Cattle Baron's Daughter

by S. Dionne Moore

  twenty-seven

  Ryan could have told Olivia that his mother would exude happiness and light at the thought of having another woman around. What he didn’t expect was the way the two chattered and laughed far into the night, as if all the cares of the evening held no weight. It was late. Late enough that he lifted the bundle of blankets and clothes he had gathered earlier and left the two sitting at the kitchen table. Olivia was listening intently to his mother’s memories of her as a child. And of her mother.

  He was eager to hear what Hector had said to his men about his assault. Surely with witnesses to the contrary, Sheriff Bradley would be forced to back off his accusation.

  Bobby, Cody, and Ty were sound asleep, along with three other men who lined the rows in different positions of repose. Ty’s snores vibrated the bed frame he’d crashed on, while Cody slept like a dead man, still and quiet. The grunts and coughs coming from the men hired for the drive brought back all the days he’d spent on the trail, gulping dust as he helped move cattle. He’d spent those wandering days realizing the painful reality that living means working, and that Martin Laxalt was a man who had only sought to bring his young son to understand and embrace the truth of it.

  He stretched out on the last of the two unoccupied bunks and laced his fingers behind his head. When he’d first come to Buffalo, he’d thought he would avenge his father’s death and move on, but now there was Olivia. He closed his eyes to bring the vision of her face into full focus. He could see the flash of her eyes and felt again the feathery brush of her lips against his cheek. He raised his hand to touch the spot and smiled into the darkness; then he closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

  ❧

  Olivia hadn’t heard Ryan leave. She’d been unable to hide her disappointment at finding his bedroll gone from the space beside the front door. She would see him in the morning, she was sure, and the nighttime chat with Josephine had sharpened so many memories dulled by the passage of time. Exhaustion pulled at her, and she made the move to stand, smiling at the woman across from her. “I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

  “Tomorrow is a good day for rest. A picnic. I baked bread this morning and can make bacon sandwiches.”

  “Picnic?”

  “Of course. Saturday should not be all work.”

  “Where will we go?”

  “To see Hector and take him bread, then out to the pasture beyond the hill. It is beautiful there.” Josephine arched her back and stretched her arms. “The morning will be busy. We must cook for the hands. They leave on the cattle drive on Sunday. Monday at the latest.”

  She thought that might mean Ryan would be leaving as well. Her insides ached at the thought of yet another friend leaving. Her mother had always taught her that she was never alone. That God was always nearby. Even Aunt Fawn, in her own way, had sought to soothe her homesickness with promises of God’s presence. It had brought her peace then; it could as well now. She smiled and covered Josephine’s hand with her own.

  “You can stay as long as you’d like, Olivia. You are welcome here.” Josephine hesitated as wetness veiled her eyes. “I have always wanted a daughter, and you are like a daughter to me.”

  Olivia couldn’t deny the draw of Josephine’s words. Already God had answered the prayer of her heart.

  twenty-eight

  Ryan spent the morning with Bobby shoeing the extra horses. It was hot work that had them both soaked with sweat. When Ryan lowered the last hoof to the ground and stretched his aching back, Bobby swept him over to the chuckwagon for another check on progress. Bedrolls were already loaded, and the cook, Welt Ribbin, was stacking sacks of flour and beans. To Ryan’s eye, Welt Ribbin looked older and more shriveled than a man of forty-nine should. Bobby must have seen his hesitation.

  “Got him cheap.”

  “Hope it doesn’t mean he’s a terrible cook.” Drives were hard enough without having to endure undercooked beans and burned bacon.

  “Already tried him out. Makes the best biscuits I ever had.”

  Welt waggled his fingers, indicating Ryan should pass him another sack of beans. “I’ll get ’em fed up and happy. Sleep like babies, they will.”

  Ryan raised the sack to the bed, and Welt dragged it over and stacked it.

  “If’n you’re done with me, I’ll head over to the house and see if the womenfolk need some help. Teach them how to make some of my famous biscuits.” Welt grinned and leaned so close Ryan could smell his fetid breath. “Not many women can make a good biscuit.”

  Amused at the man’s audacity, Ryan kept his mouth shut. Soon enough Welt would figure out that Josephine Laxalt would rather be dragged by a horse through town than have a man in her kitchen. And especially a man who thought he could cook better than her.

  “Should I have warned him?” he asked as they watched Welt waddle toward the house.

  “Naw, your mama will have fun putting him in his place.” Bobby lifted his hat and swiped at the sweat on his forehead. A frown mark folded a deep crease between his brows. “The men got to talking last night. . .”

  Ryan leaned against the side of the wagon. “About?”

  “Seems Cody and Ty are thinking one of us should stay. Help you guard the place.”

  “I can handle it.”

  Bobby gave a stiff nod. “Wasn’t thinking you couldn’t. Might keep the wolves at bay if they thought you and your mother weren’t vulnerable.”

  Ryan stretched upright, his sore muscles protesting. “Like I said, I can handle it.”

  “As stubborn as your father.”

  He pushed off the wagon and lifted his nose. The acrid smell of burned hide filled the air.

  “Almost done with the trail brand. Looked over Almanzo’s herd yesterday. It’s smaller than ours, but he’s adding four men to the drive.”

  “More help will be a welcome thing for all involved.”

  “Ken’s over at Hector’s,” Bobby said as he scattered the hot coals of the shoeing fire. “I’m headed over to relieve him.”

  “Ken?”

  “One of the hires. Snagged him yesterday from a bar. Guess he was too scruffy for the big ranchers to notice.”

  “Is gathering hands always a problem?”

  “Not until the big ranches got to hiring away our regulars. More money.”

  “Ken done a drive before?”

  “Yeah. Up from Texas to Kansas.”

  “What brought him all the way out here and put him in a bar?”

  “Drinking to forget, he says. Lost his woman giving birth to their son.”

  “The boy?”

  Bobby shook his head.

  “I want a clean trail, Bobby.”

  “I will, boss. No booze.” The foreman stared hard over Ryan’s shoulder, his jaw working. “I’m thinking the man needs a friend more than anything else.”

  Ryan could see where his father would have taken to the kindhearted foreman. That the man had a good eye for men also helped make him a good boss. A quality his father would have seen right away, just as his father seemed to see all the qualities a man was capable of, even if he never produced them. “Guess every man needs someone at some point.”

  “Sure, boss.” Bobby lifted his hat and fanned the smoke. “That little Sattler gal wouldn’t be such a bad friend.”

  Ryan glanced at his foreman, searching for any sign that Bobby meant disrespect. He saw only honesty in the man’s weathered face, but he didn’t want to answer the unspoken question and changed the subject. “Sheriff Bradley give you a hard time?”

  Bobby shrugged. “Hector was talking just fine right before Ken got there. Never said one word about you beating him up, but he couldn’t remember much either. That lump on his head might be the reason for that.”

  So the sheriff had been bluffing. No surprise. Ryan ground his teeth together, vexed by the dishonesty of a man who’d taken an oath to be upright in his dealings.

  “The herd is smaller this year.”

  Ryan knew what that meant.
“We’ll pay the men what we owe and make do.”

  “Sounds like you might be planning to stay on permanent.”

  “What do you think Cody and Ty would say to that?”

  Bobby’s grin was huge. “They’d welcome it. We all would. Sattler would pick off the cattle one by one if he had to.” The foreman shifted his weight and plucked the hat from his head as Cody and Ty came in from the corral. “Cook must not have gotten the boot from your mama’s kitchen. He’s waving at us to come eat.”

  They entered with the rest of the hands, bareheaded and polite in the company of the two women. Ryan noticed more than one curious glance at Olivia. She seemed oblivious to them all as she wore a path between the cookstove and the table, passing Josephine in the rush. Welt set a platter of biscuits on the table and took his seat at the end nearest to the kitchen.

  “Your mama didn’t like it too well, but I whipped up some biscuits and convinced her.”

  What Welt didn’t see was the rolling of Josephine’s eyes and the secret smile she shared with Olivia.

  Ryan heaped a biscuit with jam and let the conversation flow around him. He offered a word here and there to keep things going, but his sole interest was in the woman folding squares of cloth on the other side of the kitchen. Her hair hung loose on her shoulders in soft waves that made his palms itch with the need to touch them. She turned, and he dropped his gaze. The last thing he needed was for her to get the wrong idea about his attention.

  When Olivia refilled mugs of coffee, he found himself watching her all over again. He was mesmerized by the tiny smile she flicked at Welt as he passed her an empty platter. Then she was near Ryan’s end of the table offering a refill on coffee. He nodded and held his cup. Her skirts rustled, and he did his best to ignore the sight of her slender hand holding the coffeepot. He fastened his eyes on Bobby and spouted some inane conversation he hoped made some sense. If Bobby noticed anything amiss, he didn’t show it. Only when she returned to the cookstove was he able to draw an easy breath.

  Bobby leaned forward and asked a question that made no sense to him. Something about pink bunnies and cancan skirts? But he trusted his foreman had asked a sensible question and it was only his hearing that couldn’t make out the right words. He nodded at Bobby in answer.

  Bobby reared back in his chair and barked a laugh.

  Ryan scowled. The foreman leaned forward, and this time Ryan paid close attention.

  “I thought she might have you distracted. I asked if you wanted to dress the horses in cancan skirts.” He shook his head. “She’s got you tied up tighter than a roped calf.”

  Bobby’s tan face creased into a grin. Before he could form a proper retaliation, the foreman scooted his chair back and addressed the hands. “Let’s get going, boys. We’ve got a long day before pulling out tomorrow.” He ran a hand over his neck as he returned his attention to Ryan. “I’ll take care of things, boss.”

  ❧

  Ryan sat rooted to his spot as the men filed out. Maybe he’d change his mind and go out on the drive. But his mother tied his hands. He couldn’t leave her, and when his gaze landed on Olivia, all thought of leaving became distasteful.

  Olivia stacked plates, and he rose to take them from her. Her smile made his mouth go dry. His mother appeared, holding out a sack tied with hemp in one hand. She placed it on the table in front of Olivia. “Here you go.”

  “What’s this?”

  His mother’s smile encompassed both him and Olivia, and those dark eyes shone with mischief. “A picnic lunch.”

  Olivia sputtered. “But I thought. . .”

  Josephine half turned toward her. “I never said the picnic was for you and me.”

  Olivia blinked up at him.

  Ryan didn’t know what to say, but the idea of spending the day with Olivia. . . There was only one correct answer. “Thank you.”

  twenty-nine

  “Your mother is quite the plotter,” Olivia said. She tipped her chin toward the sunshine. It felt good to see her so at ease, but he knew Jay Sattler would not take kindly to his daughter lodging at the Laxalts’. He didn’t know how she would react to the question, but it begged to be asked. “What about your father? He needs to know where you are.”

  Olivia scratched her cheek and touched the tip of her nose where he saw that the skin had begun to peel. “I’m going to move into town. Live in Phoebe’s old apartment and work for Robert.”

  “Quitting the paper already?”

  Her look was scathing. “You know Tom wouldn’t print anything I wrote unless it was what he deemed acceptable. I’d rather write for Marv.”

  “He can’t pay you.”

  “And I wouldn’t want him to. It’s my way of making up for whatever wrongs—”

  “Don’t do it to spite your father.”

  She sighed. “No. Your mother said the same thing, and I’m not.”

  “Are you going to tell him?”

  “I will. Today. Later. I just want to think about it and make sure it’s the right thing to do. To pray.”

  To pray. Ryan squinted into the morning sunshine. Maybe it was time for him to give God a chance. It would feel good to embrace something bigger than himself. And yet it was more than that, too. He’d heard enough from his mother to know her opinion on doing what was right when faced with choices. His most regretful choice had been condemning an innocent man before knowing the full truth. A mistake he determined with God’s help not to make again.

  His gut clenched as the familiar weight of guilt shifted against his conscience. He’d been wrong. Wrong to kill. Wrong to condemn without hearing both sides. It would be easy to excuse his behavior as shooting in self-defense, and he had, but he had also been determined to bring the man in to jail and collect his money whether the man was dead or alive.

  The weight of his sin pressed harder. If only he could have a second chance. But he couldn’t. He could only learn to be fair and patient. He squeezed his eyes shut. I’m so sorry. His throat thickened. Help me be the man You want me to be. Fair. Honest. Hardworking.

  ❧

  Olivia followed Ryan through narrow cuts and wide pastures. They rode for an hour by her best guess toward the Big Horns. It didn’t seem to her that he was following any certain path but just meandering. She wanted to ask, but he seemed so deep in his thoughts.

  Her own problems swirled thicker than the dust coating every stitch of her clothing. In the deep recesses of her mind, something Phoebe had said the previous evening bothered her, but the more she tried to focus on it, the further it slipped away. She wondered if Ryan had picked up on anything.

  “Ryan?”

  He reined his horse in closer, all attention on her. “Need to stop? It sure is hot.”

  She set aside her question and let him think that was going to be her request. Besides, a rest would be good. Her hips ached from being in the saddle for so long. “I guess I need to do more riding.”

  “There’s a stream up ahead. We’ll stop there.” His grin put a sparkle in his eyes that pulled her in. The angles of his face gave him a tough appearance, but his smile melted away the hard edges, and she could see more of the little-boy mischievousness that his mother had probably had her fill of when he was young. “It’s the far corner of your father’s property.”

  “I don’t remember this part.” That wasn’t saying much, since her father’s ranch was bigger than her nine-year-old body ever could have hoped to explore. But now, on horseback, she wanted to see it all.

  East of them, the sun glinted off water. Nudges of the past came forward. She pointed. “Let’s go there.”

  When they stopped in the shade and she knelt to drink, the need for rain became even more apparent. Tree branches arched over a very shallow pool, familiar somehow.

  “It’s not the best quality, but it’s wet,” Ryan said. He led the horses closer so they could drink. “I should have warned you to drink your fill before we left.”

  “I wish you would have.”

 
; The horses didn’t hesitate to suck up the water.

  She pulled off her hat and fanned herself. Ryan knelt at the edge of the water. His broad back hid his actions from her view, but when he faced her and held out his damp kerchief, she accepted it without hesitation.

  “Press it to your neck. Like this.”

  He took it from her hand and refolded it into a long rectangle. “Now lay it across the back of your neck.”

  She lifted her hair with one hand and placed the cool rag along the hot skin. Ryan plucked the string from his hat and held it out. “As much as I love to see your hair down, better use this to tie it up. You’ll be cooler.”

  Feeling like a child, she reached out to take the thin piece of leather. Aware that he was watching her, she lifted her hair, gathered it together, and looped the leather tie around her curls. She felt his eyes on her and marveled at how easily they had come to know each other. Things had changed between them since those first days, and she welcomed it. But even as she felt drawn to Ryan and thought he felt drawn to her, she worried what danger their relationship presented to him and his mother.

  “We should eat. I’ll need to check in with Bobby.”

  “I thought Bobby said he would take care of things.”

  Ryan glanced at her as he lifted the sack of food from his saddlebags. He fussed with the hemp, not looking at her. She allowed herself a little smile. Ryan Laxalt, she realized, was shy. If living in the city had taught her anything, it was socialization. Still, she should have seen that his quiet nature would align itself with shyness.

  Olivia took a step closer. “Need help with that, cowpoke?”

  He raised his eyes to hers and held it out. “Can’t seem to get my fingers around that knot.”

  When her hand brushed against the bag, he withdrew as if touching her meant spreading cholera. “Ryan?”

  He looked like a man trying hard not to show fear. “I’ll get the blanket.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  He stopped and faced her.

  “Don’t you think it’s time?”

  A bead of sweat trickled down his cheek as she took another step closer. “For what?”