Cattle Baron's Daughter

by S. Dionne Moore

  “You didn’t.”

  “Because I’ve come to know you. They will, too, but you’ve got to give them that chance.”

  She cocked a brow. “You speaking from experience?”

  He lifted his hand to her cheek. “Yes.”

  Her smile was fragile. “I’m afraid.”

  Ryan lifted his head to see Jacob entering the back door of the restaurant. Phoebe stood outside a moment longer, her face turned toward them.

  “You’re with me and Phoebe,” he said. “There’s no reason to be afraid.”

  Almost against her will, her right foot took a step forward. Ryan’s hand on her arm urged her along, and before she knew it, she was in the back room of Landry’s second floor living space staring open-mouthed at the familiar faces surround-ing her.

  twenty-five

  “It’s not going to stop. When the governor repealed the Maverick Law, things really heated up.”

  “Maverick Law?” Olivia snapped the question. Her hand hovered over some papers. Ryan smiled. She was following his urging and taking notes of all that was being said about Bowman and Michaels, though he did notice that the Sattler name hadn’t come up once. He could only attribute it to the group’s deference to Olivia.

  “Unbranded cattle become the property of the Wyoming Stock Growers Association,” Papa Don explained. Based on what Olivia had overheard earlier, the storekeeper’s presence hadn’t been a surprise. Neither, for that matter, had Marv’s. But Ryan’s mother’s presence, along with a half dozen men from small ranches on the other side of Hector Maiden’s and west of town, had surprised him.

  “It’s to their benefit?”

  “Yeah.” Marv nodded. “We banded together to get it repealed. Wrote a dozen letters. Your daddy made the trip to talk to the governor himself.”

  “It’s why he got shot.” His mother spit the words then covered her face. Phoebe put her arm around the woman, and things grew quiet. Across from them, Ryan swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his father’s sacrifice.

  Marv cut through the silence. “Latest issue of the paper will feature Miss Sattler’s article front page.” He gave her an apologetic look. “Mahone’s showboating the fact that a Sattler works for him.”

  “Did he try and run any more lies about us small ranchers?” a man Ryan had never seen before asked.

  “Not much this issue,” Marv acknowledged.

  “It’s their word against ours. You still sending those articles out to the papers in Sheridan and Casper?”

  Marv nodded. “If anything happens, there’ll be more than just us knowing our side.” He stole a look at Olivia. “I didn’t know what side you were on at first, but since you’re here. . .” The man hesitated. “If you want to help us out and write about the injustices going on, I’ll put them in the little paper me and his pa”—he bent a thumb at Ryan—“got started before them murderers killed him.”

  Olivia’s gaze went to Ryan’s.

  He inclined his head to let her know the news did not surprise him.

  “It’s the principle of the thing. We have to get others to understand and fight.” Landry finally cut through the silence. “They’re doing their best to take land that doesn’t belong to them. It’s what George’s death got ’em—and the burning of Tandry’s cabin east of Bowman’s range. Hector getting beat up wasn’t a random act; it’s a warning.”

  “Of what?” Ryan asked.

  Landry swiped beads of sweat from his forehead with a meaty fist. “Hector filed for a brand. Cost was high, but he had to do it. If the brand isn’t recognized. . .it’s trouble. They rejected his petition, which makes anything carrying his brand illegal.”

  “Let me guess,” Ryan spoke up. “They have their hand in the board that decides these things.”

  A man with a medium build and bright red hair spoke up. “They can deliver fines and take the cattle, undoing the years it’s taken a man to build his herd, not to mention wiping him out financially.”

  “That gives them a reason to beat him up, too. But why bother him? His herd of calves isn’t even that large.”

  “They’ll say he stole those calves. Beat him up to make a point with the rest of us—that they’re winning.” The red-headed man leaned an elbow on his knee. “They know you’re around?”

  “Yes,” Ryan said.

  “Then you can expect trouble.”

  “Sheriff’s already fingering me for doing the deed.”

  Murmurs went up around the room.

  “I left my men there.”

  “Expect more trouble when your men start the drive, and you’re all alone.”

  “It’s like I’ve said for months,” Doc Herald’s voice squeaked out, “if we don’t band together, they’ll crush us. One by one. This seems to indicate Hector is the new target.”

  Doc continued. “I’m sure he still wants the Laxalts. If he can put the blame from Hector’s beating on young Laxalt here, then he’s killing two birds—”

  Josephine moaned and covered her face. Phoebe hugged the woman close.

  “He’s already trying to do just that. Which is why I left my men with him.”

  “I agree with Doc,” the redhead said. “We’ve used every excuse for why we can’t stand together. I know we’re all pressed for time and money, but it’s our only chance. I don’t want another man’s blood on my hands when there’s something I can do to help. We need to set up a guard or patrol at Hector’s until he can get back on his feet. He’ll have to hire some help.”

  Conversation flowed around him, yet Ryan didn’t hear a word of what was said. Instead, his mind was filled with Olivia. The sight of her. The scent of her hair for that brief moment he’d held her against his side outside Hector’s cabin. Her delicate freckles and the humor that lit her eyes and confounded him. As if she felt his gaze, she faced him. A deep well of sadness etched her expression.

  Ryan couldn’t look away. She was beautiful on the outside, sure, but her spirit captured his interest—her ability to stand for right even though it was her father in the wrong. She’d been a friend to his mother, and his mother obviously loved her already.

  Across the space her eyes probed his for an answer to a question he didn’t quite comprehend. She raised her hand to her hair, and his gaze followed the movement. Her finger caught a strand and twirled it around her index finger in a nervous gesture. He breathed air into his lungs and wondered at the pull she had on him and what it could mean. She lowered her hand, and the strand of hair bounced into place beside her cheek. A brave smile curved her lips, reaching out to encompass him.

  And then he knew what had happened, what had shifted within him, and understood the feelings her presence stirred.

  Ryan Laxalt had a clear vision of what it all meant—he was a doomed man.

  ❧

  Olivia was jostled and lost sight of Ryan as the crowd shifted around her. Phoebe leaned close. “The meeting’s over.” Her friend’s voice held a distinctive smirk. “Not that you noticed.”

  Pulled back to the present, Olivia felt the heat rush into her cheeks. “I got distracted.”

  Phoebe patted her shoulder. “Of course you did.”

  Jacob stood in front of Phoebe, and her friend smiled and placed her hand in his. The sight of Phoebe taking Jacob’s hand brought a swell of sadness. They wouldn’t see each other as much. Her world would become even lonelier. “Phoebe”—she tugged on the back of her friend’s riding skirt—“will we see each other?”

  “I’ll be around. We can still visit.”

  Phoebe pulled her into a hug. A question rose in Olivia’s mind that she had long wanted to ask of her friend. “Where’s my mother buried?”

  Phoebe flinched. “You. . .don’t remember?”

  “I remember a big tree and a mound of dirt beneath it. Daddy didn’t let me stay there long.”

  Her friend’s mouth opened then closed. “The tree. . . Your mother is. . .under the tree.” Olivia didn’t understand what she was seeing in the Phoebe
’s expression. It wasn’t a difficult question, or shouldn’t have been. Her thoughts beat a warning tattoo.

  Olivia felt a presence at her back and a hand against her elbow. She half turned toward Ryan, trying to make sense of Phoebe’s struggle and the stab of fear it brought.

  Jacob slipped a hand around Phoebe’s waist, and the action seemed to give her strength and settle her panic. “Ask your father,” Phoebe said. “He’ll know.”

  twenty-six

  The red-haired man’s name was Pete, and he told Ryan not to worry about Sheriff Bradley. “We’ll be keeping an eye on Hector. Bradley talks big, mostly because he knows he’s riding the big horse.”

  “You mean Bowman?” Ryan asked.

  Pete spit into the tall grass and cleared his throat. “Bowman, Michaels, Sattler. Whoever waves the money at him. Pardon me, ma’am. Meant no disrespect.”

  Ryan sought and found Olivia’s hand buried in the folds of her riding skirt. She gave Pete a vague smile before Ryan helped her into the wagon next to his mother. Both women were quiet, but Olivia’s paleness had him most worried. He tied her horse behind the wagon his mother had brought into town. Olivia set the pace. Pete caught up to him astride his own horse.

  “Heading your way. I’m west of town. It’ll give us a few minutes to talk.”

  Ryan let the wagon move ahead to give them privacy to talk. “Did you set up guard for Hector?”

  Pete tilted his head. “Didn’t you hear us do that? My night’s tomorrow.”

  He pursed his lips. “Guess my mind wandered.”

  “Your night’s Monday.” Pete scratched his chest and bobbed his head. “They’ll probably target Isley next.”

  Ryan was incredulous. “Phoebe?”

  “Yeah.” Pete spit again. “Bowman wants Isley’s land pretty bad. And the fact Jacob’s marrying Phoebe and adding her proved-up section to his means there’ll be trouble.”

  “Jacob’s on guard?”

  The red-haired man shrugged. “Sure. It’s become a way of life.”

  He noticed for the first time the guns Pete was wearing. “You pack all the time?”

  Pete nodded. “Good idea with so many snakes crawling around, if you get my drift.”

  A vague path shot off the main trail ahead. It would be the route Pete would take. Ryan berated himself for not paying closer attention during the meeting. He should have asked more questions.

  “Reckon if you worked with the Rangers, it means you’re a fair shot.”

  “Fair,” Ryan said.

  “We’ll be glad for your help. Your daddy was a good man.”

  Hearing the words ripped open the grief again. It seared along his muscles and set his nerves to tingling. His father was a hero. Ryan was a killer. The burden of that bent him up on the inside. But there was no use wasting energy on his past right now. All he could do was take up the cause his father had championed and step into the empty boots his death had left behind. Maybe there would be some redemption in that.

  ❧

  Olivia could hear the whispered words of the men behind them. She wondered what they would talk about out of their earshot, and then thought it probably better if she didn’t know.

  “This is good,” Josephine said. “Ryan getting to know these people will help protect him. I am sorry though, for you, my dear.”

  Olivia squeezed her eyes shut. “Me, too.”

  “Your father is not kind?”

  “He is. . .distant.”

  The woman leaned close to her and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You are a good young woman. I would be pleased if you would let me remain your friend.”

  “I need all the friends I can get.”

  “This is good. Ryan will be your friend, too.”

  “He is, yes.” Ryan’s mention of baby booties slipped through her head and pulled a smile from her.

  “I worry about him.”

  “He’s smart. He’ll be careful.”

  Josephine’s eyes snapped to her. “Yes. Maybe now. Maybe for you.”

  Olivia’s palms dampened, and she wiped them down her skirt. “I don’t know about that. My father wouldn’t be pleased to know we are friends.” Did her feelings for Ryan and her friendship with Josephine put them at greater risk?

  “This is nonsense. Your father is his own man, making his own decisions. Ryan sees that. I see that. I will not allow any man to dictate who I can and cannot befriend.”

  “Thank you, Josephine.” The wagon rattled on. Olivia noted no other sounds of conversation from behind her. Pete must have taken the turnoff toward home. She wondered if Ryan could now hear their conversation.

  “Will posting guards work, do you think?”

  Before Olivia could form an opinion, Josephine answered her own question.

  “We cannot know what works until something is first tried. I would give up the ranch if it meant keeping my son safe.”

  “What does he want?”

  “To fight, as his father fought.”

  “You mean for the ranch?”

  “Yes.”

  Olivia pulled on the reins to slow the team along a rocky section of the dirt road. In all her grief, she’d forgotten Josephine’s. “I am sorry about your husband.”

  “My husband’s death brought my son home. That is enough.”

  It must have been terrible for Josephine, those weeks before Ryan returned. To be alone and never know whether she would see her son again. In some ways, Olivia could understand all too well what the woman was feeling.

  “Ryan is the type of man who could not live with himself if he did not try to find the man who killed his father.”

  “But then what?” Josephine’s voice went high with strain. “When he finds that man, will he also kill to gain revenge? The beginning of blood spilt forms a long line of death.”

  She tried not to imagine Ryan holding a gun to her father’s head. Pulling the trigger because their investigation led him back to Jay Sattler as his father’s murderer. Olivia tasted Josephine’s fear.

  “The only hope for my son is to gain the attention of the law or walk away and leave this thing alone.”

  “But you were at the meeting tonight. Doesn’t that mean you believe in what they are doing?”

  “I want to help, but I do not agree that they should seek out trouble. Band together and try and find peace, yes.”

  Olivia saw it clearly then. Josephine blamed her husband for getting himself killed. While she could understand the woman’s logic, she also could see Ryan’s and the rest of the group’s need to protect themselves against the pinch of the larger ranchers.

  “He is a careful man. Not the angry young man who left here all those years ago.”

  Josephine gave a little grunt “I see he has told you much.”

  No, she wanted to say. She really didn’t know much of the man Ryan had been, but she was learning the man he had become. And she wanted to learn more. Much more.

  The wagon picked up speed on the smoother stretch of road. Sattler range was coming up. Olivia wondered if Skinny would be on watch, reporting to her father who his daughter was with.

  “You can drop me at the edge of the property gate.” Olivia pointed. “I’ll walk.”

  “Yes. This would be for the best.”

  Olivia hoped Ryan wouldn’t take it into his head to follow her to the door again.

  ❧

  When Olivia stopped the wagon at the edge of Sattler property, he straightened in the saddle. Olivia stepped to the ground and came to untie the bay. He saw her intent and gave the mustang a jab to catch up before she could get in the saddle and fade into the darkness.

  “See your mother home, Ryan.” Her voice shot out to him as she lifted the reins over the horse’s head. “She’s tired.”

  “My mother would be the first to chastise me for letting you walk in the dark alone.”

  “Ryan.” She moved close to him and reached out to touch his leg. He could hear the pleading in her voice. It drew him. Soothed him. W
ithout thought, he slipped to the ground, the saddle creaking beneath his weight. He faced her in the dark, the new moon wreathing her face. She had been so pale earlier. Stressed, no doubt, by the day’s events.

  “I’ll ride beside you.” He cupped his hands. The moonlight dimmed as the sphere slipped behind a cloud.

  “I’m a liability, Ryan, don’t you see that? I’m not fitting into my father’s plans. If they see you, it gives them a reason to shoot first. If they see you with me, then it’s an even better deal, because my father’s rid of me.”

  He straightened. “It takes a cold man to kill his own daughter.”

  “He wouldn’t have to be the one to pull the trigger.”

  “I don’t believe he would order your death, Olivia. It’s. . .inhuman. You’re letting your emotions run wild.”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath as she hugged herself. He wished the moon would appear so he could see her face better, but it lurked behind the dark clouds that threatened rain but never followed through on the promise.

  Ryan didn’t know what to say. Her fear chilled him. She was just as vulnerable to her father’s rejection as Phoebe had thought. He only wished her friend was here now to offer her female counsel. An idea skittered through his head.

  “Come home with us.”

  He heard her gasp.

  “My mother is there,” he said, trying to deflect any immoral suggestion. “She can chaperone. I’ll sleep in the bunkhouse.” The silence embarrassed him.

  “I would like that very much.”

  He heard a whisper of movement and saw the blur of her, like fog in the night. Her hands touched his shoulders, and he could feel the warmth of her close to his chest, her breath warm against his chin, then the softness of her lips on his cheek.

  His heart raced, and he put out a hand to steady her. His fingers had only skimmed her waist when she stepped back into the darkness. His head spun with the quickness of her action and left him with a longing to feel her close to him again.

  “You’re sweet, Ryan. Let’s see what your mother thinks first.”