usually frowned upon by potential employers, and I wouldn't make it very long living on the pittance I'd saved so far.
Then, it dawned on me. There was an empty ranch just waiting to be managed. Ben’s.
The outfit I worked for now was fixing to head out on the trail, but another ranch nearby was short-handed. I could work for them for a couple months and save up my pay. At the end of the season, they’d probably be willing to sell me a few head of cattle at a reduced rate. Up the beef trail, they would normally hope to get nearly $10 a head, but I could probably snag some before they left for about $6 or $7.
The all too familiar battle boiled up inside me again. An inner voice commanded me to act now. Go crazy. Go back to Cottonwood and wreak havoc. Do what I had to do to get answers. Shoot whoever I had to shoot.
That voice was the one I’d heeded when I’d drawn my gun that fated night and killed Logan.
My other voice whispered to me faintly like a light breeze blowing through a field of wheat. It said I had a good plan, that I should be patient and work. The answers would come.
You’d think after the fiasco with Logan, I would have learned to ignore that first voice, but it was still too strong. It appealed to my gut, to what I really wanted to do.
Yet this time, the battle was won by the still, quiet voice, the voice of wisdom.
It required all the patience I could muster, and more, to wait, but my new goal was able to waylay the frustration and uselessness, making it bearable. Plus, I really had no other option.
Six months passed and I managed to save up enough to buy about 30 cows and 1 bull. It wasn't a lot, but many a ranch had started with less.
During those long, lonely days, images of the man they'd hung in my stead inserted themselves into my mind more and more often, and at the most random times. A burning desire to know who he was and why they'd hung him came over me. Upon arriving in Rio Perdido, I'd been so worried about my own carcass, I hadn't given those things much thought, but I'd had a lot of extra time on my hands lately.
Why had they hung him? Where had he come from? Why had they let me go? None of it made any sense. I'd certainly never heard of anything like it happening elsewhere, not in my entire life, and those who could explain would probably shoot or hang me on sight.
It added another layer of mystery to Ben’s disappearance. While guilt stabbed my heart and curiosity pulled at my mind, finding Ben remained a priority above finding out why I'd been spared.
With trepidation, I started back to Cottonwood Valley with my little herd.
"Hey, Henry."
"Oh...hi." Henry Tadd looked up, startled to see Jinny Logan enter his barn. Hastily, he tried to straighten his clothes and tuck in his shirttail. It was impossible to do so without her noticing, which only made it more embarrassing. He should have left it alone. What did he care what she thought anyway?
He cared a lot, actually. She was the most beautiful girl in the valley, at least to him she was. He got flustered every time she came around.
"Wh..what can I do for you, Miss Logan?" he stammered expectantly. His attempt to hide his nervousness was unsuccessful. She was going to think he was a little kid with the way he was acting.
Jinny was thinking no such thing. She was quite taken with Henry's cute smile, sleek jawline, and trim figure. Most of the girls hadn't noticed him yet, mainly because he looked so young, though he was seventeen. Jinny, however, knew he was going to become quite a handsome young man.
She also liked his shyness. She’d had quite enough of boisterous men on her father's ranch, thank you very much, making fools of themselves to get her attention. Henry seemed sweet, like the kind of boy she could trust, not one she’d have to be careful around.
"Why, I was driving a team into town, and one of the lead mares threw a shoe.
Then, it dawned on me. There was an empty ranch just waiting to be managed. Ben’s.
The outfit I worked for now was fixing to head out on the trail, but another ranch nearby was short-handed. I could work for them for a couple months and save up my pay. At the end of the season, they’d probably be willing to sell me a few head of cattle at a reduced rate. Up the beef trail, they would normally hope to get nearly $10 a head, but I could probably snag some before they left for about $6 or $7.
The all too familiar battle boiled up inside me again. An inner voice commanded me to act now. Go crazy. Go back to Cottonwood and wreak havoc. Do what I had to do to get answers. Shoot whoever I had to shoot.
That voice was the one I’d heeded when I’d drawn my gun that fated night and killed Logan.
My other voice whispered to me faintly like a light breeze blowing through a field of wheat. It said I had a good plan, that I should be patient and work. The answers would come.
You’d think after the fiasco with Logan, I would have learned to ignore that first voice, but it was still too strong. It appealed to my gut, to what I really wanted to do.
Yet this time, the battle was won by the still, quiet voice, the voice of wisdom.
It required all the patience I could muster, and more, to wait, but my new goal was able to waylay the frustration and uselessness, making it bearable. Plus, I really had no other option.
Six months passed and I managed to save up enough to buy about 30 cows and 1 bull. It wasn't a lot, but many a ranch had started with less.
During those long, lonely days, images of the man they'd hung in my stead inserted themselves into my mind more and more often, and at the most random times. A burning desire to know who he was and why they'd hung him came over me. Upon arriving in Rio Perdido, I'd been so worried about my own carcass, I hadn't given those things much thought, but I'd had a lot of extra time on my hands lately.
Why had they hung him? Where had he come from? Why had they let me go? None of it made any sense. I'd certainly never heard of anything like it happening elsewhere, not in my entire life, and those who could explain would probably shoot or hang me on sight.
It added another layer of mystery to Ben’s disappearance. While guilt stabbed my heart and curiosity pulled at my mind, finding Ben remained a priority above finding out why I'd been spared.
With trepidation, I started back to Cottonwood Valley with my little herd.
"Hey, Henry."
"Oh...hi." Henry Tadd looked up, startled to see Jinny Logan enter his barn. Hastily, he tried to straighten his clothes and tuck in his shirttail. It was impossible to do so without her noticing, which only made it more embarrassing. He should have left it alone. What did he care what she thought anyway?
He cared a lot, actually. She was the most beautiful girl in the valley, at least to him she was. He got flustered every time she came around.
"Wh..what can I do for you, Miss Logan?" he stammered expectantly. His attempt to hide his nervousness was unsuccessful. She was going to think he was a little kid with the way he was acting.
Jinny was thinking no such thing. She was quite taken with Henry's cute smile, sleek jawline, and trim figure. Most of the girls hadn't noticed him yet, mainly because he looked so young, though he was seventeen. Jinny, however, knew he was going to become quite a handsome young man.
She also liked his shyness. She’d had quite enough of boisterous men on her father's ranch, thank you very much, making fools of themselves to get her attention. Henry seemed sweet, like the kind of boy she could trust, not one she’d have to be careful around.
"Why, I was driving a team into town, and one of the lead mares threw a shoe.
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