Just Her Type

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  Closing her eyes in pain, she murmured, “Maybe you were right when you told me I was a poor excuse for a newspaper editor—”

  “I never said that!”

  “—but I must think of my son,” she continued as if he had not spoken. “To name names in the Bugle will guarantee trouble like you can’t imagine. When are you going to learn this isn’t Albany?”

  “So Connolly can send his men to slay a herd of sheep and everybody closes their eyes?”

  The storm blew into the room as she opened the door. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but I’m not the one to change it.”

  “Why not?”

  She had thought Luke of all the people would understand. “I just can’t!”

  When she ran out the door, Luke exchanged an uneasy glance with the sheriff. Horace put his cup on the desk. “We can’t force her to testify against Connolly.”

  “She should!”

  “Of course she should, but you know as well as I do why she can’t. Who can those men take from her next?” Horace stared out at the rain, his brown eyes filled with pain. “Connolly has his eye on political office. What do you think he’d do to keep folks from learning about what’s really happening out on his ranges?”

  Luke shrugged. “Nothing worse than I’ve seen back east.”

  “Probably not, but are you willing to chance Mackenzie’s and Douglas’s lives?” He held up his hand. “Before you answer, you need to know what happened while you and Mackenzie were out riding.” With a sigh, he sat at his desk, fatigue gouging into his face. “Doc Langhorne and Lacey were found dead.”

  “Murdered?”

  “Looks that way. Someone shot them.”

  “When Mackenzie hears this, she’ll be even more stubborn about keeping the rimrocking out of the newspaper.”

  “Maybe she isn’t wrong. I suspect this Jim who attacked Lacey may have come back to finish up the job so she couldn’t accuse him. If he works for Connolly, he’s not going to hesitate to kill again.”

  “You think Jim killed them?”

  “I don’t know what to think.” He rubbed his eyes. “I just found them a couple of hours ago.” Standing, he leaned on his desk. “Luke, you have to ask yourself if you’re willing to risk Mackenzie and Douglas for some sheep.”

  Without answering, Luke put the cup on the desk and walked out. He was a newspaperman. There had to be something he could do.

  FOURTEEN

  The sun burned away the morning mist, as Mackenzie raised the platen on the press to read:

  WYOMING 44TH STATE

  Bentonville Celebrations Tomorrow

  A smile oozed across her face, but it held a hint of sadness. Pa would have been thrilled. His last editorial had lambasted Washington for dragging its feet on statehood, along with the usual fiery comments about the need for peace on the ranges. At least, one of his dreams had come true.

  Her smile vanished as she thought of the headline in the previous issue of the Bugle. Then she had to let everyone know that Doc Langhorne and his daughter were dead. Horace had asked her to keep the details to a minimum, so she had, announcing when the funeral was being held and giving no hint that it might have been murder.

  At least, Horace had the good sense to see that confronting the Terrible Trio and their men with a blaring headline was not the way to undermine their power on the high ranges. Now, if she could just convince Luke of that …

  Footsteps intruded, and she looked over her shoulder to see Luke coming in from the well. Water glistened on his freshly shaven face. Wiping a towel across the pale phantoms of soap clinging to his chin, he smiled. He draped the cloth over his shoulder as he walked toward her.

  “Good morning, Mackenzie. How long have you been up?”

  “Only an hour or so.”

  “An hour?” He chuckled as he shook his head. “How are you going to dance with me tomorrow night at the box social if you’re exhausted? I told you I’d help you.”

  She kept her gaze on the press. “I didn’t want to wake you. I figured you could do the inner pages while I cook up something for the social.”

  “Is this your way of saying good-bye? Is that why you keep pulling away?” His tone became harder. “Or is it something else? Guilt, perhaps? Are you trying to hide from the fact that you said nothing in the last issue of the Bugle about the rimrocking?”

  “Luke, you’re being outrageous.”

  “Am I?” He leaned his hands on the half-wall. “Look at yourself. As skittish as a motherless calf in a storm.”

  “You’ve gained a real Western flavor in your language.”

  “And you’re avoiding giving me an answer.”

  A pang raced through her, but she did not let her reaction show. Forcing a taut smile, she went to the door leading to the stairs. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get Douglas up.”

  He grasped her arms and spun her against him. She gasped, but the sound was muted by his lips over hers. When he released her arms to draw her more tightly against him, her hands curved along his back. Spreading her fingers wide, she wanted to touch all of him. The hunger never lessened. Each time he loved her made her long for more rapture.

  “Mackenzie, we have to talk about this,” he said, ruining her pleasure with his terse words.

  “Not today when we must get out the paper.”

  He nodded. “All right. I’ll get to work. Later we’ll talk about what you’ve been avoiding.”

  “What we both have been avoiding,” she corrected as she ran up the stairs to wake her son and start a day which heralded a new life for Bentonville. She hoped it heralded as much for her and the ones she loved.

  Mackenzie laughed as she applauded the enthusiastic, off-key music from the band playing on the steps of the school. Only the eager singing of “Battle Hymn of the Republic” masked the squeaks of Zared playing the piccolo.

  She glanced back along the street, wondering how it could look so different in the daylight. Smoke and fire had damaged the mercantile, but it still stood. The walkway, which no one used, had been destroyed on both sides of the road near the saloon. Not burned, but ripped apart to feed the fire.

  “Dessert at the church!” called Reverend Manning, drawing her attention back to the school.

  “Run along,” Mackenzie told Douglas. “I know you want to get the best piece of pie.” When she patted him on the head, he shot her a smile and raced away.

  She wondered where he found the energy at the end of the day. After preparing a basket for the box social, she had rushed through the day’s events. The parade, the street dance, the horseback races—these last events won by the cowboys who had ridden into town to join the celebration. Finally the box social had arrived. She had not been surprised when Luke and Douglas together were the highest bidders for the box she had decorated with old copies of the Bugle.

  Watching the people drift toward the church, she sighed. All day, she had been worried there might be trouble. She had seen Aaron O’Grady during the races, but had avoided him. Since Boswell had hinted OG Star cowpokes had played a part in Cameron’s murder, she had not spoken to Aaron. She shivered, although the night was warm.

  When an arm slipped around her shoulders, she smiled at Luke. He tilted his hat back and said in an exaggerated drawl, “Well, howdy there, ma’am. What do you say we hitch up the team and go fer a ride out under the stars? Yonder young’un’s gonna be busy stuffing his face with pie.”

  She laughed. “I hear this all the time, but it sounds all wrong coming from you.”

  “Don’t want to be accused of being a sissy.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that.” Her voice lowered as she added, “I’d love to go for a ride, Luke, but I promised myself that I’d get to bed early tonight.”

  “Tired?”

  “No,” she whispered as she turned to him. Her fingertips at the back of his head steered his lips to hers. When his hat bumped into the brim of her bonnet, she chuckled.

  Luke offered
his arm. When she put her hand on it, he said, “Ride first, then off to bed early. A wonderful end to a wonderful day.”

  After she was seated next to him and the buggy was on its way out of town, he kept her busy telling him her impressions of the parade and the other events, and she knew he was composing his article for the Independent.

  Pulling back on the reins, he brought the buggy to a stop at the edge of a field. With pines at their back, they could look out on the moon-streaked mirror of grass reflecting back the light. All humor vanished as he said, “I think this is a good place. Say what you want.”

  “What I want? You asked me to come out here.”

  He lit the small lantern at the side of the buggy. The whisper of light allowed her to see the intensity of his eyes. “But you’re the one who seems afraid. What’s happened, Mackenzie? When I first got to Bentonville, you were a fiery editor who admonished friend and foe equally. What kind of editorial does today’s issue of The Bentonville Bugle contain? A flowery anthem to statehood.”

  “Statehood is important.”

  “As important as the editorial you didn’t put in?”

  A scowl rutted her forehead. “What are you talking about? I wrote every word of today’s editorial.”

  “But it wasn’t the first one you wrote.”

  “How—?” Anger propelled her words. “You read it without my permission?”

  “It was on your desk.” His wide hands pinned her fingers to her lap. “It was also one of the best things you’ve ever written. Concise, loaded with facts about trouble on the high ranges, and containing enough names to keep this town talking for weeks.” He drew her closer. “Why did you kill it? Has someone threatened you again?”

  She freed her fingers from his. “I didn’t think that editorial was appropriate for such a joyous day.”

  “Don’t lie to me, sweetheart.”

  “I don’t want to lie to you. I mean—Oh, I don’t know what I mean.”

  He put an arm around her trembling shoulders. “You’re scared, Mackenzie.”

  “You’re right I am!”

  “Why? Horace knows the truth. He’s the law in this territory.” A grin swept across his lips. “In this state.”

  “What’s one man against Connolly’s crew?”

  He shook his head and held up two fingers. “Not one. I’m with you on this.”

  Clasping his fingers, she asked, “For how long, Luke? For you, this is a lark. It’s not like that for me. Bentonville is my home. I want to print the truth. Hiding it is gnawing at me. But I can’t! Don’t you understand? What good am I to Bentonville if I’m dead, too?”

  He enfolded her to him and held her as she quivered with the pain coursing through her. He whispered her name. When she looked at him, he tasted her mouth. She held tightly to him as he leaned her back on the narrow cushion. As his breath puffed into her mouth, he delved deep to find pleasure.

  Mackenzie gasped as she heard footfalls. Luke swore and reached for the reins. She had too many guesses as to who might be stalking them in the darkness. She did not like any of them.

  A man suddenly grasped the horse’s bridle. Luke reached for the whip, but froze as a shotgun emerged from the darkness.

  Luke glanced at her, but said nothing as the trigger clicked a warning. Several men rode closer and dismounted, but only one approached the buggy. Moonlight washed the color from his hair, but his laugh identified him.

  Aaron O’Grady leaned on Mackenzie’s side of the vehicle. The reek of whiskey billowed from him. He glanced at Luke, but said, “Well, howdy there, Mackenzie darlin’. We stopped by the newspaper to invite you to our party at Stub’s, but you weren’t there.”

  “You know I don’t go to Stub’s,” Mackenzie retorted fiercely. And you know why better than anyone else.

  He lolled drunkenly against the dash. “It’s no problem. We’ll have the party at the OG Star.”

  “No thank you.”

  He ignored her as he leaned forward. “It’s a private party. You understand, don’t you, Bradfield? Only for real men.” When Luke did not answer, Aaron snapped, “Get out, Bradfield!”

  Mackenzie put a hand on Luke’s arm. “Aaron, don’t—”

  “Don’t what?” O’Grady growled. He straightened and put his face directly in hers. When she turned away from the odor of whiskey, he grasped her face and twisted it back to him. “Don’t hurt your tenderfoot lover?”

  “Aaron, be sensible. If …” Her words trailed away as O’Grady raised his pistol to point past her.

  “I said, ‘Get out, Bradfield,’ and I meant it. You wouldn’t want Mackenzie to get blood all over her pretty dress, would you?”

  Pain pierced her as she saw the determined tilt of Luke’s chin when he climbed down from the buggy. She clenched her hands. If she said the wrong thing, it was sure to start the catastrophe she wanted to avoid.

  “What do you want, O’Grady?” Luke asked coolly. “The party’s in town, not out here.”

  “Then I’m surprised you’re here.” He motioned for Luke to come around to his side. “I thought you’d be sticking your nose into everything as usual. Instead you’re going for a moonlight ride with my girl.” His hand slid over the edge of seat and settled on Mackenzie’s knee. When she gasped and slapped it away, he laughed. “C’mon, darlin’, don’t be so skittish! It’s not as if you’re unused to a man’s touch.” He grabbed her around the waist.

  “Take your hands off her, O’Grady!”

  “Luke, no!” she cried.

  He gripped O’Grady’s arm and twirled him away from the buggy. “I told you to stay away from her!”

  “Luke!” she shouted again, but it was too late.

  Luke’s fist was caught as the other men swarmed over him. When he disappeared beneath their blows, she screamed. She leaped from the buggy as Luke collapsed with a grunt of pain. Hands tried to halt her, but she grasped the arm of a man who was set to hit Luke again. She shrieked as he swept her away. As she struck the ground, she reached out to snag an ankle. As the man tried to move, he tripped over her arm and crashed to the earth.

  “You little—!” he growled as he whirled to face her. He lifted his fist. She cowered away, covering her head with her arms.

  The blow never fell. Heavy hands jerked her to her feet, fingers biting into her arm. Swallowing her moan, she looked at Aaron o’Grady. He was smiling. When she tried to pull away, he tightened his grip until she gave a half-sob.

  “Darlin’, why don’t you and me go into town and get Reverend Manning out of the social? Within the hour, we can be honeymooning at the Benton House.” He bent to press his lips against her neck. Hearing his men’s lewd laughter, he forced her closer.

  She shoved against his chest. When he rocked backward, she realized he was more intoxicated than she had guessed. “I have no intention of marrying you tonight or any other night, Aaron O’Grady! You’re the last man on earth I’d ever marry. If you think I’d marry Cameron’s—” She stopped herself. This would be the worst time to confront O’Grady with her suspicions.

  His arms tried to encircle her again. When she eluded him, one of his men caught her and sent her into his boss’s embrace. “If that’s the way you want it. No wedding, darlin’. Just the honeymoon. You’ve never had a real man. McCraven and Bradfield together aren’t half the man I am.”

  “You’re insane!” she gasped as she arched her shoulders to break his hold, but winced when his arms tightened around her. “If you want a tumble, find one of the gals at Stub’s. Plunk down your gold, and she’ll lay down for you.”

  He chortled, picking her up as easily as if she were a blade of grass. She kicked at him, but he dropped her into the buggy. He shoved her across the seat as he tried to clamber aboard. His legs refused to obey him.

  She jumped out on the other side. The men crowed with laughter. There were six, including Aaron. Even if Luke were conscious, they had no chance without a weapon. A weapon. She ran to the side of the closest man and jerked the
pistol out of his holster. She whirled to aim it at Aaron. Even if he could prove he was innocent of Cameron’s murder, she would never trust Aaron O’Grady again.

  “Get out of here,” she ordered through clenched teeth as she moved so that Luke’s senseless form was behind her. She doubted if she could do much to protect either of them if Aaron called her bluff, but she must try. When Luke shifted, she did not dare to look back.

  “C’mon, darlin’,” O’Grady crooned. “Put down the gun. You know you can’t hit anything with it.”

  “You’re right,” she retorted. “I’m not that good a shot, but I have a loaded gun aimed at your middle. If I hit you in the gut or just geld you, will it matter?”

  O’Grady stepped forward. She tightened her finger on the trigger. The click of the hammer was as loud as an avalanche. He stopped.

  “Get out of here!” she repeated. “Get out of here, or I might just remember that incident a year ago last spring.”

  “Mac promised never to reveal that to anyone,” O’Grady gasped, suddenly sounding sober.

  “I’m not Mac!” she retorted. “How would you like to see the truth of that night displayed across the front page of the next edition of the Bugle?”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “I wouldn’t?”

  O’Grady stared at her, but she kept the gun steady. She could not back down now. If she did, she and Luke and the Bugle and everything else she cared about would be destroyed.

  Cursing, he snapped an order. As one, his men staggered back to their horses.

  Mackenzie did not move as she watched them mount. Not only because she wanted to be sure he did not double-cross her, but because her body was stiff with terror. When fingers covered hers, she watched as Luke took the gun from her. Closing her eyes, she sagged against him.

  “Don’t faint,” he whispered. She was unsure whether the pulse pounding in her ears or Luke’s bruised lips distorted the words.

  “I have every right to faint,” she argued, her voice as weak as her knees.

  “Not now. If you’d been going to swoon like an Eastern flower, you should have done it when O’Grady proposed to you.”