ThunderTree

By Sandra Cox

An Old-fashioned Western

Ben Evers is a drifter that never stays in one place too long, always hankering to see what's over the next horizon. His traveling companion—an eagle. He lives by two rules. Mind his own business and always treat women with respect. The first rule stands him in good stead until he meets former Texas Ranger John T. McAllen and his niece Kate Landon. The two are drawing him into their lives and Ben knows from personal experience no good ever comes from getting involved in other folks' trouble. John T. and his neighbor are caught up in a feud over land and Clary's daughter. When danger strikes, swift and hard, Ben has a decision to make. Turn his back and ride away from people he's grown to care about or break his rule of minding his own business, and stay and fight.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra Cox
• Release date: Jun 25, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227380791

Sandra Cox

Multi-published author Sandra Cox writes  YA Fantasy, Romance and Metaphysical Nonfiction. She lives in sunny North Carolina with her husband, a brood of critters and an occasional foster cat. Although shopping is high on the list, her greatest pleasure is sitting on her porch, listening to the birds, sipping coffee and enjoying a good book. She's a vegetarian and a Muay Thai enthusiast.

Book preview

Chapter 1

┬┬

Ben

Ben Evers watched the scene playing out at the base of the arroyo, ignoring a cutting wind that whipped his shirt against his body and stung his face. He leaned forward for a better view into the clay-colored, rough-edged gully. 

Below him, three men tossed a youth back and forth punching him and laughing.

His hands tight on the pommel, he shifted in the saddle.  It went against the grain to let anyone take a licking, especially when the odds were uneven, but he’d learned at an early age to mind his own business. It was a rule he lived by. Still it didn’t sit well. Not well at all.

What the hell? He jerked in the saddle as one of the ruffians tore the youth’s shirt revealing a body that didn’t belong to a boy. At the same time, the victim’s hat fell off and rich russet-colored hair tumbled halfway to a slender waist.

He gave a startled oath. A woman! This changed everything. His other rule: show respect to women. Minding his business be damned.

Rage rolled through him as the sidewinder tossed her on the ground then dropped on top of her. As if in response to the anger coursing through him, an eagle screamed. 

Ben yanked the rifle out of its scabbard and thrummed his heels against his mount’s sides.  As the other two closed in on her, he bent low in the saddle and raced toward the violent scene. His horse stumbled, throwing him forward. With knees and reins, he righted his mount.

They raced on.

Drawing closer he saw her fingers claw through the dirt and close around a rock. She drew back her arm to bring it upside the head of her attacker. The man grabbed her arm and cracked her hand against the hard, dry earth, squeezing her wrist. Instead of crying out, she spit in his face.

Her attacker drew back his hand and slapped her, hard.

Enough!  As the men rushed forward to hold down her hands and the bastard pried at her pants, he put the reins between his teeth and threw the rifle to his shoulder.

Bing. 

The man on her right slumped over, a look of stunned surprise on his face, a spreading red stain on his shirt.

Ben fired again and another man dropped face down.

The hombre on top of her rolled off and streaked to his horse. Throwing himself into the saddle he rode hell for leather, his mount throwing clods of dirt in the air as he raced away.

Ben closed the distance enough to hear the woman yell, Coward.

She’s got grit.

The thud of his horse’s hooves stopped inches from her, as he reined in.

She turned her head, the action stiff as if movement hurt her. Eyes the color of lush prairie grass met his. It surprised him when his already thumping heart began to thunder.

Are you alright? Tension slicked his voice.

She gave a jerky nod and pushed herself into a sitting position. 

He swung out of the saddle.

She straightened her shoulders, visibly fighting for control.  

Thank you for saving my life. She held out a trembly hand, looking him straight in the eye as a man would. Her lips bit together as she fought for control.

His callused hand covered hers. Can you stand?

Swaying, she forced herself to her feet and winced.

He grasped her arm and steadied her, ignoring a current that blasted him at the light touch. To be expected. It had been awhile since he’d been with a woman.

His gaze traveled over her. When it landed on her torn blouse, he looked away.

Her cheeks grew red and she fisted the pieces of shredded material together.

Here. He took off his worn leather vest and handed it to her.

When she put her arm in the opening, she grimaced and bit back a moan.

Reaching out, he pulled it over her shoulder and as gently as possible pulled her other arm through. She stiffened as he began to button it from the bottom. At the third button, his knuckle grazed her breast.  He dropped his hand, as if he’d touched a red-hot poker, leaving the rest of the buttons undone. Hell, with it.

Where’s your horse?

Probably back in the barn by now, eating her head off. She was only half-broke. I thought the ride would help get her used to the saddle. My fault not hers.

Yes.

She gave a surprised huff before a laugh escaped that had her grasping her ribs and trying to catch her breath.

Are you sure you are alright? His muscles tightened. He hadn’t noticed any broken ribs but she might have a cracked one.

She bit her lips and nodded.

I’ll take you to your home. He turned and whistled for his horse.

The horse whickered and ambled over, bumping his nose against the man’s shoulder.

He’s a beauty. With a hand that had a tendency to shake, she patted the appaloosa’s silky neck, damp from the wild ride. Her eyes rolled back, she swayed and slumped against the horse’s shoulder.

Ben jumped forward. Here now, don’t faint. He grasped her waist, lifted her into the saddle and leapt up behind her.

How do I get you home? He took the reins and slipped his boots in the stirrups.

Head west. About a half a mile ahead you’ll come across a creek. Follow it. It’ll take you to the ThunderTree Ranch. She tried to straighten, gave up and slumped against him.

ThunderTree? John T. McAllen’s ranch?

Yes. That’s my uncle. Well, actually my guardian. He’s been my honorary uncle since as long as I can remember. You’ve heard of him?

Everybody in Texas has. He made a name for himself in the Rangers.

He did. Pride resonated in her voice, giving it a smooth, husky timbre.

So, the honorary title means you’re not McAllen?

No. I’m Kate Landon.

Ben Evers. Pleased to meet you, Kate Landon. Though, I wish the circumstances had been better. He paused, thinking. Landon. Your father wasn’t Joseph Landon, was he?

The same.

Another well-known ranger. I take it he and your uncle rode together.

Before she could reply an eagle shrieked. The same high shrill cry, he’d heard minutes before. He tensed, his hand reaching for his rifle.

To their right, sunshine glinted on metal from the top of the mesa. Pushing her down on the saddle, Ben shielded her with his body and slid out the rifle. A shot rang out near his horse’s hooves causing the appaloosa to shy. Ben calmed him, aimed at the spot where the metal had gleamed and fired.

The body of Kate Landon’s attacker came tumbling down the side of the canyon.

Again, the eagle screamed. This time much closer, the pitch different.

Ben holstered the rifle and held out his arm. A worn leather band circled it from wrist to elbow.

Look out! She ducked as the eagle came straight at them.  It landed on his outstretched arm, flapped its wings then settled.

Oh my God. She pushed as far away from that curved beak as she could get.

He won’t hurt you.

She stared at the bird’s unblinking amber eyes. After a moment, she cleared her throat. He’s yours?

He belongs to no man, myself included. We just travel together.

Laughter bubbled. She bit her lips but the mirth escaped, tinged with hysteria. Once she started, she couldn’t stop. The bird shifted and gave a grumbling screech.

He gave her an uneasy look.

She managed to swallow back the hysterical chortles and took a deep breath. Sorry.

What’s so funny?

Most people have a dog. You have an eagle. She went off again.

He shifted in the saddle, having no idea how to handle a hysterical woman.

Finally, she got herself together. You’re a very unusual man, Ben Evers.

Thank you, I think.

The eagle screeched, flapped his wings and rose in the air. 

Hooves thundered.

A rider barreled straight for them, rifle raised.

In one fluid movement, Ben drew his firearm and sighted down the barrel.

Don’t, she said.

Tension vibrated and thickened the air. He didn’t lower the gun.

She put her feet on the toes of his boots, raised herself in the saddle and waved her arms in the air. Uncle John, she called.

He relaxed. John T. McAllen?

Yes.

He lowered his rifle, shoved it into its scabbard and waited.

Whoa. John T.’s voice rang out and he reined in a big bay with one hand, the other still holding his rifle. Dust rose as the stallion stiffened his legs and ground to a halt, his hooves sinking into the dirt.

Katie, are you OK? His voice had a raspy quality that spoke of cigars and whiskey. A big man, he rode tall in the saddle. His weathered face held lines of hard living. He wore brown canvas pants, a blue shirt with a faded red vest and looked tough as nails.

I’m fine, Uncle.

She needs seeing to.

Who the hell are you? Pale brown eyes, with a banked fire behind them, skewered Ben, his stare narrow and as unblinking as the eagle’s.

This is Ben Evers, Uncle John. He saved my life.

John T. holstered his rifle then nudged his horse till it sidled up to the appaloosa. He held out a wide, callused hand. Then I owe you my thanks and a whole lot more. Name’s John T. McAllen.

Ben shook it. The grip on his firm.

Pleased to meet you, sir.

John T.’s attention swung back to his niece. What happened?

I was riding the roan and she tossed me.

She showed back up at the barn looking for oats. I knew something was wrong. Why’d you take her out? She’s only half-broke.

To get her used to being rode.

He lifted in the saddle and cursed. Your fanny usually sticks to leather, what happened?

A jack rabbit ran under her nose and spooked her. I took a header. She cleared her throat. I was on foot when three men found me.

And? Hands on the pommel, John T. leaned forward in the saddle, his voice harsh, the skin around his lips tight.

They wailed on her pretty good, Ben put in.

Did they do anything else? Tension radiated from John T.’s big body, causing his horse to sidle uneasily.

No.

Did you recognize them?

She shook her head.

I wonder if it’s the same sons of a bitches that’s been raiding our cattle. Where are they now? The hands on his reins clenched. Big knuckles white.

From everything Ben had heard about this man, you didn’t mess with anyone he cared about, not if you were counting on a long life.

Ben took care of them. Every mother’s son.

John T. gave a short sharp nod of approval. "Good man. Come back to the ranch and have supper with us. Martha, Kate’s mom, is a wonderful cook and I’m sure she’ll want to thank you.

Any chance you’re looking for work? I can always use a good hand.

I appreciate the offer but I’m heading for Mexico.

And what’s in Mexico?

Just a place I’ve never been.

Got a bit of wanderlust in you?

I like seeing new places. And I don’t like staying in one place too long. Too easy to form attachments.

Well, why don’t you spend the night and think on it? You saved my niece’s life. That puts me squarely in your debt.

I didn’t do anything any right-thinking man wouldn’t have done. Ben shifted in his saddle, embarrassed by the praise.

As if sensing Ben’s discomfort, John T. let it go. What about supper?

Supper would be most welcome and if you could put me up for the night that would be appreciated too. I’ll let you know in the morning about the job.

Good. Martha wouldn’t forgive me if she didn’t get the chance to cook for you. And tomorrow morning will be plenty of time to let me know. John T.’s voice boomed. Then he straightened in the saddle, readjusting the reins. Well, we better be getting back. I’ll take my niece.

Throwing one long leg over the saddle, John T. dismounted and held up his arms. When Kate tumbled into them, he held her tight, his face fierce. Letting her go, he tossed her into the saddle and climbed on behind, sliding worn boots into the stirrups. He kicked the big bay into a trot as they rode alongside a clear, fast-flowing creek.

The sun in the west warmed Ben’s neck, as it glinted off red boulders. The heat more noticeable now that the wind had died down. Hardy grass and red, yellow-tipped Indian blankets dotted the ground. A horned-lizard sunned itself on a dusty rock.  Rugged, raw country stretched as far as the eye could see. He’d been in prettier states, but none that tugged at him like Texas.

They rode in comfortable silence broken only by the thump of the horses’ hooves. Interest sharpened Ben’s gaze as they turned onto a wide, dirt track. Their mounts trotted under a weather-beaten sign with ThunderTree burned into it, hung by chains between two tall poles. The sign creaked as a temperamental wind gusted then dropped off again.

John T. broke the silence. If you decide to stay on, pay’s thirty dollars a month, a bed in the bunkhouse and grub.

That’s fair.

As the horses trotted along the lane, Ben took note of a stable with a side room attached sitting alongside a big barn. Several small buildings sat further back including a chapel. Looks pretty self-sufficient.

We are, John T. answered.

Ben nodded then asked, Who’s your closest neighbor?

Augustus Clary.

He’s a mean bastard. Kate clenched her teeth.

Now, Sissy, don’t you let your mom hear you talk like that.

Don’t you let her hear you.

I don’t know where you get that saucy tongue of yours. John T. grumbled.

I wonder. She flashed him a grin then winced and rubbed her jaw.

John T.’s frown grew fierce. We’re almost at the house. He settled her more securely in the saddle.

Leaning her head back against his solid, wide chest her eyes followed the eagle winging overhead.

I bet you a month of mucking stalls that eagle gets as far as the thunder tree, next to the house, and lights there. She pointed to the bird.

I know where the thunder tree is. You’re up to something. John T. stared at her from unblinking eyes, bushy brows narrowing.

She stuck out her hand. Deal?

Since you’re banged up, I’ll humor you. But I know when I’ve been suckered even if I can’t figure out how.

Ben’s lips twitched but he kept his face poker-straight.

The eagle continued to wheel and circle.

They stopped in front of the house. On the right side of the porch stood a bur oak with a burned-out hole that went straight through the tree near the top. As predicted the eagle landed and settled with a shriek in the hollowed-out center.

Ben studied it. Must be the thunder tree the ranch was named for.

Okay, missy, care to explain? John T.’s eyes narrowed on the bird of prey, then on his niece.

She pointed at Ben. It’s his eagle.

John T.’s eyebrows rose to his wide-brimmed hat. You own an eagle?

Kate grinned.

I don’t own him. He travels with me. His voice sounded a bit more defensive than he intended.

Sounds like a good story. Tell us about it over dinner. Let me get Kate inside and I’ll show you around. Oh, and keep him out of Martha’s chickens or there’ll be hell to pay.

A handsome woman stepped out of the house. John T.—  One look at Kate had her lifting her skirts and racing down the steps. What happened?

I’m perfectly all right, Momma.

Before John T. could swing out of his saddle, Ben had jumped to the ground and reached up for Kate.

I can get down by— The rest of the sentence ended in a squawk as he boosted her from the saddle and sat her on the ground.

She faced him and whispered, Don’t make a big deal of this. It will only upset her.

He spared the woman, an older version of Kate, a quick glance.  As straight as her backbone is, I’d say she could take about anything but whatever you want.

I want her not to worry.

He gazed critically