Heartbreak Ranch

“Sell the ranch? Oh, no, Howard. I couldn’t possibly sell it,” she said, shaking her head. “Settling down on a ranch was Mama’s dream. I know you think I’m acting irrationally, but I really have thought things out. If I don’t like what I see, I can always come back here.”

“I know all about your mama’s dreams, believe me. But things are different now,” the gray-haired man argued. “It’s not up to you—”

Amy placed her gloved hand over his. “Howard, Mama gave me everything I ever wanted. I don’t know if it’s possible, but I have to try to make her dream come true.”

“You’re just as stubborn as Bella was,” he said with a rueful smile, then snapped the reins.

Minutes later they arrived at the stage station. Two burly men hefted Amy’s trunk and her

mother’s smaller one to the top of the coach. When they reached for the painting, she cautioned them to take extra care and watched as they stood it upright between her trunks.

Satisfied it was secure, she led Toddy around to the side of the coach. “Up, boy,” she commanded, patting the floor. Toddy needed no urging. He jumped up into the Concord and sat down. “He’s the smartest dog I’ve ever seen,” she said, turning to Evans.

“Bella was plumb crazy ’bout that fool dog. Spent a lot of time training him.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and a small cloth bundle. “Here’s a list of basic tricks and commands you need to know right off to make him mind you. And here’s some of his favorite treats. Your mama made them special. He’ll do just about anything to get one, so you best hide them where he can’t see or smell them or he’ll drive you crazy with his beggin’. Everything else you need to know ’bout him is in Bella’s journal. You should know, Missy, that your mama put a lot of work into that journal. I believe she intended it to be useful for you one day, although I’m not quite sure how. As far as I know, it’s just full of dog commands.” Evans regarded Toddy with a look of dismay. “To hear Bella talk about that animal, you’d think he was human. Claimed he was the best thing that ever happened to her. Said he taught her more about men than all the courtesans in France.” The moment the words left his mouth, he reddened with embarrassment.

“Is that so?” Amy barely managed to hold back a smile. “In that case—” she lowered her voice to a whisper “—he’ll be quite an asset because I know nothing at all about men.” With that, she lifted her skirt and climbed up into the coach.

A red-faced Evans stood at the stage door until she was settled. “If you need me for anything—

anything at all—I’ll be working downtown at the What Cheer House.”

The moment had come. Amy didn’t speak for fear she would cry. She had known Howard Evans all her life and thought of him as the father she never had.

“Thank you for loving Mama and taking care of her all these years.” She tried to stem the welling tears but could not. “I know in her own way she loved you, too.”

“That she did, honey. That she did.” Howard squeezed her hand, then stepped back as the Concord lurched forward.

* * *

IT WAS NOON when the stage pulled into Havilah, a busy mining town high in the Tehachapi Mountains. It stopped in front of the Golden Gate Hotel. As the passengers disembarked, the hotel proprietor, Leopold Wattiez, announced that he provided the best accommodations in town along with French-cooked meals.

Amy decided that a French-cooked meal was exactly what she needed before continuing on to the ranch. She tied Toddy to the post next to the water trough and went inside.

“Voilà!” said the rotund cook a few minutes later, as he set the plate down in front of her. Amy was hard-pressed to see what was French about the roast beef and potato dish, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Recalling some of the French phrases her mother had taught her, she praised his efforts and earned a beaming smile plus all the information she needed about the town, where to shop and where to hire a wagon and driver.

Not knowing exactly what supplies she would need, she decided to buy a little of everything so she wouldn’t have to come back for a while. Then she hired a boy with a spring wagon to load up her things and drive her out to the ranch.

An hour later, they came within view of Heartbreak Ranch.

“I ain’t been out here for a long time, but I’m purty sure this is it,” said the boy, pointing a finger.

Amy gasped in delight at the small white house surrounded by ancient oaks and emerald-green hills covered with bright orange poppies, blue lupine and owl’s clover. Dozens of fat steers stood grazing, not even looking up as the wagon drew close.

It’s Mama’s dream come true, she thought, wishing her mother were here to share this moment with her.

Riding in the back of the wagon, Toddy ran back and forth, barking with excitement.

“Toddy, quiet,” Amy commanded, then realized he probably thought the steers were big dogs and wanted to chase them. Until he got used to them—and they to Toddy—she’d have to tie him up.

The closer they got, the more Amy saw that the house’s beauty was an illusion, caused by distance and wishful thinking. Up close, it was nothing more than a tumbledown shack. Overcome with disappointment, she now felt relieved that her mother wasn’t there to see her dream shattered.

So this is Heartbreak Ranch. She shook her head. She’d wondered about the name. Now she knew. It broke her heart just looking at it—the chipped and peeling whitewash, the dilapidated front porch, the weatherworn door branded with a broken heart. Maybe she should have taken Howard’s advice and stayed in San Francisco.

“Where do you want me to put your things?” the boy asked.

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to turn the wagon around and head back to Havilah. Instead, she surprised herself by saying, “Anywhere will be fine.” Before she could change her mind, she climbed out of the wagon. Toddy leaped out of the wagon bed, nearly toppling her in his excitement to get down. She grabbed his leash and gently commanded him to settle down, but it was an effort in futility. Straining against his leash, he pulled her across the yard to the house, where he used his long nose to push the door open.

The inside of the house was even worse than the outside. Thick dust and dirt covered everything. A stack of old newspapers lay on the table, the edges chewed away. The furniture—what there was of it—was crudely made and the earthen floor was covered with animal droppings and litter.

The thought that this was her legacy made Amy groan. “Oh, Toddy, I don’t know....”

“That’s the last of it,” the boy said, walking up behind her.

Only when he held out his hand, did Amy remember that she needed to pay him. She reached into her reticule, pulled out three coins and dropped them into his palm.

“Much obliged, ma’am. Let me know if you need me for anything else, you hear?”

Amy could only nod. The fact was, she needed so much she didn’t know what to ask for first. Dazed, she stared after him as he climbed into the wagon and released the brake. He was beyond shouting distance when she thought to ask how she was supposed to contact him.

Toddy snapped her out of her thoughts when he jumped up on his hind legs and dropped his big paws on her shoulders.

“Good grief! What are you doing?” she asked, struggling to push him off. “Down, Toddy. Get down.”

She barely finished speaking when a raccoon scampered out of its hiding place and ran between them, then out the door.

Amy screamed and jumped back.

Toddy yipped and lurched forward, yanking his leash out of her hand. He ran after the creature at a full gallop.

Amy chased him, yelling for him to stop. Finally, the raccoon darted up an oak tree and sat on a branch looking smugly down at the dog.

“Bad dog!” Amy scolded between gasps. She tried to pull him away from the tree, but he fought her every step, twisting and turning, barking and yipping. She had no idea how to control the animal. Nothing on the list Howard had given her covered chasing raccoons up trees. Remembering that his other commands were in her mother’s journal, she decided to look them up at the first opportunity. On her way back to the house, she stopped at the pile of baggage and supplies and opened her satchel. She pocketed a handful of Toddy’s bite-size treats, thinking they might come in handy if Toddy gave her any more trouble.

Looking up at the sky, she figured she had about an hour before nightfall. After her town meal, she wasn’t hungry, which meant she wouldn’t have to tackle the kitchen area just yet. That was a relief, since it was the dirtiest.

She supposed the first thing to do was to put the bedroom in order so she would have a clean place to sleep. She tied Toddy to a porch post and fed him the leftover beef she’d saved from her supper.

It took less time than anticipated to clean the bedroom and make up the bed. As soon as she finished, she went outside to get her mother’s painting. Having already decided against hanging it in the main room because of the difficulty she would have explaining it to anyone who saw it, she opted for the bedroom.

Lifting the heavy, gilt-framed, life-size nude up to the nail above the bed proved to be a challenge. It took her three tries before she succeeded, then she jumped down off the bed and stood back to admire her efforts.

“You’re home, Mama,” she said, feeling a little foolish talking to an inanimate object. “I know it’s not exactly what you had in mind, but I promise you that one day it will be everything you dreamed of and more.”

A pistol shot interrupted her one-sided conversation.

Amy shrieked, jumped back and flattened herself against the wall next to the window. Outside, Toddy barked furiously. Dear God, don’t let him get shot. Cautiously, Amy sidled up next to the window and peeked out. At first, all she saw was Toddy fighting against his rope. Then she saw a half dozen men on horseback galloping toward the house, their guns drawn. Who were they? What did they want? She looked around for something to use as a weapon, then realized the futility of it. If they meant to do her harm, she was virtually at their mercy.

As she waited, something drew her gaze to the painting. Be brave, chérie. I am with you. I will always be with you.

Outside, an angry voice called out, “Whoever you are, get out here.”

Amy straightened her spine, smoothed back her hair and headed for the door.

The riders, still astride their horses, formed a semicircle several yards from the porch step. The sun had slipped below the horizon making it impossible for her to see their faces clearly.

“Who are you and what do you want?” In spite of her resolve, her voice cracked.

One of the six nudged his horse a step forward. “Name’s Walker Heart and you’re trespassin’ on my property.”

“There must be some mistake,” Amy replied without hesitation.

“Damn right there is,” the man rejoined. “And you made it. Now get the hell off my land.”

Amy gasped. No one had ever spoken to her in such a crude manner. Forgetting to be cautious, she stomped out onto the porch, where Toddy’s loud, insistent barks provoked her all the more.

“Toddy, quiet,” she commanded so sternly that the curly, white canine lay down and put his head between his paws. “And you, Mr. Heart,” she said, pointing an accusing finger, “I’ll thank you to mind your language. You happen to be speaking to a lady.”

Walker Heart’s eyes widened in surprise at the blue-eyed blonde decorating his front porch. From a distance she hadn’t appeared to be anything

special—just another squatter’s wife. He’d ordered the last squatters off his property a month ago and threatened to shoot them if he ever saw them on his land again. He was sick and tired of folks trying to take what didn’t belong to them and had decided to get tough even if it meant gaining a reputation as a bully.

Damned if she isn’t the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen, he thought. And the maddest. Feet slightly apart, arms akimbo, she looked ready to do battle. But so was he. He rearranged himself in the saddle and leaned forward over the saddle horn. “I’m only gonna to tell you one more time. This is my land and I want you off it. Now.”

His land. Amy’s heart sank. Was it possible that this wasn’t Heartbreak Ranch after all? Had the boy made a mistake and brought her to the wrong ranch?

She was about to tell the rude Mr. Walker Heart that she would gladly leave if she had the means to do so when a thought struck her. Heart was the name on the deed.

“Are you related to a Sam Heart?” she ventured, hoping two and two would make four.

Walker cast a sideways look at the Indian next to him, then turned back to her. “He’s my pa.”

“Oooh.” She unconsciously drew the word out as far as it could go. It was a relief to know she was right where she was supposed to be. But why didn’t Walker Heart know it? Wouldn’t his father have told him that he’d sold their property?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, nudging the brim of his hat back off his forehead.

He was so arrogant. So cocksure. So infuriating. If he wasn’t so mean and nasty, she might feel sorry for him and regret having to be the one to tell him he no longer had a claim on Heartbreak Ranch. As it was, she felt a sort of perverse satisfaction.

“I believe the mistake is yours, Mr. Heart,” she said with all the haughtiness she could muster. “I am the new owner of Heartbreak Ranch.”

Walker gave a sarcastic chuckle. “You expect me to believe that? What do I look like, a fool?”

Amy’s eyebrows arched to a peak. A fool? Him? Actually she had a different word in mind but was too much of a lady to utter it.

“I would not make such a claim if I didn’t have the proof. It’s in my trunk—a deed signed by your father.” She expected some sort of reaction but none surfaced. “If you and your men will move your horses out of the way, I’ll get it and you can see for yourself.”

Nobody moved.

Amy waited a moment longer. If they thought they were going to intimidate her, they had another think coming. She untied Toddy and walked toward them.

Walker stared down at her, his horse’s reins held loosely before him. He’d seen and heard enough and was getting angrier by the second. It was inconceivable that his father would sell the ranch. To anybody. For any price.

He had to admit that when his ma died, things did change some between them. There were clashes of will and disagreements. Then his pa started going up the road to Havilah on Saturday nights. More than once Walker found him sitting at the faro table, too drunk to make it home on his own. And there was that woman, Jersey Lil. A whore. Every man in a fifty-mile radius had bedded her.

But the one thing he and his father had always agreed on was how to run Heartbreak Ranch. Someone would’ve had to put a pistol to Sam Heart’s head to get him to sign over the deed.

Amy stopped a few yards short of the horses. Neither Walker Heart nor any of his gunmen had moved so much as an inch. She could be patient to a point and she had reached it. But as she stared at Walker Heart she wondered what she could do against a thousand pounds of horse and two hundred pounds of man?

She could take the long route, walking in a circle around them, then behind them to her trunk.

What would her mama have said about that? Amy could think of several things and decided that the long route was not an option.

She could call on whatever chivalry they might possess and plead prettily for them to move.

Her own instincts told her that was out.

Ironically, it was Walker Heart’s horse who offered a possible solution. The closer Toddy got the more skittish the horse became.

The horse has probably never seen a dog like Toddy, she realized. I wonder what would happen if Toddy showed him one of the little tricks? Amy had studied Howard’s list and knew what tricks he was capable of doing.

Pulling Toddy along beside her, Amy advanced a few more feet, then stopped and looked up at her tormentor. Until this moment, Walker’s face had been hidden by the evening’s shadows and she’d only imagined what he looked like. But up close, he didn’t look anything like the ogre she’d thought him to be. He was a handsome man but not in the typical smooth-featured way. His was a handsomeness honed by sun and wind and toughened by hard living. It appealed to her in ways she’d never dreamed. A blunt jaw, sharp cheekbones and a slightly crooked nose added character. Beneath his dun-colored hat, his brown hair was a bit too long, as were his sideburns.

But it was his eyes that gave her pause and caused her to reconsider her plan to make him move out of her way. It wasn’t just their color—a light, clear blue—but the way they watched her in narrowed speculation.

The same voice she’d imagined hearing coming from the painting came to her on the breeze, encouraging her.

Stay calm. He is, after all, only a man.

She reached into her pocket for one of Toddy’s treats, then gained the dog’s attention by holding it in front of him. “Dance, Toddy...and sing. Sing pretty.”

The big white dog reared up on his hind legs, yipping and howling like a coyote. With his front paws waving up and down, he danced around in a circle.

Amy had thought only to frighten Walker’s horse enough so it would move. Instead, bedlam.

All six horses panicked and broke from their riders’ control, bucking, kicking, tossing their heads. Afraid she and Toddy would be kicked or trampled, Amy yanked on Toddy’s leash and made a dash for the pile of baggage and supplies. Between the horses’ whinnies and snorts, she heard human cuss words so hot they could sizzle bacon.

It took Walker several minutes to regain control of his horse, and his men slightly longer. By the time he dismounted and tied the animal to the hitching post, he was obviously angry.

Amy nearly panicked when Walker strode toward her. The jingle of spurs punctuated his every step like a death knell. Her eyes widened and her stomach flip-flopped when he chomped down on the fingertip of his glove and yanked it off. If ever she wanted to run and hide, it was now.

Toddy took a protective stance in front of her and growled a fierce warning.

“If that overgrown lamb bites me, I’ll truss him up like a Christmas turkey and roast him for supper.”

Amy stiffened. “He’s a French poodle,” she retorted in defense of the insult. “Trained to maim on command,” she added quickly, feeling a desperate need to boost Toddy’s too-soft image.

Walker stopped as she hoped he would.

“Call him off and show me this deed you say my pa signed.”

Keeping her eyes on Walker and her hold on Toddy, Amy opened the trunk and took the deed from inside her mother’s journal. “It’s quite legal, I assure you,” she said, slapping it into his outstretched hand.

Walker unfolded the document, then lowered his gaze to the signature line. There was no mistaking his father’s handwriting. The bold scrawl was entirely his own. Following the name was the date. May 10, 1869. Only two weeks ago, Walker realized. His father had left for San Francisco six weeks ago with the intention of settling a boundary dispute. Once the error was corrected, a new deed was to have been drawn up.

Walker read the document from top to bottom looking for something that would tell him why his father had sold the ranch. There was nothing. Nothing at all.

He looked at Amy, thinking he should be able to see something in her demeanor to tell him she was lying. But he didn’t. Switching his gaze to the dog, he reminded himself that looks could be deceiving.

Walker’s eyes narrowed to slits. “My pa—did he owe you money or somethin’?”

Amy shook her head.

“Then did he make you promises...in exchange for...you know...services?”

Amy’s brow knitted in confusion. “Services? What kind of—” A gasp escaped her lungs in a whoosh of indignation. “How dare you imply such a thing!” She plucked the deed from his hand. “For your information I’ve never even met your father.”

Taken aback, Walker cocked his head. “You never met him and yet—”

“I inherited the ranch from my mother,” she cut in, resenting the need to give him any kind of an explanation after what he’d just said.

Walker removed his hat and slapped it against his leg, drawing Amy’s attention to the ominous-looking six-shooter that was strapped there.

“You inherited it from your mother,” he parroted. “Did my pa owe your mother money, or—”

“I have no idea,” Amy returned. “She died in a fire only hours before I arrived home in San Francisco.” Amy bent her head forward. “All I know is that the deed was among the things she left me.”

Walker scratched his ear as he considered her words. He found himself almost believing her. But there were still too many unanswered questions—questions that she either had no answers for or wasn’t going to answer because she was hiding something.

“So it’s just you and your...uh...dog, right?” At her nod, he added, “You know anything about workin’ cattle?”

Working cattle. Amy’s bravado faltered. “I figured I’d get myself settled, then make some inquiries as to what I’d need to do.”

When a chorus of laughter rang out around her, she realized how impossibly foolish she must have sounded. Until now, she’d never even given a thought to how she was going to care for the cattle, let alone work them. But she’d be the last one to admit to Walker Heart that the only thing she knew about cattle was that she liked her beef cooked medium rare.

“What did you say your name was?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I didn’t. But it’s Amelia—Amy Duprey.”

Walker put his hat back on and pulled the brim low. “All right, Miss Duprey. Me and my men are gonna ride on out of here, but don’t make the mistake of thinkin’ that you’ve seen the last of me or that I’m givin’ in.” He turned away from her, walked over to his horse and mounted up.

Amy didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing at all. Was he making a promise or issuing a threat?

Gathering his reins, Walker wheeled his horse around and rode up next to her. “Deed or no deed, lady, Heartbreak Ranch belongs to me.” He touched his hat brim in mock salute, then spurred his horse into a gallop. His men followed.

The horses kicked up a cloud of dust that forced her to run into the house. By the time it cleared, the riders had disappeared.

CHAPTER TWO

AS SOON AS WALKER returned home, he drafted a message to John Drum, hiring him to find his father. Walker had known Drum since they were boys together in Philadelphia. Drum had hired on with the Pinkerton Detective Agency and was currently based in San Francisco. Walker wrote him about his pa’s traveling plans and all that he’d learned today. Tomorrow morning he would have his foreman ride down the mountain to the Bakersfield telegraph station and send the message over the wire.

Walker leaned back in his big cowhide-covered chair and placed his booted feet atop his desk. Crossing his arms in front of him, he stared across at the massive oak bookcase and tried to recall anything unusual his pa had said or done before he’d left. Walker could think of nothing.

If he didn’t hear from his father in the meantime, then in a couple of weeks Walker would know for sure what was going on with his pa. He hoped for the best, a logical explanation for what had happened. But the realist in him feared something was seriously wrong, and he suspected that Miss Amelia Duprey, for all her outward innocence, knew more than she’d let on.

Meantime, Walker decided to keep a close eye on the picture-pretty miss to make sure she didn’t venture over the big hill and discover the new Heartbreak Ranch homestead. The last thing he wanted her to see was the fine house built of sugar pine, the bunkhouse and numerous corrals and outbuildings. As it stood now, she thought the branding shack, built when his ma and pa settled in Walker Basin, was all there was.