Summer Rose

by Bonnie K. Winn

  Andrew glared at her through purpling eyes. “Only after he called me a dirty, worthless Dalton,” he spat out. Cassie saw the trembling under his bravado and wanted to wipe the hurt away.

  “Well, he is!” the other one shouted.

  “Enough, young man,” Shane admonished. “That’ll do, Zack Robertson, unless you’d like your other end paddled off.”

  Cassie gasped before she could complete the question in her mind. Zack Robertson? Jacob Robertson’s boy? The man who had scared and threatened her that afternoon in the shearing shed? Sickened, she stared at the two boys. Like father, like son?

  Zack closed his mouth but sent Andrew a threatening look. Shane loosened his hold on both boys, and they stepped back sullenly. Cassie wanted to gather Andrew in her arms but knew it would only add to his humiliation.

  “I suppose I could let you two slug it out until one of you is out cold,” Shane drawled. “Someone’ll probably end up with a broken nose, a split lip, or a missing tooth…” Cassie’s head shot up in disbelief and horror. Surely he wouldn’t take out his vendetta on a couple of young boys. Cassie opened her mouth, but Shane shot her a look over the boys’ heads that warned her not to speak.

  The boys glared at one another warily. Neither one looked very eager to carry out Shane’s suggestion.

  “You could always work out your problem and then you wouldn’t have to kill each other.”

  Gazing first at one another, then down at the ground, Andrew and Zack remained silent. Both of them stubbed their booted feet into the dirt, kicking up dust swirls as they debated Shane’s words.

  “Of course, when your folks find out you can’t get along and take you home before the games begin…”

  The pair looked at each other and Shane in dismay.

  “To my way of thinking, only fools win by using their fists. What do you say, boys? You want to fight or be friends?”

  With heads ducked, they simultaneously mumbled, “Friends.”

  “Good choice. Now shake on it.” The two hesitantly reached out to shake as Shane’s large hand covered both smaller ones, pulling them together. “Now, hurry and get cleaned up or you’ll miss the Indian wrestling and the apple bob.”

  Both heads shot up and peered back toward the tub of water resting beneath a canopy of trees to the north of the barn. They took off at a dead run and disappeared before Cassie could open her mouth.

  Shane took her arm to lead her back to the dance. She twisted around, trying to get one final glimpse of the boys who were no longer in sight.

  An unexpected smile twitched at the corners of Shane’s mouth. “Boys will be boys.”

  Cassie met the unusual teasing gold flecks of his eyes, and sighed in mock resignation. “And then they grow into men who know how to handle these situations.”

  “And I thought from all those books you were a slow learner…”

  14

  “I must’ve been crazy to let you talk me into this,” Millicent complained.

  “Don’t give up, Aunt Milly,” Andrew urged.

  “He’s right, Mill. You can do it,” Cassie encouraged, shaking her head in amusement.

  Instead of lessons, Andrew had been reading books on sheep ranching, most recently on the training of herding dogs. He was convinced that a border collie could herd anything. The quacking of disgruntled ducks underfoot proved he truly meant anything.

  Hector had sold them two young herding dogs that were scarcely more than large puppies. Playful and rambunctious, they weren’t trained yet, but Andrew was convinced that the three of them could handle something that simple.

  Trained dogs would provide immeasurable help, but none of the city-bred trio had ever owned, much less trained, a dog. They were going to now, however.

  “Close the gate, Aunt Milly!” Andrew’s voice was shrill. Millicent jumped to latch the offending gate, and Cassie had to turn away to hide a smile. Far from the prim picture she usually presented, Millicent was a disheveled mess.

  Although initially reluctant to take on what she’d called a harebrained scheme, Milly had nonetheless thrown herself into the project. Cassie had a feeling that if Millicent put her mind to it, the dogs wouldn’t have a chance of growing up without their diplomas in herding.

  Cassie turned back toward their training pen, a smile still tugging at her lips. Her smile rapidly disappeared, however. All the blasted animals were charging toward her.

  Shrieking, Cassie ran as the two half-grown dogs, chasing a flock of errant ducks, raced toward her. She almost escaped. Almost.

  First the ducks tripped her—quacking furiously, wings flapping, feathers flying. Before she could get to her knees, both dogs romped over her prone body. Barking happily, they continued their mad dash after the noisy, disgruntled ducks: Cassie sat up slowly, spitting dust and feathers.

  “He’s right,” Millicent mimicked. “You can do it.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Cassie plucked more feathers from her hair and shirt.

  Millicent reached out a hand to help Cassie up. “Come on. If we can cross the plains, we can outwit two puppies and a flock of dim-witted ducks.”

  With renewed fervor, the threesome shooed the ducks back into the confining pens. The border collies panted happily, their tongues lolling—even though Andrew glared at them in a stem, commanding manner. The pups obviously thought this was a fine game.

  “The book said these dogs are born knowing how to herd,” Andrew began.

  “Sure they are,” Cassie muttered, as one of the dogs attacked the cuff of her pants, chewing the material ecstatically.

  Andrew shot her a withering gaze. “As I was saying, they’ll herd anything—chickens, geese, small children, cats, ducks…”

  “All right, Andrew. What now?” Cassie asked. She wanted this to work for more than just Andrew’s sake. They needed the additional dogs.

  Andrew gave directions. Cassie and Millicent carried them out. After a few more disastrous misstarts, the dogs actually began to get the idea.

  “Hey, they really are herding the little beauties!” Millicent whooped, not seeming to care as the dust settled over her once starched dress.

  Cassie hid another smile. She wished their former faculty members could see Millicent now. Their prune-faced headmistress would be in a full-blown swoon.

  “See, Cass? I told you this would work!”

  “You’re right, Andrew. Guess I’ll have to start listening to you more often.”

  He struck a pose, holding one hand against his chest. “Be still, my heart.”

  Cassie thumped him affectionately on the shoulder. They both climbed up on the corral railing, watching the incredible process. The dogs were now earnestly herding the ducks from the larger area into the small confining pens. When one tried to escape, the dogs nipped it smartly and sent it flapping back to the pen.

  “Well, fellow ranchers, I think we can congratulate ourselves,” Cassie commented, pleased at their success.

  “You can say that again!” Millicent agreed, carelessly sliding onto a tree stump with a whoosh, her skirts flying.

  Cassie and Andrew stared at one another and burst into laughter. What had gotten into Millicent?

  She looked up unconcernedly from her unlikely perch.

  “Go ahead and laugh.” Millicent waved a hand pointedly at Cassie’s rumpled appearance. “I’m not the one wearing a feather boa.”

  Cassie and Andrew just laughed harder. It didn’t take long for Millicent to join in. While the dogs efficiently herded the agitated ducks into a neat row, the three tired city slickers collapsed on the ground. It was a small victory, to be sure, but it was a victory.

  15

  The Fourth of July had always conjured up memories of fireworks and ice cream, but today nostalgia had been replaced by nausea. Cassie’s stomach warred with the hordes of butterflies crowding the small space. Turning her head, she saw Andrew greeting his new friend, Zack. Only moments later, Shane ruffled Andrew’s hair, and they exchanged good-natured pokes. An
gling her head in another direction, Cassie could see Millicent basking in Ringer’s attention.

  “They’re not going to roast you on a spit,” Victoria chided, taking Cassie’s arm firmly and drawing her closer into the group. “I didn’t ride all the way over to get you just to have you stand on the sidelines.”

  Cassie knew without question that had Victoria not come personally to drag her to the Lancer cookout, she would be safely at home. When Victoria and Shane had talked about the annual cookout weeks before, it had sounded like fun. But after she’d been shunned at the dance, Cassie knew she’d rather shovel out dirty pens than try to socialize with those same people.

  “There’s Albert Fredericks—our own royal Hapsburg,” Victoria said in a mock whisper.

  Cassie’s head swiveled as though attached to a hook. “Is he actually related to the royal family?”

  “No, and I think that’s what’s wrong with him. I’m not sure just why he left Austria, but I suspect it wasn’t under good circumstances.”

  “You mean he’s on the run?”

  Victoria laughed. “I don’t think it’s anything quite that dramatic. But ever since the day he got to Keenonburg, he’s bought every available acre of land he could. It’s as though he’s trying to rebuild something he lost back in Austria.”

  Cassie’s mind clicked, registering this piece of information. Was that why he wanted the Dalton ranch?

  “His own little kingdom?”

  Victoria shrugged. “Something like that.”

  A rumble of male voices filled the air. Victoria shook her head. “Grown men—all ready to act like little boys again.”

  Cassie quickly saw what Victoria meant. The men were all lined up for arm wrestling. Cassie and Victoria strolled forward to join the other women who stood in the shade and watched, some with pride and some with disappointment, as their men won or lost each bout. Gasping, Cassie saw that Shane, who had easily won every round, was now pitted against Andrew. Her brother’s face was screwed up in determination, and she could see his still developing muscles try to expand even further. Hand held to her chest, Cassie waited for the boy’s inevitable defeat, knowing how crushed he’d be. The seconds ticked by like hours, then both arms started to waver. The slamming sound of one arm slapping down against the table was heard. Cassie blinked her eyes in disbelief. Andrew couldn’t have won! But Shane, Evan, and Zack crowded around him offering congratulations. It was all Cassie could do to restrain herself from rushing forward to where the men were gathered. Instead she remained in the shadows, silently cheering for Andrew.

  Rubbing his arm ruefully, Shane shook Andrew’s hand. “Taught me not to mess with the young bucks.”

  “Aw, you coulda licked me if you’d tried harder.”

  “If I’d tried any harder, you’d have wrenched my arm clear out of the socket. Nope, I’ve learned my lesson.”

  Andrew beamed, strutted a bit, and then swaggered off with Zack.

  Shane moved away from the crowd to Cassie’s side as Victoria drifted over to the crowded tables.

  “If my recollection’s about right, Andrew’s just a tad stronger than me.” Cassie smiled. “I guess that means I can beat you up.”

  “We could slip away from here, and you could try.”

  Cassie smiled at the casual flirtation. “Thanks for being so nice to Andrew. He hasn’t had many men in his life as an example. Our father died when he was so young.”

  “No thanks needed. He’s a good boy.”

  She glanced over at the collection of neighbors and townsfolk, some sampling the food, others talking casually. Nibbling on her lower lip, she took a deep breath, wishing she didn’t have to mingle with them.

  “There’s nothing to be nervous about, Cassie. They’re just people.”

  “People who hate me enough to slaughter my sheep.”

  “My father never let anything interfere with this annual cookout. Not droughts, Indian raids, or cattle rustling. Those didn’t matter. He insisted on this cookout, and we had a damn good time or else. Don’t want to break tradition, do you?”

  “I’d like to be home in bed with the covers over my head.”

  “Can’t eat much that way. Let’s go get some of that food.” Taking her arm, Shane led Cassie from the shadows beneath the outstretched oak tree over to the large pits that had been dug to accommodate huge sides of beef that roasted slowly on hand-turned spits. The tangy aroma of burning mesquite chips and slow-cooked beef hit Cassie’s nostrils at the same time as she heard the sizzle and hiss of juices dripping onto the coals.

  “It does smell good,” she admitted.

  Picking up a wicked-looking carving knife, Shane hacked off two good-sized portions and loaded them onto the plates Wilbur held out.

  “Afternoon, Wilbur,” Cassie greeted the grizzled man.

  “Miss Cassie.” His eyes twinkled, and he seemed to straighten up a bit. “Glad you could make it. You sure pretty up a party.”

  Touched, she replied, “Thank you, Wilbur. You’re looking mighty slicked-up yourself.”

  He glanced down self-consciously at the immaculately starched shirt and new string tie. “Just same ol’ duds,” he muttered.

  “Well, you look very nice. I’m sure the other ladies think so too.”

  Wilbur straightened up a bit, running a hand over his wiry beard. “Nah.”

  “Be sure you save me a dance later,” Cassie warned. “I don’t want to find out I can’t get even one dance because you’ve turned all the ladies’ heads.”

  Wilbur managed to laugh and duck his head at the same time. Shane guided Cassie away from the roasting pit to a table nestled beneath spreading limbs that provided some refreshing shade.

  “You planning on charming all the men here?” he asked with a half smile, as though sharing a joke.

  “Wilbur deserves to be charmed. He’s a very nice man.”

  “Yeah. You’re not too awful yourself.”

  “Please, please. Such flattery may make me swoon. I’ll scarcely be able to take a nibble of this”—she looked down at her plate, eyes widening—“pound or two of beef.”

  “Thought you might be hungry.”

  Considering the state her stomach was in, Cassie doubted she could do justice to a few bites. But she discovered the tender beef too delicious to refuse. Still, she could scarcely eat all he’d piled on her plate.

  Ruefully she glanced at Shane’s clean plate. “Looks like your eyes were bigger than my stomach.”

  “Then let’s go meet some people.”

  Cassie’s now full stomach plummeted as though she’d eaten lead rather than beef. “I’d rather not.”

  “Remember, it’s against the rules to spoil the Lancer annual cookout.”

  Sighing, she rose to her feet and glanced around. “I don’t see Hector.”

  “He never comes—no one to watch his flock. ’Sides, he seems kind of fond of mutton.”

  Cassie pointedly ignored his comment, her stomach knotting as they approached the others. When Shane walked over to Victoria, Cassie was relieved. She’d briefly met Victoria’s husband, Patrick, when their carriage had come to collect her, Andrew, and Millicent for the cookout, and she’d noted then that Patrick’s attention remained focused on his wife, as it was now. Heads close together, they glanced up in unison when Shane spoke.

  “You two lovebirds at it again?” Shane teased. “You’ve been married too long to still like each other.”

  “And you’ve been single too long to know what you’re missing,” Victoria retorted with easy camaraderie. “Right, Patrick?”

  “You two leave me out of your squabbles.” Patrick gazed directly at Cassie, still smiling. “They keep forgetting they’re grown-ups now.”

  “That’s why we have you to remind us,” Victoria replied, her hand still entwined in her husband’s.

  Timmy, Victoria’s eight-year-old, rushed up to his mother, his baby sister trailing yards behind him, her unsteady steps slowing her down. “Mother, Mother!”<
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  “I’m right here,” Victoria replied calmly, trying to slick back Timmy’s mussed hair. He evaded her hand, wriggling away to launch himself at his father’s knee.

  “Can I? Can I?”

  “Can you what?” Patrick replied, also remaining calm while Timmy hopped from foot to foot.

  “Be in the rodeo? Please?”

  “Oh, I don’t think so…” Victoria started to answer.

  “Mother!” Timmy wailed.

  Shane’s deep voice rumbled, and Timmy quieted for a moment. “How ’bout the calf run, Sis? He can’t get hurt. Some of the older boys’ll be out there. Cassie’s brother for one—he’s a responsible boy.”

  “Yeah, Mother. Could I please? Please?” Timmy turned to his father. “Please?”

  “If your father and Uncle Shane promise to watch out for you, I guess so,” Victoria agreed reluctantly.

  Patrick rose and scooped Timmy up, putting him on his shoulders. “Guess we’d better go pick out the calf you want to catch.”

  Little Megan finally reached her mother’s skirts on chubby legs. Shane bent and twirled the toddler around, eliciting squeals of delight. “Guess this one’s too little for most of the rodeo events.”

  “Unhand my baby,” Victoria demanded with mock severity, shaking her head. “Come on, Megan, let’s get away from your uncle and hope none of his lunacy is hereditary.” The blond-haired little girl, who resembled a beautiful porcelain doll, smiled adoringly at Shane and her mother.

  “Maybe next year,” Shane teased his sister.

  Victoria muttered something under her breath as she walked over to watch her husband and son in the calf corral.

  Before Cassie could catch her breath, Shane led her from person to person. Belva, her husband, and their children were warm, effusive. Most of the others were civil while Shane stood at her side, but their expressions while staring at Cassie were cold. Only Jacob Robertson made a rude comment, but before many words could be exchanged, Robertson turned and stomped off. Albert Fredericks was unfailingly polite, although his dislike of Shane was only thinly veiled.

  “Why did he come to your cookout if you dislike one another?” Cassie questioned.