Cattle Baron's Daughter

by S. Dionne Moore

  She stopped, turned, and smiled. It was the grin of a woman sure of herself. “You will be, son. She’s a beautiful woman.”

  “I thought you wanted me to marry for love, not for beauty.”

  “Ah”—she shook her finger at him—“see? You are admitting that you have noticed how pretty she is. You see, I was talking about her inner beauty. You, on the other hand, are the one who notices her outward beauty.”

  He didn’t respond. He should have known better in the first place. His mother could twist things around until his mind felt frayed like a used rope. He felt as if he’d scaled the Big Horns by the time he’d returned the dun to the livery and started back toward the ranch. And all because a little scrap of a woman knew him better than she knew herself. He wondered if all mothers had a way of turning their children inside out.

  Bobby wanted him to go over the books. A task he wel-comed. He wanted to learn more about the holdings of the Lazy L and forget about women.

  He slapped the reins against the horse’s rump to hurry her along. He needed to give more attention to the ranch. At the Y in the road, the right branch led to Sattler’s spread, the left to Laxalt land. He stopped the wagon and considered Olivia and their hasty parting. Phoebe’s words that she thought Olivia might be hurting over her father’s inattention stirred his mind.

  Ryan blew out a breath and adjusted his hat more firmly on his head before setting the horse into motion at a good clip. A mile ambled by when he spotted a dust cloud in the distance and paused the wagon to squint. The rider was coming fast, the horse and rider a dark blur.

  His hands tightened on the reins as the rider became identi-fiable. When Bobby Flagg stopped, his apple cheeks were red from exertion.

  “Headed to get the sheriff.” His breath came in pants. “Found cut fence on that piece between our property and Hector’s. Went to talk to Hector Maiden.” Bobby hunched forward over the saddle.

  “Easy, man.”

  Bobby shook his head. “Hector is beat up. Not quite conscious.”

  “Who’s with him?”

  “Cody. Ty was taking care of the fence.”

  “You get on to town. I’ll get over to Hector’s. Ask Phoebe if she can bring Mama home tonight.”

  ❧

  Olivia’s body sagged in the saddle. What had started as a glorious morning was quickly becoming a savage beast of heat. She fanned the material of her blouse and slid to the ground of Main Street. Tom Mahone was not in the office, and Marv sat at a desk. His long, thin face showed displeasure.

  “Good morning.”

  “I had nothing to do with it,” Marv said.

  Olivia understood at once what the man referred to—the conversation with Tom the previous day and the veiled suggestion that Marv had told her about the article’s due date.

  “He says things like he told me to do them, but he didn’t. I had no way of knowing anything about a due date. I just keep the machinery running around here. If he keeps pushing me, I just might quit. Shoulda left with Jon.”

  “I have my article right here.” She slipped the papers from a leather clutch and unfolded them. Though the article spoke only of her impressions of Wyoming as a city girl coming west, it was a start. She had wanted to write about Hector Maiden’s revelations but changed her mind at the last minute. She preferred to gather more facts.

  Or maybe it was the dark frown on her father’s face that burned in her imagination whenever she tried to put Hector’s observations on paper.

  “They don’t want your opinions, Miss Sattler. They want someone who’ll write what they want to print.”

  “I see that, Marv.”

  “Your daddy. . .”

  She waited for him to continue, but he only pressed his lips together and returned his attention to a piece of metal sitting on the desk.

  “Do you think he killed Martin Laxalt?”

  Marv’s look was hard for a second before his gaze fell to the desk again. “Martin was a good friend. Didn’t deserve what happened to him. George neither.” His gnarled hands skimmed the metal pieces in front of him. “There’ll be others, too.”

  Coldness crawled along her spine. She didn’t know Marv. Wasn’t sure if the crusty old man could be trusted or even if her fears were something she should talk about. She’d heard so many people express negatives about her father, but she wanted to believe he was the man she remembered. Yet so many little things stirred her fears and concerns to the contrary. Marv’s face was drawn into lines of concentration as he worked over the part he held. And she didn’t know if she wanted to dig any deeper.

  twenty

  The general store promised relief from the heat and companionship in the form of Josephine Laxalt. The Singer sewing machine whirred and sputtered in the corner of the store, and Olivia noticed a woman hovering at Josephine’s elbow. It appeared that they were discussing the sewing machine’s wonders.

  “Ah, Miss Olivia,” Papa Don greeted her as he waved good-bye to a departing customer. “Is today the day you receive the rest of the clothes Mrs. Laxalt has been sewing for you?” He wagged his finger as he shook his head. “I tell you, that machine is never silent when she is here.”

  “Good for business, I’m sure.”

  Papa’s eyes sparkled. “Very good. Sold two of the new-fangled things since Mrs. Laxalt has set up shop in the corner.” He leaned on the counter and cupped his face in one hand. “What can I do for you today?”

  She lifted her gaze to the shelves filled with jars of candy and seeds and hesitated. “I’d like some. . .peppermints.”

  Papa Don straightened and lifted down the jar of candy. “How many?”

  “I. . .” Her throat closed. Here was a man who’d known her all those years ago. More importantly, he knew her father and mother. She could still hear Mother’s voice ordering the sweet. “A nickel’s worth.”

  “Ah, you’re your mother’s daughter.” He turned and scooped peppermints from the canister. “Your pa always ordered extra sugar for your mama to make fruit pies and cakes. Still does. Guess his cook has a sweet tooth, too.”

  Anxiousness rose up in her, and she blurted the words. “He doesn’t talk about her.”

  The man’s expression folded into sadness. “I suspect he has a lot on his mind.”

  Emotion burned along Olivia’s throat. “What does he have on his mind, Papa Don? What has changed my father so much?”

  Peppermints slid from the scoop into the little bag. With careful precision, Papa Don creased the top. “That’ll be a nickel.”

  Olivia hesitated, the nickel clutched in her hand. She was confident that his hesitation, the same hesitation she’d seen in Marv, stemmed from a knowledge of something dark. “Please, Papa Don. I must know. Something is very wrong, and you know about it.”

  “Give your papa some time, Livy. Sometimes men need time.”

  Time? “This isn’t about my mother’s death. He’s not a grieving man anymore.”

  “Maybe you coming home brings it all back.” But there was a lack of conviction behind the words.

  The door of the general store swung inward with force and bounced off the wall. “Don!”

  Papa Don’s gaze snapped to the visitor. Bobby Flagg stood there, his hat in his hands.

  “Beg your pardon, ma’am.”

  “What is it, Bobby?” The storekeeper’s gaze flicked to her then back to the foreman. His voice was a whisper. “Something’s happened?”

  “Found Hector Maiden. He’s beat up pretty bad.”

  “No!”

  The voice came from behind them. Josephine Laxalt came into view, her dark hair a direct contrast to the paleness of her skin. Her eyes went to Papa Don. “You see? They are dangerous. If we continue to resist, they will hurt us all.”

  Bobby Flagg pivoted and jammed his hat back on his head before he was through the door. Olivia had only a minute to make her decision. Her gaze went from Josephine’s pale face to Papa Don’s tense jawline and sober eyes.

  “Tel
l me, Papa Don.” Her words sliced the tense air between her and the older man. “Please stop hiding the truth from me.”

  ❧

  The doctor arrived at the Maiden property just as Ryan stepped from Hector’s house. He raised his hand to the gray-whiskered man with a large paunch and impossibly skinny legs. Only the presence of the clutch bag proved the man’s occupation.

  “Bobby’s on his way in. He told me Hector’s been laid low.”

  Ryan nodded and motioned the man into the house, not missing the frankly curious gaze the doctor speared at him.

  “Name’s Doc Herald. You must be Laxalt’s boy. Heard you were in town.”

  Ryan’s answer was to swing the door to Hector’s room wide.

  Doc Herald stepped inside and set his bag at the foot of Hector’s bed. Ryan retreated a step.

  “Could need some help. You’ve done a good job cleaning the wounds, but I’d like to roll him over and take a look.”

  “There’s some gashes that need stitches,” Ryan said from the doorway.

  Doc Herald ran his fingers over the buckle of his leather bag. His gaze flicked over Ryan. “No need to be offish, I’m not one of the bad guys.”

  Ryan stilled. That was a strange choice of words.

  “Your father was a good man. Didn’t deserve what he got.”

  “What did he get, Doc? A bullet in the back?” It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment how natural it would be for the doctor to have taken care of his father’s body.

  “I didn’t see the deed done, son. They brought his body into town.”

  “They?”

  “Your daddy’s men. Your men now, I guess.”

  It lined up with what he’d been told by Bobby, except the part about his body being taken to the doctor.

  “Was nothing I could have done,” he said. His eyes narrowed as he tried to thread the needle in his hand. “Shot in the back. Went clean through the heart.”

  A wave of sickness welled in his stomach. He forced himself to relax and allow the tension to drain away. “Got any thoughts on who did it?”

  Doc Herald lifted Hector’s eyelid and picked up the threaded needle. “I’ve heard a lot of rumors. It’s a serious charge to lay at anyone’s feet.”

  “Seems to me the same name keeps coming up.”

  “Sattler? Yeah. But I wouldn’t go poking a stick at that rattler. You might get a bullet in your back, too.”

  Was the doctor trying to warn him off? “They’re picking the fight.”

  Herald’s needle dipped into the gaping wound along Hector’s cheek. “I’m not sure there’s any defense.”

  Ryan turned away and pulled the door closed, unable to endure the conversation another minute.

  “Hey!”

  The door whipped inward, and the doctor stood there. His eyes flicked to the room beyond Ryan’s shoulder. “Listen to me. Your father’s dead because he tried to stop them,” he whispered. “I’m not for anyone in this thing, but I don’t want to be burying any more good men either. You want to win this, you’ll have to band together. I’ve told them all that for months, and I think they’re finally listening.”

  “Who worked Hector over?”

  Doc Herald glanced back at his patient. His brows lowered. “My guess is Hector overstepped himself.”

  “We heard something last night when I was over here talking to him. Came out this morning to check on it. We didn’t find anything.”

  “They’re watching everyone. Probably saw you and decided to pick a fight.”

  “Framing me?”

  “That’d be my guess.”

  “Sattler.” Ryan hissed the word.

  “Bowman and Michaels.” The doctor’s nostrils flared. “It’s not just one of them, son. It’s all of them together that’s making things so tough.”

  Bobby Flagg walked in the house, sweat-streaked and dirty from the ride. But it was the slender, redheaded form that slipped by Bobby who stiffened Ryan’s spine and made him feel like he was plunging off a cliff.

  twenty-one

  “Couldn’t get her to stay in town, boss.” Bobby shrugged.

  Olivia’s head jerked around, and she plunged a hand to her hip. “It’s not like I was asking permission. If I want to come and see Mr. Maiden, I’ll come and see him.”

  “Check on Cody and Ty,” Ryan said to Bobby. “I’ll be down there as soon as I finish up with Miss Sattler.”

  Olivia sauntered closer, stopping two feet in front of him. She was covered with a thin layer of Wyoming dust, and her nose had a fresh sprinkle of freckles on a deep pink background.

  “You’ve got sunburn.” As soon as the words escaped, he wanted to groan in exasperation.

  She rubbed at her nose and winced. “I didn’t have a hat.”

  Staring down into her upturned face sent his senses reeling. What was this woman doing to him? She was pretty. Check. She was spunky. Check. She was maddening. Check. She was a Sattler. The enemy’s daughter!

  He spit his words. “We need to talk, Olivia.”

  “How is he?”

  “He’ll recover.” She seemed so concerned. “They beat him pretty good, but nothing’s broken that I could see.”

  “They?”

  “I was with him this morning. All was fine that we could see.”

  Every word his mind formed jammed up in his throat. Watching her, those eyes. . . His heart squeezed in his chest. “I need to ride down to Ty and Cody. Find out if they’ve discovered any reason behind the attack on Hector.” He was a fool. A coward in the face of a slip of a woman who balled him up inside so tight he had trouble drawing breath.

  “I’ll ride with you.”

  He gulped. “It’s probably a better idea for you to—”

  “We can talk.”

  Talk. Sure, he could do that. He’d listen while her lips moved and her eyes blinked and that little nose continued to get redder. He lifted his hand, intending to touch the tip of that sunburned nose, but he caught himself, embarrassed at the pull of impulse. “You can’t continue to ride in this heat.”

  Her smile was a slow upward curve of pink lips that were at once teasing and amused. “You’ll let me borrow yours, you being the kindhearted sort.”

  Ryan called himself every kind of idiot for letting Olivia Sattler get under his skin. The sight of her astride her horse with his hat flopping down around her ears took too much of his energy away from the problem of Hector Maiden’s assault. He should never have allowed her to ride with him. He should have demanded that she stay behind and boil water, or do something, for Dr. Herald.

  He slowed his horse to allow himself more time to survey the surroundings. He needed to look at the fencing and the crops for signs of intruders or stray prints, but everything around him faded away as he fell under the spell of watching her.

  She twisted in the saddle and jabbed her index finger into the brim to tilt the hat away from her eyes.

  Those eyes. . .

  “Something wrong back there?”

  Ryan shifted in the saddle and raised his head as if he’d been searching the ground the whole time. “Everything looks fine.”

  “Does it?”

  He glanced at her and caught the look she gave him and, again, that amused smile. He cleared his throat. “Cody and Ty probably have a lot to report.” He leaned forward and squinted at the ground, looking for footprints, dung, marks of passage, anything that would mean he wouldn’t have to look at her. To his dismay, he could feel the heat of a blush on the back of his neck.

  “I think you’re cute, too.”

  Her words snapped him upright. She appeared innocent sitting astride her horse. But that smile was back, and now she was laughing.

  “I—” He cleared his throat to loosen the words wedged there.

  “Right.” She faced forward, the words falling over her shoulder. “You keep looking for sign. I’ll ride ahead.”

  And with that, Olivia Sattler poked her horse in the sides with her boots and left him
stewing in the Wyoming sun—and suffocating in the cloud of dust kicked up by her horse’s hooves.

  ❧

  Olivia knew she shouldn’t have goaded Ryan. Her comment had embarrassed him. She never would have guessed the deeply tanned cowboy with the dark hair and silver eyes was capable of blushing so nicely. In Philly the good-looking men had often been full of themselves. Even those with lower social standing were stodgy in manner—humility was never a part of their makeup. She realized now how distasteful that world had been. It was part of the reason she’d grown so restless to leave and come west. And now here she was, galloping on a horse in the middle of a pasture so wide, beneath a sky so blue, that she felt free and settled. This was home.

  Or it would be home if not for the cloud over her head.

  Her joy deflated. Papa Don and Josephine Laxalt knew something. It seemed everyone knew something except her, but she’d had little time to beg the merchant for the full story. Riding to see Hector had taken primary concern.

  She slowed her horse until Ryan caught up. He reined in the short-legged mustang that put her at eye level with him.

  His expression seemed guarded. Tough. And she wanted so much to reach out and touch his arm and try to make sense of the emotions his presence stirred in her. But it wasn’t the time, and he must think her terribly bold for what she’d said. Aunt Fawn would have had the apoplexy.

  Her nose tingled, and she touched the tender spot. She’d known exactly what he’d wanted to do when he’d lifted his hand earlier, and the very idea had tripped the beat of her heart. But he had pulled back at the last minute, and she wondered if she’d repulsed him somehow. Maybe she was too forward or too—

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  She put a hand to her neck, mulling the question. The answer was a resounding no, but saying as much would bring more questions. “I saw your mother today. This morning, to be exact.”

  “Oh no.”

  His reaction stopped her cold. “Oh no?”