Drifting from Deadwood: The Pioneer Brides of Rattlesnake Ridge, Book 6

by Flightner, Ramona

  * * *

  The following morning, Zachariah strode into the barn and gave an appreciative sigh. Rather than the haphazard and failed attempt at order, Lance had cleaned and tidied the barn in a short period of time. Fresh hay lined each stall, and the horses stared at Zachariah as though they were more content in their current situation than before. He ran a finger over the muzzle of his favorite horse, Rogue, and turned as Lance entered the barn.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Zachariah said. “I know you haven’t been on the ranch long, but you’ve already earned our trust. You are patient with the boys, and you never appear annoyed when they insist on aiding you with your work. In fact, you seem to take great pleasure in the time you spend with them.”

  Lance nodded and watched Zachariah guardedly. He patted Amaretto as he butted his head upward in hopes of receiving a treat.

  “I must travel to the summer pastures. I want to check on our cattle and ensure everything is well.” His gaze was distant as though envisioning the green pastures in the high mountain valleys, the cowboys watching over the herd and Cookie in his wagon.

  “How is it you have more land than the 160 acres in a normal homestead?” Lance asked. “If your land extends to the mountains, it would be much larger than the single tract granted in the usual land grant.”

  Zachariah sighed and leaned against one of the stall doors. “Alan Ferguson and I were friends since we were young. Made it through the War together. The dream of what we’d do if we survived the War kept us going through…” His voice faded as his gaze dulled as though envisioning distant battle scenes. He shook his head. “We dreamed of coming West, of escaping the memories of that conflict.” He saw the echo of similar memories in Lance’s gaze and nodded. “After surviving the War, he married his sweetheart, Eleanor. And the three of us wandered.”

  Zachariah sighed. “It was a horrible life for a man, but even worse for a woman who by now had a child. Alan always had the dream of the next successful ploy for money or a business. But he was a horrible businessman and even worse with money. He resented that I would find stable work wherever we landed to keep the four of us afloat.” He shook his head. “And then one night, after we found lodging at Miz May’s boarding house in Rattlesnake Ridge, he came home, having won at cards.”

  His gaze was one of dazed amusement. “Alan never won at cards. He never won at anything. But that night, he’d managed to win a ranch—640 acres.” He motioned with his hand as though to encompass everything around him. “And we moved here.”

  Lance frowned. “What about the people living on the ranch at the time?”

  “That was a major headache, but Alan had won the ranch fair and square. We kept many of the hands in the beginning and slowly learned ranching. Eleanor had an instinctual aptitude for it, where Alan never took to it.” Zachariah paused for a moment.

  His frown deepened, and Lance studied Zachariah. “There’s more you aren’t telling me.”

  “Of course there is,” he said with a smile. “But that’s how we came to be at this ranch. Been here seven years now.” He stood tall and walked to his horse’s stall. “And now I have to head to the summer pasture to ensure all is well.”

  Lance studied him. “I would have thought your men would send word if they were having trouble.”

  Zachariah gave a grunt of agreement. “Normally, I would agree with you. However, I worry that they are not as loyal as they should be.” He watched Lance frown. “Too many are swayed by the promise of an easy dollar.”

  “Stealing cattle is no small offense,” Lance murmured. “If that is what you imply.”

  Zachariah rolled his shoulders. “I hope I’m wrong. But I fear for rustlers. And I regret that one of our neighbors is not as … upstanding as I would wish.” He shared a long look with Lance. “Keep a close eye on the boys. And on Mrs. Ferguson. When she has a caller, and she will, please ensure she is not forced to suffer his company for any extended period of time.”

  “How will I know he is unwelcome?” Lance asked.

  Zachariah laughed. “Oh, you’ll know the minute he arrives that Mrs. Ferguson wishes him gone. It’s only because he has an ego the size of Reno that he doesn’t realize it.”

  Chapter 4

  Lance worked to shore up the roof covering part of the paddock. He whistled as he sawed logs, hammered them in place, and reinforced the support beams. Soon, he’d work on the roof to ensure the shingles were sound. However, at the moment he was uncertain the roof would handle any extra weight. Thus, he worked to strengthen the main structure. He knew after a few more days of hard work that the paddock area would be secure for winter. Glancing at the ranch house, he frowned as his two young helpers had yet to make an appearance.

  While he worked, he thought about the time he had spent on the ranch. A month had passed since his arrival, and Zachariah had already been away two weeks. Lance was on the verge of completing the most immediate work, but plenty remained to be done. Shutters on the ranch house needed to be oiled or have hinges replaced, and he’d noticed Miss Eleanor stepping cautiously on the porch. He suspected a board or two had rotted and needed to be replaced.

  He shook his head and silently berated himself for calling her Miss Eleanor. “She’s Mrs. Ferguson,” he muttered to himself and then bit back a curse as the hammer struck his thumb. He hoped the momentary pain would rid him of his fascination for the ranch owner.

  He sighed as he picked up a piece of lumber to saw. The more time he spent in her presence, the more she intrigued him. She was composed, and he would have thought her cold-hearted had he not seen her interact with her boys. With them, she was warm, frequently smiling and laughing. He frowned as he tried to imagine the difficulties and prejudices she had faced running the ranch since her husband had died.

  Lance kicked at a dried piece of dung and swore under his breath as he continued to think about his boss. He rubbed at his neck as he admitted the truth: Eleanor fascinated him. Her strength melded with delicate moments of indecision. Her severe posture as she gave him his instructions for the day each morning contrasted with her beautiful reddish-brown hair falling out of its bun. Her attempt at always appearing meek and biddable when the pompous Mr. Hayden visited, the façade betrayed by the intelligent dislike shining in her eyes. “Oh, you’re in trouble lad,” he muttered to himself.

  He looked over his shoulder as the screen door slammed shut to see the object of his musing standing ramrod straight as she stared down the lane. Lance knew it meant Sterling Hayden was making another call. Lance said a silent prayer that he’d have a reason to cut the day’s visit short to spare Miss Eleanor the discomfort of Mr. Hayden’s presence.

  * * *

  Eleanor stood on the porch as she waited for Sterling Hayden to make his long ride down her driveway. She sighed with irritation at his regular visits and thought uncharitably that he took his time in an effort to preen and show himself in his best light. “There is no good light for him,” she muttered as she watched him approach her wearing a smug, overbearing smile. A fine sheen of dust covered his fancy brown suit with silver buttons.

  She crossed her hands over each other at her waist and stood tall in her clean, sky blue calico dress that highlighted the beauty of her blue eyes. Rather than any trepidation, annoyance thrummed through her. When he walked up her steps, she battled a grimace to realize he meant to stay for a prolonged visit. “Mr. Hayden,” she murmured in a deferential tone. “It is always a pleasure to see you.” She moved adroitly to the chairs on the porch, preventing him from grasping her hand and attempting to kiss the back of it. After she had settled her skirts, she waited for him to sit. “I fear in this heat, I only have water to offer you.”

  “That is all I need after such a journey,” he said. He took a long sip of water and grimaced. “Although I do wish you had an ice house.”

  She shrugged. “Ice is not wasted on cooling water at Broken Pine Ranch, Mr. Hayden.” She sat with perfect posture as she waited for him to speak.<
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  He looked at her barn and paddocks and frowned at the subtle improvements that had occurred since his last visit. The roof had new shingles. Boards that had been on the verge of falling off had been hammered into place or replaced. The long roof of the stalls lining the paddock no longer sagged. “I didn’t know Zachariah had that much time to work on the barn,” he said with a frown.

  She shook her head. “Mr. O’Neill is busy as the foreman overseeing the cattle and spends most of his day on the range.” She gave Mr. Hayden a steady, searching look. “As I’m sure you know. He informed me that he spoke with a few of your hands recently who wandered into our summer pasture.” Last week, Zachariah had returned for a half-day visit to ensure all was well before returning to the high mountain pasture. However, if Sterling Hayden remained unaware that Zachariah was away from the homestead, Eleanor had no interest in enlightening him.

  Hayden shrugged. “I had sent them to look for cattle that had strayed from the herd.”

  “Seems an odd coincidence your hands would find their way to where my cattle fatten up for the summer. Few lose their bearings so badly as to wander through a mountain pass into that patch of meadow.” She held his gaze, hers challenging with barely a hint of friendliness mixed within. “I’m thankful my men are well trained enough to have marked all of our cattle with our distinctive brand.”

  “What can I say about a pair of greenhorns?” he said with a chuckle and another shrug.

  She smiled although no pleasure reached her eyes. “Yes, I understand all about the difficulty of finding hardworking men willing to work on a ranch.” She looked out at her land. “Especially when so few men are willing to work for a woman.”

  Sterling sighed as he stretched his legs out in front of him, relaxing into his chair. “That’s why rarely any widows are successful ranchers. I’m sure your husband wouldn’t want you to risk losing all this.” He waved at the land in front of them. “This is your sons’ birthright.”

  She nodded. “I agree. It is their birthright. It’s why I fight so hard to maintain it for them.” She nodded as a figure emerged into the paddock. “I’m thankful a hardworking, experienced hand signed on last month. Had you been at church recently, you would have met him.” Her smile was genuine as she watched him attempt to conceal his rage at her hiring help.

  “How … fortuitous for you,” he muttered.

  “Yes. Mr. Langhorne’s advertisement was successful this time.” She looked at Sterling Hayden with innocent optimism. “Rather than vagabonds and rogues, I seem to have found a genuine worker.”

  “I’d be cautious before trusting a stranger, Mrs. Ferguson. For all you know, he’s a gambler or worse,” he said, his gaze calculating as he saw her flinch subtly at the mention of gambling. “You can never be too careful where your children are concerned.”

  She cleared her throat. “Of course I know that.” She bristled at his insinuation that she was unable to protect her boys. “However, if the work is not done, the ranch will fail. And I will not allow that.”

  “May I speak plainly?” he asked. Rather than wait for her agreement, he barreled on as he gripped one of her hands. “You know I desire a union between us. That should come as no surprise to you. All you need do is ask, and five able-bodied men will be here to complete whatever task you desire.”

  She flushed and shook her head. “I… thank you for such consideration, Mr. Hayden.” She tugged on her hand but was unable to free it. “I’m not ready.”

  “It’s been two years, Eleanor.” He flushed, either from his harsh tone or the use of her first name. He softened his tone as though attempting to woo her to his way of thinking. “Many widows remarry in a matter of months.”

  “I’m not desperate,” she snapped as she yanked her hand away and clasped them together again on her lap. She took a deep breath and met his angry gaze.

  “So I’m only good enough if you’re desperate?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I never said that, nor did I mean it. However, no woman likes knowing that the only reason she is being wooed is because her land is valued. Not her.”

  He leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees and stared at her frankly. “For months, you’ve led me on a song-and-dance act, behaving as though you were a meek woman.” He shook his head. “You’re cold-hearted with a spine of steel, aren’t you?” When she remained silent, he dipped his head and whispered, “I want this ranch. I want this land.” After a long pause, “And I will have it. You’d do well to remember I always get what I want.”

  She stood, and he followed suit. “Thank you for such scintillating conversation,” she murmured. “I’m certain you’ve given me quite a bit to consider.”

  He leaned forward, his coffee- and tobacco-tinged breath wafting over her. “Don’t imagine you can thwart me in this, Eleanor.”

  She glared at him as he marched away, his spurs clanging with each step. After he mounted his horse and rode away at a canter, she collapsed into her chair. She held her hands together to prevent them from shaking and jolted at the soft voice coming from the other side of the railing.

  “Are you all right, Mrs. Ferguson?” Lance asked. His faded cranberry cambric shirt had sweat stains at the neck while his large black hat protected him from the heat of the midday sun.

  “I’m fine, Mr. Gallagher,” she whispered, although a tear tracked down her cheek.

  He paused and shifted from foot to foot. “If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look it. What did that man say to upset you? If you don’t want him to visit again, that can be arranged.”

  She sputtered out a laugh at his suggestion and shook his head. “He’s an upstanding member of the community and my neighbor. Nothing can be done to him.” Her voice broke. “Whereas I…I’m looked upon with suspicion and mistrust.” She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her middle.

  “That’s pure nonsense,” he said as he rested his arms on the floorboards to the porch and peered up at her. “That man has an agenda, and you can’t allow him to make you believe he’s looking out for anyone but himself.”

  She took a deep breath and met Lance’s worried gaze. “How do you know that? You’ve never seen him before today.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I’ve seen him here before, usually from a rooftop. Plus, I’ve met enough men to know the type.”

  She swiped at her cheeks. “Zachariah will be furious,” she whispered.

  “As he should be. No man has the right to come onto your ranch and threaten you.” Lance glowered down the drive as though still able to shoot the long-departed Sterling Hayden.

  She shook her head. “No, Zachariah will be more upset that I gave up the ruse of the docile woman.” She half smiled when Lance snorted. “Zachariah thought I’d have more success if the townsfolk believed he was in charge.”

  “Then they’re all half-wits not to have suspected the type of woman you are.” He studied her a moment. “Or you’ve spent your time hiding on your ranch so few would discover the truth.” He nodded when she flushed as though he’d discerned the truth with little difficulty.

  “How did you know it?” she whispered.

  “I knew within the first five minutes of meeting you.” At her inquisitive stare, he smiled. “When you asked what I’d fix. Women with no interest or understanding in running a ranch would have remained silent or deferred everything to Zachariah. You stood beside him as his equal.”

  She ran a hand over the fabric of her skirt. “Alan always hated that.” At Lance’s inquisitive stare, she murmured, “My husband. My late husband. He wanted to be fully in charge even though he had little aptitude for it.”

  He waited for her to say more, but she remained quiet. “What does your neighbor want?”

  She shook her head in resignation. “He claims he wants the land, but I know he wants my water.” She met his knowing gaze. “Mr. Hayden was furious when he found out I’d secured majority water rights to the creek coming from the mountain. His land h
as a creek, but it dries up by August each summer. Too often his cattle wander onto my land.”

  Lance scratched at his head. “Has he tried to divert the creek?”

  She nodded. “I believe he has, although I can’t prove anything. A large tree fell into my creek last year, diverting the water toward his lands.” She sighed as she rubbed at her forehead. “The creek had run in the direction of his land many years ago, but strong runoffs had diverted it to fully flow on my land. The branch of the creek that fed his land dried up around the time we got the ranch.”

  “That can happen,” Lance said with a shrug. “The tree falling into the creek and the creek drying up.”

  “Perhaps, except with regard to the tree falling into the creek. It’s important to know that no trees were in that area for miles. Just little shrubs,” she said as her cheeks flushed with anger. “When I removed the tree, placed strategically where it would divert water into his dried-up creek bed, he tried to claim I was ‘disturbing nature’s tendency to distribute her bounty in a fair manner.’” She shuddered. “I’ve never seen him so irate when I informed him that he had no right to prevent me from removing the obstruction.”

  Lance looked at her as he stood to his full height. “Be careful, Mrs. Ferguson. You and your boys. When a man becomes irrational, you don’t know what he’s capable of.” He tipped his hat and moved away to continue his work.

  * * *

  Lance rode into town a few days later after having received a message from Reverend Brown to visit that day at 2 p.m. Lance resented the summons and did not like leaving the work that needed to be completed. However, he knew the work would always be there, and he was smart enough to heed Jack Hollis’s warning to not ignore the reverend’s summons. Lance listened to the sound of a distant boom as dynamite sounded in one of the mines. Carts and wagons filled the streets of Rattlesnake Ridge, and men loitered outside the popular saloons. Few women walked down the street, and this was still mainly a man’s town. He wondered at the fact Miss Eleanor was not more highly sought after by the bachelors of Rattlesnake Ridge and then focused on maneuvering Amaretto through the traffic. A little ways down Main Street, he could see a flow of customers entering and exiting the General Store, and the café seemed particularly busy for this time of day.