, what did you think to accomplish?”

  He finished removing the saddle from his horse before answering. “I thought…” He stared at the ground and shook his head. “I don’t know what I thought. Addie was there. I don’t think your sister-in-law is doing too well.”

  “Joshua?”

  “I asked after him. Addie said he’s fine—sleeping.” He opened the gate to the corral, slapped the horse on the rump to send him inside, then closed and fastened the gate. One of the cowhands would see to brushing the animal down. “I’ve made a mess of everything, Nellie.”

  “You couldn’t have known things would turn out this way,” she protested. “Ira has always had a temper, and from what you’ve told me, Henry’s death was a horrible accident.”

  “An accident I had a hand in causing.” He put his arm around her and walked back toward the house. “How are Nita and Eduardo doing?” Nell did not speak for a moment, so he pressed. “Nellie?”

  “They are devastated, Trey. How do you think they’re doing? They have been cordial to me, but who can blame them for keeping their distance? Their child is dead, and yet they soldier on. I don’t know how they can do it.”

  “You did it,” he reminded her. “When your husband died, you must have wanted to…I don’t know…leave everything to others.”

  “And how do you know I didn’t?” They had reached the courtyard, and she turned to face him.

  He cupped her face with his hands. “Because I think I know enough of you to know that in such a time, you would think first of others—especially Joshua.”

  “He needed me, and that saved me.” They had reached the front door, and when Trey reached for the knob, she put her hand on his to stop him.
“Rico is inside. He left Louisa and the baby in town and came back.”

  “I’m not surprised. He would want to be here for his folks.”

  She tightened her grip on his hand. “He’s very angry, Trey.”

  He hesitated. “He’s also part of my family,” he said as he opened the door and waited for her to go ahead of him.

  * * *

  Nell was relieved to see the large front room was empty except for Javier’s body lying on the dining room table. Candles burned throughout the room, casting eerie shadows on the adobe walls and the beamed ceiling. The heavy draperies had been pulled shut, and a fire in the arched fireplace gave off the scent of juniper and piñon. She could hear the low murmur of voices coming from the kitchen.

  Trey walked to the table and stood next to his friend’s body with his hat in his hands and his head bowed. Nell waited in the doorway, unsure of what to do. She saw Trey’s shoulders slump and realized he must be as exhausted as she was. They’d gotten little sleep the night before, and the new day had drained them both of their strength and any ability to understand what had happened.

  Moving to stand next to her husband, she gently took his hand. “Come,” she said softly.

  He did not resist. With a glance back at Javier, he followed her down the hall to their room. “I should let Nita know I’m back,” he said. “She’ll worry and—”

  “I’ll tell her. You need to lie down, Trey.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed, and she pulled his boots off. She set them by the door and hung his hat on a hook nearby. By the time she turned around, he had collapsed onto the bed and was staring at the ceiling.

  Nell opened the door. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said softly.

  When she entered the kitchen, three sets of dark anguished eyes looked up. Javier’s parents both immediately lowered their gaze to the cups of warm milk before them. Rico continued to stare at her, his scrutiny unnerving in its silent intensity.

  “Trey is home,” she reported. She prepared to return to the room she would share with Trey, but something made her hesitate. “I love Trey,” she said quietly as if someone had raised the question. She turned back to face them and found her voice. “And because I love him, I will do whatever is necessary to see that he—and you—are safe and—”

  “Even leave him?” Rico’s voice was raspy, and he continued to glare at her.

  She met his look, going so far as to take a step forward to be sure he noticed. “Even that,” she replied. She turned her attention to Juanita, a mother like she was. “I’ll say good night now.”

  She had barely turned to go when she heard a chair scrape on the tiles of the kitchen floor. Fearing Rico was about to come after her, his fury and grief too much for him to bear, she glanced back and saw it was Juanita who had risen. Nell hesitated.

  “Take Trey a cup of this warm cinnamon milk,” Juanita said as she filled a mug and held it out to Nell. “It’s his favorite. You need to learn these things, child.” The cup wobbled dangerously.

  “Thank you,” Nell replied, her voice barely a whisper as she accepted the offering. Fighting tears, she hurried down the hall and slipped inside the bedroom. Trey’s even breathing told her he was sound asleep, so she stood at the window and drank the spiced milk, wondering if in spite of their love, they had made a terrible mistake.

  Seven

  The ranch was unusually quiet the following day as everyone went about their business with a kind of respectful reserve. After discussing it with Trey, Nell decided it would be best to leave Joshua with Lottie until after the funeral. She would follow Addie’s advice and stay away until then. Trey had one of his men deliver her note to Lottie. The only reply was the cowboy’s report that Lottie had said Joshua was welcome to stay as long as he liked.

  Nell observed the preparations for Javier’s funeral and helped wherever she could, although she felt completely out of place. The truth was, she was torn as to where she truly belonged. On the one hand, Henry was her brother. They had never been close, but he was still blood kin. On the other hand, Trey was her husband, and his evident heartbreak over the loss of his best friend had her worried. He blamed himself, and on the night before the funerals for both men, she woke to find his side of the bed empty. Terrified his grief had found its way to anger, she hurried barefoot down the hall that separated the bedroom wing from the rest of the house. The front door was closed, and the only light came from the candles that Juanita had insisted remain lit in the room where Javier’s body lay.

  A shadow cast by the flickering light took on a human form. Nell hesitated before entering the room, not wanting to disturb Juanita or Eduardo, should they be sitting with their son. But it was Trey who stood motionless next to his friend, his hand resting gently on Javier’s coffin. Relieved that her husband had not gone out seeking revenge, as in her experience, men were prone to do, she stepped back into the darkness of the hall.

  “He was more than a friend, Nell,” Trey said softly, inviting her into the room with his comment. “Growing up, he was my brother in every way but blood. Out there—” His voice broke, and he shook off the emotion as he ran his fingers over his forearm where the mark of his wound was still evident. “Out there, we became true brothers, his blood mingling with mine.”

  Nell moved closer. “I’m so sorry I will not have the chance to know him better, Trey.”

  “He wasn’t the man who raided your place, Nellie. I mean, he was there all right, but he got caught up with a gang who believed their livelihoods—the futures of their families—were in danger. Even when Pete Collins decided against being at the meeting, Javier came. He chose to try and work this out. That says a good deal about the kind of man he truly was.”

  It occurred to Nell that from what Trey had told her of the meeting at Deadman’s Point, none of the other herders had come with Henry—just Ira and Ernest. There was so much bitterness, resentment blossoming into outright hatred. And now Trey would be caught in the middle. Having married her, he had alienated both sides. Her people thought he had tricked her to get her land. Trey’s friends would question his loyalty to their cause.

  “Trey, I—”

  “Somebody took a shot at me the other night after I stopped over at your brother’s place, Nell.”

  Nell drew in her breath and gripped his arm. “Did the boys or Ernest see you there?”

  “Yeah, but it wasn’t one of them. That’s what whoever fired wanted me to think. I’ve been studying on it ever since, and I’m pretty sure it was a cowhand, maybe one of Collins’s boys. Maybe Pete himself.”

  “But why?”

  He withdrew the hand he’d used to cover his wounded forearm and pulled her close to his side. “I expect to make the point that the time has come for me to choose sides.”

  “But you have chosen. There’s a third side in all this, Trey. The side that has us all living together in peace. That’s your side.”

  He kissed her temple. “Pretty lonely standing on that side with just you,” he said.

  “Nonsense,” she replied. “There are many who would like to see an end to this business—Javier’s family, your family…”

  “And yours?”

  It was a question she couldn’t answer. “Come to bed,” she said softly, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “You go on. I just need a few more minutes.” He kissed her gently on the lips. “Go on, now. Sun will be up before we know it.”

  Reluctantly, she returned to the beautiful room his parents had shared. Not for the first time, she wondered if she and Trey could find the kind of happiness and joy that Isaac and Constance Porterfield had found there. And not for the first time since learning of the carnage played out first at Deadman’s Point and then at her ranch, she wondered if perhaps it might not be best for everyone—especially Trey—if she just left.

  * * *

  Juanita was overwh
elmed by the turnout for Javier’s funeral. Every cattle rancher in the area was there, each man bringing his family and what hired hands could be spared, to pay their respects and offer their support to Juanita, Eduardo, and Rico.

  The day had dawned with a vivid blue sky streaked with swaths of pink and pale purple, the kind of sky Javier had once called a rainbow sky. Juanita smiled at the memory. He’d been five or so the first time he’d named it and had come running into the kitchen while she was trying to get breakfast on the table for the Porterfield family.

  “Come, Mama,” he’d pleaded, tugging at her skirt. “It’s a rainbow sky. You have to come now, or it will go away.”

  The entire Porterfield clan had followed Juanita and her son to the yard where he pointed at the sky as he jumped around with excitement. “See? I told you. Trey, get your stuff. You have to paint this right now.”

  And because Trey and Javier were the best of friends, in spite of the difference in age, Trey had hurried back to the house. His wheezing had echoed across the courtyard as he emerged seconds later with his sketchbook and box of pastels.

  That crude drawing still hung in the room Javier had once shared with Rico. Juanita glanced across the open grave to where Trey stood with his siblings—and his new bride. The boy was as much her son as Rico and Javier were, and yet if he hadn’t drawn Javier into his fight to bring the herders and cattlemen together, would they be here at Javier’s grave today?

  She was so stricken with grief that nothing made sense to her, least of all where her loyalties should lie. It was hard to forgive Trey for his naïveté in thinking he could even start to solve the fight between sides so simply. And to have married the herder woman without letting her family know? Juanita was well aware Trey had feelings for her, but to act so impulsively was completely out of character. It was the kind of thing she might expect of his brother, but Trey had always been so steadfast, even guarded in his actions.

  As the priest droned on, she focused her gaze on Nell Stokes—Porterfield, now. Nothing to be done about that. It was hardly the young widow’s fault that things had come to pass this way. On the other hand, she should have known marrying Trey would open a hornet’s nest of trouble. She was a grown woman and seemed to have a good head on her shoulders, so why hadn’t she refused Trey?