Cattle Baron's Daughter

by S. Dionne Moore

  Jay shrugged. “Doc says it happens sometimes. The body recovers, but the mind gets stuck in the past.” His lips pursed, and he stared up at the moon. “Lily loves to talk about her childhood. She has vivid memories of her parents and her dog.” He closed his eyes, and his fists clenched.

  “When I heard you were coming back, I didn’t know what to do. It was so much easier to let things stay as they were.”

  thirty-six

  Olivia hugged herself. She wasn’t quite willing to move to her father. Too many unanswered questions needed explanations.

  “I’ve heard rumors.”

  Jay glanced at her. “It was what I feared, that others would tell you before I could find the courage to do so.”

  “No,” she corrected, gathering her courage. Olivia was anxious that the shift in subject would shut down the line of communication. “No Daddy. I meant rumors about Martin Laxalt. About cattle rustling and. . .and. . .”

  His mouth hardened.

  “I wanted so much for it all not to be true, but the more I see, the more I hear. . .”

  “It’s that Laxalt boy. He’s putting things in your head.”

  That her father could harden so fast to what she had to say was a mental punch.

  “His father is dead, Daddy. I think he has a right to know what happened.”

  “Simple. Martin was rustling my cattle.”

  “Who told you that?”

  Jay glared at her then stared off into the night. Her heart sank at the implication of the silence. But the fact that he stayed on the porch at all gave her hope.

  “Daddy, please.”

  “Skinny’s in charge of the men. One of them saw the cut fence and the hoofprints. What’s this young man to you, Livy?”

  “I love him.”

  Jay’s eyes drilled into her. “I didn’t pull the trigger if that’s what you want to know. Laxalt got testy about the whole thing and pulled a gun. Skinny shot him out of self-defense.” His shoulders slumped, and he hooked a boot around the bottom rail of the fence.

  “Doc says he was shot in the back.”

  “Then he’s lying!”

  “Or your foreman is.”

  A minute passed in silence; then her father’s mouth firmed. “You love him?”

  “Ryan’s a good man.”

  Jay laughed, a humorless sound. “My daughter loves the son of a thief.”

  His eyes cut to hers.

  “He’s not a thief, Daddy. Martin Laxalt was trying to get some of the restrictions lifted on brands. He’s a hero to many.”

  “How do you know that? Been listening to them, haven’t you? Small ranchers who invade our territory and steal our land.”

  “What happened to you thinking of them as neighbors? Men with the same hopes and dreams as you once had.”

  Jay stiffened. “I guess we all know where those hopes and dreams got me.”

  It was a bitter statement. Olivia glimpsed the hard shell her father surrounded himself with rather than dealing with painful things. “I have dreams, Daddy. Do you want to hear them?”

  Jay Sattler’s boots echoed along the porch to the front door. “Are you coming in for the night, or are you headed over to Laxalt’s again?”

  The accusation in his eyes made her head spin. She averted her face, pained by the rejection.

  ❧

  Ryan shut his eyes for a moment and swayed in the saddle. He stretched, feeling the weariness of the mustang as it cantered toward home. Doc Herald followed close on his heels.

  “You staying awake, Laxalt?”

  Ryan suppressed a groan. “Don’t want to be. But, yeah, I am.”

  “What you did back there. . .”

  He didn’t want to talk about it. Doc had tried numerous times to express his awe at the discovery of Skinny Bonnet’s boots and the odd but effective wedge of wood with the hoofprint in relief on the soles.

  “When I finally understood the direction of your thoughts, it was amazing.”

  Ryan shrugged. “Bonnet got sloppy. He wasn’t measuring off his steps to resemble a cow’s stride.”

  “And you got that all because he kept so still?”

  Doc was unfamiliar with anything related to cows. Still, everyone had their gifts. He remained quiet as the horses went down a hill, their hooves churning dust. They were almost to the turnoff to Sattler ranch. He was tempted to take the route and roust Sattler from sleep to tell him of Skinny Bonnet’s and Sheriff Bradley’s fall from grace. Only his concern for Olivia kept him heading west toward home. Doc said something else, but it was lost as Ryan increased pressure on the mustang’s sides and the animal put distance between them.

  In mere hours, Bobby would be rousting the men, and they would start the drive. Ryan allowed himself a small grin. Without Skinny on the loose and the sheriff to back up every bad deed, perhaps small ranchers would have a greater chance at the next roundup. But that was a year away.

  Ryan slid to the ground in front of the house and leaned against the mustang for a minute to collect himself. With heavy limbs, he released the saddle’s cinch and lifted it from the mustang’s back, returning for the saddle blanket and bridle. A slap to the rump, and the horse gladly trotted into the corral. Doc pulled in at that point. He was blissfully silent as he tied his horse out front.

  Ryan motioned for the man to follow, noting the light beaming through the panes of glass before he opened the door. His mother sat at the table, as he knew she would, but he didn’t expect the lines of worry around her mouth or the words that she spoke.

  “She’s not here, Ryan. She went to her daddy’s and hasn’t come back.”

  His head fell back, and he released a heavy sigh.

  “Looks like my services aren’t needed after all,” Doc murmured, and clutched his black bag. “I told you your mama’s care was the best thing for her. Now I’m headed back to get some sleep.” He turned at the door. “You’ve got yourself quite a son, Mrs. Laxalt. A chip off the old block.”

  ❧

  “You’re exhausted,” his mother said. “She is a smart woman, son. She will not dare ride through the night alone.”

  Ryan paced along the wood floor, grateful his mother did not probe for details about the doctor’s pronouncement. But she was wrong about one thing. Olivia. There had been too many times when she’d tried to ride out alone at night, determined to get wherever she was going. And he knew something his mother didn’t. If news got to Sattler of Skinny Bonnet’s death and the sheriff’s fall at his hand, Sattler would retaliate. Kill his cattle. Stage a rustling during the drive. Play his trump card and forbid Olivia from seeing him. Even now he could have formulated a plan to exact revenge.

  “Drink this.”

  His mother pulled on his arm and directed him to the table. She pointed at a cup of coffee.

  “You are just like your father, debating a problem when there is no solution to be had.”

  Torn by indecision, Ryan sipped at the brew. His mind was rocking with images of Olivia on horseback at night, falling to the ground—as delirious and unfocused as she’d been after seeing her mother.

  His mother’s hand weighted his shoulder. “Ryan. . .”

  He pushed back the chair and lunged to his feet. Her hand slid away. “I’m going after her. There’s too much at stake. It could mean losing everything.”

  “The cattle?”

  Ryan half turned toward his mother. “The cattle are the least of my worries.”

  thirty-seven

  Tears stung Olivia’s eyes as she held the apron close to her cheek. Sleep would not come, and every one of Ryan’s warnings about riding alone at night kept her in place. She turned over on her bed and considered undressing and slipping between the covers, but the sound of hoofbeats coming fast stopped her.

  She knelt at the window. Footsteps from the direction of her father’s room told her he had heard the commotion as well. Her heart pounded in fear. If it was Ryan, what would her father’s reaction be? Or Ryan’s? She could see h
im being angry over what her father had done to her mother. Angry for her sake. She stood and strained to see through the darkness. It wasn’t Ryan. She sagged against the wall in relief.

  “What is it?” Jay Sattler’s voice broke through the night sounds.

  “Trouble.” She heard the stranger’s hiss. “Skinny was shot and killed. Laxalt—”

  “Hush,” Jay shot out. “Come inside.”

  She wanted to follow the conversation but knew that her father would retreat to his office for that very reason. Ryan was involved. Her heart sank at the notion that he might be hurt or followed, that even now her father could plot a way to bring Ryan to heel for whatever trouble he had caused.

  Olivia plucked the apron up off the bed. She smoothed her hand over the material and mouthed a prayer, grasping for a thought that would make what she should do clear to her. Lord, what now? What can I do?

  Ryan would not kill unless he was threatened. He was that sort of man. His father had been honorable. But she also knew his temper could rage hot. A specter of doubt inserted itself into her mind.

  The inactivity would drive her mad. She bounced to her feet and stuffed the apron beneath her unsullied pillow. A tap on the glass froze her in place, and a face appeared at the window. Dark hair and silver eyes.

  Ryan.

  She gasped with a hand to her throat, at once afraid and relieved.

  He put a finger to his lips and motioned her outside. She knelt inside by the open window. Their faces were inches apart. “I can’t.”

  “Is your father holding you?”

  “No. But I’m afraid for you. For Hector and—”

  He jerked his head toward the hitching post. “Whose horse?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Ryan seemed to consider that. “Something happened tonight. Sheriff Bradley’s going to get taken in by the marshal. Skinny Bonnet was the one staging the ground to look like cows had been rustled at Jacob’s ranch.”

  “Jacob? You mean Phoebe’s Jacob?”

  “It happened tonight. Earlier. Jacob was shot, and that was where the doc was. Olivia?”Ryan’s hand touched hers, and she started at the feel of his fingers against her. Her eyes snapped to his.

  “What are you afraid of?” The tears came then. Ryan brushed them from her cheeks. “Come outside.”

  She sat on the sill and twisted. He pulled her through the window and supported her until she could get her feet under her. When he turned her in his arms, she saw in his eyes not a reflection of her own desires but the love and devotion he’d yet to put into words.

  She framed his face, needing to hear the words locked deep inside him. They would dispel her doubts and remove the tarnish her father’s veiled accusation had placed on her decision to stay at the Laxalts’.

  He drew a breath, and his chest swelled. He held her close and searched her face, her eyes. His exhale washed over her.

  “Ryan. . .”

  “I love you, Olivia.”

  “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “No.”

  “What if he comes after you?”

  “Listen to me. Things are much different now. Your father no longer has the sheriff to back him, and Skinny was their hired gun.” His hand stroked down her arm. “I have to face your father, Livy. For us.”

  She knew he was right. As much as she wanted to escape and be done, they would never live in peace until this thing between the Sattlers and Laxalts was finished. And Jay Sattler held the key.

  ❧

  He’d wanted to kiss away the trails marking her cheeks. But he could not bring himself to ply her with stolen kisses on the front porch of her father’s house, considering the ill will between their families.

  He stroked her hair, unable to find words to express his hesitation so that she would understand. Or maybe she did understand. “You need to go back inside and get some sleep.”

  She nodded against his chest. “We talked. Him and me. About my mother. I understand now, but. . .”

  Her head sank down as the last word tumbled from her lips. He absorbed the silence, giving her the time she needed. He gauged the vague sound of voices coming through the window that allowed them the time for a stolen moment. When her silence stretched longer than he could endure, he lifted her face.

  “Tell me.”

  “I tried to help him see that what he was doing was wrong. What he was allowing. Your father. . .everything.”

  He traced the curve of her ear with his finger. His father’s face bloomed in his mind along with the words of his favorite phrase, and he heard himself repeating it. “A wise man once told me that what you can’t work out, you can pray out.”

  Her hands tightened on his arms. “Do you believe that?”

  A deep sadness rose in him. “I didn’t, but I’m beginning to.”

  As if on cue, the heavy thud of boots on the wood floor beat out a warning. She pulled away, balancing on the window sill and twisting through the opening. He turned away and rounded the corner where the angle of the house, even with the moon shining down, kept his cowhand in shadow.

  He raised his hand as Cody shook his head to indicate he had seen or heard nothing new since their arrival. Ryan jerked his head and went to the corner of the house, glancing around to watch as a single man exited, gathered the reins of his horse, and turned the animal. The dim profile wasn’t one Ryan recognized, but he had an idea by the flashes of silver on the bridle and saddle that it might be Bowman or Michaels, and he wished mightily he could have heard what was said in the impromptu meeting.

  Cody sidled up beside him, brow raised. Ryan nodded. As Ryan rushed to his horse, he knew his hand would settle in for the night, just as they’d planned. Someone needed to keep an eye on Sattler, and Ryan’s command, above all else, had been for Cody to protect Olivia if she needed it.

  thirty-eight

  Ryan worked through the night alongside Bobby. There was a fever pitch of activity so the drive could get a head start if there was going to be trouble.

  “Take ’em out of here, Bobby.” He gave the signal to his foreman. Bobby raised the handkerchief around his nose and mouth, and the other men followed suit. It was the official sign for the hands to start moving the cattle. The indignant moos almost drowned out his words as the ground vibrated beneath the onslaught of hooves.

  “Things will go well,” his mother said. A cloud of dust rose into a dense ball as the cattle bunched together and picked up speed. “God knows we have had much to handle.”

  Ryan didn’t respond. His mother’s words echoed through his mind more as a prayer. The early start would give Bobby extra time to make six miles before resting and finishing with another seven or eight for the day.

  “It’s time for me to face Sattler.”

  “What about Olivia?”

  The question stirred his doubts. She’d obviously been distressed at her father’s refusal to change his ways, though seemingly touched by Sattler’s explanation of Lily. Finding the strength to stand against her father would be a hard test of her loyalty and love. Surely she knew that if Jay Sattler could not be turned, her association with Ryan—or any of the small ranchers—would mean a rift in the father-daughter relationship.

  In the wake of her emotions, his declaration of love had seemed the right thing to do. He would not take the words back. He just hoped he hadn’t been premature, that the light in her eyes would not fade under the test to come.

  ❧

  Her father’s back seemed an indomitable wall as he sat sipping coffee from his favorite tin mug. Olivia tied on her mother’s apron, prepared to stand her ground against her father’s preconceived notions of how Lily should be cared for. She fingered the edge of the apron, drawing strength from the familiar item.

  “I see you stayed last night.”

  She firmed her lips as his statement flared through her. “You’ve grown suspicious of your daughter’s morals?” She strained to keep her tone light, matter-of-fact instead of challenging. “Isn’
t the hope I would develop good morals part of the reason you sent me to Aunt Fawn and that fancy school?”

  Jay sighed into his coffee cup. “One thing you have learned is the art of debate. Your mother could fashion a rebuke with a soft word, but it always came through loud and clear.”

  Vestiges of the broken emotions he’d shown the previous night showed in the faraway look in his eyes and the sad turn of his lips.

  Olivia sat across the table from him—the same place her mother had occupied all those years ago. “I want mother to live with me.” She kept her eyes on the table, wading out deeper into the pool of her desires. “Being out there all alone. . . I think it might be good to have her around people again.”

  “Olivia. . .”

  “It’s important to me to try and help her as much as I can, Daddy. Don’t you see that? Did I tell you what she asked me as soon as she saw me? She asked if I was her little girl. She recognized me.” Not until she felt the tickle on her cheek did she realize she was crying. She swept back the moisture and met her father’s eyes, letting him see her determination.

  “And what does your Mr. Laxalt think of that?”

  His mention of Ryan made her cautious. “He’s not ‘mine.’ ”

  “Weren’t you defending him?” His tone was accusatory. “Trying to make peace between our families so you could marry him?”

  Olivia clasped her hands in her lap. “Josephine Laxalt has become my friend—”

  “You want me to believe you’re doing it for his mother?”

  “Let me finish, Daddy.”

  Jay opened his mouth then lifted his mug and took a long pull.

  She took a deep breath and continued. “They’re all my friends—”

  The mug slammed down, making her jump. “Do you know what your friends did last night, Livy? They murdered an innocent man.”

  “Innocent in whose eyes?”

  Her father’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know of all this?”

  “Enough to know there is another side to the story.”

  He stroked a hand down his beard and cracked the knuckles on his right hand. “Whose side am I hearing? Laxalt’s? Did he come visit you last night right here under my roof?”