Linda Ford - Big Sky Cowboy

They rode closer, seemed to be aiming at the river. One spoke to the other. He couldn’t hear their words, but mocking laughter carried across the distance. They were fifty yards away when they reined up and stared at Cora and Wyatt. He realized they were in the shadows and the pair hadn’t noticed them until then.

The bigger of the men pushed his hat back, allowing Wyatt to see a swarthy man with a deep scowl. There was something about him that sent sharp prickles up Wyatt’s spine. He’d seen the same expression many times in prison, usually on the face of a bully. Someone who used intimidation to make people obey him.

He guessed Cora felt the same because she tensed even more. Her fists curled so tight her knuckles were white.

The man turned his horse and the pair rode away. Not until they were out of sight did Cora’s shoulders sag.

“You know those two?” he asked.

She sucked in air with such force he figured she hadn’t breathed for several minutes. She coughed as her lungs filled.

Wyatt patted her back gently, as if calming a frightened animal. “Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I’m fine. The big cowboy is Ebner. He works for the Caldwell Ranch.” Her lip curled. “I believe he is responsible for almost all of the harm we’ve suffered.”

He nodded. Just as he thought. He’d dealt with men of that sort before and ended up with an enemy or two. Not that it bothered him. He refused to back down from any bully.

“What kind of things?” he asked her.

“He’s cut our fences, chased the milk cows until he might have killed them. He’s turned Caldwell cows into our garden and let the pigs loose.” She waved her hands as she described the events. Her voice rang with the injustice of it.

He caught her hands and stilled them. Realizing the liberty he’d taken, he dropped his arms to his sides. But not before a longing as wide as the prairie swept into his heart, making him aware of how empty and barren his life was. He wanted so much more than the right to hold her and comfort her. He longed for a home and love. He hoped to gain the first for Lonnie’s sake as well as his own. Winning Lonnie’s trust would have to satisfy his desire for love. He’d never ask or expect a woman to share the shame of being associated with a jailbird.

“Why do these men bother you? Doesn’t their boss know?”

“Mr. Caldwell likely orders them to do it. From the time we settled here, he’s been trying to drive us off.”

“Why would he care about your farm?”

She shrugged, her eyes full of anger. “I’ve asked that question many times. He told Pa it breaks up the perimeter of his ranch and blocks access to the river.” She snorted. “As if a few acres of farm are any hindrance to his animals watering at the river. But sodbusters are not welcome.”

“Isn’t there a marshal in the area? Surely he can protect your rights.”

“The Caldwells manage to stay within the law. They claim they can’t help it if the cows don’t understand fences. Only once has the sheriff been convinced the wires were purposely cut, and of course no one confessed to it, so there wasn’t anything the sheriff could do.”

“Well, you’d think the man would realize how unimportant a few acres are.” Even as he said it, he guessed it wasn’t about the acres but about the man’s pride. A rich man, likely used to getting what he wanted, and for whatever reason, he wanted the Bell farm. Or to be rid of the settlers in his midst.

“It’s mostly that he’s a Caldwell and wants to own everything on this side of the river,” Cora commented.

She turned her gaze from the trail of dust kicked up by the cowboys’ retreating horses and looked at him. Her dark eyes flashed with anger. “Maybe they saw you and thought we’d hired a guard.”

His plans did not include being a bodyguard to anyone. Except wasn’t that what he’d been for Lonnie? And continued to be?

But neither would he stand by and watch a bunch of cowboys bully the Bells. Not just because they had been kind to him, though that was reason enough, but because he would never stand by while people were pushed around for no reason. People could be pushed too far. He’d seen that with Lonnie and vowed to never again stand by and not take action. It had been the reason he’d stood up to Jimmy Stone. While he was here waiting for Fanny to foal, he’d keep his eyes open to any sort of trouble.

Cora turned and stepped away from the river. “I need to get at my chores.”

He followed her. They reached the edge of the garden and she stopped.

“Is there anything you need?” she asked.

“No, thanks. I enjoyed the tour of your farm.”

She met his eyes and smiled, and he was struck by the friendliness of her look. Her brown eyes were bottomless, as if she had nothing to hide.

Of course she didn’t. She’d been open with him.

He jerked his gaze past her lest she see the vast ocean of secrets he hid, and must always hide, if he and Lonnie hoped to have any chance of starting over.

“I need to get back to Lonnie,” he mumbled, and trotted away. His mind whirled with so many things—the beauty of the well-developed little farm and the endless land and the look on the face of that Caldwell cowboy, but mostly Cora’s pride in who she was and her fear at the approach of those riders.

It wasn’t right that this idyllic home should be marred by bullying cowboys. Cora had been kind to him from the start and he wanted to do something to show his gratitude.

He passed the partially constructed barn. Did they have neighbors or friends who were going to help finish it?

Seeing the building gave him an idea. A way he could repay the Bell’s kindness and watch the Caldwell cowboys. He’d offer to work on the barn.

He’d talk to Mr. Bell about it as soon as he’d checked on Lonnie.

* * *

“Cora, our prayers have been answered,” Pa said to her later that morning.

She straightened from hilling the potato plants and tried to think which prayer he meant.

The one for good weather? Well, seemed they had that to be grateful for.

Enough rain and sunshine to promise a bountiful crop? Again, it seemed that prayer had been generously answered. Thank You, God.

Or did he mean the one about protecting them from the mischief of the Caldwell cowboys?

Or perhaps the one he and Ma made no attempt to hide—to provide good, Christian husbands for the three girls and to give them many grandchildren while they were young enough to enjoy them. She grinned as she thought of that prayer. Then her amusement fled. They’d actually thanked God when Evan had ridden off.

“He wasn’t the man for you,” Pa had said.

Ma had hugged Cora. “You’ll see it’s true, once you get over being hurt.”

Cora knew they were right. It was her pride that was hurt more than her heart.

“Which prayer is that, Pa?”

“The one asking for someone to help finish the barn.”

She jerked to full attention and glanced around. “Someone came in answer to my advertisement? Guess Mr. Frank was wrong.” She wondered who was prepared to ignore the Caldwells’ displeasure, but saw no one and returned her attention to Pa.

“In answer to our prayers, not your notice.”

“What do you mean?”

“He didn’t see the notice.”

Cora shook her head as if doing so would make her understand what Pa was talking about. “Who?”

“Wyatt, of course.”

“Wyatt?” She’d been thinking about it all morning—weighing the pros and cons, mentally listing what she knew about him against what she didn’t know—and she still wasn’t ready to take a chance on him, lest he be hiding something that would bring danger into their lives. “But, Pa, what do we know about him?”