Joan Johnston - Honey and the Hired Hand

"For your sake, I hope you're right," Jesse said. But he wouldn't mind if Adam Philips ended up being a villain in Honey's eyes. Maybe then she would start to see Jesse in a more positive light.

That woman was the most stubborn, bull-headed, downright maddening creature Jesse had ever known. How he had fallen so deeply in love with her was a mystery to him, but the fact was, he had. Now the fool woman was refusing to marry him unless he left the Rangers. Damn her willful hide!

He couldn't possibly give up an honor he had striven so hard to achieve. Why, the Rangers were an elite group of men. Independent. Fearless. Ruthless when necessary. He was proud to be part of such an historic organization. It was unfair of Honey to ask him to make such a sacrifice.

Yet he could see her side of the issue. Over the weeks he had worked on the Flying Diamond, he had gotten a glimmer of how little time Cale Farrell had devoted to the place. It wasn't just the roof that needed repair, or a few rotten corral posts that had to be replaced. The whole ranch showed signs of serious neglect.

It was apparent that because of Cale's commitment to the Rangers, the brunt of the ranch work must have fallen on Honey's shoulders. Not that they weren't lovely shoulders, but they weren't strong enough to support the entire weight of an outfit the size of the Flying Diamond.

Jesse had seen dozens of opportunities where better management-and plain hard work-would have unproved the yield of the ranch. The Flying Diamond had land that could be put to use growing feed. Expanded, Honey's vegetable garden could easily provide for the needs of the ranch. And it wouldn't be a bad idea to invest in some mohair goats. The money from the mohair harvest could be applied to supporting the cattle end of the ranch.

If he stayed on as a Ranger, Jesse wouldn't have much time to invest in the ranch. He could expect to be called away on assignments often. Honey would be left to take care of things. As she must have been left for most of her married life, Jesse suddenly realized.

He had never heard Honey complain once about the burden she had carried all these years. And he was only thinking in terms of the ranch. Honey had probably borne most of the responsibility as a parent as well. She had done a good job. Jack and Jonathan were fine boys that any man would be proud to call sons.

Jesse felt a tightness in his chest when he remembered the look he and Jack had shared at the end of the day they had spent working together. Jesse had never known a stronger feeling of satisfaction. He had truly felt close to the boy. It was hard to imagine walking away from Jack and Jonathan. It was impossible to imagine walking away from Honey.

All his life Jesse had somehow managed to have his cake and eat it, too. Honey was asking him to make a choice. He just didn't know what it was going to be.

Jesse saw the track lights in the distance and checked the revolver he had stuck in the back of his jeans. It wasn't particularly easy to get to, but then, he was hoping the show of force by the police would reduce the chance of gunplay. He stood by the corral waiting as the tractor-trailer truck pulled up. The engine remained running. It was Mort Barnes who stepped into the glare of the truck headlights.

Jesse stiffened. He saw his efforts to finally uncover the man in charge going up in smoke. "Where's your boss?" he demanded.

Mort grinned, though it looked more like a sneer. "I'm the boss."

"I don't believe you," Jesse said flatly.

Mort revealed the automatic weapon in his hand and said, "I'll take that bull."

Jesse didn't hesitate. He threw himself out of the light at the same instant Mort fired. Instead of running for cover, Jesse leapt toward the rustler. Blinded by the headlights, Mort didn't see Jesse until he had been knocked down and his gun kicked out of his hand, disappearing somewhere in the underbrush.

Moments later, Jesse straddled Mort on the ground, with a viselike grip on the rustler's throat and his gun aimed at the rustler's head. "I told you I'm only going to deal with your boss."

"Why you-" Mort rasped.

"You can release Mort," a voice said from the shadows on the other side of the truck, "and drop the gun. I'm here."

Jesse didn't recognize the man who stepped into view, his automatic weapon aimed at the center of Jesse's back. But it wasn't Adam Philips. Jesse dropped his gun. Then he released Mort and stood to face the newest threat. "Are you the boss of this outfit?"

"I am," the man said. "I can't say it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Whitelaw. Actually, you've thrown a bit of a corkscrew into my plans. If you'll just step over to that shed, we can finish our business."

"You brought the money?" Jesse asked.

"Oh, no. All deals are off. I'm simply offering you a chance to get out of this alive. Are you going to walk over there peacefully, or not? I've already killed once. I assure you I won't hesitate to do so again."

Jesse was pretty sure the Boss intended to kill him anyway, but he was counting on Dallas to make sure he got out of this alive. Meanwhile, he had best keep his wits about him. He took his time sliding away the board that held the shed door closed, giving Dallas plenty of time to get everybody into position. Once Jesse was inside the shed and, he hoped, before the Boss man shot him, Dallas would move and it would all be over.

The instant Jesse released the door, a blur of movement shot past him. The escaping body was caught by Mort. Jesse's blood froze when he saw the gangly teenager the rustler was wrestling into submission.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jesse rasped.

"Waiting for you!" Jack retorted. "You won't get away with this, you know. I'll tell them everything. They'll catch you, and you'll go to jail forever."

"Dammit, Jack, I-"

"Hey!" Jack was eyeing the man holding the gun on Jesse. "I know you! You're the foreman of the Lazy S. What're you doing here, Mr. Loomis?"

"Dammit, Jack," Jesse muttered. Now the fat was in the fire.

"You got any more surprises hidden around here?" Loomis asked Jesse.

"Look, the kid being here is as much a surprise to me as it is to you," Jesse said.

Jesse closely watched the man Jack had identified as Mr. Loomis and saw his mouth tighten, his eyes narrow. By identifying the Boss and making threats of going to the law, Jack had signed his own death warrant. Jesse forced himself not to glance out into the darkness. Adam's foreman was suspicious enough already. Dallas would realize that the boy's presence complicated things and make new plans accordingly.

"Both of you get into the shed," Loomis said, gesturing with the gun.

Jack spied the gun for the first time, and his eyes slid to Jesse's, wide with fright.

"It's all right," Jesse said in a voice intended to calm the youth. "They're just going to lock us up in the shed."

Jesse's last doubts that Loomis intended killing them both ended when Mort chuckled maliciously and said, "Yeah, you two just mosey on inside."

Jack struggled against Mort's hold, and the outlaw slapped him hard. "Quit your belly-achin' and get movin'."

Jesse had decided to use the distraction Jack was creating to make a lunge for Loomis's gun, when a pair of headlights appeared on the horizon.

"I knew it was a trap!" the outlaw snarled. Loomis swung the gun around to aim it at Jack and fired just as Jesse grabbed at his hand, pulling it down.

Jesse grunted as the bullet plowed into his thigh, but he never let go of his hold on Loomis's wrist. He swung a fist at the foreman's face and heard a satisfying crunch as it connected with the man's hooked nose. Loomis managed to fire once more before Jesse wrenched the gun away, but the bullet drove harmlessly into the ground.

Moments later, the area was swarming with local police and Texas Rangers. It soon became apparent to Jack from the way Dallas Masterson greeted Jesse, that the drifter wasn't going to be arrested by the Texas Rangers because he was one!