She made him drink down a cup of hot coffee with cream and let him go back to join the others, though she hated to stay behind. In the meantime, Shelby warmed some stew, cut the meat and vegetables into tiny pieces, and took the dish, plus a cup of tea, into Mr. Manypenny. He was snoring mightily, his domed brow pink with fever, but Shelby managed to rouse the manservant and encourage him to eat. Then she saw to the chickens and cows they kept to provide eggs, milk, butter, and cheese for the household. After feeding and watering the animals, she brought in the snowy bales of hay that stood in the yard, and latched the barn doors against the blizzard.
Manypenny was dozing, still holding the fork in his long, pale hand, when Shelby returned. He'd eaten most of the stew, and drunk the tea laced with the Twenty-Minute Cold Cure. "Mr. Manypenny," she whispered, "will you be all right if I leave you for a bit? I think I should check on the men."
His hooded lids flickered and a smile touched his mouth. "Call me Percy, my dear. And, yes, indeed, do look for his lordship. He has no business mucking about in a snowstorm." Slowly, he looked toward the window, adding, "It is snowing, is it not? I was momentarily fearful that I might be in Heaven."
Shelby wanted to hug him, but instead patted his hand. "No, you are very much alive... Percy." She had to smile, imagining Geoff's expression if he could hear her. "I'll be back soon, with... his lordship."
"Fine, fine. Enjoy yourself." In the next instant, he was once more asleep.
Even though she was well aware that Geoff would be furious with her, Shelby couldn't bear to wait any longer. Since childhood, she'd been galled by the notion that females stayed behind whenever there was excitement. It was a scenario that she had endured all too often while growing up in Deadwood.
Buttoning the oilskin duster, wrapping knitted scarves around her neck and mouth, and tying another over her hat to hold it in place, she tugged on her gloves and left the house.
The wind had worsened, blowing so hard that it was difficult to see at all. Gadabout whinnied when her mistress came into view. The pinto pony still wore her saddle, since Shelby hadn't planned to stay inside very long, and now it was covered with snow, and the drifts reached her knees. Shelby talked to her gently as she brought her out of the corral and managed to mount her in spite of all the clothing she wore.
Heading back in the direction from which she'd ridden not long ago, she imagined that she'd reach the men shortly. They might be almost back to the corral themselves by now! It was that sense of certainty that kept Shelby in a feisty mood, in spite of the swelling winds and thickening snowflakes. At first she admired the beauty of the lacy bits of snow, then was amazed that the flakes could grow so large and sting so when they struck her face. Snow filled her vision, swirling madly in the distance.
Gadabout paused and Shelby patted her and called over the howl of the storm, "It's all right, girl! Don't be afraid!"
A tingly, hard knot of panic began in the pit of her stomach. How much time had passed? Her sense of cold was crossing the line from distress to searing pain.
What if her nose froze and had to be amputated? Shelby was on the verge of tears, and full of regret for the ordeal Gadabout was forced to endure, and then, miraculously, she glimpsed a gray shape through the dense curtain of snow. She'd found someone!
"Hello!" she screamed. "It's me! Shelby!" But when she urged Gadabout on, struggling against the force of the wind, the form melted into a mere shadow. Terror seeped into Shelby's heart. Her father had told stories of being caught in a blizzard so horrendous that he'd seen mirages, just like those that played tricks on people lost in the desert....
Her heart pumped harder, driven by fear and her own resistance to weaker emotions. Should they turn back? But which way were the ranch buildings? All her markers were gone and the world had become a roiling sea of frigid white.
And then, over the wind, Shelby heard a voice that seemed to shout her name. Gadabout turned on her own and sought aid, and together they made their way toward another shadow, which mercifully grew clearer as they neared.
The human figure on horseback turned out to be Lucius.
"You was lost, huh?" he barked, an oversized, frost-crusted neckerchief wrapped around the lower half of his face. "Shouldn't be out here, Miz Shelby. Follow us home." With that, he turned his attention toward getting the cattle back to the ranch buildings.
The suffering cattle were straggling along the fence line, two and three abreast as they followed Lucius and then Marsh. Instinctively, Shelby caught herself counting them. There had been 183 head of cattle accounted for this week, and before the roundup, they hoped to discover the other seventeen mavericks in the hills. It would make life so much easier when all the animals were branded, but at least now the fence was completed, and even if they missed a steer or two today, the animals would be confined to the Sunshine Ranch until the storm died down.
The blizzard limited Shelby's sight to only a few yards. Now she recognized Cal's red roan, its rider also disguised by layers of clothing. He was helping to herd the cattle onward, but paused to shout at Shelby, "What're you doin' out here, ma'am? Beg yer pardon, but Geoff'll tan yer hide if he finds you." He pointed back into the swirling currents of snow. "Better git outta here before—"
Shelby thought that the wind had carried his last words away. Edging Gadabout closer to the cowboy, she yelled, "What? I can't hear you!"
But Cal was mute now, waving her off, wheeling his roan around to continue on his way. And when Shelby decided to follow, she brought Gadabout nearer the fence line, which was the only landmark in the sea of white.
An instant later an ear-splitting crash rent the air just inches from Shelby. Her heart leaped and so did Gadabout, rearing up on her hind legs just in time to miss being crushed by an enormous dead cottonwood tree that had splintered and toppled under the weight of the snow, ice, and driving winds.
Not only had Shelby escaped by inches, but so had a pair of passing steers. Numb with shock and cold, her heart pumping as she gasped for breath and blinked back tears, she saw that the fallen tree had landed squarely on their new fence, crushing one of the posts and flattening several yards of ice-tipped barbed wire.
The approaching Herefords seemed to eye the opening in the fence with curiosity. It seemed only logical to the half-delirious Shelby to dismount and get a closer look at the damage. The snow was drifting toward her thighs and she clutched the pony's reins with one gloved hand and tried to move cottonwood branches with the other. There was a burning, pins-and-needles sensation in her extremities, and she tried not to think about the long ride back to the house...
Mentally, Shelby added up the amount of barbed wire they'd need. The wind shifted slightly, roaring into her face, and for a moment she feared she'd lose her hat. She was holding it in place with one hand when something caught her by the collar of her oilskin duster, lifting her clear out of the snow, and her general mood of fear and despair wildly escalated once more into terror.
"Oh, God! What...? Help!" she shrieked, hysterical. Was it a bear? The storm picking her up the way it had the tree?
"Help?" repeated a familiar voice, still deadly calm even when shouting above the wind. "I can't imagine why I should help you, when you've clearly created this predicament for yourself—against my orders."
Dimly, Shelby was startled by Geoff's power, for he had bent over and swept her up onto Charlie's back as if she were a sack of feathers. Now, pinned there by arms that felt like steel, she was forced to look into his eyes—and it wasn't a comforting sight.
"Really, Geoff—there's no reason for this display of temper. I'm an adult, after all, and not to be locked away simply because of my sex—"
"Don't speak," he ground out harshly. He pulled down the snowy woolen scarf that had covered his mouth and glared at Shelby with hard eyes, his face wind-burned, his brows coated with ice. "There are no words to express my rage! First you lose your ranch, and now you're about to lose your life! You're spoiled, willful—"
&nb
sp; Shelby's eyes flashed even as her voice wavered on a sob. "Look, this is still my ranch, too, and I have a right to protect my land and my livestock! You have no right—to tell me what to do and call me names!"
"I will not argue with you now, when we're both perilously close to freezing to death. Your face is turning blue!" His fury was driven by emotions that frightened both of them. Using Gadabout's reins, he drew the pinto pony alongside Charlie and fairly tossed Shelby onto her saddle. "Get home!"
"But the tree," she argued stubbornly, "the fence—"
Geoff wasn't listening. He slapped Gadabout on the rump and sent the pony trudging northward toward the line of cattle heading for shelter.
Chapter 7
The May morning was sparkling. A robin's-egg-blue sky stretched overhead, the meadows and mountains were quilted in white, and the sun blazed down, scattering diamonds on the snow even as it dissolved it.
It could have been a magical day but for the tension between Geoff and Shelby. Declaring that they all should enjoy a holiday until the snow melted, the Englishman spent the day taking care of the napping Manypenny and reading Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy in front of the fireplace. Every time his eyes happened to meet Shelby's, sparks seemed to fly.
"Why are you in such high dudgeon?" Manypenny inquired of his master while eating a buttered muffin and a coddled egg for lunch.
Feeling a bit foolish, Geoff told him a little of it, dwelling on Shelby's refusal to do as she was told. "She could have lost her way and frozen to death out there!" Then, to drive home his point that she was rather mad, Geoff added, "And I think you ought to know that she has taken to referring to you as—" He paused for full effect. "—Percy! I don't mind telling you that I was shocked when I first heard her say it."
"I asked Miss Matthews to use my given name," the manservant declared. "I enjoy her tremendously, and am not inclined to stand on ceremony when we are together. And, on her behalf, I shall state that I believe you are more angry with her for defying you than for endangering her own life. Has anyone defied you before, my lord?"
"Why should they?" Geoff's face darkened in consternation. "I say, old man... you never let me call you Percy!"
"That's true," Manypenny replied mildly, "and I do not intend to alter that tradition at this time, any more than you should suggest that I address you as—" He cleared his throat and muttered in tones of distaste, "—Geoff. Now then, my lord, I find that I am fatigued. Will you leave me to my nap?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"I don't believe so." Manypenny settled himself against the pillows, closed his eyes, then opened one again. "My lord?"
Geoff paused in the midst of assembling the dishes on a tray. "Yes, Manypenny?"
"Have you wondered at all why you have such strong feelings toward Miss Matthews?"
His heart thumped suddenly. "I don't know what you mean."
"I've known you too long to believe that, my lord. I of all people remember just how bored you were with life before we came here." With that, the old man closed his eyes again and began to breathe slowly, as if he were already falling asleep.
Carrying his servant's dishes, Geoff took his leave, stunned by their conversation. Perhaps life in London hadn't been so bad after all. At least there Geoff knew who he was and what to expect from people. If an old boot like Manypenny could fly off this way, what other surprises waited for him in Wyoming?
By the time he'd made a proper pot of tea—a skill Americans seemed incapable of mastering—Geoff had decided that Shelby was directly responsible for the world going askew. She was much too impulsive, stubborn, and self-confident for a female. It threw the entire scheme of things into disarray.
And where was she?
A while ago, after they'd all eaten lunch together, Shelby had mumbled that she was going to milk the cows. She should have been back long ago. So, after fortifying himself with a cup of tea, Geoff put a towel over the pot, donned his boots, and went outside.
It was warm enough to go coatless, and although the sun felt splendid, the mud and slush were another matter. Until most of the snow had been absorbed into the ground, there didn't seem to be much point in mucking about outdoors. Still, a couple of the boys had gone off to repair the fence, while Marsh was putting out hay for the cattle.
"Have you seen Miss Matthews?" Geoff asked as he approached the big corral.
"Yup." Marsh's hat was pulled low over his eyes and his cheek bulged with tobacco as he pointed to the south.
"I understand that we are missing eight head of cattle?"
"Yup." Marsh spat tobacco juice, then turned loquacious, adding, "Through the fence, I reckon."
"Do you suppose that Miss Matthews has gone to look for them?"
Apparently worn-out by his speech, the cowboy merely nodded this time, then returned to his chores. Geoff went into the barn and had a chat with Charlie, whose demeanor told him that he had no desire to go out for a gallop in deep mud and sloppy snow, having far too much regard for his buckskin coat. Since they were in agreement on that score, the Englishman returned to the house and decided to spend the rest of the afternoon acquainting himself with the ranch accounts. Shelby would probably shoot him outright if she knew, but then she was off sticking her nose where it didn't belong—and he did own half of the ranch, didn't he? He was tired of waiting for her to show him what was what.
To his chagrin, Geoff discovered that there were bills overdue in town: they owned the Cody Trading Company, the livery stable, the implement store, and the Maverick Market. Folding these neatly, he put them in his pocket and returned Shelby's desk to its original condition.
When she came in, windblown and mud-spattered, Geoff was caught off guard again by the force of his response. Although he felt angry with her for going off again without even telling him, he reacted as a male to her vigorous, glowing beauty. She stripped off her gloves and pulled the ribbon from her hair, shaking out her curls.
"I want to talk to you about our missing cattle." Shelby strode gracefully into the big room and drew up a chair next to him.
"I appreciate that." His tone was astringent.
"Well, you are a... partner." She folded her hands and narrowed her teal-blue eyes for an instant, adding suddenly, "You're not in charge, though! I won't be bossed, sir, especially by someone who swaggers around here claiming to be a nobleman!"
"I beg your pardon!" His jaw hardened. "I have made a point of not talking about my past, and I have made every effort to be fair and to work as hard as the other men."
Shelby waved a hand dismissively. "It's an attitude you have, then; it's probably inbred, like those receding chins so many Englishmen are cursed with." It pleased her to see sparks kindle in his eyes. "Anyway, my point is this: I came to Wyoming because I needed to be given my head. That's why Daddy let me manage this ranch. I would have wilted away if I'd stayed in Deadwood, where I was a rich man's daughter, and I wouldn't have been happy staying in New England after college, either. I like to be free." Shelby paused. Both of them were sitting forward in their chairs now, eyes locked in a battle of wills. "I won't take orders from you."
"Even when it's a matter of life and death?"
"I don't foresee those circumstances arising." She set her chin and sat back. "Now then, about the cattle. I have reason to believe that Bart Croll, the owner of the next ranch south, has appropriated our steers. The broken fence adjoins his land, and from what I've heard, he's just the type to keep someone else's property."
Geoff blinked. "For God's sake, why do you always imagine that some tremendous drama is underway!"
"Don't speak to me that way."
"Never mind. I apologize." He held up his hands. "I'll tell you what—tomorrow morning I'll go over to Mr. Croll's ranch and have a little chat with him."
"At dawn? It's important that we don't let any more time slip by!"
"Now who's giving orders?" Geoff arched a brow. "If it will please you, Miss Matthews, I shall ride to the Croll ranch as soon as
I'm awake and dressed. All right?"
"Perfect. I'll be ready."
"No. You're not going." He stood up with a note of cold finality. "This is a matter that must be handled with finesse—a quality that you were born without."
* * *
Geoff soon discovered that the Bar B Ranch, owned by Bart Croll, made the Sunshine Ranch seem like a grand estate. Riding over there the next morning when the sky was still streaked with carnation and peach, his eyes took in the underfed cattle chewing at sparse patches of grass, the haphazardly built fences, and finally, a sod house that was decaying at one end.
The barn, such as it was, was made of sod, too, and the horses in the corral needed a good meal. A post with a rack of elk antlers on top appeared to serve as the hitching post, so Geoff looped Charlie's reins around one of the horns and went up to the sod house's door. There was one glass window, and through it he saw the dim glow of a lantern.
Geoff wondered what to say. He could hardly ask the man if he'd stolen their cattle! But he was here, and he had to carry through with his mission. Shelby wouldn't have had any qualms about demanding the return of her animals, and she certainly wouldn't want to hear that he had been too polite to do the same.
So he knocked. A moment later a rangy old man with white stubble covering his hollow cheeks opened the door. He wore faded gray longjohns, overalls, mud-caked boots, and carried a rifle. "Who are you?" he asked.
Geoff extended his hand. "My name is Geoffrey Weston, sir. I believe that we're neighbors—I'm half owner of the Sunshine Ranch, to your north."
The old man grunted. "You a limey? Thought so. My name's Bart Croll an' I been out here long before that fancy fella Cody decided to make a town fer hisself." He rubbed his whiskers, then demanded, "Whatta you want?"
"I'd like to talk to you."
Bart grunted again, opened the door, and gestured with the rifle barrel for Geoff to enter. "Come on in while I finish my coffee an' get my coat, then you kin ride with me while I check the livestock."
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