Lone Heart Pass. Jodi Thomas

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СКАЧАТЬ there. I don’t know what kind of shape it’s in now. If you’ll work for me five days a week, I’ll pay you five dollars more an hour than Levy did and throw in the house.” She knew she had to make it fair because no one else was probably going to take an offer to help farm on a place in the middle of nowhere.

      She didn’t know much about this man, but he was honest or he wouldn’t have brought the groceries and her credit card. He was a hard worker if her great-grandfather used him regularly, and he knew the place.

      “Does the school bus stop anywhere near here?”

      He surprised her with his question. “I have no idea. Do you have a family?”

      “A daughter.” He didn’t look happy about the offer. “If I worked for you, I’d take off time to get her to school, and when she’s here, I’d work around the headquarters so I could keep an eye on her.”

      Jubilee looked around the yard. There was enough work within shouting distance to keep him busy for months.

      “Fair enough.”

      “I’d need to stable my two horses in the barn.” He glanced over his shoulder. “At least it’s in good shape.”

      “No problem. There are a dozen stalls.”

      He studied her. “Make it ten dollars more an hour and you got yourself a foreman, not just a hand. I furnish my own horse and gear. I’ll charge for a fifty-hour week, but I’ll work until the job is done. I’ll also hire men when needed and you’ll pay them the going wage.”

      Jubilee thought of mentioning that ten more an hour seemed very high, but what choice did she have? Her savings were solid. Her car paid for. She might as well put it all into the pot. This chance was the only game in town.

      She nodded.

      He put his hat back on. “I’ll move in late this afternoon and be in for breakfast tomorrow morning. We’ll talk about where to start.”

      “Breakfast?”

      “That was the routine with Levy. We planned over breakfast and I worked until the job or the day was finished. Any problem?”

      “No.”

      “You can cook?”

      “No, but how hard can it be?”

      He smiled, and she realized how young he was. Maybe a year or two younger than she. But she didn’t miss the steel in his stare. He hadn’t had an easy life and she guessed he wouldn’t trust easily. That was fine with her, since she felt the same.

      “I’ll bring a few boxes of cereal and milk,” he said as he moved off the porch. “You make the coffee. Tomorrow we’ll set a plan.”

      She met his stormy blue eyes again. “Will you help me make this place work? It’s kind of my last chance.”

      He nodded once. “I’ll help you, but you got to wear normal clothes, lady. Folks around here might cart you off to the hospital for dressing like that.”

      “I’ll remember that, Mr. Collins,” she said, trying not to react to his insult. She thought of adding that she didn’t do friends, so don’t even try. Maybe they should keep the relationship formal? She wouldn’t tell him too much and he wouldn’t try to advise her on wardrobe choices.

      What would be between them would be purely professional. She had a feeling he wanted it that way, as well.

      As he drove away, Jubilee went back to bed, remembering how early her great-grandfather had served breakfast. Her last hope, before she fell asleep after eating half a dozen pieces of fruit and the entire bag of cookies, was that she wanted breakfast to be closer to brunch when they talked each day. Surely he’d agree to that; after all, she was the boss. She should be able to set a few rules.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      Thatcher Jones

      February 23

      THATCHER JONES RACED down the neglected dirt road as if he was an IndyCar race driver and not still too young to get his license. A rusty old sign marked the beginning of a ranch called Lone Heart. What had once been a heart-shaped brand hung lopsided on the marker.

      He eased his boot off the gas a bit. He and his 1963 Ford pickup just might make this run before the rain hit. No one was at the ranch anymore; it should be easy to get in and out without anyone noticing.

      Thatcher had been keeping an eye on a nest of rattlesnakes under the back cattle guard on this ranch for four months. Now there were new folks moving in near the pass and he was about to lose two hundred dollars if he didn’t act fast. To add hell to fury, a storm was blowing in from the north even though the day was hot for February.

      The sheriff’s cruiser pulled out in front of him from nowhere. Thatcher cussed a streak of swear words.

      He slammed on the brakes, leaned out the window and yelled, “Hell, Sheriff, get out of the way. My brakes are no good.”

      Sheriff Dan Brigman didn’t budge and, judging from Thatcher’s experience with the law, he knew that Brigman wouldn’t change or move no matter how much he yelled.

      He pushed on the brakes with both feet but had to pull off into the bar ditch to avoid a collision.

      Once the beat-up old Ford finally clanked to a stop, Thatcher piled out of his truck with a stranglehold on the top of a grain sack.

      “You trying to kill us both, Sheriff?” Thatcher shouted, challenging the lawman, even if he barely came up to Brigman’s shoulder. “I ain’t lived fourteen years just to die in a fiery crash with a cop.”

      The sheriff crossed his arms and said calmly, “What you got in the sack, kid?”

      Thatcher had been told a dozen times not to hunt snakes off his own land, but listening wasn’t one of his talents. Neither was honesty. “I got cow chips. The Boy Scouts are doing a demonstration down in the canyon about how folks used to burn the dry ones so they could keep warm in the winter. This ain’t nothing but fuel for their fire.”

      Brigman glanced at the bag and Thatcher prayed it didn’t start wiggling.

      “I’ve told you, son, hunting rattlers is not something for a kid to be doing.”

      “It’s cow shit, Sheriff. I swear.”

      Brigman shook his head. “It’s shit all right. Tie that bag off and put it in the bed of your pickup. You’re not old enough to drive, and you’re out here in the middle of nowhere hunting rattlers in an old truck that might not even make it back to your place. I can think of a dozen ways I might find you dead.”

      “I’m old enough to drive. I don’t have to sit on the blanket anymore to see out, and hunting ain’t dangerous. I’ve been doing it since I was ten. You just got to jitter when you reach for them so you’re a blur to the snake and not a solid target.”

      “Who told you that?”

      “My СКАЧАТЬ