Logan watched him ride back toward his ranch, keeping Webb in sight until he disappeared in a haze of heat and dust. Webb Calder was a good man. He was also a forceful and persuasive one, capable of wearing Kristin down until she agreed to marry him. If that were to happen, Logan could only accept the loss graciously, nurse his battered heart, and hope that Webb had the wisdom to take his advice.
Kristin deserved to be happy—even if it was with another man.
* * *
On the lower part of the Dollarhide Ranch, in a pasture where the cattle grazed, there was a spot where the creek had been widened to form a pond. Over time, cottonwoods had sprouted and grown tall, with branches that overhung the water. On one side, where the bank was too high for the cattle to trample it getting to water, the grass was dotted with wildflowers.
The creek was cold; but on a day like today, with the summer sky blazing overhead and heat waves shimmering above the pastures, the four boys—Joseph, Buck, Cully, and Chase—welcomed the chill. With their clothes strewn on the bank, they swam naked, splashing, ducking, swinging on the rope they’d slung from one of the overhanging limbs and joking about how the cold water shrank their dicks.
When their teeth began to chatter, they climbed out of the water, pulled on their clothes, and sat on the high bank, tossing pebbles in the pond and talking.
“Will you two be showing up tonight?” Buck nodded toward Joseph and Cully. Earlier, on their way here, they’d all noticed the black ribbon tied to the fence, Mason’s signal that a shipment would be coming in. This would be the third time the boys had been summoned to help.
“I’ll be there if I can sneak out,” Joseph said.
Cully nodded. “I’ll be there for sure.”
“You should come with us, Chase,” Buck said. “We get ten dollars for less than two hours of work. Where else can you make that kind of money?”
Chase shook his head. “Not me. I don’t need the money, and my dad would kill me if he found out. Anyway, you three might want to think about quitting. There’s a new sheriff in town. His name’s Jake Calhoun. Dad says he’s sworn to put a stop to the illegal booze smuggling. He’ll be watching, and if he catches you, you’ll be shipped off to reform school, probably till you’re eighteen.”
Joseph felt a chill that had nothing to do with his damp clothes or the light breeze that rippled the surface of the pond. Chase was probably right. The money and the thrill of doing something dangerous were hardly worth the risk of disgracing his family and ruining his future.
But something else—the allure of the man with the broad shoulders, chestnut hair, and riveting green eyes—drew him like a spell. Mason Dollarhide. Blood of his blood. Bone of his bone. His father.
They hadn’t talked privately since that brief exchange the first night. But Joseph knew that Mason was watching him—how he worked, what he said, and how much the other boys respected him. Joseph wanted his father to like him, or at least accept him. And he wanted to know the man who, in his eyes, appeared as glamorous as the swashbuckling pirate from a movie he’d seen in Miles City.
Dangerous or not, he would be there tonight.
* * *
Joseph’s escape from the house had gone as planned. As he reached the junction in the road, he could see his two friends in the moonlight, waiting on their horses. “Did anybody see you?” he asked as he joined them. “With that new sheriff in town, we can’t be too careful.”
“Nobody saw us,” Cully said. “And even if they did, hell, we’re just kids out fooling around at night. All they’d do is send us home. Come on, let’s go.”
The road was empty as they rode south to the Hollister Ranch. There was no sign of the truck and no settling dust or odor of fumes to suggest that it might have passed. They tethered their horses by the gate and crossed the yard to the barn, where they found Mason waiting alone.
“I knew I could count on you boys to show up,” he said. “There’s been a change of plans. With that new sheriff prowling around at all hours, we can’t have the truck going straight through town. I’ve told the driver to come here by the back road, the one the lumber wagons take to get to the mill.”
“Cully and I know that road,” Joseph said. “You pick it up north of town. After the sawmill, you can cut back to the main road and head south. No need to go through town at all.”
“Good, that’s helpful.” The barest hint of a smile tugged at Mason’s mouth. “The driver is new. He’ll have his lights off, and he doesn’t know the way. Joseph, I want you and Cully to meet him north of town, on the main road, and guide him. Can you do that?”
“You bet,” Cully said.
“What about me?” Buck demanded.
“You’ll stay here and help me move some boxes to make room for the new shipment. Now, is everybody straight?”
The boys nodded, although Buck looked disappointed that he wouldn’t be getting in on the action.
Joseph and Cully cut through fields and back lots on their way to the rendezvous point with the truck. If that new sheriff was watching Main Street, they didn’t want to be noticed, which might lead to their being stopped and questioned.
“Do you think Chase would ever tell on us?” Cully asked as they waited in the shadows for the truck to show up. “I know his dad hates your family. And he doesn’t like mine much better.”
“Chase is our friend,” Joseph said. “He wouldn’t tell on us—not unless we did something to make him really mad.”
“I know. But what if he did? He could get us in a lot of trouble.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Joseph said, looking down the road. “Listen. Hear the engine? The truck’s coming.”
As the truck rumbled closer, driving without headlights, Joseph dismounted, walked to the roadside, and waved the flashlight Mason had lent him. He had to jump out of the way as the driver pulled onto the shoulder of the road. The man who rolled down the window was a stranger. But Joseph had no doubt that he was armed, just as the last driver had been.
“Turn off that damned light and show me where to go,” he growled.
Joseph switched off the flashlight. “Yes, sir. Follow me and my friend.”
The sky was cloudy, but the moon shed enough light for what was needed. The boys rode a few yards ahead and the truck followed, swaying over the deep wagon ruts and grinding the axles against the high center. Joseph could imagine the driver cursing as he alternately gunned and slowed the engine. He would be in a foul mood when they arrived at the Hollister Ranch.
When the truck lurched hard to one side or the other, Joseph could hear the sound of clinking, sliding bottles. If any were broken, there could be trouble. But that wasn’t his worry or Cully’s, he reminded himself. They were only doing their jobs.
* * *
Sometime after midnight, Logan was awakened by what sounded like a racing engine—loud but muffled by distance, as if coming from the wagon road. Still muzzy from sleep, he raised his head. His first thought was that the road, rutted by wagon wheels, and carved even deeper by rain and snow, was no place for a heavy motor vehicle. Then, as he sat up and swung his legs off the bed, it came to him that anyone driving along that road in the middle of the night was probably up to no good.