The Bad Penny, page 6
"Would you mind doing some stable duty?" Ethan didn't seem comfortable with his request as they stopped in the large barn where the horses that weren't winter- pastured on the range were kept.
Maggie's lips quirked a bit. Be careful what you wish for, she thought, recalling that she'd told herself she wouldn't mind mucking out Ethan's stables three times a day as long as she could be doing ranch work.
"Wouldn't mind at all," she answered as she unzipped the parka to prepare for indoor work.
Once Ethan showed her where everything was and left the barn, Maggie set to work with wheelbarrow and pitchfork. One by one, she led each horse from its stall and tied it in the aisle to clean its hooves and give it a quick grooming. Pleased to find she wasn't too far out of practice, she fell into a steady rhythm of checking each horse, mucking out its stall and spreading fresh straw before she led the animal back in and gave it a measure of grain.
She made several brief trips out to one side of the barn to empty the contents of the wheelbarrow before she rushed back inside. The weather, as they'd heard on the radio at breakfast, wouldn't be letting up much within the next few hours.
Maggie felt herself relax as she worked. The storm, though a hardship for men and livestock alike, had assured her a place to stay, if only for a short time. It eased the pressure of where to go next.
Ethan had been his surly self at breakfast, but Maggie knew she wasn't the main cause of his bad mood. He was a rancher who stood to lose livestock to the storm. Not only could lie lose a large part of his calf crop, but the storm severely hampered his efforts to get hay to the feed grounds. It was a situation Maggie had faced herself, and she knew well the stress of waiting.
She'd finished with the stalls and had the wheelbarrow emptied and stored when the door opened and Harv Bennett leaned in.
"Boss says to pitch some fresh straw into that big corner stall and get some feed in the trough. We'll be movin' one of the stallions soon as we can get hold of him." The old ranch hand started to back out when he hesitated. "By the way, the black devil we're movin' up here is short on manners and long on bad temper. You keep a lookout for yourself." Harv ducked out then, and the door banged shut.
Maggie quickly spread fresh straw in the stall and measured out the grain. When she was done, she hurried to the door and opened it a crack. Harv and Ethan came into view leading the stallion between them.
Only the stallion wasn't leading well. In spite of the two stout ropes cinched snugly around his neck, the big horse reared and threw himself wildly to the side. The instant Harv and Ethan got Mm under control, he lunged: forward until the ropes tightened painfully and he tried to whirl back on his handlers.
Maggie stepped out and braced the door. The gusts of wind were so fierce she had to squint her eyes against the ice crystals that whitened the air and made it difficult to see. Meanwhile, the stallion continued to fight Ethan and Harv's every effort to lead him to shelter.
When the animal finally gave in, the snowy air cleared and Maggie got a closer look at him. Recognition thundered through her as the horse crossed the threshold of the barn, a cloud of snow blowing in after him.
"Rounder." The sound of the big horse's name was lost in the roar of the storm. Shock jolted through her, and she let the force of the wind push both her and the door along until it closed. Her hands shook as she secured the latch, unable to take her eyes from the stallion who had renewed his fight against the ropes.
This was her stallion, she realized dazedly. She'd helped bring him into this world, had raised and trained him herself. She'd had so many plans for him, then seen them all come to nothing when she'd been forced to sell everything. To find him so unexpectedly rocked her.
"You damned fire breather," Harv grouched as the animal resisted being led into the stall. Ethan said nothing, but his face was flinty with determination.
The fact that Rounder was unmanageable filtered through Maggie's shock. He was enraged and in such a state of wildness that she suddenly had difficulty believing he was the intelligent, well-behaved animal she'd known and raised.
It crossed her mind to offer to take over, but Rounder was so out of hand now she doubted he would calm down, even for her, even if he recognized her—
Her heart thudded painfully. Something had happened to make him behave like this, she reasoned. The moment she eased away from the door and walked closer, she saw stark evidence of what it had been.
To her horror, Rounder's black hide bore the unmistakable marks of a beating. Though faded by time and masked by his thick winter coat, several long scars, striped his sides, from his shoulders to his powerful hindquarters. When he finally calmed enough to notice her approach, lie swung his proud head in her direction and she saw two vicious scars just above his soft muzzle. Though the scars appeared to have healed well so as cot to be prominent, they were as plain to h.er experienced eye as if they were still fresh.
A rage she'd never felt before exploded inside her. If Ethan Kincaid or some man in his employ was responsible for this, she'd take a whip to him herself.
Maggie took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Neither Ethan or Harv were doing anything out of line with the stallion at the moment, judging from the firm yet persistent way they were dealing with hint. Truth to tell, the stallion's utter refusal to cooperate would have stretched even her patience to the limit. But other than an occasional curse or verbal rebuke, neither man gave any sign that they would use anything but firm pressure on the ropes to persuade the stallion to submit.
Maggie stepped closer, and Rounder again turned his head in her direction. He abruptly went still, standing almost statuelike except for the tremors of excitement that flared his nostrils and brought his ears rigidly forward. He let out a questioning nicker, then snorted and reared a few inches off the ground as if to test the tauteess of the ropes. He dropped down and pranced fretfully, but made no move toward her and gave no further sign of recognition.
Ethan gave a prompting tug on the rope and spoke quietly to the horse, who miraculously allowed himself to be finally led into the stall.
A bit of Maggie's tension subsided as Rounder stepped inside and Ethan got the ropes off him before he secured the stall door. The stallion immediately set up a ruckus to signal his displeasure at being confined, his hooves sounding sharply against the wooden stall side.
"I don't reckon that knothead is ever gonna let anyone handle him without a fight," Harv remarked as he recoiled his rope and watched the stallion paw irritably at the hard-packed dirt beneath the straw. " 'Spect the best we can hope for are some handsome colts and the chance he won't pass on his charmin' disposition."
Maggie bristled, unable to keep the angry tremor from her voice. "His colts will be some of the finest horseflesh in the state. And you know as well as I do that kind of disposition only gets passed on with a whip."
Ethan glanced her way, his dark eyes sweeping briefly over her before they connected with the blue fire in her eyes. Maggie's chin lifted.
"After seeing how well taken care of your other horses are," she said, "I wouldn't figure you'd let any animal you owned be abused like that one." She paused, unable to get a firm enough grip on her emotions to keep from adding, "Unless it was you with the heavy whip hand."
The accusation hung like lead between them. Ethan's features hardened, and his dark eyes took on a dangerous intensity. "Any man working for me who'd do that to a horse would get the same from me, double."
As if Harv wasn't certain Ethan's reply would defuse the angry tension between Maggie and his boss, he stepped in. "Boss and I went over to a sale last fall and found this one. He was awful torn up and mean as blazes, but Ethan liked his bloodline and decided to take a chance on him."
Some of Maggie's rage subsided at Harv's words. Emotion rose in her throat as she glanced toward the big horse who'd calmed, but was still edgy. She could feel the angry intensity of Ethan's gaze and realized she could let no more of her feelings for the stallion show.
Ethan would be furious if he found out her connection to the horse. His suspicions about her were already strong because of her conviction. If he didn't remember offhand that Rounder's original owner was listed on his papers as M. A. Deaton and figure out that she was M. A. Deaton, she wasn't going to offer the information. Her prior ownership, coupled with his belief about her, might prompt him to forbid her access to the barn—and to the stallion.
And if there was one thing she wanted before she had to leave the Kincaid Ranch, it was access to the stallion.
"That enough for you?" Ethan's gaze burned into hers. It couldn't have been plainer that he didn't figure her past entitled her to question him on anything, much less receive an explanation.
Bright flags of anger rose in her cheeks. "It's enough," she answered stiffly.
"Then if you're finished here, you might as well head up to the house."
There were at least two hours before Alva served lunch. Maggie could tell by the irritable flex of Ethan's jaw that he'd suddenly realized sending her to the house this early would put her in close contact with his daughter. Her lips took on a bitter slant.
Keeping the knowing gleam in her eyes locked tightly with the annoyance in his, she stayed where she was and waited for him to think of some chore that would delay her return to the house. She didn't feel charitable enough to let him off the hook easily, and she was certain he recognized that.
As was swiftly becoming a habit with him, Harv dove into the taut crosscurrent between them. "I could use some help fixin' the stall that got kicked down in the stud barn."
Ethan glared at Maggie a moment more, then turned away to recoil his rope. "That'd be up to Maggie," he said tersely, his swift, deliberate movements as he worked with the rope communicating his sour temper.
Maggie smiled at Harv. "Sounds like as good a way as any to pass the time." Besides, Harv was the talkative kind. Not only did she want to learn about a job someplace, but maybe she could do some probing and find out a few things about Rounder.
She knew without looking the moment Ethan turned his head and looked her way, as if he had second thoughts about letting her spend time with Harv. But that was too bad, she decided. She would cooperate with being kept from his daughter, but if he expected her to isolate herself from everyone else on the ranch, she'd challenge him at every turn.
Harv seemed pleased. "Good. We'll stop over at the supply shed and pick up what we need. I 'spect we'll get the worst of it done by noon."
Harv headed for the door as if eager to get the job started. Maggie hesitated, glancing toward the stallion, who now stood quietly, his large dark eyes fastened on her, his nostrils flaring as if trying to catch her scent. Caution kept her from lingering long enough for the stallion to give anything away, so she hurried along after Harv, bracing herself against the shock of bitterly cold air as she followed him out.
CHAPTER FIVE
Maggie stepped off the porch and closed the back door gently. With Alva preparing Jamie for bed and Ethan nowhere in sight, she'd decided to slip out of the house. It was after eight, and the harsh wind continued to build huge drifts against anything in its path. She pulled her hat brim lower and adjusted her scarf to more fully protect her face, then trudged down the path from the house to the barn. The weather forecast had predicted no new snow, saying the wind would die down by noon the next day. Her time at the Kincaid Ranch was coming to an end, and Maggie was aware this might be her only opportunity to see Rounder alone.
She and Harv had repaired the damage done to Rounder's stall in the stud barn, including the broken gate in the partition that kept him apart from High Card, the ranch's other stallion.
According to Harv, Rounder had broken out of his stall, damaged the gate, then entered the older stallion's quarters on the other side of the barn, where the two horses began to fight. High Card could have stayed safely out of reach in his huge stall, but the younger animal's challenge had drawn him within range of Rounder's sharp teeth. Maggie and Harv had tended the two bite marks on High Card's neck, but neither wound was serious. By the time they'd finished repairing the barn, the older stallion had calmed and was dozing in his stall.
She'd gotten no leads on any jobs from Harv, but then, she'd had to maintain the lie she'd told about wanting to get a job farther south. To ask Harv outright would have given her away.
She did learn something about Rounder, however. Though she was aware the old cowhand seemed to have undertaken a mission of sorts to put Ethan in a favorable light, what he'd told her about the stallion and the difficulty he'd caused Ethan had been enough to soften her.
In the six months since he'd bought the horse, Ethan had suffered several injuries, from a vicious bite that had required thirty stitches to a mild concussion when Rounder had slammed him into the side of a corral. Harv's account of Ethan's attempt to ride the stallion for the first time had been little more than a depiction of outright warfare.
The stallion had come to tolerate Ethan's handling him and even riding him, but the animal remained dangerously volatile and unpredictable. Harv's opinion that Rounder be used solely for stud was one that Ethan, despite his determination to win the horse over, was beginning to share.
Maggie had felt so downhearted about Rounder's diminished potential she'd almost missed the remark Harv made later about the rustlers who had been plaguing Kincaid stock in the past year. It took little more than a casual question to set Harv off on a new topic. She'd pretended faint interest as Harv recounted the thefts, but the thread of intuition that had quivered to life when he began blossomed into suspicion long before he'd finished.
The first thefts had targeted stock on smaller ranches. Only a few head had been stolen and careful fence repairs had delayed discovery. The small numbers suggested a small-time operation. Then the larger, well- organized thefts began. From what Harv said, everyone believed there were two sets of rustlers with two different methods of operation.
The thefts back home had gone the same way, but only one set of rustlers had been at work—Bret's.
Could her stepbrother be behind these thefts? Bret had vanished the night of her arrest, but what if, after she'd been sent to prison, he'd relocated to this part of Wyoming to take up where he'd left off? She'd not been able to calm the excited racing of her heart until she reminded herself that it didn't matter if she'd been lucky enough to end up in an area where Bret was. Ethan had refused to hire her, pointed out that no one else around here would, and she'd likely be leaving early the next morning. In the end, she'd talked herself out of the idea that Bret might be close by.
Maggie reached the door of the stable where Rounder had been housed for the night, her heart heavy as she entered the barn. There was no reason to think the stallion would behave any better with her than he now did with anyone else. Perhaps the abuse he'd suffered had been too severe.
Only a few lights lit the long stable aisle. One of the ranch dogs who'd bedded down on a hay bale near the door opened his eyes to watch her, but offered no response to her presence other than the thump of his tail. She pulled the big door closed and started down the stable aisle.
One or two of the horses whickered softly to her as she passed, and she put out a hand to stroke a soft muzzle here and there. She heard Rounder let out a long, low whinny that ended with an irritable squeal when she stepped into his view.
The stallion bolted away from the aisle side of the stall, snorting when he came up short, then whirling back to bare his teeth menacingly at her. He charged the stall door, stopping the instant before he would have struck it. He pawed viciously at the straw, bad temper in every line of his powerful body.
Maggie stood unmoving for several moments to let the stallion adjust to her presence. Then she slowly removed her hat and unwound the scarf from her neck.
Rounder watched warily as she took off her parka and the denim jacket beneath it. There was no sign of recognition in his dark eyes and Maggie's hopes plummeted. She started to speak, but the emotion that knotted her throat choked off her voice.
Acting on impulse, she turned the soft lining of the jacket toward the stallion, pressing it against the wired-in top half of the stall door. Rounder jerked his head as if she'd struck him, but he didn't retreat.
"Remember me?" She found her voice and spoke in little more than a whisper. "Come on, big fella," she coaxed. "Two years isn't all that long."
More out of aggression than curiosity, the stallion thrust his long nose toward the jacket. A moment later, he yanked his nose back, then thrust it forward again, as if the whiff of scent meant something.
Maggie continued to hold the jacket against the diamond pattern of the wire, waiting patiently as the stallion inspected it. The big horse seemed to calm a bit, and she slowly lowered the jacket so that only the heavy stall door with its top half of wire separated them. The stallion didn't shy away, but stood alertly watching her.
"Sounds like you've had a hard time of it, boy." The stallion's ears swiveled forward as if to catch the sound of her voice. Encouraged, she unlatched the top half of the door. The stallion watched her every move, his statuelike stillness giving no indication of what his reaction might be once the wire was no longer between them.
Maggie cautiously put out her hand, speaking in gentle tones to the big horse, who extended his long nose toward her. Though she didn't move, he suddenly jerked his head back as if she'd slapped him. It wasn't hard to imagine that Rounder's abuser had struck him about the head frequently enough for him to expect that from everyone. The thought sickened her.
"Hey, Rounder," she chided him in a voice thick with tears, "you know me better than that."
The stallion let out a low whuffling sound, then stepped forward, putting his head over the top of the door to nip at the hem of her sweater. Maggie turned to keep his teeth from catching more than a bit of sweater and rubbed a gentle hand over his velvety muzzle.
