Bobbi Smith (6 page)

“Oh . . . thanks.” A shiver of physical awareness trembled through Randi as her gaze met his. It left her a bit nervous, for she wasn’t used to feeling that way. “Well, I’d better get back up to the house. Good night, Hawk.”

“Good night.”

Hawk put out the lamp, then went to stand in the darkness by the stable doorway, watching Randi until she was safely inside the house.

Only then did he start back toward the bunkhouse. As he drew near, he saw that several of the hands were sitting out on the bunkhouse porch.

“Hey, Indian boy,” Fred Carter called out to him.

“My name’s Hawk,” Hawk answered with no emotion as he reached the porch.

“Don’t matter what your name is; you just better be careful around the boss’s daughter. Ol’ Jack don’t take kindly to anyone messing with Randi.”

The other man with him was chuckling.

Having dealt with people like Carter all his life, Hawk knew the best way to handle them was to ignore them.

“I’ll remember that,” Hawk said as he walked past them and on into the bunkhouse.

“You’d better.”

Jack was up and out of the house early the following morning. He knew it was important he get over to the neighboring Walker ranch, the Bar W, as quickly as he could to let Pat Walker know what was going on. The pretty young widow had been trying to keep her ranch running since her husband’s death the year before. She had managed to hang on this long, but lately she’d been hit by the rustlers, too, and her finances were in a desperate state.

As Jack rode up to the house, Pat came outside to greet him.

“I’m hoping this is a purely social visit, Jack,” she called out, smiling in welcome. The Stocktons were good neighbors and good friends.

“I’d like to tell you it is, but we need to talk,” Jack said as he dismounted and joined her on the porch.

Pat immediately grew serious. “What did you find out?”

“Nothing yet, but I’ve hired a man to look into the rustling. His name’s Hawk Morgan, and with any luck he’ll have some answers for us before too long.”

“Good. I have no intention of letting them run me out of business—whoever they are.”

“You’re the only one I’ve told so far about Morgan. I haven’t even told Wade yet.”

Pat was surprised, for she knew how close he and his foreman were. She thought highly of the man, too. He’d been helping her a lot recently, and she appreciated it.

“Why didn’t you tell Wade?” Pat asked. “You don’t suspect him of being involved, do you?”

“No, I trust Wade. I just thought it best if I kept this quiet. The fewer people who know what Morgan’s up to, the better.”

“You just let me know if there’s anything you need me to do,” Pat offered.

“I will, and if I find out anything, I’ll send word to you right away.”

“I appreciate it, Jack. How’s Randi?”

“She’s just fine. She’s looking forward to the Stampede.”

“So am I. Tell her I’ll see her in town. It’ll be good to relax and have some fun for a change.”

“Yes, it will.”

As Jack rode from the Walker ranch a short time later, he wondered how long Pat could keep the place going on her own. He’d offered to buy her out after her husband had died, but she’d been de termined to make a go of it. He just hoped she could hold on to the ranch. He knew how much it meant to her.

Pat watched Jack ride away and knew she was lucky to have him for a neighbor. He was a smart, powerful man, and if anybody could figure out who was behind all the trouble, he would.

Pat would always remember his kindness over the past year and a half. Jack, Randi, and Wade had checked in on her regularly to offer any help she needed. Her pride kept her from admitting how desperate her situation was becoming, but she was thankful for their friendship.

Pat couldn’t wait for the trip to town for the Stampede. It wasn’t very often that she got to socialize. It had been almost two years since Al had died in the riding accident. Pat knew she had to move on with her life. She was trying, but it wasn’t easy.

“What are we going to do about the breed?” Fred Carter asked Rob in disgust as they worked stock together in the north pasture.

“There’s nothing we can do.” Rob had been expecting Fred to bring up the subject ever since they’d ridden out earlier that morning. “The boss hired him on. He works here just like we do.”

“That don’t mean we have to like it.”

“Nobody’s asking you to be friends with the man; just work with him when you have to.”

“I don’t want nothing to do with Morgan.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“And I plan to keep it that way.”

“Just don’t go causing any trouble. The boss has got enough going on right now, trying to catch the rustlers. He don’t need you stirring things up in the bunkhouse.”

Fred ignored Rob. His hatred of Indians ran deep. Hawk Morgan had better keep his distance from him if he knew what was good for him.

Fred knew he wasn’t the only one in the bunkhouse who felt that way. Maybe when he got back to the ranch that night, he’d see what he could do to make Morgan’s life miserable. The sooner the breed moved on, the better.

“So what’s life like on the Lazy S?” Hawk asked Wade as they rode back toward the house.

Wade had taken him out to show him more of the ranch.

“Most of the time it’s quiet,” Wade answered. “There are only three rules here at the Lazy S—no drinking, no gambling, and no fighting, and the men don’t seem to have any trouble with that. The boys might get a little rowdy every now and then, but once payday comes and they get to go into town for a few nights, they get it out of their systems.”

“What about the rustling? Jack mentioned you’ve had some trouble the last few months.” Hawk glanced toward Wade and noticed how grim he looked.

“It’s been bad lately. Whoever’s behind it has been hitting us hard. But it’s not just us—they hit the Walker ranch just south of here, too.”

“Any idea who it might be?”

“No. I wish I did. Keep an eye out and let me know if you see anything suspicious.”

“I will.”

Though Rob had warned Fred not to cause trouble, Fred wasn’t about to ignore the fact that the half-breed was living in the bunkhouse with them. Fred was determined to drive Morgan away, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do.

That evening he went looking for what he needed. He found it easily, then kept watch, waiting for the half-breed to ride in. When he finally saw Morgan and Wade return, he went into the bunkhouse to set his plan in motion.

Fred had told several of his friends his plan, so they settled in at the table or lounged in their bunks, waiting to see what was going to happen. Since it was almost dinnertime, they figured they wouldn’t have to wait long for Morgan to show up.

Hawk and Wade returned to the bunkhouse eager for dinner. They’d put in a long day and were looking forward to taking it easy for a while.

“Cook will be bringing dinner out soon,” Wade told Hawk as they walked inside. Seeing that some of the men were already there, he greeted them, “How’d you boys do today?”

“Just fine, Wade,” Fred answered with a lazy grin.

Rob followed Hawk and Wade into the bunkhouse just in time to hear Fred’s answer. Fred’s seemingly easygoing mood surprised him, considering how angry he’d been about Morgan earlier that day. He wondered if Fred was up to something. He certainly wouldn’t put it past him.

Hawk went to his bunk to sit down and wait for the cook to bring in dinner. He noticed that some of his things had been moved from where he’d left them on the bed that morning and wondered who’d gone through his belongings. He had started to take inventory to make sure nothing was missing when he noticed something had been stowed under the blanket on his bunk.

Hawk was expecting trouble. But he wasn’t expecting what he found when he pulled the blanket off the bed.

There, in the middle of his bunk, was a live rattlesnake, coiled and ready to strike.

Hawk reacted instantly. He jumped out of harm’s way just as the rattler lashed out.

The snake missed and re-coiled on the bed, ready to strike again at him.

Hawk wasted no time. He drew his knife and threw it. His aim was perfect. The rattler was killed instantly, the knife pinning it to the mattress.

At first Fred and the other hands had laughed as they looked on. Fred had hoped the snake would take care of things for them. Now he looked shocked by how quickly Hawk had reacted.

“Who’s responsible for this?” Wade demanded.

When the men saw their foreman’s fury, the mood in the bunkhouse turned sober.

“We don’t know,” most of them mumbled.

“There’s just no telling what kind of vermin you’re going to find in this bunkhouse anymore, is there, boys?” Fred drawled sarcastically.

“Fred . . .” Wade turned on the known troublemaker.

“It’s all right, Wade. I’ll handle this.” Hawk walked slowly to his bunk. He pulled his knife out of the snake and wiped the blade clean on the sheet. After slipping his knife back in its sheath, he picked up the rattler and turned to Fred.

“I think this belongs to you.” He threw the bloody snake directly at the other man.

“Why, you . . . !” Fred tried to dodge the rattler, but it hit him in the face. Furious, he launched himself at Hawk.

The two men crashed to the floor in a violent struggle. Chaos reined as the other ranch hands rushed to get out of their way. Many of the men ran outside and then dashed over to one of the windows to watch from relative safety.

The battle was a fierce one. Fred was a big, strong ox of a man, but he was ultimately no match for Hawk. Hawk’s agility and pure strength gave him the advantage. Only Wade’s interference stopped the fight.

“Enough!” Wade shouted as he grabbed Fred and hauled him away from Hawk. He shoved him out the bunkhouse door in disgust.

Fred sprawled in the dirt. Cursing and swearing, he charged to his feet, ready to continue the fight, but he found himself standing face-to-face with the boss.

“What’s going on here?” Jack demanded angrily, staring at Fred’s bloodied face and torn clothing. He’d been out at the stable when he’d heard the commotion.

“Nothing,” Fred muttered, frustrated and angry that the boss had shown up.

“Like hell!” Wade said from where he was still standing in the doorway. He disappeared back inside for a minute, then came outside to join them, holding the dead snake. “This is what’s been going on, boss. Fred put this rattler in Hawk’s bunk—only it was alive when he did it.”

“What did you think you were doing, Fred?” Jack turned to the hired hand. It wasn’t the first time Fred had caused trouble, but it was going to be the last.

“I was just giving the half-breed a welcome present, that’s all,” Fred sneered, spitting blood from his cut and swollen lip.

“It’s a damn good thing Hawk’s fast with his knife.” Wade tossed the dead snake aside in disgust. “Somebody could have gotten hurt bad.”

Jack looked Hawk’s way when he came to stand in the bunkhouse doorway. “Are you all right, Morgan?”

Hawk nodded.

Satisfied, Jack turned back to Fred. He pinned him with an icy glare. “You’re fired.”

“Fired?” Fred was shocked. Jack couldn’t just fire him for a little prank.

“That’s right. You know my rules. ‘No fighting’ is one of them.”

“But the breed started the fight!”

“I don’t think so.”

“He threw the snake at me!”

“You’re just lucky the rattler was dead when he threw it!”

“I was defending myself.”

“I said, you’re fired,” Jack repeated in a cold voice that brooked no argument.

“But—”

“Get your things and get off the Lazy S. I want you out of here tonight. Stop by the house when you’re leaving, and I’ll see you get any wages I owe you.”

Fred’s fury and humiliation were obvious. He stalked off, never looking back.

Jack turned to the rest of the men who were watching. Though they hadn’t said anything yet, he could tell they were shocked by what had just happened to Fred.

“Remember this,” Jack lectured them. “You know my rules—there’s no fighting, no gambling, and no drinking when you work for me. What you do in town on your days off is your business. What you do here on the ranch is mine. If you want to work here, you follow my rules. It’s as simple as that. Any questions?”

The ranch hands knew better than to give Jack any trouble. He was a fair boss, but he was a hard man to deal with if you got on his bad side. They nodded in understanding and moved away, going back inside to wait for Wilda to bring their dinner. None of them went after Fred, and none of them spoke to Hawk.

Jack was troubled as he returned to the main house. He’d been worried that having Hawk around would cause unrest, and now it had. For a moment he considered firing Hawk, too, but decided against it. All that mattered was catching the rustlers, and according to Spiller, whose judgment he trusted completely, Hawk was the man for the job. He just hoped Spiller was right.

Jack went in his office and sat down at his desk. He’d been there only a few moments when someone knocked on the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, boss,” Wade answered, letting himself in. He stood across the room, waiting to speak.

“What do you want?”

“Why did you fire Fred and not Hawk when they were both involved in the fight?” It wasn’t often that he questioned his boss’s decisions, but this time he had to, just to make sure he could keep things under control in the bunkhouse. Fred had friends, and they were bound to question Jack’s decision.

“This isn’t the first time Fred’s caused trouble. I’ve had enough of it.”

“But, boss—”

Jack fixed Wade with a serious look. “There’s something I haven’t told you. There’s more to Hawk Morgan than you know.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Hawk came to work here recommended by Sheriff Spiller up in Dry Springs.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So, he’s here to help me catch the rustlers.”

“Hawk does that kind of work?” Wade was surprised by the news.

“That’s right. I didn’t tell you right off because I thought it would be best to keep this quiet. The fewer people who know the truth about him, the better. I haven’t even told Randi yet.”