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For the space of a long breath he was silent, emotions flickering like passing clouds across a face aged beyond its years. He hadn’t become a powerful rancher by being nice or playing by the rules, Rose reminded herself.
“Why did I change my mind? After thinking it all over, I realized that whether I liked it or not, you wouldn’t rest until the land was yours again. I could settle things peacefully, with the hope of our remaining friends, or I could let you declare war, call in the Prescotts and their legal dogs, and create a situation that could end in a literal bloodbath. At the very least, I could lose access to the creek. Does that make sense?”
“Are you saying I actually won? Come on, nobody beats Bull Tyler at his own game—not unless he lets them.”
Bull’s frown deepened. “Call it whatever you want. But this was never a contest, Rose. I never meant to deprive you of your land. I only wanted to keep it safe, not only for you but for the Rimrock. We can’t survive long, dry summers without that water. And there’s nothing Ferg would like better than to cut us off without a drop.
“As for what’s in it for me, I’m getting a buffer against the Prescotts, with an ally who’s determined to live on the land and protect it. I’m getting a guarantee of access to the creek and legal assurance that the property will never pass into Prescott hands. Is that good enough for you, Rose?”
Rose took a moment to weigh his words. She knew better than to trust Bull. He’d lied to her before, and would do so again if it served his purpose. But she’d seen what the Prescotts had done to her grandfather, and she knew that she could never hold out against them on her own. Taking on Bull as partner and protector would be the only way to keep herself, and her property, safe. For now, at least, she would have to accept that.
“Friends?” Bull extended his hand.
“Friends.” Rose accepted the handshake. Maybe this new arrangement would work out. Maybe time would test the friendship and prove it real and solid. But she had already learned that she could never take Bull for granted.
After opening the door of the pickup, she slid to the ground. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”
“Don’t go taking chances out here alone, Rose,” Bull said. “If you need help, ask. And the duplex is yours for as long as you need a place to stay.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Turning away, Rose fished her keys out of her hip pocket and strode around her truck to unlock the camper. It was time to unload her tools and start making a home for herself.
* * *
Bull waited until Rose had vanished behind the camper before he gunned the engine and swung his truck toward home. The legal arrangements had taken much of the day. Now the late-afternoon sun was low in the sky. Clouds were drifting in above the escarpment, carrying the faint hope of spring rain.
He had done the right thing, he told himself. But only time would tell whether he’d done the smart thing. Rose was a small bundle of grit, determination, and courage. But she was also rash and impulsive, and she attracted trouble like a magnet attracts nails. He’d have to be crazy to just turn her loose on the land. She was going to need help getting safely settled—and plenty of supervision to keep her in line.
Rolling down the side window, Bull filled his lungs with the sage-scented air. Rose was bound to hate his interference. But that was too bad. Whether she liked it or not, he was still the one in charge. He was the boss, and even on her small parcel of land, that wasn’t about to change.
* * *
Tanner had stolen a few hours of sleep around midday, but even that was more time than he could spare. Now, as the sun sank low above the escarpment, he was driving one of the older pickups around the perimeter of the ranch, looking for any sign of the mysterious rustlers that were still spiriting away Ferg Prescott’s prime beef.
After Ferg’s attempt to frame his neighbor for the cattle theft, Tanner had almost thrown up his hands and left the ranch. But this time Ferg’s frustration over the lost animals seemed genuine. The numbers showed on the books, and the cowhands, all men with clean records, confirmed that some of the cattle—all prime, mature beef stock—were indeed missing.
So Tanner had put in a call to Clive, and they’d agreed that he should stay on. Still, Tanner couldn’t help questioning his own motives. How much did the need to protect Rose weigh on his decision?
He’d done his best to put her out of his mind as he drove the fence line. Earlier, he’d inspected every inch of the pasture where most of the stolen animals had been kept. Leading through the main gate, which was securely fastened with a combination padlock, were the faint tracks of a vehicle with heavy tires. Tanner had sketched the tread pattern in his notebook, but the tracks weren’t fresh, and the vehicle could just as easily have been delivering winter hay. There was no sign that the heavy padlock on the steel gate had been tampered with, no mended spots anywhere in the fence. The cattle had been taken either at a different time and place or by someone with the means to unlock the gate—which left Tanner exactly nowhere. He could only conclude that he was dealing with very clever thieves, most likely with inside knowledge of the ranch and the movement of the cattle.
He’d almost dismissed the idea that Rose could be in league with the rustlers. But what if he was wrong? Now that she knew he was a TSCRA ranger, she could easily warn her cohorts to avoid him, or even set traps to mislead him.
He wanted to believe she was innocent. But he’d be derelict in his duty as a ranger if he didn’t keep her under close surveillance.
Or was he just making excuses because he wanted to see her again?
Swearing under his breath, he paused to check one of the tanks that was fed by the lower part of the creek, downstream from the Rimrock property on the Prescott side. He could understand why Ferg Prescott wanted that land and why Bull Tyler was so determined to keep it. The thirty-acre parcel was the key to the water from the west, where it flowed from an artesian spring under the caprock. And now Rose was insisting that the land was hers. The whole situation smelled like trouble.
With the sun sinking low, and clouds thickening above the escarpment, Tanner headed upstream to the place where he’d last seen Rose that morning.
He was nearing the creek when a puzzling sound reached his ears—a series of metallic clanks, like heavy tools being flung about. Danger senses prickling, he dismounted and tethered the horse in the shelter of a willow thicket. Drawing his pistol, he stole forward on foot until he could see the clearing on the creek’s far side.
Rose stood alone in the doorway of the camper. She was dragging tools, ropes, a big canvas tarp, and other gear into the open and laying everything on the ground.
“Rose! What the devil are you up to?” Holstering his pistol, he strode across the creek.
A startled look flashed across her face. Then she recognized him and smiled. “Hey, Tanner, you’re just in time to help!”
“Help with what?” He reached her side and stomped the wetness off his boots.
