“Ham’s brand was a complicated thing. He had it forged when Essie was carrying their first child. He told me once that he starting using it right after that baby was put in the ground because he was so sure there’d be another.”
“Poor Essie.”
“That’s what I thought, but Ham figured he was just being optimistic.”
“What was the brand?”
“A W with an interlacing S.”
Jane used her index finger to trace the letters above Morgan’s heart.
“Ham was always fussing about it come branding time. If you didn’t place the brand just right, especially if you got it upside down, it looked like?—”
Jane smacked him on the chest, not hard, but hard enough to get his attention. “Morning Star,” she said. “It would look exactly like your brand at Morning Star.” She traced it again, this time with an M and the S twining through it like ivy. “It is your brand.”
“I’ll be darned.” He caught her hand before she slapped him on the chest again. “You have violent tendencies, ma’am’.”
Jane was not contrite. “If that is true, you should stop nurturing them. I thought you named your ranch Morning Star because it speaks to what is on the horizon. It is hopeful and grand and?—”
“Romantic?”
She sighed softly, nodding. “Yes, romantic. Now I learn that it was merely practical.”
“I don’t know. It’s a little romantic. I could have named my place Morgan’s Sanctuary or Mostly Stolen. Those are practical.”
Jane laughed in spite of herself. “If those were the other choices, then you did well.” She sobered some, inching closer. “How was it that you were never caught? You are the one who told me the law deals harshly with cattle thieves. More harshly, it seems, than they do with bank robbers.”
“Caught? I don’t think Zetta Lee knew that any of her cattle were missing until spring. By then I was long gone. She did not have enough hands at the ranch to ride the property and fences had not been repaired in a long time. The only man I recognized still working for her was old Hatch Crookshank.”
“The one who taught you to gentle horses.”
Trust Jane to remember, he thought. “Yes. The same. He was Ham’s friend as much as his best hired hand. Zetta Lee would have done well to trust him, but she never warmed to anything he had to say. The state of the ranch spoke to that, and it made what I was doing about as easy as buttering toast.
“Beef prices were good then. I drove small herds southwest across the open range to the station at Kemmerer, not far from the territory line. No one knew me there. Ham had never registered his brand because the station inspectors at Rock Springs knew him when he started out. I registered his brand as mine but made sure the inspectors understood the proper orientation for the iron. I sold the cattle to start, got enough for a stake in a rolling poker game on the Union Pacific and tripled what I had. I went back for more cattle and did it all over again. When I returned the third time, I already had an agreement with the syndicate to purchase the ranch and money down on the contract. I took fewer cows that time because I had no intention of selling at market. That’s also when I stole some of the horses.”
“And you escorted your spoils to Morning Star.”
“Escorted? I suppose that’s accurate. They were real cooperative; it didn’t feel like much of a drive. There was some good stock left from when the Burdicks owned the ranch. The eastern speculators hadn’t done right by the land or the cattle, but there wasn’t anything that could not be repaired over time. I didn’t need Zetta Lee’s cattle or her horses. I took them mostly for?—”
“Revenge?” asked Jane.
“I was going to say I took them mostly for sentimental reasons, but I won’t argue with revenge.”
Jane’s soft laughter tickled her lips. “All right.” She traced her initials on his chest.
“Branding me?”
“I am, yes.” She tapped him again. “What happened to the money from the robberies?”
“Split and spent. Zetta Lee got most of it. She considered that fair since she did the planning. There wasn’t one of us who trusted banks, but no one thought that Ham’s safe was a good place to put money either.”
“Not with you around, certainly.”
“I believe that factored in their opinion.”
“So?”
“So everyone had a hidey-hole. Mine was an old stump I hollowed out about a hundred yards due north of where Ham was buried. Yes, I spent some time looking for it when I was up there. Found the stump, but there was nothing inside. Before I looked, I told myself I wouldn’t take the money, or if I did, I’d return it to someone, maybe Mr. Cumberland at the Rock Springs bank. Since there wasn’t any money, I can tell myself that I would have resisted the temptation to keep it, but I think I know better.”
