Now directly in front of the longhorn, the man smiled devilishly, for again the bull's tail stopped swishing and his eyes were closed.
In a mad rush, knowing that hesitation could alert the bull and cause it to attack with its deadly horns, the intruder ran to the longhorn and plunged the knife into its side several times, so quickly that the longhorn did not even have a chance to let out a bellow of pain. Its body twitched and convulsed, then dropped heavily to the ground, dead.
Without hesitation, the man decapitated the longhorn, then set the wooden pail close to the bleeding carcass. He kept glancing over his shoulder toward Shane's house, then the bunkhouse, knowing that if he were caught, he would be shot on the spot.
After enough blood had dripped into the pail, the man moved stealthily across the wide breadth of the pasture, making sure to keep a healthy distance between himself and the remaining longhorns. One sniff of the blood and there would be a stampede, and this was not the time for it. If it became necessary, the stampede would come later.
The man climbed over the fence and tiptoed toward the stable. Smiling wickedly, he began pouring the blood across the ground in front of the stable, making a gruesome sight, and causing a hideous smell.
The pail empty, the man chuckled, then slipped away just as the morning sun began casting its golden rays across the land.
Carrying a wicker basket filled with fruit and cinnamon rolls, with a bottle of wine tucked beneath a red-checked napkin in the basket, Melanie left her house with a light step. Today, after she and Shane spent some time with the journals and looking over the herd, she would suggest they take time off for a leisurely picnic by the river. They needed as many light moments
together as possible, to outweigh the heavy ones. She wanted Shane to experience more good than bad in his new life. She wanted to fill his life with happiness!
A shawl draped around her shoulders to ward off the early morning chill, and attired in a cotton dress trimmed with fine white lace, Melanie went to the horse and buggy that she had asked to be readied for her while she was eating breakfast.
Placing the picnic basket in the buggy, Melanie started to climb in, then hesitated. Someone was whistling a tune somewhere close by. Whoever it was seemed mighty happy so early in the morning. She would have to find out who it was; she liked to have cowhands under her employ who enjoyed their jobs.
Holding her shawl in place around her shoulders, Melanie almost skipped across the narrow drive, following the sound of the whistling. When she reached the stable, she went inside, then stopped, eyes wide, when she found that it was not a cowhand at all.
It was Terrance!
Unnoticed, Melanie stepped back into the shadows and watched her brother for a moment. It was obvious that he was not drunk. He was as steady as a broomstick as he stood among the thick bed of hay, tossing it with a pitchfork into the horses' stalls. His eyes were bright. His skin was of a good pink color. He was full of all sorts of energy.
It was wonderful to see Terrance sober and taking part in the actual running of Stanton Farm.
But why the change? Why was he so happy?
Melanie firmed her lips when she realized why her brother was so chipper. Always when he won at poker she could expect him to be this carefree, this full of energy. More than likely he had won big the previous day. It had even given him cause to take a reprieve from drinking for a while, to enjoy the simple pleasures of life.
"Well, well, what have we here?" Melanie asked, stepping out into full view. "My brother is actually working?"
Terrance dropped the pitchfork and turned with a start. He took a handkerchief from his hip pocket and began dabbing his brow with it. "Damn it, Melanie, you scared the hell outta me," he said, his voice drawn. "What're you doin' up so early? The stable boy came for your horse a while ago. I expected you to be leavin' soon." He looked her up and down. "You're not dressed for riding today, so I expect you've got something more delicate on your mind." He screwed his face up into a frown. "Like maybe some lovin'?"
Melanie refused to let him goad her into saying something she would regret. Inching her way around him, she patted his rear pockets. "Where's your cards?" she teased. "How much money did you win, Terrance? You're acting like you won a million dollars. I haven't seen you this happy in a long time." She stood on tiptoe and talked into his face. "What if you had lost as much as you've obviously won? Did you ever consider that?"
Terrance looked down at her, puzzled at her meaning for a moment, then laughed smoothly. He placed a finger to her chin and lifted it higher.
"You won't tell me your little secrets," he said in a low drawl. "I won't tell you mine."
"Secrets?" Melanie said, jerking away from him. "What do you mean?"
Terrance's eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. "You damn well know what I mean," he said. He began pitching hay into the stalls again, this time with even more vigor. "What'cha teachin' Shane Brennan now? How to swindle his brother out of everything else he owns?"
Melanie's breath was stolen for a moment. Then she squared her shoulders and stared with contempt at her brother. "You are insulting," she hissed. "Terrance, I almost think I like you better when you're drunk! Your insults carry less meaning, for I attribute most of the things you say to alcohol. When you are sober, everything you say is from the heart, and sometimes your remarks are unbearable!"
Spinning around, suddenly sobbing, Melanie ran from the stable. Blinded by tears, she rushed to her wagon and climbed onto the seat. Flicking the reins, she ignored Terrance as he yelled at her, waving his arms frantically.
"You can't undo what you said," she whispered. "Oh, Terrance, what am I going to do about you?"
She made a wide turn in the lane and headed toward Shane's house. The sun was hotter than she had expected at this time of morning, and she slipped her shawl from around her shoulders and placed it on the seat next to her. She inhaled the wondrous fragrance of morning, suddenly exhilarated by it. She would place her thoughts of
Terrance aside. She would not let him spoil this day for her. It was another day meant only for her and Shane.
"I shall let nothing spoil it," she said, flipping her windblown hair back from her eyes.
As she grew closer to Shane's, her eyes widened in wonder when she saw the men congregating just outside the stables, staring at something on the ground. She was recalling the poisoned cattle.