Man Without A Badge Read online

  “Your new hand.”

  He had hands, all right. Large, work-roughened hands. Hands that looked very capable of doing just about anything, from lifting a bale of hay to holding a woman.

  “I didn’t hire any new hands,” she said, trying to shake that last crazy image.

  “Yet.”

  The word hung in the silence as they surveyed one another. Marly chewed on her lower lip, and his gaze fastened on her mouth, making her aware again of her isolated status. “I don’t thi—”

  “You advertised for someone who knew horses and kids. The ad said room and board went with the deal.”

  Her immediate response was to deny it, but she couldn’t afford to turn away any offer of help right now. She was already woefully short-staffed, and with all the accidents lately…

  “What do you know about horses?”

  “Which end to feed and which end not to walk behind.”

  “That isn’t very reassuring.”

  His lips twisted upward the slightest bit. “You’ve already seen I can handle kids. Want me to show you what else I can do?”

  Blood thrummed in her ears, momentarily drowning out any other sound. She could think of any number of things she’d bet he did well, and not one of them had to do with horses.

  “I’ll need references,” she managed to say.

  The curl of amusement stayed in place around his lips. A drift of heat moved upward to settle on her cheeks. He couldn’t possibly know what she’d just been thinking.

  “No problem.”

  Ha! Easy for him to say. This man was already a big problem. Look what he was doing to her hormone levels. She smoothed her hands down the sides of her dusty jeans, and he followed the movement with his eyes. “The job doesn’t pay all that much,” she added quickly.

  “Good thing I don’t need all that much, then, isn’t it?”

  No answering retort sprang to mind. At least not one that couldn’t be interpreted in ways she didn’t want to contemplate. “Do you have a name?”

  “Sam.”

  Marly braced her hands on her hips and decided it was long past time to take the initiative. This was her horse farm, her camp, and he’d be one of her hired hands—if she hired him. She assumed an assertive posture, hoping she looked in control. “Look, mister, I don’t have time to play twenty questions. I get the impression you aren’t all that serious about this job.”

  His broad shoulders seemed to expand, stretching the denim of his jacket to impressive lengths. “On the contrary, ma’am, I’m as serious as anyone you’ll ever meet.”

  His words encircled her. She believed him. There was an intensity to his voice that hadn’t been there before, and that subtle hint of a smile was gone. Also, his drawl was less pronounced.

  The last bit was interesting, and faintly disturbing.

  “The name’s Samuel Moore. I’ve worked horse ranches from one coast to the other. My last job was working for a couple who breed show horses. Allie and Greg Norton. They’ve got three kids, and I helped with them, as well.”

  “Helped how?”

  His humor returned. She could see it in the twinkle of his dark eyes and the way his body relaxed into its former easy stance. “I taught the youngest how to sit a horse, the oldest how to take a water hurdle, and the middle one how to defend herself from the other two. Her brothers tend to be bossy.” He sounded like a proud father.

  “I trust you didn’t resort to knives?”

  That elicited a half smile and a nod of acknowledgment of the way he had handled the earlier situation. “Nope. Where her brothers were concerned, I suggested clubs.”

  She had to hold back an urge to smile at him. “How reassuring.”

  “I can give you a number to call.”

  Damn. She liked this stranger, and not just for his looks, which were pretty spectacular, by any woman’s standards. More importantly, he had a droll sense of humor, and she liked the fact that he hadn’t talked down to the boys, even when Jerome was so obviously out of control.

  Maybe she should have handled that situation a bit differently, she acknowledged, but she hadn’t appreciated the way he barged in and took control. Even though he’d been a help, she hadn’t liked his nonc-too-subtle methods one bit. Still, she hesitated.

  “Where are you from, cowboy?”

  The touch of sarcasm in her voice didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

  “Utah.”

  “Utah’s a long way from suburban Maryland, cowboy.”

  “Sam. You can take the phone charges out of my first week’s wages.”

  “That isn’t what I meant. What chased you out of Utah?”

  “Cherry blossoms,” he replied promptly.

  Marly blinked, not sure she had heard him correctly. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’d never seen them. Only pictures. It happened to be the right time of year when the urge to move on struck me, so I hitched a ride this direction. They’re beautiful, you know. They’ve got a fragile magnificence that pictures just don’t capture.”

  Marly stared at him, perplexed. A self-proclaimed cowboy and drifter with the heart of a poet? His explanation was too bizarre not to be true, yet it was hard to imagine this man wandering in a grove of cherry blossoms. She was distracted from the thought by the sound of rapidly approaching hoofbeats.

  SAMLIFTED HIS HEAD to study the bantam-size man who reigned in his horse outside the barn, hitched it to a fence and swaggered over.

  “He’d better be looking for a job, Marly.”

  Sam tightened, not liking the man or his tone of voice.

  “What’s wrong now, Jake?” Marly sounded resigned.

  “The new guy got thrown in the south pasture. His leg’s fractured in at least two places. Stupid horse stepped on him.”

  “I’ll get my truck.”

  “Don’t bother. Lou and Keefer are driving him into town in the red pickup, but he won’t be able to help you with the brats anymore for a while.”

  Marly straightened as if she were spring-loaded. She took two steps forward and faced Jake squarely. Sam could almost feel the waves of anger rolling off her.

  “This is your last warning. You refer to those boys as brats or make any other derogatory comment about them again and I’ll cut you your severance pay on the spot. Got it?”

  His eyes narrowed to mean slits, and he took a step forward. Sam moved to stand beside Marly. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He knew how to project an aura of stark intimidation, and he used that knowledge, letting menace roll off him like heat from a desert rock.

  Jake stopped. Surprise and calculation flittered across his pinched features.

  “We got five sections of fencing down in the south pasture,” he said finally, pretending to ignore Sam, “and four of your prize yearlings are running free. You got any other orders, boss lady?”

  Marly did clench her jaw then. Sam wondered why she didn’t order the insubordinate little runt off the property then and there.

  “How can we have fences down? We just replaced every…Never mind. Where’s Carter?”

  “Playing baby-sitter to your…boys. He’s got most of ‘em over at the training corral. You want me to go get him?”

  “No. You start getting those yearlings rounded up.”

  “By myself?”

  “Take Sam with you.” She tilted her head and acknowledged Sam for the first time since Jake had arrived. “You’re hired, if you still want the job. I hope you know how to saddle a horse.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I can even stay on top of one.”

  Marly didn’t respond to that. She pivoted and headed for the main stable, leaving the two men to follow.

  “Put the yearlings in the west pasture until we get the fences back up. Jake, show Sam where to get some tack,” she added, tossing the words over her shoulder.

  Ponytail swinging, she headed away from the large barn and started down the hill. “I’ll let Carter know what happened.” She paused, as if a thought
had occurred to her. “What happened to his horse?”

  “Stupid beast took off.”

  “Great. Just great. Get out there before those yearlings make it as far as the road. All I need is for one of my neighbors to get in a car wreck because of loose horses.”

  “They’d be madder if it was one of your boys on the loose.”

  “Get a move on, Jake.” She took her own advice and broke into a graceful run.

  Sam watched her go. She had an easy, loping stride for a woman. Her sun-bleached ponytail swung against her back in a feminine way that was strangely sensual. Marly was real easy on the eyes, Sam decided. But he didn’t like the ugly way Jake watched her, as well.

  “The tack room?” Sam bit out.

  Jake’s expression went from lustful to annoyed, to openly curious and slightly hostile.

  “I don’t think I caught your name, mister.”

  “Sam.” And Sam let his long legs eat up the distance in the direction of the main stable. Jake was left with no option but to scurry along behind.

  Sam would have preferred to follow Marly to the practice ring he could see in the distance. A tall man was watching a horse and rider canter, while three other youths leaned on the fence to watch.

  The kids were too far away for a clear view. Sam consoled himself with the knowledge that he’d found the right place. He’d even landed a job, and she hadn’t asked any questions. Luck was with him so far. He’d find the right boy. It could wait an hour or so.

  Sam paused inside the barn to wait for Jake. The scent of horses hung heavy in the early-June heat. It was a far cry from the womanly scent that he’d caught a whiff of when he was standing next to Marly.

  “Tack’s through there.” Jake eyed him thoughtfully. “I’ll get Dickens for you.”

  Sam was going to have trouble with Jake. Particularly if the cowboy continued to look at Marly the way he had a few minutes ago. He wondered if Jake had a record anywhere. He wondered what the odds were that Jake would recognize him.

  Dressed as he was now, with the hat covering most of his features and minus his mustache, Sam Moore could only hope he looked nothing like the fastidious Joseph Samuel Walker. Every cop in at least five states was looking for the renegade cop—the one wanted for murder and graft.

  Sam selected his equipment and headed back outside. He was thinking it was a good thing his family had called him Sammy as a kid, so as not to confuse him with his father, Joe, and his cousin Joey. It made it easier to stay in character and think of himself as Sam instead of Joe.

  He was basking in his luck when Jake led a large, fractious roan around front as he emerged. Sam hadn’t been on a horse in over a year, but it didn’t take a genius to guess Jake had picked the most difficult animal in the corral for him to ride. It was either a test or petty revenge. Either way, Sam was in for an exacting afternoon. He heaved a mental sigh and stepped forward.

  “Jake! What the hell are you doing?”

  Sam turned to see a man about his own age hurrying toward them. It was the man from the training ring, if Sam wasn’t mistaken.

  “What are you doing with Dickens? You know he isn’t fit for a saddle yet.”

  Jake’s mouth pursed, and he shot Sam a hard look, as if to say this was all his fault. “Marly said I was to—”

  “Never mind. The new guy can use Ginger.”

  “Then who’s Marly gonna ride?”

  “She’s going to stay with the kids until we get back.”

  Jake’s surprise was obvious. “You mean you’re going with us?”

  The newcomer’s voice took on a hard edge. “It’s my job. I’m still the foreman, Jake. Now go get Ginger, and put Dickens back before he throws a fit.”

  Dickens pranced restlessly, his ears and scarred flanks twitching as his eyes flicked from side to side. Jake was having trouble controlling him with the lead rein.

  “I thought your job was to baby-sit,” Jake muttered as he turned the large roan around.

  A quick glance at the foreman told Sam he hadn’t missed the words. There was a hard edge to his eyes as he watched Jake disappear. An edge that disappeared as soon as he caught Sam’s look.

  “I’m Carter Delancy. You must be Sam.”

  The handshake was firm. Rough, work-callused hands and unwinking eye contact. Sam liked that. Beneath his gray Stetson, the man had dark hair and a lean physique. He had the kind of chiseled good looks that attracted women and a commanding authority other men respected. Sam could easily picture this man in charge.

  “Sam Moore.”

  “Pleased to meetcha. Marly says you know your way around a ranch.”

  “I’ve mucked more than a few stalls.”

  “Good enough.” The grin was relaxed and friendly, but it faded quickly. “I see you and Jake have already gotten off on the wrong foot.”

  “No problem,” Sam stated mildly. “What’s wrong with Dickens?”

  Carter’s expression tightened in angry lines. “In a human we’d call it a nervous breakdown. The vet’s got some fancy name for it, but basically the fool horse got himself caught on barbed wire. Tore his flank pretty good before we got him free. I wanted to destroy him, but Marly wouldn’t hear of it, and she’s the boss.”

  Sam tilted his head. “So I gather. No Mr. Marly?”

  Carter pulled on a pair of leather riding gloves. “Not anymore.”

  His body language warned that the subject was off-limits. Sam wondered why.

  “How’d the horse get caught on barbed wire?”

  “That, my friend, is something I’d like to know, as well,” he stated grimly.

  Jake arrived with Ginger, stopping whatever else Carter might have said. Ginger was a beautiful palomino. She stood out on a farm that bred quarter horses, and she proved to be amenable, as well as beautiful. The two men waited for Sam to saddle the mare. He was damn glad there were some things a person just didn’t forget how to do.

  Two hours later, he was wishing the rest of his body hadn’t forgotten how to ride and do physical labor. Gym workouts just weren’t the same thing at all. He was going to have a hard time hiding his stiffness, but at least the yearlings were rounded up and safely settled in another pasture.

  The other two men showed up in a red pickup truck a short time later. Lifting fence posts gave Sam the perfect opportunity to check over the site of the downed fence. It didn’t take an experienced eye to see what had happened. Someone had backed a truck up to the fence, tied a rope to it and then driven forward. The momentum had snapped or pulled free most of the fence posts along this section.

  The tire tracks did not match those on the red pickup truck.

  “What are you looking at?”

  Sam lifted his head and regarded Carter. The other men were working several yards away.

  “Tire tracks,” Sam told Carter, pointing to the two sets. “This was no accident.”

  “I know.”

  “Any reason we aren’t calling in the local law?”

  “Yeah. It wouldn’t do any good.”

  Sam waited. Carter rubbed his jaw and sighed before he leaned down to lift another post from the stack on the ground.

  “I guess you have the right to know, if you’re going to sign on with us. We’ve been having a few problems lately.”

  Again Sam waited. Carter set the post, and Sam began to fill in around the hole.

  “Some of Marly’s neighbors don’t take kindly to the fact that Marly opens the farm to the kids during the summer months.”

  “The kids have criminal records?”

  “Yeah.” Carter watched him closely.

  “Jake doesn’t seem real happy about the kids, either.”

  That earned Sam a frown and a quick, hard look. “Jake has his problems, but he’s a good worker and he does what he’s told. I see to it he stays as far from the kids as possible.”

  “Good thinking. Are these hard-core hoodlums we’re talking about?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

 
“No, not at all. Most of the boys are from one-parent families. Inner-city kids who never get a break. The authorities think these kids can be saved—redirected, if you will.”

  “What do you think?”

  Carter let go of the post and started back to the truck. “See Keefer over there?”

  Sam looked at the gangly youth stringing wire fencing. His lanky body looked as if it still had some growing years left, but, judging by the facial hair that was trying to become a mustache, Sam figured him at about nineteen or twenty.

  “Keefer came to us from a program similar to ours, for older boys. He’s clean, a hard worker, and an example of what a program like ours can do for someone in need of guidance. Marly figures if it worked for him, think how much better it could work if we started with kids even younger. That’s why she picked eleven-and twelve-year-olds. This is our second year in operation.”

  “So why are the neighbors suddenly pulling down her fences?”

  Carter looked unhappy. “There were a few problems last year.”

  Once again, Sam waited without a word.

  “The city’s mutating like a virus. We’ve got housing developments right down the road a ways—nervous busybodies worried about inner-city germs of evil and destruction invading their precious darlings.”

  “Interestin’ way of puttin’ things. So last year some of them were contaminated?”

  “No!” Carter backed away from the sharpness of his retort. “There were minor problems. Some petty thefts that got blamed on our kids, because, of course, no one in their tax brackets raises light-fingered children.”

  Sam smiled, liking Carter more by the minute. “Long memories, huh?”

  Carter didn’t return the smile. “Last year Marly had a husband. This year she doesn’t. The neighbors think without him around to keep the boys in check, they’ll be free to run wild. Particularly after word got out that our counselor quit.”

  Sam thought about Marly and the scene this morning. She was no marshmallow, despite her slender build. She’d been ready to step between Jerome and Mickey, even though it had been obvious to him that she lacked the knowledge to get the job done without someone getting hurt. Still, she had guts, and he liked that about her. Come to think of it, there were several things he liked about her.