Texas Standoff. Ruth Smith Alana

everybody? The place was like a mausoleum.

      Finally the sound of approaching boot steps. Someone paused on the back porch. Colin grabbed the untouched newspaper from the center of the table and did his best to appear nonchalant. At the creak of the screen door, he lifted his glance from the headlines, only to peer into a pair of deep-set gray eyes wedged between a maze of wrinkles and sagging lids.

      “Mornin’,” the old man grunted as he stepped inside and removed his dusty hat.

      “Morning,” Colin echoed, exerting great effort to hide his disappointment.

      “The name’s Riley-Riley James. Miz Winston sent me to carry you into San Antonio. Whenever you’re ready, that is.” Ill at ease himself, Riley scratched his stubbled neck as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “You ate yet?” he inquired.

      “No.” Colin’s reply sounded more irritated than stunned. Actually he was both.

      “Well, no hurry,” Riley assured him, settling his stooped form in a chair at the opposite end of the table. “Andele will fix ya up and I don’t mind keepin’ ya company. Matter o’ fact, another cup of coffee would hit the spot.” He favored Colin with a lazy grin. “Sure would like a plug o’tobacco to go along with my coffee, but Miz Winston don’t allow chewin’ in the big house. She don’t much trust our aim when we spit.”

      Andele breezed through the swinging door, carrying an armload of dirty linens to the adjacent laundry room.

      “Buenos dias,” the spry Mexican chirped as he blew past them. “Un momento.”

      The old man made a big production of clearing the phlegm from his throat as he shoved back the chair and ambled over to the stove. “Yeah, ya better feed this fella so’s we kin get under way, Andele.” He wet a finger, testing the temperature of the blue-and-white-speckled coffeepot simmering on the burner. Satisfied it wasn’t too hot to handle, he grabbed a mug from the counter and poured himself a cup of the stout java. “Miz Winston wants me back out at South Camp by lunchtime.”

      “Si, I take care of pronto.” Andele began slinging skillets, frying up ham and scrambling eggs in double-time. Fresh-squeezed orange juice appeared at Colin’s elbow in a blink.

      “Quick, ain’t he?” the old gent snickered between sips of his coffee.

      Colin concurred with a nod of his head.

      “Might as well throw an extra slice of that there ham in the skillet, Andele. Drop a few extra biscuits while you’re at it. Roads might be slow after the rain ‘n all. There’s a chance I won’t make it back before lunch and it’s a long stretch till supper. Figure I need a bite to tide me over.” Riley knew he had the dubious reputation of having an appetite that was greatly disproportionate to his work habits, but it didn’t bother him overly much.

      Colin was only half paying attention to Riley’s breakfast order. He was more interested in finding out why he was sharing the table with him rather than E.Z.

      “I was hoping to see Miss Winston this morning. Where is she, anyway?” He tried to pry the information out of the whiskered emissary.

      “She’s out at South Camp. Storms have a way of spookin’ the cattle. Gotta scour the countryside in search of ‘em. Ya wouldn’t believe some of the tight places they kin hole up in,” he explained. “She ‘n the boys rode watch over the herd part of the night, but there’s always a few strays that’s gotta be rounded up and brought in.”

      So that was why she went back out into the storm, Colin reasoned, marveling at the sheer stamina of the woman.

      Andele placed a plate heaped high with ham, eggs, grits and biscuits before each of them. Riley immediately started scooping the tasty vittles into his watering mouth.

      Colin had the good manners to at least thank Andele before filling his fork.

      Riley merely offered the Mexican an indelicate burp. His appreciation was understood. No need to go ‘round thankin’ a body every time they done somethin’ they was paid to do anyways. That was his philosophy.

      True to form, Andele left them to their breakfast and hurried off to tend to his next chore.

      Colin decided to try a different approach with the old geezer. “I really was hoping to thank Miss Winston for her hospitality. How far away is South Camp?”

      “It’s a fer piece,” was the scant information provided. Riley swallowed a mouthful of coffee and studied him over the edge of the mug. “It ain’t necessary for you to chase her down to tell her that. Takin’ folks in outta the weather is just common courtesy.” The logic he put forth made perfect sense to him.

      “All the same, I’d like to say goodbye,” Colin persisted with a determined chomp of ham.

      “Well, I dunno,” Riley stated ponderously. “Miz Winston might not take kindly to the notion o’ me haulin’ you out there. She might accuse me of dawdling ‘cause she knows I don’t care much for chasin’ down steers in the heat o’ the day.”

      “I’ll explain that I insisted.” Colin intended to see her again if he had to walk to South Camp.

      “Yeah, well.” Riley sopped up the last of his eggs with a hunk of biscuit, shoveled it into his mouth and rolled it around the same as he rolled around the idea of cartin’ the pilgrim out to the lower range. “I suppose it’d be okay for me to run ya by. To tell you the truth, Miz Winston has me pegged. I ain’t real keen on sittin’ a saddle no more. I’d rather ride that pickup out yonder.”

      For the first time that morning, Colin smiled. “Good, then it’s settled. I’ll just go gather my things and we can get started.”

      “Whatever you say.” Riley swiped his shirtsleeve across his mouth and let loose with another belch. “Only don’t blame me if she ain’t excited at seein’ ya. The woman’s one-minded where work’s concerned and kinda short on patience when it comes to somebody interruptin’ her schedule.”

      “I’ll consider myself warned.” Colin couldn’t care less if his unexpected intrusion upset her work schedule. He was not about to leave Cheyenne Moon without a word or an inkling as to what part he might have in her future.

      It was a bumpy trip to South Camp. The rain-rutted road cut through long stretches of grazing land. The brunt of the conversation was carried by Riley. For the most part, Colin tuned him out, concentrating, instead, on the native habitat of the wild cowgirl he’d body-wrestled with the previous night and the longhorns that roamed the area at will.

      Not until Riley stated that they were nearing the area in question did he snap to attention. “It’s just around the bend. I figure she’s still at the camp house. Her and Andy Smallwood was hashin’ out buyin’ fresh breedin’ bulls at the upcoming stock sale over in Luckenbach next month.”

      As the pickup drew closer to the wood-frame house, his pulse quickened. The place was set between two giant shade trees in the middle of a vast panorama of grasslands encircled by a natural barrier of swelling hills. In spite of the glare of the sun and the screen enclosing the wraparound front porch, he recognized E.Z.’s shapely figure immediately. As Riley had predicted, she was talking with a lanky man Colin assumed to be Andy Smallwood. Even from a distance Colin could plainly make out a certain carriage of authority about the ranch manager as he propped a foot on a chair rung, rested his forearm on a knee and argued a point with E.Z.

      Their heads jerked up simultaneously as the pickup came to a stop short of the hitching rail out front. The manager eased himself to an upright position and took measure of the unknown caller as Colin got out of the truck and came up the walk. E.Z. displayed no surprise, at least not outwardly, at his unexpected appearance. She merely strolled out the screen door, tucked her hands into the back pockets of her snug-fitting jeans and waited for him to draw near.

      Now that he actually faced her, Colin hadn’t the vaguest notion how to behave. He glanced up at the man behind the screen, then over to the woman seated