by Judith Stacy
“What’s it like—the main house?”
“Big,” he said. “Made of stone. Some think it’s like the houses the Colonel and his late brother were used to in England. Some say they brought just about everything on their estate with them, including the pigs and chickens and milk cows.”
“What happened to his brother?”
“Got himself killed two winters ago.”
“And his wife—widow—stayed?” Eleanor asked, avoiding the obvious but likely unsettling question about the manner of the man’s demise.
“She’s got controlling interest in the cattle company.”
“I see. I don’t imagine the colonel is happy about that.”
“He doesn’t talk to me, miss—but I think he’s not as happy as he could be.”
“If he owned all of it, you mean.”
“Something like that. Some men need to own things. Others don’t—”
He stiffened suddenly and reached for the rifle that leaned against the seat between them. She looked around to see what had caught his attention—riders on horseback that had popped up out of nowhere.
“Not Selby men,” he said.
“And?” she asked when he didn’t elaborate.
“Don’t know, miss.”
He did know; Eleanor was sure of that, but she didn’t press him for answers. She was all too willing to abide in that elusive place where ignorance was bliss.
“What did you do with that revolver?” he asked quietly.
“It’s in the valise.”
“I want you to reach back and slide the valise where you can open it. Take your time. Get the revolver but don’t hold it where they can see it.”
She looked at him, and for a brief moment he looked back. He was worried about this and so, then, was she, ignorant of the circumstances or not. She took a quiet breath and reached back for the valise, fumbling to get it open and the revolver out without appearing suspicious. As an afterthought, she got the parasol as well, hiding the gun behind it as she drew it forward. She slipped the weapon under her skirts and opened the parasol, gripping it hard to keep the wind from taking it.
“Now what?” she asked.
“If they kill me, I’d appreciate it if you’d send at least one of them to hell along with me.”
“Any particular one?” she asked, because he was being flippant—or as flippant as a man like Ingram could get.
“Here they come,” he said, but he made no attempt to raise the rifle or to speed up the horses.
The riders had broken into a gallop, all six of them. They rode straight for the wagon, then began circling it, around and around, all of them showing the grins of grown men about to play the adult version of King of the Hill.
Eleanor glanced at them, then looked straight ahead, ignoring them as Ingram was doing—or seeming to. She slid her free hand under her skirt and let it rest on the handle of the revolver.
“Danny!” one of them said finally. “Who you got there, son?”
Ingram didn’t answer.
“She can’t be a friend of yourn,” the rider said. “Way too high class for the likes of you.”
The rider stood in his stirrups, apparently so he could get a better look, and perhaps to test Ingram’s resolve. Eleanor had had enough experience in the company of men to have no doubt that this particular one was the kind whose personal bravery depended on how many other scoundrels just like him were along to back him up. Alone, his boldness would completely dissipate.
“You boys coming to the party?” Dan asked mildly. Accosting a Selby wagon on this side of the river was a bold gesture, even for Karl Dorsey. Dan watched him warily, knowing the others would take their lead from him. If the son of a bitch was drunk, he was apt to do anything, whether his boss had approved it or not.
Dan could sense the apprehension in the woman next to him, but she didn’t show it. He had no notion of whether she realized how badly they were outnumbered or not. She sat there, aloof and a little disdainful of the intrusion, her hand resting on the revolver under her skrts. Karl might make the mistake of thinking she was helpless like Lillyann, but if he did, Dan suspected that Karl would die a very surprised man.
“What party?” Karl asked.
“I hear you’re all invited—Mrs. Selby’s doing. She rode over to see your boss herself day before yesterday. I wouldn’t want to miss it if I was you. Mrs. Selby sets a fine table. She’s not ashamed to have milk cows and chickens on the place—and these are the fancy English kind. Makes for some good eating, I can tell you—cakes and custards and butter bread like you wouldn’t believe. Maybe you ought to check with the big man—before you go and do something he might regret.”
For the first time, Karl looked doubtful. “You boys hear anything about a party?” he asked the others.
None of them had—but they were clearly interested.
“You know what I think?” Karl said. “I think you’re a damned liar.”
“Suit yourself,” Ingram said. “But you might want to remember there’s a lady present before you get into any more name-calling. Be seeing you, Karl.” He whistled sharply and set the horses to a faster pace.
Karl?
“Is that Lillyann’s Karl?” Eleanor asked when she was reasonably sure they were going to be allowed to ride on in peace.
Ingram frowned. And didn’t answer.
“Is it?” Eleanor persisted.
“Yes,” he said.
“Why didn’t you try to kill each other, then?”
“It’s not the time.”
“Not the time? You have some kind of…schedule?”
“You were here, miss. That made it not the right time.”
Eleanor started to say something else, then gave up. The land was sloping downward toward the line of trees. She could just see the river, the shallow river.
But shallow or not, one of the horses balked at going into it. It might as well have been a raging torrent. Ingram finally handed the reins to her and got on his mount to lead them across.
On the other side, they stopped under the cottonwood trees. The wind still played havoc with the tree tops, but didn’t reach the ground nearly as much. Eleanor found the respite wonderful.
“Does the wind blow all the time?” she asked Ingram as he fiddled with one of the horse harnesses.
“Don’t let it scare you, miss,” he said, still busy.
“I’m not afraid of it—”
“It gets strange sometimes, miss.”
“Strange?”
“Sometimes you think you can hear things.”
“Like what?”
“Like…singing. Voices singing—sort of like a choir. I don’t know what causes it, but it happens. So don’t let it scare you if it does.”
Eleanor frowned. “You’ve heard it?”
“Me and everybody else that stays outside a lot,” he said. “Maybe the ones who work inside all the time don’t. I don’t know. Are you hungry, miss?”
“Yes,” she said.
“I’m going to ride off for a bit, look around, give you some privacy. When I come back, we’ll open that basket. Don’t pack the revolver away again. Keep it handy.”
With that, he mounted his horse and rode away. It took all Eleanor could do not to call after him. She stood for a moment, then looked around her. She didn’t particularly need “privacy,” but she knew to take advantage of the opportunity anyway, carrying the revolver with her in case of heaven knew what.
Afterward, she walked to the river’s edge and wet her handkerchief so she could wash her face and hands, all the while listening for Ingram’s return.
She didn’t hear anything but the quiet rush of the river, the wind in the trees and the occasional blowing of the team of horses. She let her mind pick through the information she’d gathered so far. It was interesting to her that Mrs. Selby had control of the cattle company—and that tidbit had certainly clarified what Hester might have meant about the Selbys using Eleanor to try to get at each other.
Just what she needed—to be caught in yet another civil war.
She took a quiet breath and walked toward the wagon, not seeing the Indian women until she had nearly reached it. There were three of them, two very young, one very old. She looked at them, but made no attempt to speak. Neither did they. They simply walked past under the trees and into the river, clearly for a purpose, but Eleanor couldn’t imagine what. None of them carried anything. One of the younger ones glanced back over her shoulder at one point, until the old woman apparently chastised her for it.
Eleanor watched them until they disappeared into the tall grass on the other side—grass that she suddenly realized was significantly taller here than it had been around Soul Harbor.
Eleanor walked around under the trees for a time, the revolver still in her hand. She couldn’t see anything of Ingram in the direction he’d gone nor hear the sound of his horse. After a time, she sat down on the back of the wagon to wait, leaning against her valise, her legs dangling. Her belly rumbled with hunger and she considered opening the basket, but only briefly. Her eyes were growing heavy in the dappled but warm sunshine. It was so…pleasant to be out of the wind.
She closed her eyes.
After a moment, she moved the valise to find a more comfortable position, and closed her eyes again, only to wake with a start because Ingram was standing next to her.
“Sorry, miss. I was afraid you were going to fall off.”
“Then why didn’t you just call my name and wake me up? It’s too bad it’s not fly season. You could have entertained yourself by watching to see if one flew into my mouth. How long have you been back, anyway?” she added crossly. There was no real reason for her to be annoyed beyond the usual fatigue and inconvenience of travel, but she was.
“Long enough to eat. I saved you some,” he said.
Nowhere on his face could she see the amusement she heard in his voice.
“We’re going to have to go—you can eat what’s left on the way. Or you can ride back here, take another nap if you want.”
She didn’t want. She sat beside him on the seat with the basket on her lap. There was some cheese left, and a cold biscuit and a withered apple. She ate all three. He offered her a drink of water from his canteen, which she took gladly.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked after a time.
“I wasn’t looking for anything,” he said.
“You were looking for trouble, Mr. Ingram.”
He glanced at her, and he didn’t deny it. She waited, but there was nothing in the way of conversation forthcoming.
“How many children are on the ranch?” she asked, to prod him into saying something, at least.
“Six or seven,” he said. “Unless Mrs. Selby makes the older boys come.”
“Do you think she will?”
“I guess she will if she can get them away from the colonel. We’ll be busy with the roundup. He’s going to need every hand.”
“The boys work on the ranch?”
“Yes, miss.”
“How old are they?”
“Not sure. The youngest must be about twelve or so. The oldest, sixteen. It doesn’t really matter if Mrs. Selby wants them able to read and write. Most of them are as good as any man when it comes to doing their job—except they’re not as strong as a grown man yet. But they band together to get things done when they need to. Are you ready to drive the wagon, miss?”
“What? Oh. Yes.”
“Good,” he said, handing over the reins. He climbed in the back and took the rifle with him.
“Looking for trouble again, Mr. Ingram?” she asked.
“I thought I would, miss,” he said, his voice quiet and matter-of-fact. And very alarming.
“And how likely is it that you’ll find it?”
He waited too long to answer, and she thought he knew it. She could feel him trying to decide how forthcoming he could be.
“It’s not likely. I don’t expect him to cross the river.”
“Karl, you mean.”
“Yes, miss.”
“The fact that even Hester knows you mean to kill him has to be some kind of incentive.”
“Yes, miss.”
“So if he does cross—”
“I’ll need my hands free.”
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “All right. Which way do I go?”
“Just go straight, that’s all.”
“Straight.”
“That’s right. I’m not worried. You can do it.”
“There are no landmarks—”
“You can do it,” he said again.
Clearly, she had little choice in the matter, so she drove the wagon—hopefully, straight. She didn’t ask him any more questions, didn’t look back to see what he was doing. She just kept going. Her arms began to ache from the strain of it after a time, but she didn’t complain.
Their shadows grew longer. For all she knew, Ingram had gone to sleep. Once again the land around her began to change. The grass was not so tall, and she could see little groups of cows and calves grazing here and there.
A dark speck on the horizon caught her attention.
“Is that—?”
“That’s the house. You didn’t get us lost, after all, miss.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him, but he didn’t say anything more. It was a new experience for her, to know she was being teased when there was no outward indication whatsoever.
A horse and rider were bearing down on them from their left, a young boy riding a huge roan as if he’d been born in the saddle.
“Dan!” he yelled, more in surprise than in greeting, but he was looking at Eleanor.
“Petey! Go tell Mrs. Selby her schoolteacher has arrived.”
“She’s out riding!”
“Well, see if you can fetch her in.”
“Yes, sir!” the boy said, letting the horse rear, twice, before he turned it sharply and galloped away.
“Showing off for you,” Ingram said, and Eleanor laughed softly. This time, when she looked at him, he was smiling as if he no longer minded it.
“Will you take the reins now?” she asked.
“It will be better if you do it, miss—let them see you’re not helpless.”
She nodded, in spite of her fatigue and the tremor in her arms from the long strain of keeping the horses in check.
“Miss?” he said when they were close enough to see the outbuildings and some fences, and men working in groups and alone. She looked at him again.
“It’s good you’ve got the revolver,” he said.
When they reached the house, Dan helped her down and followed a few steps behind as she walked toward what she obviously believed was a new life. She was a pretty woman, he thought, but there was more to her than a fine figure and a pleasing face. Already he was feeling responsible for her, in the way a soldier might feel responsible for a new comrade-in-arms, one who had survived his early trial by fire but who didn’t yet realize how much worse things could get.
Eleanor Hansen had done well so far—in town and on the way out here. She didn’t scare easily. Dan had wanted to say more to her just now. He had wanted to tell her to be careful, whether she understood what he meant or not. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. Colonel Selby had no fear of consequences. His word was law, and any man he hired followed his orders without question or found other employment. Only the colonel’s sister-in-law, Lavinia, dared to challenge him, and she did it at every turn. Eleanor would become yet another pawn in their struggle for power, a struggle that Dan had managed to avoid until now. He had blundered into the middle of this latest round by making an unplanned trip into Soul Harbor to arrange for Lillyann’s funeral. He doubted that Lavinia had known Eleanor’s arrival was imminent, and he didn’t want to have to worry about these things, about being caught up in the longstanding feud between Selbys or about the young woman who was walking into a situation she couldn’t begin to comprehend. He took a little comf
ort in the fact that he had at least told Eleanor Hansen the truth. It was good that she had the revolver.
Chapter Three
Eleanor realized immediately that, in spite of the letters she carried, Colonel Vandereau Selby wasn’t expecting her. He covered his surprise at her appearance quickly, but not quickly enough and not charmingly enough to fool her.
“My dear Miss Hansen—here you are at last,” he said, accepting the gloved hand she offered. Her arm still trembled from fatigue, so she supposed that he would think she was nervous about meeting him—which was true enough. Her immediate impression was that he had the potential for being a fearsome entity. He wasn’t a big man, but his military bearing and his calculating manner made him a commanding one.
“You were in town?” he said to Ingram, his tone of voice suggesting that he hadn’t been advised of that plan and he wouldn’t have approved it if he had.
“Personal business, Colonel,” Ingram said.
“Ah. Quite.” The colonel smiled—but he didn’t mean it.
“I regret my sister-in-law isn’t on hand to greet you,” he said, turning his attention to Eleanor. “She’s out for her daily ride—a bit later than usual, unfortunately. Well! Come inside, my dear! You must be exhausted. It’s a long way from South Carolina.”
“North Carolina, sir,” Eleanor said, as she let herself be guided into the huge stone house.
“Ah, yes. North Carolina. There is a difference, isn’t there? Mary!”
He only had to yell the girl’s name once. She came at a run from the back of the house.
“Mary, take Miss Hansen to one of the east wing rooms. See to her every need, give her anything she requires. My dear Miss Hansen, you must make yourself at home—rest, have your supper at your leisure and take your ease. Nothing else will be required of you today. Tomorrow, after you’re refreshed and rested, we will introduce you to your new home, yes?”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Eleanor said. “You are very kind.” She looked around to thank Ingram, as well, expecting him to be behind her. He hadn’t come inside, and she could no longer see him in the yard.