Emma’s fair skin, even burned brown by the summer sun, showed a tinge of blush.
“Why, Em? Would it bother you if I had a connection to some other woman?”
Emma scowled, but she stayed close … very close.
“Because the only woman I want a connection to is you, Emma Harden.”
“You do?” Emma whispered. Her scowl faded, replaced by the sweetest smile Mark had ever seen.
Which made Mark very aware he was looking at Emma’s lips. “Oh, yes, I want that real bad.”
He’d thought it through and logically decided that Emma was the woman he wanted to marry. She was everything he wanted, strong and pretty and smart and a God-fearing woman. But until right now his plans had all been made in his head. He’d marry her and be happy with her and build a ranch with her. It made perfect sense.
But as her sweet smile grew wider and her eyes filled with interest in a way that made Mark feel like a king, Mark figured out the difference between logic and love. Because right at that instant he fell headlong in love with this pretty woman with the baby in her arms. Mark had never felt anything so right in his life.
And Emma needed to know that he was more than just mildly interested. He’d come close to stealing a kiss out back of the Hardens’ barn when he was here before. But Emma’s pa had interrupted before he could work up the nerve.
He was full of nerve now.
“Emma?” He glanced at her lips again and decided to take the little girls out for a walk behind that same barn. Lure Emma along.
“Yes?” Almost as if she’d read his mind and was agreeing. And once she started agreeing, who knew what she might say yes to.
“It’s crowded in here and hot.”
“It sure is.” Emma patted Jarrod on the back but kept her eyes locked right on Mark.
“Maybe we could take the children for a little walk.”
“But they’re sound asleep. Should we put them to bed?”
“A little fresh air won’t hurt them, will it?” He leaned closer as if fresh air was a big secret that only he knew, and ignored the fact that the children had been out in the fresh air through the whole long ride to the Harden ranch.
“No, I don’t suppose so.” She sounded grateful that he’d shared the idea.
“So, let’s you and me—”
“I’ll be glad to take those children off your hands now, Reeves.” Belle Harden’s voice had the effect of the tip of a blacksnake whip cutting a slit in his skin.
Mark straightened away from Emma fast, only now aware of just how close he’d been to her right here in the middle of Belle Harden’s kitchen. In about five more seconds, he’d have had that kiss, even with all these people around.
He turned to face a very cranky, heavily armed woman. A woman he hoped would one day very soon be his mother-in-law.
If she didn’t shoot him first.
“We’re gonna make that woman sorry she left her house.” Fergus mounted up beside Cord.
Cord led the way as he always did. He was hopeful that some more cousins would show up soon. They were running purely short.
“Why’d Grandpappy make this rule about Cooters sticking together?” Dugger asked in his childlike way.
“Family pride, that’s why,” Cord snarled. “You oughta get some.”
“The most of our family I know ride the outlaw trail,” J.D. grumbled. “Where’s the pride in that?”
“We’re hard men and we fight for the brand. That’s the Cooter way,” Cord said. “Nothing wrong with letting the world know that they’re steppin’ into a buzz saw when they hurt a Cooter.”
Cord felt his chest swell with pride. He’d been raised by his pappy, a mean old codger, but with pride in family and a powerful sense of loyalty. The old man had loved feuding.
Even more so, Grandpappy did. Cord was one of the few of the cousins who ever knew the old man because Grandpappy spent his whole life working long hours. Cord had come along later, when Grandpappy had finally slowed down, against his will.
“You never knew Grandpappy, and I did. You remember the family rules, but I know why he made those rules.” Cord looked back at Dugger. The man was pure dumb, but this was simple; maybe Dugger could learn it better than all of them.
“Our real name is Couturiaux. You all know that, right?”
Dugger looked lost.
J.D. shrugged.
“Sure. We all were raised hearing that. Stupid long name. I like Cooter better,” Fergus said.
Cord preferred it himself. A man would be all day writing his name if it was Couturiaux. “I was raised by Grandpappy Cooter, and he loved to tell stories of the old country. I heard all about how he came to America and got his name chopped up by the only man who’d give Grandpappy a job.”
“I always thought the long name sounded stupid.” Fergus shrugged.
“Well, Couturiaux was a respected name in France. To be forced to shorten it by a pompous rich man, the only man hiring when Grandpappy got off the boat from Europe, nearly choked him.”
“Yeah, well, try getting someone to spell that name. I don’t blame the guy for wanting it shorter,” J.D. said from where he rode behind Cord and Fergus. “And try getting a poor man to give you a job.”
Cord decided then and there his cousins were pathetic. “Look, Grandpappy had his family pride ripped right off his back when his name was changed. And he had to accept the name change in order to feed his family. By the time he got ahead and could start his farm, his sons were grown and started families of their own. All of ’em were used to calling themselves Cooter. Grandpappy knew it was too late to get anyone to change the name back, but it burned him, and he made it a point of family pride to demand we all support each other. He couldn’t have the name he wanted, but he could mold the family tight together in other ways.”
“Makes sense to me,” Fergus said. “When I rode off from our place, I didn’t like leaving you behind, Cord. I reckon a lot of that is the family pride you’re talkin’ about. I know my pa was a harsh man, and I knew you’d have a hard life. It ate at me that I should have taken you along, but you were just a baby and me a young man alone.” Fergus frowned.
Cord looked at his older brother, feeling some dismay to think he’d most likely end up looking like Fergus, because Fergus was stout and wrinkled and ugly. Cord might feel family loyalty, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know a homely man when he saw one. Right then, Cord decided he’d finish this mess with Lady Gray, then leave his family behind and hope to never see a one of them again. He didn’t want to end up alone on the outlaw trail. He wanted a soft bed, a soft wife, and maybe a few babies with streaks of white in their hair. But he did appreciate that his big brother had wanted to take care of him. “Thanks, Ferg. I’m glad I caught up with you out here. I’d been looking for a while.”
The foursome crested a distant hilltop and looked back. They’d come a long way.
Cord had felt cold for a while last night, like someone was taking a bead at his backbone. He’d decided to put some distance between his family and Lady Gray for a few days.
“Well, will you look at that.” Dugger said it, but all of them immediately realized what had happened. They’d found the perfect lookout.
“The Double L brand belongs to Tom Linscott for sure.” Fergus had been in this country longer than the rest of them. And that house of his is built like a fort.
“What do you think that cowpoke is doing with Lady Gray anyhow?” Cord saw how impenetrable the house was. He’d learned that well when their first attack had failed. Now, looking down from this far distance, the whole ranch looked well fortified. It was laid out so the few overlooks could be defended well.
“Linscott’s a known man. A big rancher with a reputation for raising a top herd of cattle, like those big blacks we ran off.” Fergus pulled a chaw of tobacco out of his pocket.
Cord had heard of Linscott, but he’d never ridden these trails nor met the man. He suspected that a man savvy enough to lay out
this ranch and build a big spread knew enough to post a lookout. They’d never get as close to Mandy Gray as they had that first day. Not while she was living in Linscott’s house. It chafed him that they’d missed that chance. He glanced at Fergus and the red scratches on his neck where rock had exploded under Mandy’s gunfire.
Taking one second, Cord let himself remember the way that woman had moved with her gun. It shrank something in Cord’s stomach, and that fear made him mad and made him determined to give her a taste of that fear.
“Why did he drag her out of her fortress and take her to his ranch?” Dugger scratched at his neck.
As he considered the Double L, a memory came back to Cord. “Years ago, I was with Gray in Helena, and Linscott was in town with a herd. I remember now Gray bought a matched pair of horses from Linscott, and Linscott agreed to deliver them. Maybe Linscott met Lady Gray back then. Maybe something more was going on between him and Lady Gray, and he came to get her and take her for his own.”
Cord had touched Lady Gray exactly once, and his fingers still felt the heat of it. He’d wanted her. He’d wanted that arrogant fool, Sidney, dead, and Cord planned to step in and claim Mandy Gray for his own. He’d have the woman and the mountain of gold Sidney was always bragging about. With heated satisfaction, Cord thought of the dark, streaky-haired children Mandy would give him. A passel of them in fact. Boys. A new generation. Cord had decided long ago his children would bear the name Couturiaux.
Now Tom Linscott had her, and her gold. Any children Mandy would have would be light-haired instead of dark with a white streak. The hungry jealousy almost sent Cord into a rage. It also gave him bitter satisfaction to decide that Linscott had bought into this feud. The Cooters now had someone else to settle with.
“It’s miles away, but we can see them coming and going from that ranch.” Cord looked at the forest around them and saw ground covered deep in soft pine needles and the nearby trickle of spring water. It was a likely place to camp with a perfect overlook of the ranch, though far out of rifle range. “We can bide our time here, just like we done by Lady Gray’s gap. We’ll wait and watch and pick our moment to strike.”
Cord swung down from horseback and tied his horse to a scrub pine. “Let’s set up camp. Then let’s start scouting to see if we can find a lookout that’s within rifle range. I don’t want to wait too long to let Linscott know he’s made a big mistake.”
Mandy rode into the Double L at a fast clip.
Tom kept up. If he hadn’t, she’d have taken a stick to his backside to hurry him along.
Every few yards, without slowing her pace, Mandy turned around to study the trees and hills around them, looking for likely places for dry-gulchers to hide out.
She noticed full well that Tom did the same. At least he was taking the threat seriously. All Sidney had done was hire bodyguards and leave his protection to them.
They cantered into the ranch yard, and Mandy’s skilled eye saw that Tom had posted a lookout on every high peak near his cabin.
And what a cabin it was. Sidney had built a castle. Tom had come very close to building a fort. Most people didn’t live in such intense security. Since she was the only thing Sidney and Tom had in common, Mandy took a second to wonder if she somehow made men feel endangered.
“What are we going to do about the children?” It was burning a hole in Mandy’s belly to think of them, so far away, so cut off from her.
“The first thing we’re going to do is talk to the law. I want a U.S. Marshal to know what’s going on.”
“The law can’t stop them, Tom.” Her horse sidestepped, and she realized she had a death grip on the reins. Relaxing her hold, she said, “They keep coming and coming and—”
“I know.” He cut her off. “You’ve told me that about fifty times. But I’m going to give the law a chance.” Tom nodded toward his oversized log cabin at a tall, lean man wearing a star, leaning on the hitching post right in front of Tom’s door. “And there’s just the man I want to see. He’s the toughest man in the territory.”
Tom hollered at a nearby cowhand.
“All I see is a man with a target painted on his back. You. If that man throws into our fight, then there’ll be a target painted on him, too. I think I should go to the children, Tom. Belle would see sense and let me go back to the mountain.”
Tom turned to Mandy, “You can’t go to the children. Sending them away keeps them safe. I don’t think any man is a low enough varmint to kill a little child, so I’m hoping they won’t even chase after the young’uns. But they might come after you, and if the lead starts flying, I want the children tucked far out of the way.”
Tom swung down and handed the reins of his horse to the bowlegged old man who seemed to mosey along but covered the ground fast enough.
Tom took Mandy’s reins as she dismounted, and the drover led the horses away.
“Thanks for coming, Zeb. Mandy, this is Zeb Coltrain.” Tom shook the man’s hand. “He’s been chasing bad guys since before you were born. Zeb, this is my wife, Mandy Linscott.”
She wondered if the children were Linscotts now.
“Howdy, ma’am.” Marshal Coltrain wore a Stetson, but what hair Mandy saw was dark, and his face, half covered by a huge, drooping mustache, had the weathered look of a man used to living much of his life outdoors fighting the elements. However, he was by no means old enough to have been chasing bad guys all that long.
“I been hearing rumors about you, Tom. What kind’a trouble have you stirred up now?” The lawman tucked his thumbs in his gun belt as if he didn’t have a thing to do but jaw with Tom, but Mandy saw the sharp awareness in the man’s eyes. He had two six-guns, tied down, a knife in his belt, and the coldest black eyes Mandy had ever seen.
She had a terrible mix of hope and dread. Hope he could somehow protect her.
Dread that she’d get him killed.
Pretty much the same things she felt toward Tom. Except she felt a few more things toward Tom. Wifely things. She thought of those things and glanced at him. He caught the look and winked at her in a way so intimate she couldn’t help remembering how well she’d liked being in his strong arms. Tom went back to talking to Zeb Coltrain.
Mandy saw a smile quirk Marshal Coltrain’s lips, and knew the marshal hadn’t missed that little exchange. Surely a lawman learned to watch everything. He stayed alive by picking up subtle clues.
Mandy felt her cheeks flush and decided she very much hoped the lawman couldn’t read her expression with perfect accuracy. “Can we go inside and talk about this? I feel like someone is lining up a rifle right at my back.”
Tom rested a hand on the small of her back, reminding her that he’d stand between her and any gunfire.
She hated knowing that.
They went inside, and Mandy noticed the bullet holes in Tom’s front door. She walked through Tom’s main front room, where Mandy had already drawn gunfire, and went through a wide doorway into Tom’s tidy kitchen. She filled a coffeepot from a bucket of water near the dry sink.
Tom and Zeb followed her, already talking.
“These Cooters”—Zeb sat at the table in Tom’s kitchen—“the rumors about them and their feud have done some spreading. I’ve heard bits and pieces. But except for your husband, it seems to me the only ones that’ve been dying are Cooters. That’s a stupid way to conduct a war.”
Mandy didn’t want to tell them about the one she’d personally blown a hole in.
“My little wife here killed one personally that came at her while she stood watch one night.”
She glared at her overly talkative husband, but he didn’t even notice.
He was too busy throwing wood into a potbellied stove and lighting a match to some kindling. He brushed his hands together.
She crossed her arms so Marshal Coltrain wouldn’t see her hands tremble. “I did what I had to do. It was self-defense. I didn’t go out hunting—”
“Any man coyote enough to attack a woman deserves whatever happens
to him.” For a lawman, Zeb here seemed uninterested in hearing about a killing.
Tom sat down across from Zeb. “I had one of my hands ride in and send word for the marshal. I didn’t expect you here so fast, Zeb.”
“I was in the area. I had yesterday to send a couple of wires, and I already got one back. These Cooters are like lice the way they’ve spread.”
“Well, they sure as certain make me itchy.” Tom leaned back in his chair as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Mrs. Linscott, ma’am, you’re right about there being a passel of cousins. We’re trying to get to the bottom of why they’re really coming after you. It don’t make no sense. One man in town said he’d heard that the Cooters were just crazy for feuding and the granddaddy of the clan kept them all whipped up about sticking tight together.”
“But against a woman and children?” Tom shook his head. “Never heard the like. And who started this whole notion of the Cooters sticking together no matter what? Where is this granddaddy? Is he still alive? I’d like to plant my fist in his face for being behind this.”
“I’ve asked a few questions, and like I said, I’m expecting to hear more. But the good part is that there are some Wanted posters on this crowd. I heard tell of a few Cooters back East, in Tennessee and Kentucky, who are honorable, prosperous men. I’ve got a telegraph to them to ask if they’re connected to this mess. I can call in a few more lawmen because there’s some reward money on the head of a Cooter or two.”
“But which Cooters?” Mandy asked. “How do we find them? They all have that streak of white in their hair.” Mandy could still see the man she’d shot. His hat had fallen off, and there he’d been, dead in the night, that stripe showing like a skunk.
Mandy started opening the few cupboard doors in Tom’s utilitarian kitchen. Her kitchen now. But she needed to learn it.
Tom rose from the table. “Let me help you.” He went straight to a small door and opened it. “Coffee’s in here and most food stores.”
He looked over his shoulder and smiled at her. “A wife oughta learn her way around her husband’s house, now shouldn’t she?”
Sophie's Daughters Trilogy Page 75