Hot On His Trail. Kristin Eckhardt

bed before sunrise. Meet me in my study.” He turned around without another word and ambled back into the house.

      By the time Matt reached Rufus’s study, the rancher had poured two whiskeys.

      “A toast,” Rufus said, handing one of the tumblers to Matt. Then he raised his own glass in the air. “To the best trail boss west of the Mississippi.”

      Matt took a sip of the whiskey. It burned its way into his stomach and made him feel slightly queasy. But then, so did Rufus Tupper.

      Matt set down his glass. “What do you want?”

      “Hell, Radcliffe,” Rufus said, pouring himself another whiskey. “You always this suspicious?”

      “It comes with the job. I’ve got to be on the lookout for rattlesnakes, coyotes and other predators.”

      “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Rufus settled into his chair. “I just want to make sure that everything is all set. I’ve got a lot of money riding on this bet with Lester Hobbs. In fact, we’ve decided to up the ante.”

      Matt felt himself tense. Rufus and Lester were rich men with too much time and money on their hands. One whiskey-soaked night they’d reminisced about the good old days when a man could prove his mettle by driving cattle to market. Nowadays, most cattle were transported via semitrailer truck. Cattle drives were either short jaunts from one pasture to the next, or part of a tourist package for bored city slickers who wanted to play cowboy for a week.

      Rufus and Lester decided to take a trip down memory lane by recreating an old-fashioned cattle drive on the Goodnight-Loving Trail, which had run west from Central Texas to Fort Sumner, New Mexico, well over a hundred years ago. Tupper had just laughed when Matt pointed out that the drive they had routed was headed in the wrong direction, running east instead of west.

      “Up the ante?” Matt echoed. “You mean you’ve decided to make my job even harder?”

      Rufus chuckled. “Hey, if you want to win that half a million dollars, you’ve gotta earn it. Or have you changed your mind?”

      Matt folded his arms across his chest. “Are you going to tell me the new terms of the bet or are you just going to keep wasting my time?”

      Rufus swirled the whiskey in his glass. “Basically the same as before. Lester and I each send one hundred longhorn steers on a cattle drive from here to my ranch near Jacksboro, Texas. First one to pass over the property line at the Lazy R wins the race.”

      “And?” Matt prompted.

      “And we’ve set the death loss at five percent. Which means if more than five steers die on the trail, the bet is forfeited. It would be too easy to win by cutting down the herd.”

      Matt narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I don’t shoot cattle just to make my job easier.”

      Rufus slowly sipped his whiskey. “Actually, I’ve heard so many good things about you I’m starting to wonder if you hired a publicity agent. You’ve got a reputation as the best long-distance trail boss in the country. Even better than Rich Weaver, who Lester hired to lead his drive. Now let’s see if you live up to it.”

      Matt knew people spoke highly of him, marveling at his dedication to his work. They never seemed to realize that he didn’t have anything else.

      But that was all about to change.

      “I want a check for five hundred thousand dollars waiting for me at the bank in Jacksboro.”

      Rufus pulled open his top desk drawer. “That reminds me. I had a contract drawn up so we do everything legal. That damn IRS is always breathing down my neck.”

      Matt picked up the contract, leafing through the pages. Despite the legalese, he could see it clearly spelled out that Rufus would pay him the amount they’d agreed upon if Matt and his crew were the first ones across the finish line.

      “Do you have a pen?”

      Rufus fumbled in his drawer, then handed him one. “So when do you expect to hit Jacksboro?”

      “I’m hoping to travel ten to fifteen miles a day, depending on the weather.” Matt scribbled his signature across the bottom of the contract, right below Tupper’s messy scrawl. “We’ll drive the cattle hard for five days at a time, then graze for two. With a little luck, we should arrive at the Lazy R about a month from now. Probably mid-February.”

      Rufus scowled. “You’d get there a lot faster if you didn’t stop to graze.”

      “Three hundred miles is a long way to go. Your steers would be nothing but skin and bones by the time we got to Jacksboro. If they made it that far.”

      “I don’t give a damn about that.” Rufus scowled. “I just don’t want to lose.”

      Matt slid the contract back across the desk. “I don’t intend to lose.”

      “Good.” Rufus settled back in his chair. “Although I should warn you that Lester cheats at cards. No reason to believe he won’t find a way to cheat on the trail, too.”

      “I’ll keep my eyes open.”

      The rancher smirked. “’Course, I wouldn’t mind if you caused Lester’s cowboys a little trouble along the way. I even put a few ideas in Boyd’s head that should add some fun to the trip. Did I mention he’s going along?”

      “So I heard.” Matt stood up, planting both palms on the polished surface of Tupper’s desk. “But let’s get one thing straight. I don’t cheat. And any man on my crew who decides to implement one of your plans will find himself walking barefoot back to Fort Sumner.”

      Rufus chuckled. “That’s the difference between us, Radcliffe. You’re honest and poor. I’m dishonest and rich. It’s time you wise up, son, before you lose both the bet and the nice fat check that’s already got your name on it.”

      Matt had never been so tempted to walk away. Leave behind Rufus and his frivolous bet. Finding work had never been a problem before. Finding someone willing to pay him half a million dollars was another story. Especially since he was only three hundred miles away from making his dream come true.

      A ranch of his very own.

      He’d dreamed of it ever since he was fifteen years old, lying under the stars on his first cattle drive. Some cowboys liked the nomad life, but Matt needed roots to feel whole. Roots that had been ripped away when he was twelve years old and never replanted.

      Now he was so close to his dream, he couldn’t resist the offer Rufus dangled before him. Hell, why should he resist it? Rufus wouldn’t miss the money. It was a stupid, meaningless bet, but if Matt didn’t take the job, Rufus would find someone else to do it.

      “Don’t worry,” Matt said, moving toward the door. “I’ll win your bet. And I don’t intend to let Lester Hobbs or anyone else stop me.”

       CHAPTER THREE

      THE NEXT MORNING, Matt led his bay gelding, Jericho, out of the stable, then mounted his horse and joined his crew by the corral. He’d carefully selected them, wranglers he’d known for years whom he could trust to work hard and keep the cattle moving. He looked at them now in the predawn shadows and knew he’d chosen the best.

      Cliff Donovan was his oldest friend and a cowboy with a wry sense of humor. But Cliff took his job seriously, especially now that he had a growing family to support. He was not only book smart, but cow smart, and knew how to keep a large herd under control.

      Davis and Deb Gunn were a husband and wife team who could ride and rope with the best of them. They were saving money to start a dude ranch on the Wind River Range in Wyoming, where Deb had grown up. She was one of the few women he knew who looked more comfortable in a saddle than in a dress.

      Arnie Schott was pushing sixty and fighting arthritis in his knees, but he still loved