Love Finds You in Last Chance, California (18 page)

Justin sat his horse and drew the sweetly scented air into his lungs. The fragrance of pine and mesquite lingered on his clothing from the ride through the dense stand of scrub, which he and Alex had encountered on their ride to the south pasture.

“This sure is pretty country, Miss Travers.”

Alex nudged her horse and drew alongside his stallion. “Yes, it is.” They rode for a moment in companionable silence. “It’s Alex, by way. No one on the ranch calls me Miss Travers.”

“Alex, not Alexia? It’s a pretty name.”

She shrugged and patted her gelding’s neck. “It’s nice enough, but Papa always called me Alex, and it’s what I prefer. There are a few people who insist on calling me Alexia, whether I like it or not. I don’t mind Martha and Elizabeth using it, but they’re special.”

“I see. Then Alex it is.”

Silence fell again as they moved out of the brush and started across the pasture with Alex once again in the lead. Justin glanced at the woman sitting her buckskin gelding a few yards away. This morning she looked too young to be running a ranch, with her hair pulled back in a braid. The fitted waist, men’s trousers, and tall leather boots rising to the top of slender calves accentuated the slim figure relaxing in the English saddle. He frowned, wondering about that saddle. Most riders in these parts preferred Western saddles to the skimpy, nearly flat English contraptions.

Alex dropped back and drew her horse to a halt next to Justin’s stallion then turned wide, inquisitive eyes his direction. “What?”

He jerked his head. He’d been staring. “Sorry. I’ve been working for you for almost a week, and you always ride that saddle. Just wondering what you see in that pancake.”

Her lips turned up and she chuckled as she glanced at his heavy saddle. “When I know I’ll be herding horses and may have to throw a rope, I use one with a horn—but I prefer this for everyday use.” She patted the spot where a horn should reside. “My father always wondered what I saw in it, too. He told me I’d pitch over my horse’s neck if I didn’t watch out.”

Justin couldn’t restrain a small, answering smile. “So…?”

“I feel more secure in it. I rode bareback for most of my childhood, but when I graduated to a bigger horse, Papa insisted I use a saddle. I saw one in a catalog and begged Papa to buy it. He humored me but placed a bet with Uncle Joe that he’d be selling it after the first couple of rides. I fell in love, and he lost the bet.”

She shifted her weight and patted her horse’s neck. “This is as close as I can get to bareback. I like to feel my horse under me—to be aware of what he’s going to do before he does it and move with him.” She turned away and stared out over the band of horses, not seeming to expect a reply.

Strange as it might seem, Justin did understand. He’d been raised on a horse. His papa had been a wrangler and had ridden with the young Justin in front of him on his saddle since almost before Justin could walk. Horses were in his blood, and he couldn’t imagine a life that didn’t include them.

But though he could identify with her at times, Alex was still a puzzle to him. In one moment she seemed too young and feminine to run a ranch, and in the next she’d show a strength and wisdom beyond her years. Most wranglers would balk at working for a woman who insisted on meddling in every aspect of the ranch. Sure, a woman acting as the figurehead after her husband died wasn’t too uncommon, but in such cases, the foreman ran the show. Joe wasn’t healthy, so Alex had little choice. Yet somehow he doubted she’d sit at home and tend to the house even if Joe were perfectly fit.

His thoughts drifted to Molly. She’d been pretty—not stunning, but attractive in her own way, with her large hazel eyes and long, thick hair. He couldn’t see her giving orders to a bunch of men. No sir, she’d needed men to show her attention. Pretty as she was, Molly hadn’t been much of a wife. But at least she’d given him Toby.

He knew he hadn’t been much of a father to Toby, and he shook his head, shame blanketing his emotions. He’d failed in all the ways that mattered most to a man. Years ago he’d believed in the concept of a loving God, but not anymore. He didn’t really blame God, but he felt that his prayers often fell flat.

The sound of a snorting horse roused Justin from his ruminations of the past.

Alex stared at him. “You all right?”

“Yeah. Just thinking.” He drew a deep breath, wondering how much, if anything, he should tell her. He didn’t want her sympathy. Besides, women often couldn’t be trusted. A pretty face and sweet words wouldn’t fool him again.

She waited a moment, eyebrows raised, and then swung her horse around. “Let’s check the mares and see which ones we’ll bring in to the stallion.”

He nodded and settled his hat more firmly on his head. Work would keep his mind off the past and, hopefully, off the young woman who’d appeared in the present. No telling what the future held, but he could say with a certainty it wouldn’t be Alex Travers. He hadn’t been able to hold his wife’s interest, and he didn’t care to take that risk again.

Work and Toby—those would be his salvation. That and keeping his word to Ben Travers.

Alex loped Banner across the flat grassland toward the grazing herd then pulled him down to a trot. No sense in stirring up the mares and having them bolt. She heard the pounding hooves of Justin’s mount as he swung to circle the mares. Good—she’d rather not be near him at the moment, after what she’d seen on his face.

Pain, pure and simple. Had he been thinking about his wife? Earlier, she’d sensed that he’d begun to relax, and their conversation about her saddle had to be their longest yet. But then he’d closed up again and grown painfully silent.

What made her think this man was different from any others that drifted through their high-mountain town? Sure, he was more handsome than most, and the way he looked in his denim trousers and snug-fitting shirt….

Alex reined in her thoughts but couldn’t help glancing across the meadow to where Justin patrolled the mares. He barely talked, he had a small son, and he was still in love with his wife. With these drawbacks and possibly more, why did she constantly find her eyes drifting his way? Papa had always told her that character mattered most in a man, and what did she really know about Justin’s? Nothing other than his obvious love for Toby.

Her thoughts drifted to the men who’d shown a recent interest in her. Charlie, Walter, and Carter. Her nose wrinkled and she shook her head with a sigh. To be fair, Charlie and Walter were hard-working, dependable young men who’d make a couple of girls fine husbands—but neither of them ignited the smallest spark of attraction in her. Carter? She’d never thought of him in that regard. He’d been courteous—even charming—when he’d stopped by the ranch a few days earlier, but nothing about the man drew her.

It didn’t matter—she didn’t
need
to marry. Papa had seen to that. As long as the ranch was successful, her future was secure. Sure, many girls were married and expecting their second or third child by her age. But she’d never been like other girls. Maybe that’s why Elizabeth was her only close friend.

She sighed and shifted her weight in the saddle. A shout drifted across on the breeze and she jerked her head around. Justin wasn’t where she’d last seen him on the far side of the herd. She scanned the grassy terrain then let her gaze drift farther back to the edge of the meadow, where the foothills climbed up toward the peaks. A rider stood in his stirrups, waved his arm, and shouted again. Justin. What in the world?

Alex laid her spur to her horse’s flank. He jumped into a lope then moved into a driving canter. Justin swung down off his horse and headed for a clump of brush. Banner plunged into the clearing where Justin had stood. She sat back in the saddle and reined him in, stopping not far away. Something dark and bulky lay under the branches. A movement behind a nearby tree caught her attention, and she noticed a chestnut mare standing on three legs, her head hanging.

The dark form under the brush didn’t move, and Alex sucked in a sharp breath when she saw the still outline of a dark sorrel foal with wide-open, blank eyes.

“What happened? Is the mare hurt?” She swung down, ground-hitched her gelding, and strode over to the silent man standing over the foal.

His raised eyes met hers. “Looks like it could’ve been a cougar. The foal is hamstrung, and something’s been gnawing on his hindquarters. We may have spooked the cat not long after the attack.”

“A mountain lion? They don’t normally trouble the herd with so much game around. We keep the stock close to the ranch house and barn in the winter.” She knelt down to examine the foal. “I hate losing the babies.”

Justin nodded, stepped to his horse, and unhooked his rope from the back of his saddle. “If it’s an old or crippled cat that can’t run anymore, it’ll keep killing the foals.” He shook out a loop and walked quietly toward the mare. Her nostrils flared and her eyes widened as she backed away. It was obvious she didn’t want to leave her foal, but she’d been on the open range long enough to be leery.

“Whoa, girl…easy. It’s all right. Come on, Mama, we need to take a look at that leg.” He kept talking, keeping his voice low but creeping ever closer.

Justin shot the loop out and it settled over the mare’s head. He tightened the rope, dallied it around a nearby small tree, and walked the length toward the snorting, plunging mare. “Easy, girl, easy.”

He edged forward, his gaze intent on the mare. Nothing about his demeanor spoke of speed or urgency. Instead, a sense of calm purpose seemed to emanate from him. The mare stopped pulling against the rope and it loosened around her neck. One more time she snorted and lunged. At Justin’s continued quiet words, she finally settled and stood.

Justin reached for the rope dangling from her neck and made a quick loop over her ears and around her muzzle, creating a makeshift halter. Alex walked over and stopped a few feet away then eased up to the mare’s injured side. “She must’ve pulled something, from the look of the swelling in that fetlock joint.” She ran her hand down the horse’s leg to the swollen area. “It’s hot. Might take awhile to get her back to the ranch.” She looked up and found Justin’s eyes on her.

He moved his gaze to the injured leg. “I’ll take her in.”

Alex shook her head. “You bring the colt. There’s a canvas roll behind my saddle—pack him in that. If we leave him here, the cat will return. No sense in putting the rest of the herd in danger.”

Justin nodded and reached behind Alex’s saddle, unbundling the roll and heading for the downed colt. “Good idea. I’ll come back later and push these horses closer to the ranch. It might not hurt to have them away from this area.”

“Thanks. We need to find that lion, as well.” She stepped into her stirrup and swung astride, keeping a tight grip on the rope that haltered the mare.

Justin lifted the canvas-wrapped foal and placed it across his saddle then secured it with a rope running under his stallion’s belly. The big horse swung his head toward the object and snorted, but he didn’t shy or pull away. “Since we’ll be traveling slow, I’ll walk. I can keep a better eye out for the cat, in case it’s still around.”

Alex tugged at the rope attached to the injured mare and clucked. They walked the animals in silence for nearly a mile, all the while casting glances around the rugged terrain. The grassy area had ended sometime back and they traveled single file along the top of a ridge, with rocky outcroppings and trees dotting the landscape. A hawk circled above, casting his shadow briefly over the ground before soaring out of sight over the edge of the bluff.

An uneasy feeling tickled Alex’s nerves, and she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. She looked over her shoulder at Justin in time to see him pull his horse to a stop. “What?” She tugged on the reins and drew to a halt. He held up a hand and pointed.

She stared in the direction his finger indicated. Standing on top of a nearby rocky point about thirty feet away was a tawny cat. It was a big one, even for these parts. Its amber eyes stared with an almost hypnotic quality, and one of its ears twitched. A front leg hung at a strange angle. The lion must’ve been kicked by one of the horses while bringing down the foal. Somehow she didn’t think the injury was going to stop this big predator from attempting to finish its dinner.

The big cat’s tail ceased its twitching, its ears flattened, and its body seemed to coil and bunch together. Alex slowly dropped her hand to her rifle scabbard and drew out her gun, bringing it up against her shoulder. Her finger hovered over the trigger.

Boom!
A loud report sounded beside her, and the cat leaped into the air. His body crashed down to the bottom of the small abutment, not fifteen feet from her horse’s hooves. Her gelding snorted and jumped sideways. “Easy boy.” She tugged on Banner’s reins and quieted him then struggled to draw the prancing, spooked mare close alongside.

She glanced at Justin—how’d he get a shot off so quickly? She’d barely gotten the big cat in her sights when he’d fired. The cougar had been ready to spring—she’d seen it in the crouch of its body and the flattening of its ears—but Justin had beaten her and brought down the cat in one easy shot.