Page 33 of Waiting for the Rancher
With the admission hanging in the air between them, Maverick swallowed hard, pushing down a sudden swell of trepidation. There was no more hiding his feelings about Hazel from anyone, least of all himself.
Tanner’s lean features were browned and roughened from all his time out in the wilderness. Even so, he had a tenderness that softened the lines from time to time, and now was one of those times. “If you see it, then it’s time you do something about it.”
“It’s complicated.”
“How complicated is it to tell a woman you love her?”
“Sterling told me to stay away from her.”
Tanner didn’t respond for a moment, his expression uncharacteristically solemn, giving him a gentlemanly quality. At such times, Maverick imagined that Tanner’s and Ryder’s real parents had been fine folks. Course, nobody knew because the two had been abandoned as little boys and raised in an orphanage for many years.
“I know you count Sterling as your closest friend,” Tanner said, clearly choosing his words carefully, having heard from Clementine and Clarabelle a repeat of the wedding day during supper last night. “But a real friend wouldn’t make you pick between him and the woman you love.”
Under other circumstances Maverick would have agreed with Tanner. But after the ruined wedding and his role in it, he couldn’t shed the guilt or the feeling that he owed it to Sterling to make up for the heartache he’d caused.
At a sudden loud and frantic banging on the front door, Maverick’s long steps took him quickly through the kitchen and into the front room. He made it to the door before Clarabelle could reach it.
Gone was the carefree expression of youth. Now her pretty face was wreathed with worry. With the loss of Pa and now Ma’s sickness, his sisters were having to grow up too soon. And all he’d ended up doing was making matters worse.
As he swung open the door, he took a step back at the sight of Hazel standing on the raised front porch in her usual Stetson, coat, and corduroy skirt, her eyes wide and troubled.
His heart began to thud hard. Something had happened to her. “You all right?”
“I’m fine. It’s Candy. I can’t find her anywhere since I arrived.”
Maverick’s heart slowed its pace, and relief eased through him. Nothing was wrong with Hazel. And that was really all that mattered.
“She probably got nervous about the foaling.” Hazel’s forehead was furrowed as she scanned the property to the west.
“Bet she found a hidden nook somewhere around the ranch.”
“I searched every place I could think of, and I didn’t see her.”
Maverick gave Hazel what he hoped was a reassuring nod. “I’ll be right out, and we’ll find her.”
With Tanner’s help, they searched each barn and outbuilding. But with no sign of the mare anywhere, they spread out and widened the scope of their hunt. Maverick and Hazel skirted the pines that bordered the house while Tanner headed the opposite direction.
They scoured the woodland but saw no hint of her. As they headed back into the ranch yard, Tanner’s whistle and wave from the far end of the west pasture beckoned them. Hazel started jogging toward him, and Maverick followed.
As they reached Tanner, Maverick could see the gap in the barbed wire and guessed Candy had escaped through the opening.
“The barbed wire was cut.” Tanner was kneeling just outside the west gate and was brushing aside grass, probably looking for tracks.
Maverick halted beside Hazel and bent to study the opening in the wire. The area was narrow, but it was wide enough for a slender horse to slip through. The slices in the wire were sharp and clean, too, which meant the fencing hadn’t broken on accident. Tanner was right—someone had cut it.
Maybe the horse thieves were back.
Maverick straightened, his hand landing on his revolver. He surveyed the cottonwoods that grew alongside the Blue River and then the shrubs and scraggly junipers that dotted the lowest hills. Large clumps of snow remained in the shadowy places, but otherwise the terrain was mostly dry. And no one was in sight.
But that didn’t mean the horse thieves weren’t there hiding.
The nightmare from January came rushing back, a frigid morning when they’d awoken to find that a dozen of their horses were gone. The barbed wire had been cut then too. Since the ground had been covered in snow, the tracks of the horse thieves had been easy to spot, and it had been clear they’d taken the horses to the north, likely with the intention of getting them to the easier passes that would allow them to drive the horses to the markets in Denver.
Pa hadn’t wanted to chase after thieves, had suggested they report the incident to Sheriff Shade in Breckenridge and let him form a posse to go after the stolen livestock.
But Maverick had thought he was invincible, and he’d been filled with too much pride about his own abilities to track and fight. When he’d insisted on going out a short way to at least identify the thieves, Pa had insisted on riding along.
Maverick had reasoned that the thieves wouldn’t be able to go fast or far with the terrain covered in snow. He’d been right and had easily tracked them to a gulch near Frisco. Once he and Pa had assessed their opponents, Pa had wanted to head back.
