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“I survived the memories when I was there for two weeks. Again, I guess it would depend.”
He fell silent, leaving Rose to wonder whether he would want to take her if he went back north, and whether she would go. She could no longer imagine life without Tanner, but she had her own roots here in Texas.
The country had opened up into a broad canyon surrounded by hills and buttes and dotted with stands of cedar. Above the Rimrock Ranch, the escarpment was high, steep and narrow. Except for the red soil and rocks, this place was very different—broad and open with massive formations. Until today, she hadn’t even known it was here.
The road had straightened out but was still dusty and uneven. Far ahead, she could see tall, green cottonwood trees surrounding a sprawl of adobe buildings. “Is that the ranch?” she asked.
“It looks that way. We’ll soon know.”
A few more minutes brought them to the ranch, a pretty place with a windmill in the yard and laundry blowing from a clothesline. A few spotted, mixed-breed cattle ranged around the yard, grazing on the abundant spring grass. Chickens pecked grain in a wire coop.
A tall man with an unkempt gray beard came around the house. Rose stayed in the pickup while Tanner climbed out to greet him. With the truck windows rolled down, she could hear most of their conversation.
“Howdy,” the man said, extending a hand. “I can see who you are, but it’s been years since you fellers made it out here to visit me. I haven’t paid my TSCRA dues in a coon’s age. Hope you’re not here to collect. I haven’t got the cash, and anyway, who’d want to steal cows like these?”
“You’re fine, Mr. Jacobsen.” Tanner shook the man’s hand and introduced himself. “We’ve set up a new post in Blanco Springs. For starters, we’re trying to get acquainted with the ranchers and homesteaders in the region. It can be helpful, knowing who our neighbors are.”
“Well, you’re welcome to come on in. Bring your lady friend, too.” He glanced toward the truck. “I can’t offer you much in the way of hospitality, but I just took a batch of bread out of the oven. Tastes pretty good when it’s hot.”
“We’ll take you up on that,” Tanner said, opening the door and giving Rose a hand to the ground. “Does anybody live here with you?”
“Nope.” Jacobsen led the way inside to a primitive but clean kitchen. “My woman lit out and took the kids twenty-three years ago, and I’ve done for myself ever since.”
He seated them at the kitchen table and gave them each a thick slice of warm, buttered bread. It was delicious. “Milked the cow and churned the butter myself,” he said. “Better than that store junk that’s full of Lord knows what.”
“Don’t you get lonesome out here alone?” Rose asked. “You must not get many visitors.”
“I do fine with my own company,” Jacobsen said. “But come to think of it, you’ve made this the second day I’ve had visitors. Yesterday I had some that left me shaking my head. Strange bunch. They were lost—and you have to be pretty damned lost to make it clear out here. They said they were looking for some kind of cattle camp with a shack. I said I couldn’t help them, and they left.”
“What was strange about them?” Tanner asked.
“They were Mexicans. Not the wetback kind that swim the Rio Grande. I get a few of those now and then. I feed ’em and send ’em on their way. But these were rich Mexicans—three men, driving some kind of big custom four-wheeler. They had nice clothes, fancy watches . . .”
He trailed off, thinking. “The big one—the boss, I think—he had this gold ring. Real gold, I could tell. It was made to
look like an eagle’s foot, with the talons holding a ruby as big as my thumbnail. Can’t even imagine how much a ring like that might be worth.”
The bread dropped from Rose’s fingers. She froze, feeling as if the blood were being drained from her body.
Tanner gave her a worried look. “Are you all right, Rose? What is it?”
She found her voice, barely. “Those men. They’re the Cabreras. The one with the ring is Refugio.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BULL SHIFTED INTO LOW GEAR AS THE PICKUP ROUNDED A HAIRPIN curve in the narrow dirt road. The rear tire on the right side slid off the crumbling shoulder, but a stomp on the gas pedal gave the truck a forward burst, pulling the big vehicle back onto solid ground.
Beside Bull in the front seat, Jasper gave a low whistle of relief. “Want me to drive?” he asked, half teasing. “Like I’ve said before, we need to get a crew up here to fix this road.”
“You’re not the one who’ll have to pay for it,” Bull muttered, shifting again. “Remind me later.”
They passed a few minutes in silence before Jasper spoke again. “Want to make a bet?”
Bull paused at a fork in the road, which had many branches along the high escarpment. He shifted down again, then turned left. “What kind of bet?” he asked.
“I’ll bet you a beer at the Blue Coyote that when we get to that line shack, we’ll find the horses gone and our two boys lit out.”
“I’ll take that bet,” Bull said. “Why wouldn’t they be there? They’re scared of getting caught by the cartel, and they’ve got no place else to go.”
