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Authors: A Dime Novel Hero
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“Afternoon, Kit, Johnny.”
“Hi, Mr. Cordell,” the boy said enthusiastically.
“Hello, Jake.” Kit’s greeting was less exuberant than her son’s.
Jake dismounted, the saddle creaking beneath him.Loosely tying the leather reins around a fence post, he stood on the other side of Johnny. Resting his booted foot on the lower rail, Jake studied the two men in the corral and understood what Patrick had meant.
“What brings you back so soon?” Kit asked, drawing his attention.
“I was cleaning up my office this morning and cabin fever hit. I’m not used to being surrounded by four walls.”
“You’ll have to get used to it if you’re serious about working as a lawyer.”
Jake shrugged, hiding the fact that he didn’t plan on being in the office long enough to grow accustomed to it. “Time will tell if I’m cut out for the law business.”
“Would you like to come up to the house for some coffee?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather watch for a little while.” He gestured to the horse in the corral. “Looks like your wranglers know what they’re doing.”
Kit turned back to her hired men, her expression brightening. “Charlie’s been working here ever since I bought the place, and Ethan, the boy, showed up about a year ago.”
“Some bad men hurt him real bad and Ma took care of him,” Johnny added.
Knowing Kit, Jake wasn’t surprised.
“Part Cheyenne?”
Kit shook her head hesitantly. “His mother was Pawnee.”
“Not many folks would take in a half-breed.”
Fire flashed in her sapphire eyes. “Don’t you ever use that word around here.”
Jake would have been disappointed if she hadn’t responded with such vehemence, and he tossed her a grin. “Personally, I judge men by what they do, not what they are.”
Kit’s startled gaze met his. “Be careful who you say that to.”
“I suppose a woman raising a child alone, with a Negro and a breed working for her, isn’t too popular among Chaney’s upstanding citizens,” Jake said.
She blinked, then kicked at the dirt. “It hasn’t changed much since we were children, has it?”
“Why do you stay here if you hate it so much?”
She lifted her stormy eyes to him. “I don’t hate the town, Jake. I hate the narrow-mindedness of some of the people. There’s a lot of good folks around Chaney, too.”
“I like Freda and Patrick,” Johnny said. “Freda lets me help her make cookies, and Patrick always buys me a licorice stick.”
Kit ruffled her son’s hair, and smiled at Jake. “See what I mean?”
“And then there’s Will Jameson,” Jake remarked.
“You were the one who taught me how to handle bullies like him,” she said.
Jake turned back to the corral, embarrassed by the gratitude in her voice. He had always had a weakness for the underdog.
Charlie slipped a blanket on the horse’s back and pulled it off, then repeated the motion over and over. Jake straightened, recognizing the training method.
“I’ve only known one other person who broke horses that way,” Jake commented.
“Your father,” Kit said.
“How’d you know?”
“We used to visit quite a bit.” She paused. “That was after you’d gone away to college. He told me about his plans to raise horses and how he’d train them.”
Bitter betrayal blindsided Jake. “I didn’t think he’d told anyone but me what he wanted to do with the ranch.” Resentment sharpened his tone. “Hell, I didn’t even know you and him were such good friends.”
Kit’s lips thinned. “He never spoke down to me, and he listened to what I had to say, unlike my own father.”
Jake studied her stony profile, and his anger dissipated. “I guess maybe I didn’t know my father as well as I thought I did.”
Her features softened as understanding filled her eyes. “That’s funny. He said the same thing about you.”
Jake laced his fingers, resting his forearms on the corral pole. He cursed Frank Ross anew for murdering his father before he had made
“Hi, Mr. Cordell,” the boy said enthusiastically.
“Hello, Jake.” Kit’s greeting was less exuberant than her son’s.
Jake dismounted, the saddle creaking beneath him.Loosely tying the leather reins around a fence post, he stood on the other side of Johnny. Resting his booted foot on the lower rail, Jake studied the two men in the corral and understood what Patrick had meant.
“What brings you back so soon?” Kit asked, drawing his attention.
“I was cleaning up my office this morning and cabin fever hit. I’m not used to being surrounded by four walls.”
“You’ll have to get used to it if you’re serious about working as a lawyer.”
Jake shrugged, hiding the fact that he didn’t plan on being in the office long enough to grow accustomed to it. “Time will tell if I’m cut out for the law business.”
“Would you like to come up to the house for some coffee?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather watch for a little while.” He gestured to the horse in the corral. “Looks like your wranglers know what they’re doing.”
Kit turned back to her hired men, her expression brightening. “Charlie’s been working here ever since I bought the place, and Ethan, the boy, showed up about a year ago.”
“Some bad men hurt him real bad and Ma took care of him,” Johnny added.
Knowing Kit, Jake wasn’t surprised.
“Part Cheyenne?”
Kit shook her head hesitantly. “His mother was Pawnee.”
“Not many folks would take in a half-breed.”
Fire flashed in her sapphire eyes. “Don’t you ever use that word around here.”
Jake would have been disappointed if she hadn’t responded with such vehemence, and he tossed her a grin. “Personally, I judge men by what they do, not what they are.”
Kit’s startled gaze met his. “Be careful who you say that to.”
“I suppose a woman raising a child alone, with a Negro and a breed working for her, isn’t too popular among Chaney’s upstanding citizens,” Jake said.
She blinked, then kicked at the dirt. “It hasn’t changed much since we were children, has it?”
“Why do you stay here if you hate it so much?”
She lifted her stormy eyes to him. “I don’t hate the town, Jake. I hate the narrow-mindedness of some of the people. There’s a lot of good folks around Chaney, too.”
“I like Freda and Patrick,” Johnny said. “Freda lets me help her make cookies, and Patrick always buys me a licorice stick.”
Kit ruffled her son’s hair, and smiled at Jake. “See what I mean?”
“And then there’s Will Jameson,” Jake remarked.
“You were the one who taught me how to handle bullies like him,” she said.
Jake turned back to the corral, embarrassed by the gratitude in her voice. He had always had a weakness for the underdog.
Charlie slipped a blanket on the horse’s back and pulled it off, then repeated the motion over and over. Jake straightened, recognizing the training method.
“I’ve only known one other person who broke horses that way,” Jake commented.
“Your father,” Kit said.
“How’d you know?”
“We used to visit quite a bit.” She paused. “That was after you’d gone away to college. He told me about his plans to raise horses and how he’d train them.”
Bitter betrayal blindsided Jake. “I didn’t think he’d told anyone but me what he wanted to do with the ranch.” Resentment sharpened his tone. “Hell, I didn’t even know you and him were such good friends.”
Kit’s lips thinned. “He never spoke down to me, and he listened to what I had to say, unlike my own father.”
Jake studied her stony profile, and his anger dissipated. “I guess maybe I didn’t know my father as well as I thought I did.”
Her features softened as understanding filled her eyes. “That’s funny. He said the same thing about you.”
Jake laced his fingers, resting his forearms on the corral pole. He cursed Frank Ross anew for murdering his father before he had made
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