With a little pout on her lips, probably because he’d been inattentive, Lydia tapped him on the arm. “Why don’t you walk me to the bank? I’m sure you must have something to discuss with Michael.”
The hemmed-in feeling intensified, and suddenly the confines of the store and the town seemed stifling. He’d ride out by the river, he decided.
“Delightful as it would be to stroll to the bank with the prettiest woman in Texas, unfortunately, I have a business appointment. Sorry I don’t have any treasures to tempt you, and do give my best to Michael.”
She stared at him for a moment, as if she couldn’t believe he would turn down her request. The pout threatening to turn into a scowl, she said, “Very well. I wouldn’t want to interfere with business. Gracious, you’d think there was nothing more important in life, the hours Michael keeps.”
“Ah, well, business never ends, does it? Let me walk you out.”
Deftly avoiding having her place her hand on his arm, he ushered her to the door. “On my next buying trip, I’ll try to find some goods that might tempt even your discriminating taste.”
“You already have the goods to tempt me.” Giving him a sultry look, she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips—just in case he was too dim to understand her meaning, Booze supposed. “Michael works late every night.” She stepped closer and ran a finger along his sleeve. “Stop by some evening, and I’ll show you just how tempted I am.”
Resisting the strong urge to bat her hand away, Booze pulled his arm back and somehow manufactured a smile. “Watch your step on the stairs. The best of the day to you, Mrs. McCleary. And do visit the mercantile again soon.” With a tip of his hat, glad to be walking in the opposite direction, he set off for the stables.
Chapter Two
After her hasty exit from Kelly’s Mercantile, Marguerite walked across the two main streets of the town, trying to settle her turbulent emotions. She didn’t want to return to the boarding house without her supplies, but it would be wise to wait before revisiting the mercantile to claim them. Hopefully, by then, the disturbing Ronan Kelly would have completed his rare stop by the store and gone elsewhere.
She’d walk down to the river, she decided. The swirling stream was smoother here than at the ranch, where its twists and turns, plunging through rocky drops and opening into a placid pond, never failed to captivate her. She’d fallen in love with the site the moment Aidan first brought her there, and her attachment had only grown deeper.
Mrs. Lowery, the kindly proprietor of the boarding house, thought it strange that after losing her husband to the waters, she could bear to be near the river. It was strange, she supposed. But despite the tragedy of Aidan’s death, her fascination with its wandering course and stark beauty was as strong as ever, perhaps even stronger. Though she knew better now than to trust it remaining peaceful, walking or riding along the riverbank still brought her peace, reminding her of the joy she’d felt when she and Aidan had run away together, full of excitement and anticipation at beginning their lives together.
Somehow, the ever-flowing river reminded her that after devastation comes rebirth, giving her hope that the vision so dear to them could still be realized. The river, the ranch, were both so bound up in memories of Aidan and their love, she would never give it up.
She made her way down the steep bank, choosing a large, flat rock as a resting place. Perched on its edge, as she watched the water dance and play among the rocks as it fought downstream, she felt herself calm.
Very well, so she was unexpectedly attracted to Ronan Kelly, but that was unlikely to present a problem. Kelly, she knew, didn’t remain very long in the town that had once borne his name, spending most of his time traveling to inspect, buy and ship stock. She doubted they would meet often, or perhaps even at all, as long as, on her infrequent shopping trips, she checked before entering the building to make sure its far-too-attractive owner was not on the premises.
Illogically, that reassuring conclusion saddened her. Inconvenient as the attraction might be, while in Kelly’s dynamic presence, she’d felt more intensely alive, more attractive and desirable, than she had since Aidan’s death.
Still, she didn’t need the temptation. As a Tejana outsider, she’d had enough trouble persuading the school board that she was qualified to teach. Since her credentials from her schooling in San Antonio were impeccable, and there was no other qualified applicant available, the board had grudgingly offered her the job. The meticulous care she’d taken with the students in the year she’d been teaching had finally won over most of them, with only the banker’s wife, Mrs. McCleary, still disapproving.
She simply had to keep soldiering on, teaching during the week, visiting the ranch on her free days. Antonio, the boy who’d come with them to help with the stock, stayed there in the cabin they’d built, looking after her mares, the pride of her father’s herd that they’d brought to be the core of their breeding stock. Her trips to the ranch always refreshed her and renewed her determination, bringing her back to town committed to doing whatever she must to eventually run the ranch full-time.
Feeling more like her normal self, Marguerite said goodbye to the river and walked back into town. Surely by now, Ronan Kelly would have left the mercantile.
As she cautiously approached the building, a tall man stepped out on onto the boardwalk. “Mrs. McMasters! You’re a fine sight on a lovely day.”
She stopped to give the town’s lawyer a smile. “How kind of you, Mr. Blackman. It is a lovely day.”
“Do you have a few minutes to talk?”
The longer she delayed her return to the mercantile, the better. And since Blackman had stepped in to help her untangle all the legal details in the awful days after Aidan’s death, she should spare him some time—even if his obvious interest made her uncomfortable.
Not that the gentleman had ever done or said anything untoward. But sensing his attraction, and knowing that she did not return it, made her feel awkward in his presence. She’d met and fallen in love with Aidan at sixteen, thought of nothing but marrying him for the two years he insisted they wait while she finished her schooling. Having had one and only one beau, she simply didn’t know how to act or what to say around a man who found her desirable.
Maybe there were advantages to remaining in her mourning blacks.
“Is there something particular you needed to talk about?” she asked, after he’d walked her into his office and offered her a seat. A sudden worry seized her. “Nothing that affects my ownership of the land, surely!”
“No, there are no problems of title. As one of the original co-owners, upon your husband’s death, you became the sole owner, with the bank maintaining its interest, of course. I just wondered, and I hope you won’t feel it impertinent of me, whether you are finding it difficult to maintain the loan payments.”
“I’m holding my own. Besides, would it matter if I were not? I thought we established at the time you evaluated the estate that Aidan had no more assets I could draw upon. All our cash was invested in purchasing the land and the materials for the cabin and barn.”
“I understand. It is a beautiful property, with a fine water source and a reasonable proximity to town. I wanted to let you know that I’ve had inquiries about whether you might be interested in selling it.”
“Absolutely not,” she said flatly.
He smiled wryly. “I thought as much, but I wanted to be sure.”
“I will never sell the ranch. Admittedly, my salary from the school is...smaller than I’d like, but I’m managing. No matter what happens, I’ll find a way to keep the ranch and, eventually, begin running it again.”
“I certainly hope so, since you are so attached to it. But there might be other...avenues to make keeping it easier. It has been over a year, and I expect your mourning period is about to end. Not that there’s any rush,” he added hastily. “I know how deeply you loved your husband, and how bitter your grief has been. I also know how difficult it will be to pay off the loan and
run the ranch on your own, and I hate to see such a lovely lady struggle. The idea may not appeal just yet, but I really do think you should consider remarrying, so you may have a husband to carry those burdens for you.”
Everything within her resenting the advice, Marguerite had to bite her tongue to keep from asking if he had anyone in mind for the role of husband—himself, perhaps? But from his kindness over the past year, she knew he did care about her welfare. She shouldn’t be mean-spirited, even if she couldn’t return his regard.
“You are correct; the idea does not appeal in the least. Aidan and I made very detailed plans for how we wanted to run the ranch, and I intend to carry them out. A husband would probably have his own occupation to concentrate on.” Like building a law practice. “Even if he were willing to maintain the ranch, he would probably have his own ideas about operating it. I don’t want to wrestle with someone for control, nor turn my prize horses over to someone else’s direction.”
“A man who truly cared for you would help you in a way you would find acceptable,” he countered.
“Perhaps. But although it has been a year since...well, I still cannot imagine anyone taking Aidan’s place.” Sudden tears stung her eyes, and she blinked rapidly.
“My dear Mrs. McMasters,” Blackman said, taking her hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you! Only to ask that you consider remarriage as one more option available to help you handle any financial problems you may encounter.”
Gently, Marguerite extracted her hand. “I appreciate the advice, Mr. Blackman. But for the present, I wish to continue as I am. Now, if there is nothing else, I must finish my errands and return to Mrs. Lowery’s. I have to prepare for classes tomorrow.”
“Of course. By the way, I’ve heard many compliments on your work at the school. One would hardly expect someone of a Spanish background to teach English as if it were a mother tongue, but I understand you do!”
“English, like Spanish, is my mother tongue,” she said dryly. “My father is Tejano, but my mother is Anglo.” Which was the main reason her mother had been so opposed to her marrying an Irishman, she recalled. Suddenly weary of the subject and the company, she stood. “I really must go now.”
Apparently realizing he had pushed her as far as he could, Blackman stood as well. “Thank you for chatting with me, Mrs. McMasters,” he said, walking her to the door. “Do remember, if there is anything I can assist you with at any time, please don’t hesitate to call on me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, walking out. She felt his gaze on her as she headed down the street to the mercantile.
Blackman was a kind gentleman. She just felt...nothing for him. Not only did she not want to saddle herself with a man who might try to control or change her plans for the ranch, there simply wasn’t any man in Whiskey River with whom she felt the slightest desire to share the intimacies demanded by a husband.
Well, maybe one, she amended as she peeped in the door of the mercantile, relieved to see Jesse Chandler, the clerk who normally ran the store, behind the counter. But though she was certain Ronan Kelly would bring her pleasure, Marguerite was equally sure he had no inclination to do that pleasuring within the confines of marriage.
Tempted though she might be by the captivating Mr. Kelly, she didn’t dare taste pleasure any other way.
Returning to town an hour later after an extensive ride, Booze felt his restlessness eased, as it always was after he’d gone adventuring on his own. He’d followed the river upstream, letting his horse set the pace through the groves of oak and cedar and around the rock outcroppings, and come back with an idea that excited him.
Instead of heading to the hotel to bathe and change for dinner, he’d stop first at the bank and sound it out with Michael. Recalling Lydia McCleary’s bitter comment about the long hours the banker worked, Booze was pretty sure his friend would still be at the office.
If he had a wife as demanding as Lydia McCleary, he’d want to spend long hours at his office, too. A prime reason not to get tied down to one woman.
Sure enough, though the bank itself was closed, when Ronan skirted around the side of the building to the back where the owner’s office was located, he spied his friend still at his desk.
Scooping up a pebble, he tossed it against the window. It took several pebbles before the sound finally attracted the banker’s attention. As his friend looked at him with a questioning expression, Booze mimed turning a key in a lock and pointed toward the back door. With a smile, Michael nodded and rose from his desk.
Tying up his mount to the hitching rail, Booze walked to the now-open door, where his friend waited.
“Lydia told me you were back in town,” Michael said, shaking Booze’s outstretched hand. “After another successful trading venture, I’d wager. It’s good to see you!”
“Good to see you, too. And yes, the trip was a success. Now that the Kiowas and Comanches have been pushed back, it’s safe to transport weapons to the interior. There’s always a demand, especially for that new revolver Colt has been manufacturing for the rangers. Even to Holtville.” Booze laughed. “The first time I traveled there, on horseback, it took me a week, and I thought I’d reached the heart of the wilderness. Now the train makes the journey in a day, with a dining car to feed me and a padded chair to rest in.”
“The rails have been chasing you since you lit out at sixteen, determined to take that wagonload of goods to the end of the line—at New Bronfels then, wasn’t it—and then as far west as the trails went.” Michael shook his head. “I imagine you hate how settled it’s all become.”
Booze made a wry grimace. “It’s better for business, I suppose. I couldn’t have expanded the family’s trading empire nearly as far or as fast without the railroad, but—yes, I do hate it.”
“Still as restless as ever? I thought when you bought the mercantile and finished building the town, you’d be ready to put down roots.”
“Like you were?” Booze shrugged. “Seeing if I could make a success of my own store, and then building a town around the mercantile, was a challenge. But now that it’s built and flourishing—hell, we had what in our last census, four hundred residents? Enough to support two streets’ worth of businesses, several churches, and even a high school. You’re right, I’m restless.”
“Maybe you should expand, set up more mercantiles in San Antonio or Austin, instead of just supplying other businesses in those cities. Your brother is running the Galveston enterprise since your father retired, isn’t he? He might be interested in taking on the risk in return for the potential gain.” Michael smiled. “I’d lend you the money for it. Don’t know of anyone who’s more certain to make a success of it.”
“I already own one store—and I’ve found it chafes me like a burr under a saddle blanket to spend more than a few days a month in it. I’d not be any more interested in running a string of them, besides the fact that it’s never good to own a business you can’t keep a personal eye on. I have some acquaintances in those cities, but no one I know well. How would I find someone as reliable as Jesse to manage them? No, my idea runs in a totally different direction. Besides, you know you understand. Your feet were as itchy as mine when we first left Galveston.”
Michael laughed. “Unlike you, after a while I decided I preferred having a roof over my head and dinner that wasn’t cooked over a campfire. Besides, I always knew I wanted to manage my own bank, and as you’ve said, you can’t expect a business to run well unless you stick around and take personal charge of it. When you decided to build a town around the mercantile and I saw the chance to open a bank here, I knew it was time to settle. Although, I sometimes think I should have gone back and joined the family bank in Galveston.”
“You’d only be a junior partner there, with your older brothers calling the shots.” Booze laughed. “As I recall, neither of us ever took orders well.”
“That’s true. But Lydia would be happier. I thought she’d adjust, especially after rail runs became more frequent and we
could bring in whatever she needed from Galveston—even Paris. ‘Four hundred souls’ sounds like a lot, and there’s the choral society, the school board, and church socials. But that’s nothing to compare to the society and activities available in Galveston.”
Another reason not to have a wife, Booze thought. You aren’t responsible for anyone’s happiness but your own.
“By the way, Lydia told me you slighted her today, refusing to take the time to walk her to the bank.”
Did his friend suspect his wife’s interest in him? “You know how much I enjoy the ladies. But I think it wiser to keep a safe distance from my best friend’s wife, especially when she’s as pretty a temptation as your Lydia.”
“You’d be one of the few men who do,” his friend said glumly. “Most can’t wait to squire her around town or the dance floor.”
And she avidly invites the attention, Booze thought. “Ah, well and now, who can resist a lovely lady?”
“Apparently only you.” To Booze’s relief, Michael dropped the uncomfortable subject. “What’s this new idea, then?”
“Thanks to the railroads, you don’t have to drive cattle all the way to Fort Worth or Kansas City anymore. I’ve been thinking I might like to try my hand at ranching. I could provide beef as well as other goods to the stores I already supply.”
“Sounds like settling down.”
Booze shook his head. “I’d need hands to handle a large herd anyway, so I wouldn’t have to be around all the time. I could explore the markets further away, and control the product from beginning to sale. I can’t make revolvers, but I could raise beef.”
“Where would you do it? That kind of enterprise takes a lot of land.”
“Since I already have the hotel here, I’d base myself in Whiskey River. I rode out today, looking, and found a perfect spot a few miles upriver to the west. There’s a broad expanse of river running through it, an extensive grassland meadow, and a high bluff overlooking the spot. Which, by the way, has a cabin on it, though it appears to be deserted.”
Scandal with the Rancher Page 2