All the angles were covered.

  The deck was stacked in Slocum’s favor.

  Everything was running according to Slocum’s plan.

  The following three days were actually relaxing. All he needed to think about was riding his new horse and watching the horizon ahead and behind. When he made camp, it was a simple matter of stoking a small fire to warm his hands and cook a meal before the flames got bright enough to attract any attention. He slept beneath a blanket of stars with the cool desert air brushing across his face. After all the double-dealing and business arrangements he’d been forced to concern himself with in Reno, a simpler life was a welcome change.

  The mountains were behind him, but there was plenty of rugged terrain ahead. It was late in the afternoon when Slocum felt hunger and a mighty big thirst gnaw at his innards. He’d allowed himself to get lazy where his water was concerned since he carried plenty of skins and canteens in preparation for the desert ride. Whenever he couldn’t find a stream to refill his supply, he’d been able to divert to a town or some other place along the way before his situation became too worrisome. A good portion of his water had gone to his horse, and when he drew a scratchy breath, Slocum realized he hadn’t refilled his water the last time he’d stopped. It was a simple lapse, but one he couldn’t afford to make in a climate like this.

  “Damn,” he grunted as he reached for his other canteen. Tipping that one back only sent a short trickle down his throat. His water skins hung from his saddle and there wasn’t enough between them to fill one of them halfway. “Damn it all to hell,” he snarled.

  More than anything, he was angry at himself for being stupid. He was a long ways from dying of thirst and his horse was going strong, but the fact that he’d let such a simple necessity fall by the wayside brought another round of curses from him that echoed across the landscape.

  For the next several miles, he kept his eyes open for another place to fill his water skins. Naturally, the harder he looked, the less he found. And the less he found, the thirstier he became. Even when the sun set and the thick, all-encompassing darkness of a desert night fell upon him, Slocum wanted to keep riding. He still had a few drips of water left, but that would only be enough to wet his horse’s whistle and keep him from being parched for the night.

  That night’s supper was a can of baked beans cooked over a sputtering fire. He slept on a bed of rock and figured he hadn’t earned any better. When he awoke, it was to the sounds of his horse’s hooves clacking against the dry ground. Since he wasn’t about to brew coffee, he took a few sips of water, handed some more to his horse, and moved along.

  Once the wind was in his face again, Slocum was feeling better. His spirits improved even more when he spotted the little homestead stuck away from the trail on the top of a small ridge overlooking a vista of green scrub. The ground had taken a reddish hue, which seemed even prettier when Slocum gazed through his field glasses at a laundry line with linens flapping in the breeze. Someone lived in that house. And if someone lived there, they needed water.

  He shifted his eye to the east until he spotted a little cloud of dust being kicked up in the exact spot the courier should have been. To the west, there wasn’t anything that caught his eye as a potential threat or any source of concern. Darrel and his men were either still a day behind him or too well hidden to be seen. Either way, there wasn’t anything to be done about them now.

  Slocum pointed his horse’s nose toward the homestead and snapped the reins.

  The house stood alone on the vista, surrounded by a fence that swayed back and forth in the breeze. A gate rattled against the bolt holding it shut, adding another sound to be complemented by the rustle of laundry being dried out back. Slocum dismounted and tied his horse to a post that looked as if it had been driven into the ground before the Indians had even discovered the barren stretch of land. He worked the latch, opened the gate, and closed it again after walking through. All the while, Slocum kept his eyes and ears open for any sign of life. He found nothing.

  “Hello?” he called out

  There was no response.

  He walked up to the front door and knocked. When he still got no reply, Slocum knocked again and angled his head so he was all but pressing his ear to the door. With all the wind and rattling, that didn’t help much.

  A square window was less than a foot or so to the right of the door, so Slocum leaned over to get a look inside. He saw some neatly arranged furniture covered by a few blankets and a pair of rifles hanging on a rack above a fireplace, but nothing much else. Suddenly, the creak of hinges drifted through the air, followed by a sound that rolled along with the wind like the gentle tones of a chime.

  Slocum stepped down from the little porch and walked around the corner of the house. Just past a little vegetable garden struggling for survival in the harsh, rocky soil was a set of taller posts with a laundry line stretched between them. Now that he was closer, Slocum could see a set of sheets along with a few dresses among the items being dried. Even better than that was the woman who hummed to herself while carrying a basket full of more clothes.

  She was a short woman with supple curves and a pretty voice. Long, dark blond hair was rustled by the breeze in a wave of bouncy curls. When she brushed some of her hair aside, Slocum could see high, rounded cheekbones and a smile that fit on her as naturally as the red hue fit upon the desert floor. He hadn’t meant to sneak up on her, but Slocum was content to just stand and watch her for a few moments. Disturbing her before that just seemed wrong. When she turned toward him and nearly jumped out of her skin, he realized the problem with that train of thought.

  “Oh, Lord!” she yelped. “What are you doing here?”

  Holding his hands out, Slocum stepped around the corner and said, “Sorry, ma’am. I was just stopping by for—”

  “Go away! I told him once and I’ll tell anyone else the same thing. You’re not welcome here. Now scat!”

  “Honestly, I just came by for some water.”

  She dropped her basket and darted toward the house. Slocum didn’t want to frighten her any more, but he also wanted to get what he came for so he tried to explain himself before she could get worked up much more.

  “I knocked on your door,” he explained. “Nobody answered. When I heard you around back, I thought I’d introduce myself.”

  Having stepped in through a side door, the woman reappeared to face him. This time, she was looking at Slocum over the top of a double-barreled shotgun. “I got a real good idea who you are, mister. Now get off of my property.”

  Slocum held both hands up. Normally, being on the wrong end of a scattergun was more than enough to convince him he’d taken a wrong step. But there was something about her that kept him from turning around and leaving. It was something in her eyes that made him certain she was doing more than just reacting after being startled by a stranger. She was frightened. More than that, she was petrified.

  “I swear,” he told her, “all I want is some water.”

  “Water?”

  “That’s right. I’m headed east and was passing by when I spotted your house. If I could trouble you for some water, I’d be much obliged. I’m even willing to pay.”

  The fear in her eyes lessened somewhat, but didn’t disappear altogether. “What’s your name?”

  “John Slocum.”

  “Never heard of you.”

  “I’m not from around here. Like I said, I was just passing through.”

  “Then you can just pass right on by,” she told him while motioning toward the trail with the shotgun.

  “If that’s what you prefer, I can oblige.”

  When he backed away, the woman took a step forward and asked, “You really just need water?”

  “Yes, ma’ am.”

  “Did Jack send you?”

  “Who?”

  She scrutinized him so closely that her eyes nearly burnt holes all the way through to the back of his head. “Jack Talbot. He owns the Double Hook Ranch.”

  “Never heard of the Double Hook.” Since she was a nervous woman with sharp eyes and a shotgun in her hands, he was very glad he hadn’t tried lying to her.

  Reluctantly, she lowered the shotgun. “There’s a pump around back. You’re welcome to it.”

  “My thanks to you.” Slocum walked back to collect his skins and canteens. When he walked around the house again, the woman stood by the clothesline with the shotgun cradled in the crook of one arm. He held up the containers and kept walking until he spotted the pump situated just outside what was probably the door to the kitchen.

  By the time Slocum had the first canteen under the pump’s spigot and was working the handle, she approached him and said, “Sorry about the shotgun, mister.”

  Noticing that she still had the weapon, Slocum nodded and continued his chore. “Can’t be too careful. Also, my name’s John.”

  She smiled at that. It was a warm, beaming smile that put the sun to shame. “I’m Leanne. It’s a pleasure to meet you, John. Just so you know, I do try to be charitable when I can.”

  “You’re doing a great job right now.”

  “It’s just that . . . I don’t get many visitors.”

  “I won’t impose.”

  She nodded and shifted her grip on the shotgun so it was at her side the way she might hold a broomstick rather than something that could take a man’s head clean off his shoulders. “Can I get you anything to eat?”

  Slocum’s first instinct was to refuse. Then, the taste of lukewarm beans in the back of his throat made him reconsider. “Maybe a little something,” he said. “If it’s not an imposition, that is.”

  “After pointing a gun at you, it’s the least I could do. How’s a nice ham sandwich sound?”

  “Sounds like a blessing, Leanne. Thanks.”

  Leanne gave him another one of her beautiful smiles and pulled open the kitchen door. She wasn’t inside for more than thirty seconds before she stormed back out again. Her smile was gone and the shotgun was back against her shoulder. “Get on your horse and get away from me.”

  “What brought this on?” Slocum asked.

  Thumbing back the hammers to both of the shotgun’s barrels, she said, “Just go!”

  Having been looking for other horsemen so intently over the last few days, Slocum immediately picked up on the dust being kicked up to the west. “You expecting more company?” he asked.

  “Only if you brought them here.”

  He held up the canteen in his hand and allowed water to dribble from the spigot. “This is all I came for. How many times do I need to tell you that?”

  “So you’re telling me you didn’t know he’d be coming?”

  “No!”

  The fierceness in her eyes wavered, showing Slocum the fear that was beneath it. When he reached out to gently point the shogun barrel in another direction, she didn’t fight him.

  “Who’s coming here that you’re so afraid of?” he asked.

  “That would be Jack.”

  11

  Slocum hurried to his horse, loaded his water onto its back, and led it around to the other side of the house. Once there, he rooted in his saddlebag for his field glasses. “Are you going to tell me who Jack is or do I have to guess?”

  Leanne sighed and used a bandanna to pat her cheeks. “It’s a long story.”

  After placing the glasses to his eyes, Slocum gazed through the lenses until he found the approaching riders. There were three of them and they all sat easy in their saddles, gripping their reins as if they lived on horseback. From what he could see, their clothes and gear didn’t strike him as what he might find on professional gunmen. That left a whole lot of ground to cover as to who they were, but he’d learned to trust his instincts as far as he could. They were still a ways off, so he said, “We’ve got time for some of your story before they get here.”

  “I met Jack in Virginia City. We were younger, although not a lot younger. It was just a different time and I was so innocent where matters concerning—”

  “All right, we don’t have quite that much time.”

  “Oh, of course. Jack and I were together for a short time. He works at the Double Hook Ranch and was on a cattle drive. We fell in love, or at least I thought we did.”

  Slocum walked around the house and stood so his silhouette blended in with the wall as much as possible. Leaning his shoulder against the house to steady himself, he watched the riders long enough to see that they were indeed headed straight for him. He handed the field glasses to her and asked, “You sure that’s him?”

  She didn’t even look before nodding. “It’s him. He comes from the same direction every time. Rides at the same pace. Comes with the same other men. I know they’re coming the moment the sound of their horses reaches the house.”

  “Go on with your story.”

  “I came all the way here to be with him. That’s when he changed. When we met, he was so sweet. So kind. As soon as he got back to his ranch and around the same people, he started treating me like just another one of his horses.”

  Once some men got what they were after, they didn’t see a need to be civil any longer. Unfortunately, for assholes like that, it didn’t matter to them whether they were after a piece of property, an animal, a trinket, or a woman. Once they figured they’d won their hunt, they went straight back to being the pricks they were before the hunt began. Since Leanne had learned as much from experience, Slocum shook his head and kept it to himself.

  “I tried to stay by his side,” she continued. “I thought maybe he was just tired or acting a certain way in front of the people he knew here. But when I told him I wanted things to go back to how they’d been when we met, he laughed at me. When I told him I didn’t like the way he treated me once we got here, he . . .” She let her words drift away, but Slocum turned just in time to see her hand move along the side of her face as if the smooth skin of her cheek was still tender.

  “He hit you?” Slocum asked.

  Reluctantly, she nodded.

  “There ain’t an excuse good enough for that.”

  “We were fighting,” she explained. “I said some things.” When Slocum looked her straight in the eyes, she lowered her head and added, “You’re right. There isn’t a good excuse for that. That’s why I left. Ever since then, he’s been trying to win me back.”

  “Considering how quick you were to get the shotgun, I’d hate to see what he’s doing to win your heart.”

  “To be honest, the sweet gestures didn’t last long.” Leanne took a few steps away from Slocum, wrapped her arms around herself, and stared at the approaching riders. “He brought flowers and made a lot of promises. When I told him I’d had enough, he wouldn’t stop. He tried even harder and when I still wouldn’t budge, he got angry.”

  “Did he hit you again?”

  Leanne pulled in a deeper breath. “Yes,” she sighed. “He even tried dragging me back to that damned ranch. He promised everything would be fine once we were married. He already thinks he put his brand on me. Lord only knows what will happen when he gets a ring on my finger.”

  The rumble of the horses was getting closer. Every so often, one of the cowboys would let out a sharp whistle or holler as if they were having a grand ole time. Before too long, they were close enough for Slocum to see their cocky grins through the field glasses.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “about a month ago, Jack swore he’d bring me back to the Double Hook whether I rode alongside him or was strapped to the back of his horse. One night, he nearly made good on that threat. Sometimes I swear he’s just doing all of this because he doesn’t want to look like a fool in front of those other idiots at the ranch. Perhaps he’s angry for me spurning his advances and won’t let me go. Sometimes, I wonder if he truly loves me and this is the only way he knows to show it.”

  “No!” Slocum said as he wheeled around. When he walked toward her, Leanne was startled enough to back away. He locked eyes with her and said, “If he loved you, he never would have raised a hand to you. And if that’s the only way he knows, someone needs to teach him another way real damn quick. Once he starts threatening you and making you fear for your life, it don’t matter what the hell is wrong with him. You live here alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you own this house?”

  “Bought it and the land with money my daddy left for me after he died. This was to be our own place so we didn’t have to live on that ranch. I wanted my own house.”

  “And you’ve got it,” Slocum said. “It ain’t right that you have to keep a shotgun handy because some son of a bitch is too stupid to listen to reason. What about leaving? You ever thought of that?”

  “All my money is sunk into this place.”

  “How much is it worth to you to be rid of this asshole?”

  She only had to look at her house for a second before averting her eyes. “I’ve thought about it plenty of times. Jack always said he’d just come after me.”

  “Did he?” Slocum asked. He grinned while looking at the three riders charging toward a house they thought was occupied by a solitary woman. “Well, let him come.”

  They arrived amid a rumble of hooves and a chorus of wild shouting. The man at the head of the group sat tall in his saddle and swung down as if he were coming home to a hot meal after a hard day’s work. He swiped the hat from his head to reveal bristly hair that had most likely been cut by his own hand using a sharp knife and a dirty mirror. The mustache on his face was better maintained, but the look on his face made it clear he thought he was the prettiest thing that land had seen since the morning’s sunrise.