paused, listening for a moment to the distant sounds of men and horses on a typical ranch workday. Richard had always said they were the sounds of heaven to him. The thought made her smile, and she continued.
“The violence started…oh, more than two years ago. At first it seemed like just something more for Richard to worry about. There wasn’t enough law here, with too many strange, angry men moving through the countryside. Sheriff Gardner was new and untrained, and the violence became considerable. Eventually it seemed like rustlers were targeting the Double F.”
“The same rustlers who murdered him?”
Amber closed her eyes, but then immediately reopened them. The question allowed no escape, and the darkness made it all too easy for Richard’s image to return in full color and detail. Not the warm, laughing man she had come to love, but as she’d last seen him, cold and still, with a bullet in his chest.
She glanced aside, through the window, and saw Gideon stride purposefully across the yard to the corral. “I assume so,” she said in a sketchy voice no more than a whisper. “No one ever saw them, before or after. I believe Richard had his suspicions before the shooting, but he refused to share them with me. For my own protection, he said. And since he’s been gone, the rustling has stopped.”
“Stopped?” Derek straightened and stared at her, his interest obviously piqued.
“At first I thought it was because Richard was dead. That it may have been a personal grudge, though I can’t imagine it. He had no enemies that I knew of.”
She paused, probing Derek’s expression. Had something flickered in his gaze? Had his mouth tightened? He stared back, his expression as flat and distant as she had come to expect from him, and she decided she must have been mistaken.
“During the first few months I was here, several others were wounded mysteriously. No culprit was ever found, and they left before Richard died. More left after his murder, until we had only the men who are here now. I’ve thought about it and decided perhaps the rustlers simply didn’t need to continue. Without a leader and enough men to work the ranch—”
“There was no need to steal the cattle. They could just round them up after they wandered off,” Derek finished for her.
“Yes. Men on smaller ranches simply turned their cattle loose when they left to fight.”
He leaned back, tilting the chair to stand on its rear legs, and nodded thoughtfully. “It’s quite ingenious, really. You’ve heard nothing more since Richard died?”
“No. I don’t go into Twigg and only the Andrews brothers visit, so I remain relatively isolated. Men don’t often tell women things of that nature, and though my father was an exception, that hasn’t been the case here.”
Derek leaned forward, resting his powerful forearms on the table. “Who was in charge until I arrived?”
“No one, really.” She paused as sudden activity in the yard caught her attention through the window. A man and horse approached, and Gideon strode out to meet them, Whitley close on his heels. Amber smiled to herself, wondering if admiration or jealousy struck Whitley more. Since Gideon’s arrival, the young cowboy had rarely let the man out of his sight.
Regretfully, she turned her attention back to Derek. “Six has been here the longest and knows the most about ranching, but he’s not a leader and he knows it. Micah does what he can, but he had no one when I left Twigg, so he came with me. He doesn’t have the experience and he’s not up to the challenge physically. Whitley would like to take control, but he’s young and inexperienced, and no one listens to him. Frank Edwards issued instructions from town, but he never came himself. He sent them with Whitley so, again, no one would listen. Juan and Carlos are hard workers and will do what is asked of them, except…”
“Except what?”
“Well, they disapprove of taking orders from a woman.”
Derek’s eyes narrowed. “You were willing to take on the responsibility if the men had cooperated?”
“Please don’t misunderstand.” She almost reached for him, intending to make her point with a light touch to his arm as she would have done with Richard, but she stopped herself after merely unclasping her hands. She flexed her fingers, then laid them flat on the tabletop. “I don’t want to get anyone into trouble. We all did our best, in our own ways, to keep the Double F going until you arrived. I just thought if the men would have listened—”
“Boss? You in here?” Whitley barreled into the cookhouse, scouring the room with wide, sullen eyes. The youngest vaquero at the ranch, he retained the thin wiriness common to boys who had not yet reached their full maturity. Amber had rarely seen him with anything but a brooding expression on his face.
Derek turned, and she heard him sigh. “What?”
“Gideon said to fetch ya.” Whitley’s voice carried an unmistakable edge, sharp enough to approach the point of disrespect. “There’s a man here lookin’ fer work.”
Derek blinked. “Good.” He spoke as though he didn’t notice the insolence, but Amber knew better. Derek missed nothing. “I’ll be right out.”
“I dunno, boss. We need men, but…”
“But what?”
Amber glanced out through the window once more, but she could see only Gideon’s back and the well-ridden gelding that stood next to him. Curious, she looked from Derek to Whitley.
“Well, I dunno what he can do. He ain’t all there.”
“What?” Derek stood as he uttered the question, and his chair skittered back behind him. The word came out low and fierce.
“It’s his arm.” Whitley gave a dismissive wave. “He’s only got one.”
She looked at Derek, but nothing about him indicated his least emotion as he strode past Whitley. His beard and mustache did a fine job of concealing his expression. She caught a glimpse of things in his eyes now and then—things she never quite understood—but it wasn’t enough to reveal anything about the man beneath the fallen-angel features.
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