by Bella Bowen
“I understand ma’am.”
He didn’t understand at all, but she only needed him to keep quiet for a while. He was, technically, the only one who could make trouble for her at the moment. When her lawyers arrived, she’d be able to stop going out of her way to keep the man appeased.
“What is it you need from me?” She opened an umbrella and held it high, then watched the man sweat in the early summer sun.
“I’m sure you are aware that Devlin Zollinger is upset about—”
“About losing his ranch? I imagine he is. But you know, my husband David, Devlin’s brother, was very clear with me that I was to have the property. He’d made sure I’d be able to run the place, with assistance, of course, if anything happened to him. And he told me flat out that he...” She paused, biting her lower lip while she fished a handkerchief out of her sleeve. Then, holding it just under her nose and sniffing, she went on. “He told me flat out that he thought Devlin was plotting to kill him. He said his brother wanted the ranch, the glory of Diamond Springs, and...me...for himself.”
She poured on the emotions then, taking heart in the way Toller was torn between offering her sympathy and running for the hills. He reached a hand toward her shoulder, and then pulled back as if he sensed someone might think he was taking advantage.
“I can just imagine David looking down on me right now.” She nearly laughed when Toller nervously looked up at the sky. “He’d be so pleased I was able to take my rightful place at the ranch again.” She composed herself and smiled. “Is there anything else, Sheriff?”
He shook his head, then stopped and frowned. No doubt he was trying to remember what he’d been instructed to tell her, but was having difficulty fitting it into the conversation. At last, he said, “We’ll just have to let the lawyers work it out. See what they say.”
Gen’s smile broadened. “Thank you. I have every confidence that the judge will find in my favor.”
“Judge?”
“Yes. A territorial judge will be arriving at the end of the week. Maybe you should warn Devlin to have a lawyer ready, for all the good it will do him.”
“And you believe this judge will see your side of things?”
Gen smiled. “I do.”
He wasn’t happy to hear it, but Gen couldn’t fault a man for trying to stay loyal to a friend, and he and Devlin were definitely friends.
He climbed out of the carriage and turned back with his hat still in his hands. “By the way, Mrs. Carnegie, Dev sent me to ask you if he might be allowed to come back and collect his personal belongings before all those women start poking around in his private things.”
“Why of course. Have him make a list of what is his, and I’ll have it all brought here. To the gate.”
CHAPTER SIX
Gen was going to ruin everything!
She wouldn’t stop playing her little games until she unraveled everything he’d done for her. If she could just swallow her pride for a moment and allow him inside his own bloody house he might be able to save her some pain.
Of course he was worried about saving his own pride and a good deal of pain headed his way, but that didn’t mean his intentions were completely selfish.
“A list?” He spat on the dusty floor and ignored the dark look from Pete Toller. “She’ll bring my things to the gate? She’s out of her bloody mind. That whole ranch belongs to me, but all I’m asking for are a few things…that I need to collect myself. What does she think? That I’ve hidden gold under the floorboards? Can’t she trust me just a little bit, for old times’ sake?”
“You don’t, do you?”
Dev frowned at his friend. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t have gold buried…somewhere?”
Dev rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I sure wouldn’t have had to wait so long to buy those horses, now would I?”
Pete nodded. “That’s right. That’s right.”
Dev resumed his ranting. “I’ve lived at Diamond Springs for nearly seventeen years. I can’t just make a list of what’s mine. You’ll just have to force her to let me inside the house.”
Toller was shaking his head before Dev had finished. “I’d have to have an order from the court now, from a judge. Or if someone was committing a crime, I would have to go try to stop them. But if this woman has an army of lawyers, she can have me removed from office—”
“The next person who uses the word army is going to be shot, do you hear me?” Army of women. Army of lawyers. He snorted. “She’s not some general. She’s a troublesome little... She never would have been able to get away with all this falderal if her second husband hadn’t died. He would have put a stop to this.”
“Well,” Toller grinned. “Maybe whatcha oughtta do is get the troublesome little...” He flapped his hand. “...married off to a man who will put a stop to it all. The town would be disappointed…”
“Oh, come now, Pete. Don’t tell me you’re falling for her little act. Of all people, you should be the last to trust a word she says, let alone cheer for her side.”
The man stuck his nose in the air. “Of all people? Why me?”
“Because you got this job, Black Pete, only because I handed it to you. And if I end up leaving Sage, you won’t last long. Not when I tell the marshal in Laramie that the man that killed his brother is working for him right here, hiding behind a star and a clean chin.”
Pete Toller wasn’t a bad man. He’d killed the marshal’s brother in self-defense, and Dev had witnessed it. But Pete didn’t dare go to the marshal with the truth because the man wasn’t reasonable where his brother was concerned. So Dev had dragged him home with him and found him work.
Dev had never before held it over the man’s head, but he was desperate! He needed the sheriff loyal only to him until he could get back inside that house. The ranch be damned.
The poor man had turned green fast. “You wouldn’t do that.”
It was mean of him, but Dev couldn’t just let him off the hook. Not until the mess was cleaned up.
He knocked Pete on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to. But what good is a threat unless you’re willing to see it through, eh? I’m pretty sure you taught me that.”
~ ~ ~
That night, the grand arch burned to the ground. According to the guards, flaming arrows flew out of the darkness and lit on the pillars. And, since they’d been treated with tar, it was impossible for the flames to be deterred until they’d eaten their fill. By morning, three immense black slashes smoldered against the green grass, and from the embers, Gen carefully pulled aside the wrought iron plaques.
“I can’t believe he would do this,” she whispered to the sheriff who arrived an hour after she had. “He and David and I picked out the trees together. He helped dig the holes and seat the posts. It took days. He and David had such blisters on their hands.” She sniffed. “I think they still do... That is, Devlin must still...”
Inconsolable, Gen let Minnie help her back into the buggy and returned her to the house. Four very determined, and well-armed women stood guard to make certain no man followed.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Pete stomped into the saloon and his furrowed brow told Dev all he needed to know. It was true. The arch had burned.
“Was anyone hurt?” he asked. “Those female guards weren’t foolish enough to try to put it out, were they?”
Pete shook his head curtly and laid something on the counter. It was wrapped in a flour sack. “She wanted you to have this.” He stepped back and waited.
“What is it?” Dev reached for it, but hoped Pete would tell him first. He wouldn’t trust so much as a cake that came from that woman’s hand.
“She says this is all you’ll get. That’s all.” Pete nodded with his chin, still frowning.
Dev peeled back one of the folds. Something grey. He didn’t have any idea.
He peeled back another, then another. For several seconds, he didn’t understand what it was. Then he realized it was covered in ash.
&
nbsp; He jumped to his feet and used the corner of the sack to rub the surface so he could see the letters he hoped would still be there. The black paint had burned away, but that was all.
Diamond Springs Ranch, est. 1833.
“I can’t believe she would burn it down,” he mumbled.
A long minute later, he looked up at Pete’s face. The man was no longer angry. He looked confused.
Dev shrugged. “What?”
Pete shook his head. “That’s what she said. About you. I can’t believe he would burn it down.”
Devlin looked back at the plaque. “We chose those trees together. The three of us. David and I…” He turned his hands over and looked at the pale circles where his palms had blistered so badly they’d never really recovered. Usually, when he looked at them, he thought about his heart, and how it hadn’t recovered either.
But now there was a flicker of hope for his poor heart. Maybe it would heal after all. Because if she could do this, she wasn’t the Genevieve he’d once loved.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Pete motioned for a drink and took himself off to the far end of the bar leaving Devlin alone with his thoughts and the plaque that was still giving off heat. The man was probably still sore about the Black Pete comment. He’d never really been called Black Pete. It hadn’t been a kind thing to say. And one of these days, Dev was going to make it up to him.
He glanced back at the plaque and sighed.
That arch had been the embodiment of his brother in a strange kind of way. Now that it was gone, it was like David had died all over again. And the piece of iron lying on the bar was both a body part—morbid and shocking—and a souvenir he knew he would never part with.
Had she known he would feel this way? When she’d sent the thing with Pete, had she known it would rip his guts out and give him solace all in one fell swoop?
Of course she did.
They’d lived under the same roof for seven years, and by hell, if he hadn’t forgotten anything about her, she couldn’t have forgotten much either. She knew him inside out. And once upon a time, she would have trusted him. But since the moment she suspected him of killing David, that had all changed.
And though she couldn’t trust him, she would still remember where his soft spots were. That arch, and those memories that were attached to it as securely as the arch was seated in the ground, were some of the softest spots in his heart. She’d known just how to make him bleed.
Little did she know, he’d been bleeding since she stepped on that platform and lifted the brim of her hat. He’d recognized her instantly. Her clothing and hairstyle had changed, naturally, but there she was. Same face. Same everything. Dear lord, how she’d stolen his breath away, just as she had the first time they’d met.
And for a minute or two, his only thought was, she’d come back to him.
Then he’d had to listen closely to understand what in the hell she was talking about. Diamond Springs? She expected to move back in with him? And bring a passel of mail order brides with her?
It was madness after that. Instead of herding cattle, he was relegated to herding his employees. She’d taken his fort and declared war. And all he could do was try to negotiate with her, because if he waited for lawyers to sort it all out, she would discover his secrets. If she hadn’t already…
But there was a little part of him that warmed because she’d reached out to him at all. Was she truly not guilty of burning the arch? Was the Gen he knew still there, somewhere, beneath the fancy petticoats and the expensive dresses? Was that young girl sending him a message that she was hurting too? Or was she trying to grind him into the ashes, along with those majestic pine tree trunks, one piece of him at a time.
He’d had far too much to drink, far too early in the morning. And he shook his head to see straight. But the things he was trying to see weren’t in that bar.
He blinked. Looked around. Twenty men blinked back at him.
Billy Fallon, the barkeep, looked in worse shape than him. He kept polishing the same glass over and over again. Poor man. He hadn’t had much sleep, Dev reckoned, since he had a mob of customers that refused to leave all night. But that mob didn’t have anywhere to go. A few had stumbled off to find a barn. A couple of the younger ones had convinced Lolita and Delilah to let them share their upstairs beds all night. But the rest of the men from Diamond Springs were still here, with him. They’d eventually laid their heads on the tables and quit fighting.
Fallon had turned the lamps out, hoping everyone would shuffle out as he did so, but they hadn’t. And though the man had finally given up himself and gone to bed, forced to trust them all with his liquor out of sheer necessity, he’d returned with the sunrise. He probably figured there was no sense wasting good business.
Dev had sent a note to Mrs. Kennedy from the hotel to bring breakfast around. He had to do something to keep their hopes up, keep them from wandering away from Sage River. He was going to get the ranch back. They’d all have their jobs again. And life would return to normal. They just had to wait it out.
He thought his men would be appreciating a nice break from their duties. A few had ridden the perimeter of the working end of the ranch and been both horrified and relieved that the stock was being cared for. That the crops were getting water. So it wasn’t as if they should worry that the ranch was suffering or that there would be nothing left alive for them to return to. But he supposed it also made them worry that they weren’t needed.
Not much chance of them going off on a hunting party, or heading up to Crescent Lake to fish. Personally, he would have liked to pack some food stuffs and head up to the springs to camp in peace for a week. But the springs were on the ranch, and he wasn’t allowed. There was a spot he could sneak through to get to those springs if he wanted to, but like the rest, he just didn’t trust what might happen without him around.
He looked around the room, trying to remember when each face arrived at Diamond Springs. Were none of them left from when David was alive?
It was expected for any of the new men who’d joined him that spring to move on at the first sign of trouble. But the rest wouldn’t have left with little more reason than a few shots fired over their heads by a bunch of gun-slinging women.
He doubted he’d get any of them back. It was early summer. They’d easily find work anywhere between the Wyoming border and Denver City.
Dev wondered how many others in the saloon were thinking the same thing. How many of them were angry to find themselves worrying about such matters again? Were any of them angry enough to burn down the arch, hoping it would scare the woman off?
He’d once thought that Genevieve could be run off—not scared off, of course, but as a new widow, she had left town without as much fuss as he’d expected from her. But he knew now, she’d only been retreating, regrouping, fainting. She wouldn’t leave now unless someone blasted her out.
Milton, the farrier didn’t look worried, but he could find a roost anywhere horses needed shoeing, which was everywhere. And since he was also the blacksmith, the had to be grateful for a few days away from the heat of the forge. Collins, the head bronc buster raked in the cards at one table. He was getting on in years and his backside no doubt welcomed the break. But with his own men gone, he’d end up breaking more than he’d want to.
Stoddard met Dev’s gaze and his eyes narrowed for a moment before he looked away. Yes. Stoddard was angry. Stoddard’s pride was more important than his worry over a winter bed, Dev was certain.
Cowboys could only risk so much. By the middle of summer, they’d need to be well rooted in a place, working for a man who would keep them for the winter in order to have them on hand in the spring. But a man had to prove himself before bad weather set it. Even the most transient of men never left a Wyoming Winter to chance. Sure, there were mountain men who could sit on a hillside for the entire snowy season, wrapped in a dozen buffalo skins, living off snow and rabbits. Some even made shelters in the white stuff—the kind of shelter you coul
d light a fire in—but they were a different breed. So scared of other humans they’d become animals themselves. But cowhands needed other cowhands to help heat a bunkhouse. They could work the day long in the snow, but at night, they were as human as anyone else.
If any of his men smelled fear on Dev, no matter how long they’d been with him, they’d light out. Oh, they’d be sorry to do it, but a man’s got to live. And he’s got to know where he’ll be living when the snows hit.
What Devlin wished he could do was to give them enough pay to sit on their backsides for as long as it took. But he didn’t have the money. He’d sunk everything he had on horseflesh this year. Old Freemont had had a sound plan for raising thoroughbreds for the newly rich miners and Dev had seen the chance to make his own little dream come true. He’d always wanted to give up the rest of it in and start making a name for himself in the horse business. So he’d taken the old stable hand’s advice.
It was his own venture, his own money. The profits from it would be all his, not the result of the seeds planted by David Damn You Zollinger. The stock had arrived, but it would be a few more years before it started paying off.
If she’d had a crystal ball, Genevieve Carnegie couldn’t have picked a better time to take a run at him. Or someone watching his business dealings.
Dev swallowed hard.
From the corner of his eye, Fallon moved quickly to fill his glass. Absently, he moved his hand over the rim to refuse it. His belly was full of porridge and whisky. Any more of the latter and it would come up. But it might just come up anyway if he couldn’t stop his thoughts.
He hummed—no tune, just a constant hum. It seemed to help. It filled his head with something at least.
“Mr. Zollinger?” said Fallon. “You all right?”
He took a quick breath and hummed again. As long as he kept—