Forever, Victoria

by Dorothy Garlock

  Victoria watched his shadowy figure cross the room and heard the gentle click of the door as he closed it behind him. She stared toward the door for a long while and soundlessly mouthed the words she would never say in the light of day: “I love you.”

  CHAPTER

  * 11 *

  Kelso sat in the Last Chance Saloon, his back to the door, a drink in his hand. It hadn’t occurred to him until after he had reached town that news of the events at the Double M might have preceded him. When the thought came he felt a cold chill run down the length of his long back. His first reaction was to ride out of town. And then he realized he had been greeted cordially by the bartender who was a good friend of Stonewall’s. If the man had heard so much as a hint of what he had done to Stonewall, much less anything about the girl, he would be lying in the street by now—if he wasn’t on his way to be lynched! Kelso gulped his drink. He figured he could stay here a day or two, then drift south before the cold weather set in.

  He could never go back to the Double M now. Until he’d roughed up the girl he’d had a chance of making Miss Victory see his side of things. But after that and the beating he’d given Stonewall, it was a cinch he couldn’t stay in this country, or even ride the Outlaw Trail. Stonewall and Miss Victory were held in high esteem all up and down the trail and he was bound to run into someone who would feel obliged to even the score. His only regrets were that he had mistreated the girl and that he hadn’t waited and waylaid Mahaffey and shot him out of the saddle.

  He poured a drink from the bottle on the table and let his eyes slide around the room. There were a few men at the bar, a table of cardplayers and a greenhorn sitting alone at the end of the room. He took the makings for a cigarette from his pocket and built his smoke slowly. He wasn’t in any hurry; he wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Hey, Kelso. Whatcha doin’ in town? Ain’tcha in full drive at the Double M?” The bartender’s voice boomed out and all eyes turned on Kelso.

  Kelso lipped his cigarette before he looked up. He worked his mouth into a twisted grin. “Yeah, but I ain’t in it. I quit. Haulin’ my freight down the trail. Ain’t nothin’ fer me thar after the new man come.”

  “What new man? Is it that big ornery-lookin’ cuss what rode in with Miss Victory a while back? Looked like he was to a roundhouse meetin’ and somebody’d cleaned his clock.”

  “He was and I did.” Kelso couldn’t pass up the chance to boast.

  “Bet that was a good ’un. What’d Stonewall think? I bet he hated to lose ya. He thinks a heap of ya.”

  There was a momentary pause while Kelso shoved aside a guilty conscience and whipped up his hatred of Mahaffey.

  “Ol’ Stonewall’ll be put out to pasture before his time. Had me a notion Miss Victory’d make me foreman when Stonewall slowed up, but this Mahaffey is a takin’ over. Hear he’s kind of a pardner to Miss Victory. She sure does what he says. He don’t care how much time an’ work a man’s put in. An’ I put in plenty. Double M ain’t goin’ to be what it was. Goin’ to be all spit and polish. Be the law goin’ in thar next.” Kelso was proud he’d been able to drop that hint. Inside of a week the rumor would be all over the territory.

  Now that the loafers had something to talk about they ignored Kelso which was the way he wanted it. He sat with his bottle feeling lost and at loose ends. The thought of never going back to the Double M was like a rat gnawing at his insides. He could have run that place better’n Stonewall! What’s more, he’d waited years for Miss Victory to grow up and notice him. He still couldn’t believe she’d told him to get out! He’d worked his butt off for the Double M and she’d told him to get out!

  “Do you mind if I join you?”

  Kelso looked up at the greenhorn. He had a long cigarette in one hand and a bottle of the saloon’s best in the other. He was short and fair, with thinning hair and a mustache, the ends waxed and curled. His clothes were as fine as any Kelso had seen—gray pinstripe trousers and jacket, a soft silk shirt, a heavy gold watch chain draped across a vest that covered the beginning of what would probably become a good-sized paunch. A real dandy, Kelso thought. A real, honest to God dandy!

  “Yeah, I mind. I ain’t a wantin’ your company.”

  “I think you will after you hear what I have to say. Bloody hard to carry on a conversation standing here.” He pulled out a chair, sat down, and glanced around with a pained expression at the saloon and its patrons.

  Foreigner’s got guts, Kelso thought. But not enough brains to keep ’em outta a fire. I could take my pistol butt and break them soft, purty hands a layin’ thar on that table. Wonder what he’d do?

  “I think ya better rattle your hocks outta here afore I get mad.”

  The soft hands pushed the bottle across the table. “I think you’ll find this far superior to what you’re drinking.” The stranger spoke in an accent Kelso had not heard before and he had to listen closely to catch all the words.

  “Are you tryin’ to be funny talkin’ like that?”

  The man smiled and the way his mouth broadened reminded Kelso of something or someone. “Of course not. I’m from England.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “It’s a world away from here, thank the bloody stars.” He raised his eyes to the ceiling.

  “I don’t know what yore gettin’ at. Yore talkin’ but you ain’t sayin’ nothin’.”

  “You’re right. You’re very right. I’ll get right to business. Are you capable of running the Double M?”

  The question hit Kelso like a stone between the eyes. “What d’ya mean? What in hell do ya mean?”

  “I’m Robert McKenna. Son and heir of Marcus McKenna. I will ask you, sir, not to divulge my identity to anyone…as yet.”

  “Divulge? What’s that mean?” Kelso growled angrily, but his heart had already begun to pound with excitement. Old Marcus’s son! Now wouldn’t that jist make ya spraddle-legged?

  “Tell,” Robert said drily. “Don’t tell anyone who I am.”

  “Why not? Ya ’shamed?”

  “Of course I’m not ashamed!” Robert said sharply. “Only a fool reveals his plans before he’s ready to put them into effect.”

  Feeling the chastisement but unwilling to show it, Kelso growled, “What d’ya want with me?”

  “I overheard your conversation with the bartender and I thought perhaps you were a man I could work with. I’ll need a good man to run the ranch after I get control.” Robert could hardly believe his good fortune in finding a disgruntled Double M hand in this revolting establishment. When Kelso didn’t speak, Robert poured from the bottle and took a swift look around the room to make sure they were not being overheard. “I’m not surprised you’ve had a run-in with this fellow Mahaffey. He’s a ruthless man. He’s out to get the Double M from me and my sister. He claims I sold him the ranch, says he has papers and a deed. His papers are obviously forged because the ranch belongs to me and my sister. I sent a couple of men out a week ago to ask Victoria to meet me in town. They never returned. I’d go out to see her, but I’ve no doubt I’d not live to get out of the valley. Mahaffey would see to it.”

  “I ain’t a goin’ out thar, if’n that’s what yore gettin’ at.”

  Robert ignored the outburst. “I’m worried about the safety of my sister.” He waited a moment to give his words time to make an impression. “Did I hear it said that the Double M is making a cattle drive?”

  “Yup.”

  “I understand all the cattle from this area go to a broker twenty miles south.”

  “Yup.”

  “There’ll be a time when we can be reasonably sure Mahaffey will be away from the ranch. Is that correct?”

  “Yup.”

  Robert tried not to let his irritation show. Stupid bore! He hadn’t talked to anyone in this blasted place yet who could put two sentences together. “I would imagine you’re a man who has many friends. Do you know of one we could use to take a message to Victoria?”

  “I might.”

  “If
we can get my sister to town, I’m sure we can talk some sense into her. The trick will be to get her away from Mahaffey.”

  Kelso noticed the foreigner had said we. It was a good feeling to be included in plans, but he’d better lay his cards on the table and let this tenderfoot know where he stood.

  “I ain’t sure I can stay around. I beat the daylights outta Stonewall Perry and he’s got a heap of friends.”

  Robert started to say something and then stopped. He turned his glass around and around. The silence stretched taut.

  “Who saw you do it?”

  “Nobody. But if’n Stonewall ain’t dead, he knows.”

  “Then it’s his word against yours.”

  “I guess so.”

  “As the new manager of the Double M, who would doubt you?”

  Kelso sucked deep on his cigarette, and stared straight ahead. His face was sober, but there was a brightness in his eyes. “Ya mean that?”

  “I’m not in the habit of talking to hear my own voice. I’ve an estate in England that needs my attention. I want to conclude this boring business here, leave the ranch in capable hands and depart.”

  “I might know of a man.”

  “One that can take a letter to my sister?”

  “Yup.”

  “Someone who will know when Mahaffey is conducting his business with the broker?” McKenna went on.

  “It won’t be no secret.”

  “I’ve a man coming up from Denver who’ll take care of him—unless you want to do it.”

  “You mean kill him?”

  “Do you know any other way to get rid of him?” McKenna’s voice had hardened and Kelso caught a glimpse of the man behind the fancy clothes and sissy manner. He was cold and smart and dangerous.

  “Ain’t no skin off my butt if’n you kill him. I don’t want no hurt to come to Miss Victory, is all.”

  So the fool’s in love with her, Robert thought. Perfect. What better reason to kill than for unrequited love…and to be hung for it.

  “Neither do I, old chap. That’s why I’m going to all this trouble. My sister is an innocent young woman who is ill-equipped to resist the harsh persuasions of a man like Mahaffey. He’ll take the ranch and the money and leave her homeless and penniless.” Robert watched with satisfaction the effect of his purposely dramatic speech on the half-drunk drover.

  “I know another feller who ain’t got no use fer Mahaffey. He comes to town ever’ so often. Likes the women over at the Silk Stockin’, comes in to get his ashes hauled ever’ little bit. I’ll keep an eyeball peeled fer him.”

  “How long do you think that will be?”

  “Few weeks.”

  “Not before that?”

  “If yore not a wantin’ him till yore sure Mahaffey is on the drive, there ain’t no hurry.”

  “Is there anyone else out there who would give us any trouble?”

  “Yeah. Feller name of Sage. He’s a touchy bastard. Ain’t no tellin’ which way he’ll blow. He ain’t goin’ to have no use for me if’n Stonewall told him I’d whupped him.”

  “We’ll be able to handle him,” Robert said confidently.

  “Yore goin’ about this all back-sackered. All you got to do is spread the word down the trail that Mahaffey is a doin’ Miss Victory outta her land and there’d be a hundred outlaws a gunnin’ for him, and not a hair on Miss Victory’s head would be put outta place.”

  “No! I must speak to Victoria first!” Robert took a long sip of whiskey. Compose yourself, old man. Nothing will be gained by letting this lout see I’m desperate.

  Robert had taken Mahaffey’s money, given him forged papers and deed. Mahaffey had to be killed before he discovered he’d been swindled. Victoria, too. Then the Double M would be his. He would sell it while he was here, take his money and go back to England. Once he paid off his gambling debts he could begin to live a civilized life again.

  Robert smiled conspiratorially at Kelso. In two more minutes this ignorant cowhand would be eating out of the palm of his hand. “We will handle it my way. Victoria must come to town. I want her to be out of danger from Mahaffey—just in case our play goes awry, you understand. I write very persuasive letters. If your friend can get my missive to Victoria there will be an extra hundred dollars in it for you.”

  Damn that bloody Cash and that half-wit kid with him, Robert fumed. If they’d done their job Victoria and Mahaffey would be dead and his troubles would be over. He hadn’t counted on his half sister being at the ranch. He had expected her to be living in town when the supposed new owner took over the Double M. This venture was turning out to be much more involved than he had anticipated.

  Kelso shrugged. “If’n that’s the way you want to play it.”

  “That’s exactly the way I want it played.” Robert got to his feet. “I’m staying at the Overland Hotel under the name of Malcolm Granville. As soon as your friend gets to town, let me know.” He went to the bar, handed the bartender some coins and went out.

  Kelso watched him. He was an arrogant little dandy, but what the hell? He’d go back to England and he, Kelso, who’d been run off the Double M, would return in charge. He could almost see the surprised look on Sage Harrington’s face when he told him to get off the range and stay off. God! He hoped Stonewall was planted in the boneyard by now, hoped he hadn’t lived to tell who it was that beat him. And the girl. If Mahaffey was dead the girl would leave and that would be forgotten. An hour ago things were looking pretty black, but he’d soon show ’em it didn’t pay to kick Kelso around.

  * * *

  Under a low gray sky and a spattering of rain Sage, sitting on a board in the supply wagon, pushed the team along the trail. He hated driving the wagon almost as much as he hated gray, rainy days. The only good thing that could come out of this trip back to the ranch to repair a wheel tire was the chance he might get to see Nellie. Since the time he had lifted her from the corral rail she had been constantly in his mind.

  His face gentled when he gave himself up to daydreaming about her. Nellie, with the pup held against her face; Nellie, shyly looking up at him through her thick lashes; Nellie, standing on the porch with the wind blowing her skirt against her legs; Nellie, frightened and weeping…

  When he thought about that, about Kelso, and what he had done to Nellie and to Stonewall he had a driving urge to kill him. Sage had an explosive temper, and his usual quietness was a cover-up for what lay under the surface. Seldom did he lose control, but under exceptional strain, he had given way to outbursts of fury.

  Since he’d known Nellie, though, thoughts of her brought him a feeling of peace. What was there about a small, slim girl in a dress faded from many washings that aroused such deep response in him? Was it that she penetrated his loneliness? He had known women, decent women and so-called bad women of the saloons and brothels. To Sage there was little difference between them. But Nellie was special. The moment he set eyes on her he had known his life was changed forever.

  He had to smile when he thought about Ruby’s teasing. She was the only person in the world he’d have taken it from. Anyone else would have been busted in the mouth.

  “You’ve been up the creek ’n’ over the ridge,” she told him. “You’ve busted broncs, roped steers, ’n’ fit the heel flies. You’ve skinned buffalo ’n’ you’ve slept with Injuns. Hit’s time, boy, ya got yerself a woman ’n’ set out to raise yerself a passel of younguns.” Then she said something which had made him feel warm and loved, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’m a wantin’ me some of them grandbabies, Sage. Yore just goin’ ta have ta get me some.” She’d laid her hand on his head and walked back into the house.