William Johnstone - Thunder of Eagles

Jessie had to admit that Sam was a good-looking man. But Matt Bodine was better-looking, she thought.

She and Sandy had met Matt and Sam at the train station in Marfa when the young women were returning to Sweet Apple from school. There’d been some trouble there, and two hard cases who had been bothering Jessie and Sandy had made the mistake of drawing on the blood brothers when Matt and Sam intervened on their behalf. Those fools had wound up lying dead on the platform.

It might have turned out like that anyway, since both of the girls had been packing iron and knew how to shoot. That fancy Eastern school had taught them quite a bit, true enough, but it hadn’t changed them, made them something they weren’t. They were still West Texas gals through and through.

They had enjoyed talking to Matt and Sam on the train after that, although Jessie figured that Mr. Matt Bodine was pretty full of himself. Sam was quieter and more modest.

But Sam didn’t have the same sort of reckless, devil-may-care attitude about him that Matt did, and whether she wanted to or not, Jessie had to admit that she found that attitude mighty appealing in a man…

Not that she was any sort of expert on men or anything like that, she reminded herself as she felt a warm flush creeping over her face. It was best not to think too much about how handsome Matt Bodine was.

The drumming of hoofbeats made her look up. She spotted Sandy on the other side of the creek, riding toward her.

And something was wrong, too, Jessie realized as Sandy came closer. Her friend had a worried look on her face.

Sandy rode across the creek, the hooves of her horse splashing the shallow water. She brought the animal to a halt. Like Jessie, she wore men’s clothes and a broad-brimmed Stetson. Her blond hair was pulled into a thick braid that hung down her back.

“What’s wrong, Sandy?” Jessie asked.

“Pa fired Jeff Riley this morning.”

Jessie’s mouth tightened. “Good riddance, I’d say. I know he was a good bronc-buster, but I never liked him. I saw the way he looked at you sometimes in town, when you didn’t know he was watching you.”

Sandy made a dismissive gesture. “I knew it. I just didn’t let it bother me all that much. Hell, girl, men have been looking at both of us like that for quite a while now.”

Jessie couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, I know. Sometimes I don’t mind…depending on who’s doin’ the lookin’.”

That brought a laugh from Sandy, relieving her grim demeanor for a few seconds. It came back quickly, though, as she said, “I don’t trust Riley. He’s liable to try to get even with Pa.”

“Why’d your father fire him? Because of that ruckus in town last night?”

Sandy nodded. “That’s right. Everybody had strict orders not to cause any trouble, no matter what.”

“The same was true for the Double C riders,” Jessie said. “My pa gave Tom Danks a good, old-fashioned chewing out this morning, since it was Tom that Riley almost drew on…but he didn’t fire him.”

“Riley cussed my father,” Sandy went on. “I thought for a second Pa was going to have him horse-whipped and then thrown off the ranch. But Riley left on his own.”

“I reckon he was pretty mad, all right. He got knocked out by Matt Bodine last night and then lost his job this morning.”

“He’d better be glad he didn’t try to draw on Matt or Sam,” Sandy said. “If he had, he’d be dead now.”

Jessie gave a solemn nod. She and Sandy had seen a first-hand demonstration of how well Matt Bodine and Sam Two Wolves handled their guns, right after they’d first met the two handsome, charming drifters.

They had figured Matt and Sam for no-account gunslingers at first, but Shad Colton and Esau Paxton both had heard of the vast ranches that the blood brothers owned in Montana and had set their daughters straight. Matt and Sam might look and act like saddle tramps at times, but that was hardly what they were.

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about Riley,” Jessie said, “and anyway, your pa can take care of himself. Besides, there’s something else that’s bothering me.”

“What’s that?”

“How come that blasted Matt Bodine and Sam Two Wolves didn’t ask us to dance last night? What’s wrong with them?”

Sandy laughed. “Some girls would be asking what was wrong with themselves if a couple of boys they liked didn’t ask them to dance.”

Jessie gave a defiant toss of her head. “There’s nothing wrong with us, and you know it.”

“I reckon they must’ve thought they shouldn’t be dancing, since they were there to help the marshal.”

“Marshal Standish danced with that little schoolmarm. I saw him.”

“Yeah, but Matt and Sam didn’t dance with anybody,” Sandy pointed out. “At least, not that I saw.”

“Well, Matt Bodine just missed his chance, that’s all I’ve got to say.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sandy said with a smile. “If he asks you next time there’s a social, you’ll fall all over yourself saying yes, Jessie.”

“I will not! Why, Matt Bodine can go climb a stump as far as I care—”

The swift rataplan of more hoofbeats silenced her, and made both young women turn in their saddles to look in the direction of the sound, which was back toward the headquarters of the Double C. Half-a-dozen riders were coming toward them, trailed by a wagon carrying posts, rolls of wire, and several more cowboys.

“Oh, Lord,” Jessie breathed as she recognized the big figure leading the party. “What’s Pa up to now?”

Shadrach Colton was the source of the red hair that Jessie and her younger brothers and sisters had inherited, although Colton’s still-thick and shaggy mane was shot through with gray. He had the burly build and rugged face of a man who had worked outdoors and worked hard most of his life. As he and the other riders came up to the creek, he reined in and looked at his daughter and Sandy with hard, pale blue eyes.

“Miss Paxton,” he said as he gave Sandy a polite nod.

“Hello, Uncle Shad,” she replied. Even though Colton wasn’t really her uncle, as a child she had referred to him that way, just as Jessie had called Sandy’s father Uncle Esau.

“You’d better ride on back home now,” Colton told her.

“Sandy doesn’t have to go if she doesn’t want to!” Jessie flared.

“It’s all right,” Sandy said. “I’m on Double C range on this side of the creek, after all.”

With gruff courtesy, Colton said, “It ain’t that, Sandy. You’re welcome over here any time. You know that. So’s your ma.”

“What about Royce and Dave?” Sandy asked, referring to her twin brothers who were two years younger than her.

Colton’s mouth tightened. “They stand with your pa, I reckon. Couldn’t be any other way, with Esau raisin’ ’em.”

“What are you going to do?” Jessie demanded. “What are all those posts and wire for?”

“Don’t you worry about that,” her father said. “Get on back home now.”

“Not until you tell me what this is all about,” Jessie shot back. Her jaw was tight, too, and her green eyes blazed with defiance. She was her father’s daughter, no doubt about that. She jerked a hand toward the wagon and went on. “You always said you’d never have any truck with that…that devil wire, you called it. This is open-range country. Always has been and always will be.”

Colton sat stiffly in his saddle for a moment, then spat and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth as if he were trying to get rid of a bad taste. “I wish it was still that way,” he said, “but the time’s come to put up a fence.”

“Where? The creek’s always been the boundary line between the two ranches.”