The Cattleman's Unsuitable Wife

by Pam Crooks

  The man named Reggie led their horses away. Woodrow and Mikolas dismounted, too, and stood in front of them with feet spread and Colts ready.

  Immeasurable hurt spread through Zurina from her brother’s betrayal, that he refused to meet her eyes when all she longed to do was run to him in relief and happiness that she’d finally found him, and he was all right. He was like a stranger to her now. No better than an outlaw, and she thanked God Papa couldn’t see him like this.

  Unexpectedly something inside Woodrow’s shirt moved. His hand slid between the buttons and pulled out a black kitten, mewling for attention. Woodrow dropped a kiss to the little head and cuddled the feline against him.

  “Well, now, isn’t this a nice family reunion?” His mouth twisted in a mocking smirk. “Too bad the old man can’t be with us. Isn’t that right, Mikolas?”

  Mikolas kept silent, but his sullen gaze riveted over Trey, who was staring right back at him. Like bulls, those two. Sizing each other up. Resisting the notion of their relation.

  Suddenly Woodrow smacked Mikolas on the shoulder with the butt of his revolver.

  “I said ‘isn’t that right, Mikolas?’” he snarled.

  Mikolas swung toward him with his teeth bared.

  “Don’t hit me again,” he yelled.

  “Then answer me,” Woodrow yelled back.

  Mikolas’s chest heaved. “I couldn’t care less about Sutton Wells, y’hear? He didn’t care shit about me, and he didn’t care shit about you. So why should we care shit about him?”

  “Because we deserve to be Wells, that’s why!”

  “‘We’? What the hell are you talking about?” Trey demanded in a voice so low, so lethal, fear skidded down Zurina’s spine. Her mind spun to understand, to believe what Woodrow insinuated….

  But she had to be wrong. He couldn’t have meant what she thought he said.

  His revolver arced wildly at Trey. The look in his eyes turned crazy. “You’re no better than us, Big Brother. Y’know that? But he loved you more. He loved you more, and he deserved to die ’cuz he was the worst poor-excuse-for-a-father any son could ever have.”

  Zurina forgot to breathe.

  Trey paled.

  No one moved.

  The immensity of Woodrow’s revelation hung in the air like a filthy cloud of smoke, robbed Zurina of thought, of speech, and held her and Trey both in the grips of disbelief.

  Until the disbelief cracked wide-open, and Trey roared with a fury that rocked the mountain. He lunged for Woodrow, grabbed the front of the man’s shirt with his fists and shook him hard.

  “You killed him, didn’t you, you stinking son of a bitch. You killed my father!”

  “Get him off of me!”

  Woodrow struggled against Trey’s wrath while fighting to keep his hold on the kitten. Mikolas grabbed Trey, and Reggie, too, and it took both of them to peel him off Woodrow. Trey stumbled under their combined strength. The look he hurled Woodrow seethed with hate.

  “I’ll see you hang, I swear,” he said, teeth gritted.

  “Don’t ever touch me again.” Rage contorted Woodrow’s features. He tossed the kitten aside; the little creature landed lightly on her feet and scampered off.

  Woodrow stepped forward and rammed his fist into Trey’s belly. Restrained, defenseless, Trey grunted from the punch and buckled, his wind lost.

  Zurina screamed and bent toward him, but Woodrow grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back against his chest. He caught her unaware, forcing her to grapple for balance. He pressed the Colt’s cold, hard barrel to her temple.

  Woodrow trembled from a rage she suspected had been festering for years. That it was near to spilling now left her terrified of who would suffer next. Or most. She didn’t dare move, didn’t dare speak for fear she’d send him over the edge, and he’d pull the trigger for sure.

  Breathing hard, Trey lifted his head. “Let her go, Woodrow.” The bronze depths of his eyes speared venom. “You have no quarrel with her. It’s me you want.”

  “You think I’m that stupid?” Woodrow snapped. “She’d ride straight to the law, and don’t think she won’t.”

  “What do you want from me?” Trey demanded.

  “You know what I want.”

  “Tell me again.”

  “I want my share of the WCC.”

  “Your share.” Disdain dripped from the words.

  “I’m just as much Wells as you are.”

  “Are you?” Trey straightened, little by little. “I don’t even know who you are.”

  Woodrow cackled with cold humor. “I’m your father’s bastard son, Big Brother. Just like Mikolas is. The three of us, one big, happy family.”

  “Family.”

  Trey appeared to ponder the idea. Zurina noticed his voice had lost some of its edge, but his words toyed and taunted. Slick as butter.

  “That’s right.” Woodrow relaxed, too. But only a little. “My mother worked at Sutton’s favorite saloon.”

  “Did she?” Trey nodded, acting interested. He stood taller. “She would’ve known a lot of men, then. Not just him.”

  Woodrow stiffened again.

  “She wasn’t a whore, all right? She was in love with him!” he yelled.

  Trey remained unaffected. “So you want to be a real Wells, Woodrow? Like me?”

  “I deserve it!”

  “You know anything about driving cows? Breaking horses, that sort of thing?”

  Woodrow shifted nervously. “You’re trying to trick me, aren’t you?”

  Trey arched a brow. “Not at all.”

  “You’re trying to make me admit I’m not as good at ranch work as you, so just give me the money, y’hear? My share of the WCC.”

  “Not that easy, Woodrow.”

  “Sure it is.” The revolver’s barrel lifted from Zurina’s temple and gestured toward his horse. “Reggie, go fetch me a piece of paper and a pencil from my right saddlebag. Make it quick.”

  The moment Reggie turned to comply, Trey abruptly broke from Mikolas’s grasp and barreled into Woodrow, clipping him from the side. The force jerked his weapon away from Zurina and his arm from around her shoulders.

  Zurina stumbled free from his grasp, but Woodrow thought fast, and his fist came up and struck Trey’s jaw. Trey’s head snapped sideways, and he landed on all fours.

  “Don’t move, or I’ll shoot!” Mikolas yelled, pointing his pistol over Trey.

  Zurina’s heart wrenched from the hit Trey took on her account, but it was seeing her own brother ready to kill him that hurt most of all.

  She refused to stand for it, to do nothing while Trey wavered on the brink of being killed. If Mikolas shot Trey, then he’d have to shoot her, too.

  “Leave him alone, Mikolas!” She grabbed onto his arm and gave it a frantic shake.

  “Stay out of this, Zurina.”

  Mikolas shrugged her off, but she only went for him again. “He’s innocent of anything his father has done. You know he is!”

  His glance jerked toward her, and for the first time, she glimpsed the agony burning in his dark eyes. His indecision. The inward battle he fought.

  She knew him as well as she knew herself, and he was driven by his hurt from what Sutton Wells had done. But he’d made a mistake pairing himself with Woodrow. She sensed his realization of it. He’d gotten himself into a situation that at some point began to rage out of his control. His desperation throbbed inside him, tore at his conscience. Zurina could almost taste it in him.

  And he didn’t know what to do about it.

  “You keep him on his knees, Mikolas,” Woodrow said. “Just like you’re doing, and she won’t get hurt.”

  Once again, Zurina found herself on the wrong end of his revolver. He gripped his weapon in both hands, kept the barrel trained on her, making it clear if Mikolas didn’t obey, Zurina would pay the price with her life.

  Tension shimmered from Trey, like heat off desert sand. Blood trickled from his swollen lip. He remained taut, his body coiled ti
ght, ready to spring.

  “You hurt her, Woodrow, I’ll kill you,” he grated. “Let her go.”

  “We got unfinished business, Big Brother. Nobody’s going anywhere until the deal is done. Throw that paper and pencil down in front of him, Reggie, then keep your gun on him. Don’t let him move. If he does, burn your powder on him,” Woodrow ordered.

  The man obeyed, then resumed his guarded stance, pistol leveled over Trey.

  “You’re going to write a little note to your banker,” Woodrow went on. “You’re going to tell him to draw up a draft, made out to me, Woodrow Baldwin.”

  “To you,” Trey said.

  “That’s right.” Woodrow’s fantasy appeared to gain steam. He licked his lips. “For one half of the Wells Cattle Company.”

  “That much?”

  “That’s right. My share for being a Wells.”

  A share which didn’t include Mikolas, Zurina realized. As if he’d forgotten Mikolas was there.

  Trey knew it. Mikolas had to know it.

  But her brother did nothing. Said nothing.

  “Go on, Big Brother. Make sure you sign, big and clear, so he knows it was you who wrote it. And then I’ll let her go.”

  Trey took the pencil, bent over the paper—

  “Trey, don’t,” Zurina said, her panic rising. If the banker followed his instructions, then Trey would lose what he’d worked so hard to build with his father. Woodrow didn’t deserve a dime, not one red cent for the wrongs he’d done.

  But despite her plea, Trey began to write. Woodrow almost drooled in anticipation. In moments, Trey tossed him the paper.

  “My final instruction,” he said.

  Go to hell.

  For a moment, Woodrow didn’t move. In the next, he threw back his head and roared with amusement.

  “You want to play games with me, Big Brother? Well, I’m liking where you’re at right now, y’know that?” he said, amusement fading. “On your knees in front of me. And that means you’re not going to win.”

  “You’re wasting time, Woodrow.” Mikolas’s patience snapped. “He’s not going to give you anything. That paper says he’s not.”

  “For your sister, he will.” The grin grew bigger. “Tell me, Big Brother. Did you have a little fun with her while Allethaire was gone? Did you get under her skirts and give her a good poke now and again?”

  “Shut up, Woodrow!” Mikolas yelled.

  Before Trey could growl a response, Mikolas suddenly shifted his revolver’s aim. Off of Trey and onto Woodrow.

  Who shut up in a hurry.

  His eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.

  “What’s wrong with you, Mikolas?” he demanded.

  “Don’t talk about her that way.”

  His eyes rounded. “What way?”

  “I’m not going to let you hurt anyone anymore.”

  Woodrow’s gaze jumped to Zurina, then back to Mikolas. “I never laid a hand on her, and if she’s smart, I won’t have to.”

  “You hurt her. You hurt my family, our sheep!”

  “I didn’t know they were yours, all right? I didn’t know, and I said I was sorry.”

  “You never said you were sorry.” Mikolas shook from the disgust heavy in his voice.

  “I did it in my head, then,” Woodrow shot back. “I thought I told you.”

  Mikolas’s lip curled. “Your head.”

  Trey watched Mikolas close, as if to gauge the change in him. As if to determine if the change could be trusted.

  “Go, Zurina,” Mikolas said firmly. Unexpectedly. “Get out of here. None of this has anything to do with you.”

  “You don’t have any business telling her what to do.” Woodrow cocked the trigger. “She’s just another lamb-licker, Mikolas. Just like you are, and I’m saying she’s not going anywhere.”

  Zurina’s pulse pounded. She cared little for the insults Woodrow hurled, but Mikolas stood in dangerous waters. Shoot or be shot. She didn’t want to leave Trey, and she didn’t want to leave Mikolas, either.

  Suddenly Woodrow fired his Colt, and the sound echoed through the mountains. Mikolas spun with a yell. Blood spurted from his thigh, and he dropped to the ground.

  “Mikolas!” Zurina fell to her knees beside him.

  “I warned you,” Woodrow spat in a cold voice. “Next time, you’ll listen.”

  Zurina barely thought of how Woodrow could shoot her next. She fumbled with the knot on Mikolas’ bandanna. “How bad are you hurt?”

  “I’ll live,” he muttered with a grimace. The bandanna fell free, and he gripped her wrist. “I’m sorry, ’Rina.”

  His words, barely above a whisper, revealed his fervent regret.

  “Hush.” Carefully she pressed the small wad of fabric against the injury. “We’ll talk later.”

  A furry head appeared alongside her thigh. Woodrow’s kitten, curious about her ministrations. Zurina nudged her away, only to have her bound back playfully.

  “Here, kitty, kitty.” A woman’s coaxing voice floated through the air. “Come, little kitty.”

  Zurina whirled. In perfect unison, everyone locked their gazes over Allethaire strolling out of the trees. She strolled easily, as if she were enjoying the afternoon in a park.

  “Come here, little kitty. Come to me,” she cooed.

  “What the hell?” Woodrow’s head whipped toward the tree and its limp pile of rope. “How the hell—”

  Allethaire extended her arm, and amazingly, the kitten frolicked toward her, a happy ball of fluff. She scooped up the creature and snuggled her under her chin. “Sweet little thing, aren’t you?”

  “I’m getting out of here.” Reggie turned toward the horses and began to run, but suddenly a man appeared, blocking his way.

  Nubby, a rifle to his shoulder.

  Reggie stopped, swore and threw his hands up.

  Trey’s swollen mouth began to curve in stunned surprise.

  Another man appeared, wearing a dark suit and a badge. Farther away, another. And another.

  The camp was surrounded.

  “The game’s up, Woodrow,” the lawman called out. “Put down your weapon.”

  “I want the kitty.” Woodrow’s eyes turned crazy. He stepped toward Allethaire. She watched him come, cool as ice. “Give her to me.”

  “They’re going to throw you in jail, Woodrow,” she said. “I don’t have to do anything you tell me ever again.”

  “Stay right there,” the police chief ordered. “Don’t take a step closer to her.”

  “She’s all I got.” Woodrow shook visibly. “Give me my kitten, you whining bitch!”

  Allethaire stood, pale, dirty, but with shoulders squared and the lawmen fanned out behind her. Woodrow pulled back the revolver’s trigger, but faster, four shots rang out.

  And to Zurina’s unutterable horror and overwhelming relief, Woodrow Baldwin fell dead.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “H ell of a risk you took, Allethaire, setting yourself up as bait like that.”

  Wrapped in a blanket against the late afternoon’s chill, she stood with Trey at the edge of camp while the police chief finished tying Woodrow’s body onto the back of his horse.

  “I was beyond caring of the risk, Trey. I only wanted him dead.”

  Trey could relate. The man was a sorry piece of humanity, for sure. Damned shame he claimed Wells blood in his veins.

  “It was my idea, anyway.” She stared at the snowcapped Bear Tooth Mountains, as if she relived the danger of what she’d done. The daring stealth of the lawmen who defied detection and set her free from the ropes that bound her was bravery at its finest. That the police chief agreed to let her walk right back into the lion’s den, well, Trey could only shake his head. If Woodrow had spotted them, if he’d had an inkling of their plan, the results would’ve been disastrous.

  “The posse promised to cover me with all the firepower they had. I trusted them to keep their promise,” Allethaire added.

  Trey let her talk. She had to get her
ordeal off her chest. She’d found layers of courage inside her she didn’t know she had.

  “Such unforgiving country out here, isn’t it?” She sounded pensive. Moody. “Hard people living hard lives. I don’t know how they do it.”

  He declined to remind her most folks would never experience a kidnapping like she had, Zurina excepted. Nor did he speak of Montana’s beauty. The crisp, clean air, grassy range as far as the eye could see, majestic mountains and rolling valleys. She should know its potential to thrive, too. Great Falls alone would one day provide enough power to bolster industry and rail transportation with its hydro-electric plant, and hell, he could talk until he was blue in the face reminding her.

  She would never see Montana as he did.

  Allethaire swiveled her glance back. A sad smile curved her lips. “I wasn’t meant to be your wife, Trey. No matter what Daddy wanted for me. Or what we wanted for ourselves.”

  Slowly he nodded. “I know.”

  “I’m going back to Minnesota.” Her expression turned rueful. “But then, you already know that, too.”

  “Yes.” He drew in a breath, thought of all the things he should tell her. His undying love, for instance.

  But he would only be lying, and that wasn’t fair. To either of them.

  Allethaire cocked her head and considered him. “You’re smitten with her, aren’t you?”

  His pulse leaped. Zurina. He cleared his throat and endured a wave of guilt.

  “It’s very obvious, you know,” Allethaire said softly.

  “Is it?”

  “You were terrified for her this afternoon.”

  “Spitless.” He frowned. He would’ve torn Woodrow apart, limb from conniving limb, and thrown what was left of him to the wolves if he would’ve hurt a single hair on Zurina’s head.

  “Look at her,” Allethaire urged.

  Trey found her a score of yards away, brewing coffee for the posse over the fire, enough to fill their canteens for the long ride home. Nearby, Reggie sat hog-tied and morose. Mikolas reclined near the fire with his leg stretched out in front of him, appearing comfortable in spite of his wound.

  Zurina smiled shyly at something Nubby said, and seeing her bathed in the golden glow of the flames reminded Trey of how she looked during the glorious hours he’d made love to her.