Willing away that troublesome prick of conscience, Riley searched the stalls for his horse. When the first few yielded no Pride, and with his patience for this day wearing thin, Riley whistled sharply. About halfway down the corridor, the gray gelding poked its head out of a stall and pricked its ears at him. Glad for a friendly face, human or otherwise, Riley started for his horse.
Behind him, the cheerful whistling coming from the tack room stopped short and a door opened. Alert to any threat, Riley paused to glance over his shoulder. A group of men filed out and stared his way. Reluctant to show his edginess, Riley faced forward and forced a nonchalance into his step. Best to ignore what wasn’t his business.
“Riley Thorne? We’d like a word with you.”
Now it was his business. Stopping, he turned around to find himself faced with a knot of Lawless hands—among them the man Biddy’d sent with her note. At their front stood their foreman, Smiley Rankin. Readying himself for anything, Riley opened up the dialogue. “You call my name, Mr. Rankin?”
“I shorely did. We wuz wonderin’ why Miz Biddy had Pops here bring yer mount around to the barn. You ain’t planning to stay on, are you?”
“Only as long as I have to.”
The men stirred and muttered, taking a collective step toward him. But the grizzled old foreman, never looking away from Riley, flung an arm out to stop them. “It’s already been long enough, son. Don’t rightly know as we can stomach yer sort on Lawless property.”
Narrowing his eyes at the insult, even as his guts churned with a dose of fear and a heap of bravado, Riley countered, “Well, I don’t know that you have any say in the matter, Mr. Rankin.”
Smiley jutted his stubbly chin out. “Be that as it may, who’s ta say you ain’t up to no good?”
“Me. I say I’m not.” Riley looked into each man’s face, gauging the effect of his words. And promptly decided that maybe he ought to backtrack a little, give them all a chance to walk away. “I’m not looking for trouble here. I accept that you’ve got every right to be on edge, in light of your recent tragedies, but—”
“There ain’t no ‘but’ to it. Now, the Lawless girls figure as how some of their family back east had somethin’ ta do with their folks bein’ dead. But me and the boys … well, we’re not so sure that the blame don’t lie closer ta home. A lot closer, if you git my drift.”
Riley’s gut tightened. “I get it. Loud and clear. And I’m here to tell you you’re wrong.” Even while he paused to let that sink in, Riley wished he could believe his own words. Truth to tell, he had his own doubts about the Lawless murders, too. “I’m here to see after Miss Lawless, is all. Times like these, with killers on the loose, neighbors have to stick together, land feuds or no.”
Smiley’s weather-tanned and lined face hardened. “Them’s mighty peculiar words, comin’ like they do from a Thorne.”
“If you’re accusing me or mine of something, Mr. Rankin, have the guts to come right out with it. I’ve never killed a man before, but I figure there’s always a first time.” Riley distributed his weight evenly on his feet. With his heartbeat pounding at his temples, he waited.
“One against six? Are you loco, boy?”
“Some would say so. Now what’s it going to be? I’m all for staying out of your way, if you’ll do the same for me while I’m here.”
That caused a muttering conference between the hired hands and their foreman. Finally, Mr. Rankin turned back to Riley with their decision. “We don’t want no trouble, neither. And we ain’t accusin’ anyone of anything. Our concern is Miz Glory. She’s no more’n a girl and needs pertection, because there’s trouble coming out on the range. Now, that bein’ the way of it, we’re thinking it’d be best if’n you just saddle up that gray of yers and head on home.”
Riley’s forced-out breath puffed his cheeks. “Much as I’d like to, I can’t do that, Mr. Rankin. Miss Glory wants me here. For the why of it, you’ll have to ask her.” His palms slick with sweat, Riley then did a most foolish thing. He turned his back on the men and took measured steps to the stall where Pride silently watched him.
He didn’t dare breathe until he entered the large stall and put himself out of a bullet’s path. Remaining still and listening, he heard no more than muttered curses and shuffling footsteps out in the corridor. Finally he exhaled and caught Pride’s bridle. Lowering the animal’s head, he stroked his hand down the horse’s velvety muzzle. “Damn, boy, that was a close one.”
“Closer’n you’d care to think, son.”
Riley spun around.
The Lawless foreman stood outside the stall’s closed half-gate. “I’m sorry it has ta be this way. I’ve knowed you since you wuz a boy. And I’ve knowed you to be a good man—the best of the Thorne bunch. But times have changed.” Smiley then paused, frowned, and took a deep breath. “We’ll be keepin’ an eye on you, so watch yer step. And I ain’t just a-talkin’ about the horse droppin’s, neither.” With that, he turned and continued on his way.
Not knowing what to make of that speech—a friendly warning or a threat?—Riley stared at the empty space where the man had stood. He was surrounded by enemies … which put him under Glory’s protection, somewhat like the hen protecting the fox once it was inside the chicken coop. Riley chuckled at that image.
“This has been one hell of a day, and it’s not even half over yet,” he told his horse as he picked up the currycomb from a ledge in the stall.
Chapter 3
About an hour later, having seen to Pride’s needs, Riley stepped out of the barn. Cautiously. He wasn’t a man to make light of any confrontation. But a quick scan of the open yard between him and the main house showed him nothing out of the ordinary. Two men wrestled a heavy wooden wheel off a wagon axle, another one walked a horse from a corral, and the rest ambled slowly toward the dining hall attached to the cook shack. Not a one of them, so far as he could tell, paid him any mind. Good.
But after only a few steps, his name was again called out. This time, in a low hiss. Riley spun around, his hand gripping his Colt. Seeing who was there, he straightened up and exhaled. “Miss Biddy, you aiming to get yourself shot?”
Half hidden by the barn’s heavy door and peeking around it, Biddy clucked out, “And who would be shootin’ at the likes o’ me?”
Riley chuckled as he strode over to her. “You tell me. You’re the one hiding behind a door.”
“’Tis not hiding I am.” She frowned and cocked her head as if in thought. Then, “Well, perhaps I am. Not that I’m afraid, mind ye. I just wish a word in private. Can ye spare me a moment?”
Riley gestured his consent. “Sure. I was just heading for the house, anyway. What’s wrong, Biddy?”
She stepped out from the door’s shadows and stood before him, wringing her plump hands. “’Tis Glory, I’m afraid.”
Riley’s gut tightened. “What’s wrong with Glory?”
“She’s out to the graves again. She’s not herself when she’s there. Why, ye’d scarce recognize her as the same girl ye spoke with earlier.” Biddy put her hand to her mouth and stared past him for a long moment. Then she turned concerned, faded-blue eyes up to him. “I just don’t know what to do, Riley. She’d been coming along in her grief until she fussed yesterday with Jacey. An’ now ’tis no better than a month ago.”
“No better? In what ways?”
Biddy gestured helplessly. “In all ways. Oh, Riley, I just came from the hill, but there’s naught I can say or do to relieve her sorrow. She’s fair wallowin’ in it, an’ ’tis that afraid I am for her. ’Tis one of the reasons I sent for you.” Biddy gripped his arm. “Would ye go and see to her? Perhaps she’ll listen to ye. For sure, she’s not hearin’ a word I say today. She’s beyond angry at me.”
Riley frowned in uncertainty. “I don’t know, Biddy. She’s just as put out with me as she is with you. And it seems only fitting that she’d want to be alone with her departed ones. I’m not sure I should—”
Biddy’s grip on his arm
tightened. “’Tis not alone she’s needin’ ta be, but with company. Now, go on with ye. The graves are out back of the house, up that first hill. Tell her I sent ye to fetch her in for a meal. I can barely get her to eat as it is. Take a good look at her, Riley. You’ll see what I mean.”
“I’ve seen.” Riley was quiet a moment, but then exhaled. “All right, I’ll go get her, Biddy. You just set up the vittles, and we’ll be along directly. A growing girl like her needs to eat.”
A sigh laden with relief escaped Biddy. She removed her hand from his sleeve and patted his arm. “Thank ye, Riley. Yer a good man. Just don’t let on that any of this was my idea.” Before Riley could protest that this whole thing was her idea, Biddy quick-stepped around him and lit out for the house.
Riley shook his head and started for the back of the big two-story main house. Walking beside it, he couldn’t help but compare its size and fineness to his family’s low, rough-wood dwelling. A spasm of anger shot through him. Pa’s right. Everything the Lawlesses have came as a result of J. C.’s stealing from his cattlemen neighbors more than twenty years ago.
But all thoughts of old feuds fled his mind when he rounded the house and spied the three white-crossed graves that capped the hill. Through the wide-spaced slats of the low fence that hugged the cemetery, Riley could make out the small figure kneeling between two graves.
Feeling grim and not up to this, he looked heavenward. What am I doing here? he wondered. Getting no answer, he tugged his hat down low on his brow. Taking long, determined strides across the yard, he was soon trudging up the sloping land to Glory.
But the closer he got to the fenced-off graves, the slower he walked. He just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was intruding. He changed his mind about disturbing her there and started to move away. Then the sounds of soft crying carried to him on the almost cold breeze. Turning back to her, staring at Glory’s slender back, marking that she didn’t even have her shawl to warm her, and watching her shoulders wrench with each sob, Riley mouthed a curse.
Approaching with due respect, he opened the gate, grimaced at its rusty-hinge squeal, and swung it closed behind him. Glory had to have heard him, but she said or did nothing to acknowledge his presence. So he just stood there. It suddenly occurred to him that he should remove his hat. Jerking it off, he ran a hand through his hair and held his Stetson in front of himself.
Twice he started to say something, but didn’t. He then reached a hand out to Glory where she knelt between her parents’ graves and worked at pulling weeds from around them. She was still crying. Riley fisted his hand and dropped his arm to his side.
The scene was almost too painful for him to look at. Biddy was right. He barely recognized her. Everything inside him told him to grab her up and hold her as close to his heart as he could. He wanted to kiss away her tears and tell her everything would be okay. But most of all, he wanted to tell her he would never let anything or anyone hurt her ever again.
But he couldn’t do that. There was too much between them. Between their families. And even if there weren’t, she didn’t care for him in the way he did her. She’d said it plain enough earlier. And he had to respect that.
Just as he did her mourning. Giving her more time to be alone with her thoughts, Riley turned his attention to the third grave—Old Pete’s grave—and raised his eyebrows with surprise. A mongrel hound lay draped across it. The dog’s head rested atop his paws. His floppy ears and sagging jowls grazed the dirt. Big, dark, sad eyes stared up at Riley. Skeeter, wasn’t it?
Then he saw the bowl of water and a tin plate of dried-up scraps placed at the graveside, and considered what they meant. He looked from the food to the dog, seeing now the healed wound that grazed the hound’s shoulder. A bony shoulder. Riley frowned with his dawning awareness of the dog’s overall thinness and his dull coat. Apparently Glory wasn’t the only one not eating.
Stepping over to the dog and squatting down on his haunches, Riley rested his Stetson atop a thigh and scratched the big-boned dog between its ears. Skeeter thumped his tail halfheartedly. Petting the hound and staring at Glory’s back, Riley felt weighed down by the oppressive sadness of the place. A windswept hill. Three graves. Raw mounds of dirt. Whitewashed crosses. Glory kneeling between the first two, Skeeter draped over the third one, and himself squatting on the other side of that third grave. Completely separated.
Quite unexpectedly, Glory stilled her hands and spoke over her shoulder to him. “Skeeter was shot … that day. I guess he took off to nurse his wound. Anyway, we didn’t see him for the longest time. We thought he was dead. Then last week, he just showed up. He won’t eat. And he won’t leave Old Pete’s grave.”
A sob tore from her and ripped at Riley’s heart. He watched her swipe at her eyes with her wrists, heard her shuddering breath. And didn’t know what to do, how to help her. Surely, if he touched her, she’d shatter.
No small amount of anger and anguish laced her next words. “He’s going to die, Riley. Look at him. He’s just letting himself waste away. And I can’t do a thing to stop it. I’ve even picked him up, as big as he is, and carried him to the house. But he set up such a mournful howling that Biddy let him back out.”
Riley suspended thought as he watched her pull a tiny weed from beside her father’s grave. She then smoothed her hand lovingly over the mounded dirt itself. Without warning, she pivoted until she could look into his face. Riley noted that her eyes were red and raw, her brows drawn. She glared at him as if she held him responsible for all the bad things happening to her family. “Do you know Skeeter came right back up here, when Biddy let him out? And he hasn’t left since. Just what am I supposed to do, Riley?”
As if he were guilty somehow, Riley looked away from her face, from her trembling chin. He stared at the ground and said, “I don’t rightly know, Glory.” He then looked up at her, at the wild tangle of her hair, at her cheeks wet with tears and pale with grief. She looked so frail … like a sick, old woman. Fear for her lanced through him.
Glory narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you doing up here? You come to pay your respects?”
Riley looked at each grave in turn and then back at Glory. “I suppose so. But mostly, I came to get you. I talked to Biddy.” He looked pointedly at Skeeter and then back at her, raising an eyebrow. “She says you’re not eating.”
An unheeded tear rolled down her cheek as she glared at him. “I eat.”
“Yeah? When was the last time?”
She stared blankly at him for a long moment before blurting, “I forget.”
Riley stood up and jammed his Stetson on his head. He held his hand out to her. “Come on, you’re going inside. And you’re going to eat. Right now. And I’m going to see that you do.”
She shook her head, looked around wild-eyed. “I can’t. I have to … to…”
“To what, Glory? If you make me, I’ll pick you up like you did Skeeter and carry you to the house. I swear I will. And no one will let you back out.” To underscore his seriousness, Riley stepped over Old Pete’s grave. He now stood in the space between the old cowboy’s and J. C. Lawless’s final resting places.
Only to realize he didn’t have the heart to be rough with her. Especially when she clutched at her rumpled skirt and stared up at him with washed-out and pleading green eyes.
“Dammit, Glory,” he muttered as he squatted where he was. “I can’t stand to see you like this.” On an impulse, he held his hand out across the father’s grave to the daughter. Glory eyed his offer of help, but nothing more. Determined, Riley didn’t withdraw it. “Honey, I’m speaking as your friend now. You’re not doing anybody any good—especially yourself—by making yourself sick like this. You’ve got to eat and stay strong. There’re too many folks around here who need you.”
Glory stared at his hand, at him. Her chin quivered.
Riley smiled, hoping the tenderness he felt for her showed on his face. “I need you, Glory. These cowhands of yours aren’t about to listen to me. And Biddy
… who’s going to take care of her? She’s getting on in years, you know. And what about your sisters? Are you going to let them come back to find you buried on this hill, too, and the Lawless spread dried up and blown away?”
Glory shook her head. Riley took a deep breath and found it to be painful. “Give me your hand, Glory. I’ll help you through this.”
Glory dropped her gaze to his hand. She then turned to study each of her parents’ graves. Finally, she focused on him, but only to shake her head. “No. You’ll leave me, too. Everyone else has left me.”
Riley’s heart wept for her injured soul. “Biddy hasn’t left you. And I won’t leave you, Glory. Not ever.”
She searched his face, apparently found what she sought, and then haltingly reached out a hand to his. At the last moment, just before her fingers touched his, she snatched them back. Her green eyes blazed with a dark intensity. “Promise me it’ll be all right, Riley. You promise me.”
Riley nodded, praying all the while that he wasn’t lying. “I promise you, Glory. Now take my hand.”
The light in her eyes faded. She stared at him as if she’d just now realized who he was. Then, almost shyly, she reached out across the empty space … and took Riley’s hand.
Relief weakened him. He clamped his fingers around hers before she could change her mind. Her skin was cold, her fingers long and thin and heartbreakingly fragile. But this was a good start. Riley pushed to his feet. With his help, Glory rose to hers. Together they turned to look at Skeeter.
The old dog’s eyes were closed. His bony chest rose and fell with each shallow breath. “We have to save him,” Glory said.
His gaze resting on her, Riley nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
Then, her hand still held in his, Glory turned to look out across the tallgrass prairie. A gust of wind ruffled her hair. “Can you feel it, Riley? This”—with her free hand she indicated the three graves—“This was only the beginning. There’s more trouble coming, isn’t there?”
Knowing what he knew about the other ranchers, what he suspected about the murders here, Riley eyed the treeless horizon with her. A cloud passed over the sun, turning the breeze colder, the day darker. “I don’t think the trouble ever left, Glory.”
Seasons of Glory Page 4