Congress of louts? Brendan had no inkling what that might mean. If he took each word separately, maybe he could work a meaning out of it. But putting them both together was too much. He knew she had been trying to insult him, though.
"Pays well?" He crinkled his nose as he tried to work out why that was "right," and what he had said wasn't.
"Count yourself fortunate that I only attempted to insult you instead of shooting you," she said with a smirk. So maybe there was a bit of humor in her after all. But not much, apparently.
Her next sentence revealed to him that she had lost her mother. Which meant she was the woman of the house, presumably, and might explain why she seemed so straight-laced. Maybe she just needed a cowhand to insult to bring out her sense of humor.
He was about to offer some condolences for her mother's death or something, when the whine of a gunshot made him tense. A bullet spat into the wooden post holding up the clothesline...less than a hand's breadth from Clara's head.
Brendan's eyes widened and he let out a startled oath as he moved closer to Clara. Without any warning and taking advantage of her momentary distraction, he grabbed the arm holding the Colt and tugged her back behind the clothesline. That way she wouldn't try to shoot him while he was trying to get her somewhere safe.
"Who the hell is shooting at us?" He let go of her arm as he peeked around a pair of trousers and tried to figure out where the shot had come from; and whether it was safe to get his horse.
Clara had indeed froze for a few precious seconds, otherwise she would later console herself there was no way he would have got the jump on her but he did. However, it wasn't like what she had been fearing all along, it wasn't him attacking her but instead doing his best to get her out of the line of fire. Because by the time he let her go, she had grasped the real situation. Someone and certainly not this jasper had fired a shot at her!
"Who the hell is shooting at us?" the cowpoke let go of her arm as he peeked around a pair of trousers.
"I certainly do not know!" Clara snapped and now that the initial shock had passed, she was back to normal, mostly.
"You realize clothing is not appropriate cover against bullets?" she pointed out then thought of something.
"You said you did not come alone. So are Billy and any other Evergreen hands out there watching us?" she asked as she knelt down - it presented a smaller target but they were still way too exposed if the shooter wished to try his luck again. She was mentally debating making a run for the house.
Clara had a point about the laundry not being good cover, but Brendan wanted to put as much between them and their attackers as he could - even if that was just a few layers of fabric.
"It's better'n standin' out in full view like you were!" he retorted, glaring at her. Just because this girl could shoot a Colt didn't make her an expert when it came to guns and avoiding being shot.
"You said you did not come alone. So are Billy and any other Evergreen hands out there watching us?"
Clara's words made him turn and stare at her, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to work out what she had said.
"They wouldn't..." He paused, realizing that he knew next to nothing about Billy and Greer except what they had told him - which wasn't much - and what Clara had told him. And that was not reassuring.
"Billy an' Greer - that's the fat guy from the lake - were at the top of the hill when I came down," he said finally, crouching down beside Clara. "You think they'd shoot at us?"
"Well when I was standing out there in the open I had not yet been shot at," Clara pointed out with a frown, she was still too mad at him to consider thanking him for trying to save her from being hit. For all she knew, he might even be a part of this, a setup to let someone pick her off. She would put nothing past the Steelgraves.
She also pointed out that the likely shooter was one of the Evergreen crew, he had come with Billy and lord only knew who else, he had said so himself. Seemed by far the most likely culprits. To anyone but him apparently.
"They wouldn't..." he declared.
"You certain of that?" she retorted, it was obvious though he certainly wasn't.
"Billy an' Greer - that's the fat guy from the lake - were at the top of the hill when I came down," he said finally, crouching down beside Clara. "You think they'd shoot at us?"
"I know who Greer is," she snapped exasperated then continued, "If not them then who else. The Lost Lake ranch does not want our farm, the Steelgraves do."
Brendan ignored Clara's comments and squinted up at the hill again. He could still see Billy and Greer up there, but couldn't make out what they were doing - or what they were going to do next.
He worked his jaw back and forth, then pursed his lips and made a high-pitched noise to call his horse. It swiveled its ears curiously at the washline and then slowly moseyed around to the side that Brendan and Clara were on.
Brendan clucked softly to the horse to sooth it and keep it nearby, then turned to Clara.
"So...you're really not squatters? You really own this place?" He kept his tone light - as light as it could be when they'd just been shot at - but was waiting impatiently for her answer.
If that was true, then Billy was one of the biggest liars he'd ever met. And that was saying something. And if it was true, then he really was trespassing. And he should be the one getting shot at, not Clara.
Brendan might be able to spot his two fellow cowhands but he knew exactly where on the ridgeline to look, Clara did not see anyone though her focus was really more on this trespasser. Well that and though she would never admit it aloud, she was a bit rattled at having been the likely target of a rifle shot.
"So...you're really not squatters? You really own this place?" he wanted to know or rather it seemed seek confirmation as she already had declared that fact.
"Yes, I am not a liar. To be specific I do not own the farm, my father does but I was there when he purchased it. I saw him pay the money to the couple who had owned it but were leaving to go back East. My father has a signed document," she explained.
"The Steelgraves have no case to make in court so instead they are seeking to drive us off this place. And I can assure you my father will not leave."
Brendan frowned as Clara told him how her father really did own the land. So it was true, which meant he was trespassing. But he could see the Steelgraves' point of view. Cattle needed water, and the Evergreen spread only had one lake in the far north of the property. The Redmond's lake was tempting.
"Well, I mean, your pa's property is...uh..." He tried to think of a big word that would get his meaning across.
"It's...good. You know, with the lake. For the cattle."
His already-weathered cheeks flushed and he ground the toe of his boot into the dirt. Desirable was the word he would have used if he could have thought of it. But he couldn't think of anything besides little simple sentences for some reason, and that irritated him.
"Well, I mean, your pa's property is...uh..." the cowboy then seemed stuck for further words?
Clara waited...
"It's...good. You know, with the lake. For the cattle."
Huh? Clara wasn't exactly sure what he was driving at?
"Well, we do not possess cattle. Other than a milk cow," she icily informed him.
Then she got it.
"If you mean the lake is a useful source of water for the Evergreen cattle, I am sure it is. But if you were not such a greenhorn, you would know that the Evergreen property is already up against the lake, to the north. They do not need our farm to water their cattle," she explained.
Brendan bristled as Clara called him a greenhorn and felt the need to defend himself. He might be green when it came to the Evergreen spread and the surrounding ranches, but he considered himself a good hand.
"I know that," he said irritably. "I saw the lake on the way here. But it's not the same as ownin' the whole lake."
Technically he hadn't seen the lake. He'd only seen his horse's reaction to the scent of water; the way its ears had swiveled toward the lake and wanted to head that way instead of up the ridge. And there had been a few more trees that way. Trees always meant water.
"Look," he said, shifting his position on the ground, "I didn't mean t' get you into this. I'll ride out in a minute. Billy an' Greer shouldn't bother you after that."
"So you are saying, even having a shoreline to the lake is not enough for your precious cows? Such greed. But very much in keeping with the Steelgraves or so I have heard," smirked Clara, though by now she did not think to lump this one in with those people. He seemed ....well halfway decent if a bit slow on the uptake.
"Look," he said, shifting his position on the ground, "I didn't mean t' get you into this. I'll ride out in a minute. Billy an' Greer shouldn't bother you after that."
She eyed him for a brief instant, "Yes, I believe you. You can tell Billy and Greer my father will be hearing of this. It is shameful conduct to attempt to bushwhack a girl."
"Oh, and for the record, I was not going to shoot you. As you have just seen, one cannot be too careful in my place these days," she wanted him to know that much. She wasn't a murderer.