by Janet Dailey
"I will," Sorrel promised and stepped back as he gathered up the mare's reins. "Where are you going now? When will I see you again?"
"I don't know, but if you ever need me, contact old Joe Washburn over at Salina. He'll get a message to me wherever I am."
"Mr. Washburn at Salina," she repeated to fix it in her mind.
"That's our secret now. Don't you be telling anybody." He stepped into the stirrup and swung onto the mare.
"I won't. You can trust me, Alex."
Lije waited on the veranda, his impatience growing. The only thing that kept him from charging out there and sending Alex on his way was the certain knowledge that Alex deliberately delayed his departure just to irritate him.
At last Alex wheeled the mare around and rode off. Sorrel waved to him, then turned and started back to the house. When she saw Lije, her steps faltered a bit. Then, with a slightly combative jut of her chin, she continued onto the veranda.
"What are you doing out here?" she challenged.
"Keeping an eye on you." Which was half-true. "What did Alex have to say? You two talked a long time."
"It was personal. It had nothing to do with you."
"Sorrel, you be careful around Alex. He isn't the kind of man you think he is."
"You don't know him the way I do."
"But I may know more about Alex than you do," Lije countered. "He's traveling in some bad company, Sorrel. That man with him, the one who called himself Brandon—his real name is Morgan Bennet. He's wanted in Missouri for robbing a bank and killing a teller. He had two men with him when he held up that bank. One of them was described as tall and slim, with black hair and dark eyes."
"You're trying to say that was Alex, aren't you?" she accused. "But that description could fit a lot of other people, too. You'll never make me believe it was Alex. He wouldn't do that."
Irritated by her blind faith in the man, Lije went on the attack. "What kind of work does he do, Sorrel? Where does he get his money? That was a new store-bought shirt and coat he was wearing, and he had a new saddle on the mare. How did he pay for them?"
"He probably won the money racing Shooting Star," she retorted, her eyes snapping with temper and outrage. "He didn't steal it."
"He's using you, Sorrel. He's using you to get back at the major, trying to turn you against him, against all of us. And he's laughing at you the whole time, knowing you'll believe anything he says. He doesn't care about you."
"That's a lie!" she raged. "Alex cares about me. I'm the only one he can trust, the only one who believes in him. You're making all this up to make him look bad. But it's a lie. It's all a lie!"
She stormed off. Lije began to go after her, then stopped and sighed in frustration and disgust. Sorrel was at the rebellious age when she challenged the opinions of her elders in an attempt to assert herself. The more he spoke against Alex, the more he made him a martyr in her eyes. Instead of tearing Alex down, he was elevating him, turning him into a romantic figure who was horribly misunderstood by everyone but Sorrel.
The Blade came out. "Did Alex leave?"
"A few minutes ago." Lije nodded and glanced after Sorrel. She was still on the veranda, a rigid and defiantly proud figure staring down the lane, a hand clutching the locket at her throat. Lije cursed softy when he saw that.
"What's wrong?" The Blade divided his curious glance between Sorrel and Lije.
"I tried to warn Sorrel about Alex, but she wouldn't listen," he said, then told The Blade about his earlier confrontation with Alex and the outlaw Bennet, what he knew and what he suspected.
"Naturally, she didn't believe you."
"She called me a liar. I don't know how to reach her. She's so upset and angry now ..." He let the rest trail off in a sigh and shook his head.
"I'll go talk to her."
"Good luck," Lije said with skepticism and headed back inside.
Sorrel continued to stare at the lane, but The Blade noticed the mutinous tilt of her chin that signaled her awareness of his approach. When he stopped beside her, she threw him a sideways glance. The sparkle of temper in her eyes was so reminiscent of Temple that he almost smiled.
"I suppose you've come to tell me what a terrible, evil man Alex is, too." Her low voice vibrated with anger.
"Lije told me you were upset. You'll have to forgive your brother. He still tends to see you as his little sister, someone he needs to watch over and protect. He doesn't realize that you'll be fifteen in a few more months—a grown young lady, intelligent enough to figure things out on her own."
"You're just complimenting me because you think I can be flattered into believing all those things about Alex," she retorted.
This time The Blade didn't hide his smile. "I was speaking the truth. But you have proved you're intelligent enough to recognize that."
"Like Alex, I suppose," she said with an undertone of sarcasm.
"I'm not here to talk about Alex."
"Oh?" She turned and arched an eyebrow in a show of mocking skepticism that would have done Temple proud. "Then why are you here?"
"Two of Rans's friends from the old Texas Brigade brought a fiddle and a banjo, and your grandmother is dusting off the piano keys while the others clear a space in the parlor for people to dance." Even as he spoke, the first ripple of notes came from inside the house. "I thought I would ask a certain beautiful young lady to dance with me." He half-turned and presented his arm to her. "Would you do me the honor of being my partner?"
Sorrel hung back, eyeing him warily. "You don't really want to dance with me."
"Oh, but I do." He took her arm and threaded it through the crook of his. He'd had few chances to be a father to his daughter these last few years. He was certain if he had been around more to give her the attention she needed, she wouldn't have turned to Alex. He wanted to make up for that. "I can hear people now whispering to each other, who is that lovely young lady dancing with The Blade Stuart? Finally someone will say, That's his daughter Sorrel. It will be one of the proudest moments in my life."
"You're just saying that to make me feel good." But there was a betraying glow of pleasure in her eyes.
"No, it makes me feel good," he told her, then paused a beat. "Shall we?"
"Very well," she said primly. "But you may as well know that I still don't believe all those things Lije said about Alex."
The Blade threw his head back and laughed.
30
Stuart/Lassiter Ranch On the Verdigris River
Cherokee Nation
June 1867
The liquid in the bucket shimmered a light, iridescent green. Lije scooped some of it up in his fingers, feeling its slickness as it slipped between them to drip back into the bucket. He took a deep smell of it, then touched the tip of his tongue to it and looked at Rans.
"Remind me never again to take two days off to help you. I don't care how shorthanded you are, Rans."
"You didn't take time off to help me. You came to track down an empty rumor that Alex was up here."
"But I stayed to help you." Lije picked up a rag and wiped the thick liquid from his fingers. "It's oil, all right."
"That's great. That's just dandy," Rans muttered. "We sink a deeper well to increase our water supply and look what happens. Tell me what in hell am I supposed to do with it?"
"You could do what that fellow from Pennsylvania did after the war. He pumped the oil out, separated the salt water from it, put the rest in containers, and sold it for lamp fuel or cattle dip."
"You can't be serious. Do you know how much time that would take?" Rans said in disgust.
"I wasn't serious."
"I sure as hell hope not," Rans declared, then sighed and shook his head. "I guess we might as well joke about it. We sure as hell can't drink it."
Lije nudged the bucket with the toe of his boot. "You could fill a couple hogsheads with it and use it here on the ranch for fuel and wagon grease."
"I can do that—after I sink a new well."
A horse w
hinnied in the corral. Its ringing call was quickly answered by the whicker of a second horse somewhere on the prairie. Lije frowned and ran a searching glance to locate the second horse.
To the south, no more than a half mile distant, a horse and buggy laid a swath through the tall buffalo grass. A saddle horse was tied behind the buggy, and two men on horseback ranged alongside.
"Looks like you have visitors," he told Rans.
Together they watched the small party draw closer. "Isn't that The Blade?" Rans said.
Lije nodded, his attention zeroing in on the second man with one arm. "Jed Parmelee is with him." Simple logic told him Diane rode in the buggy. Uneasiness leapt through his system like lightning.
When the buggy rolled to a stop near them, Deu was at the reins with Diane next to him. Rans stepped up to greet them. Lije felt the same urge, but he resisted it and kept his distance.
"Diane, how are you?" Rans smiled a welcome. "Susannah will be glad to see you. She's been starving for the sight of another woman. I think that's half the reason she's so anxious for us to leave tomorrow for Sorrel's graduation."
"I wouldn't be surprised. It can be lonely for a woman out here," Diane said, then looked at Lije, a question and more in her eyes. "After our talk at Susannah's wedding, I thought you might come by the store."
"I've been busy." He didn't admit that he had been tempted to do just that. At least a dozen times he'd considered saddling his horse and riding to Tulsey Town. Cold reality had always set in. With nerves raw, Lije turned to her father. "Good to see you, Jed."
"Same to you, Lije." He swung out of the saddle and stepped to the ground.
Rans came over to shake hands with him. "Who's minding the store while both of you are away?"
"My old striker Amos Johnson has come to work for us. He and his wife are looking after things."
"I stopped by the store on my way here and convinced Jed and Diane to ride along with me." Saddle leather creaked as The Blade dismounted. "I had a feeling Susannah might be ready for company about now. This way we can all travel together tomorrow." His glance slid to Lije. "What did you find out about Alex?"
"No one's seen him around here."
"I expected that," he said. "How is the new well coming?"
"It isn't. We tapped into an oil spring." Rans looked with grim disgust at the bucket of crude oil. "I'll have to dig another one."
"My news isn't much better. "The Blade paused and glanced at the buggy. "Deu, why don't you drive Diane up to the house. Tell Susannah we'll be along directly."
Lije felt the quick assessment of Diane's gaze before Deu slapped the reins and the buggy lurched forward. When it had pulled past him, he turned and watched it for a second as the buggy rattled toward the wood-frame house sitting by itself in the empty expanse of prairie.
"What's your news?" Rans's question pulled Lije's attention back to The Blade.
"Old Johnny Scott was killed three days ago. Beaten to death."
"Johnny Scott, the old whiskey peddler?" Lije frowned in surprise. "Before the war, I must have trailed that man a dozen times or more. He was a cagey old rascal. I never got close to him." Lije had a moment's regret for the old man's passing. "I always figured he'd die drinking his own bad whiskey. I guess somebody was after his gold."
"What gold?" Rans looked from The Blade to Lije.
"Scott had a cabin just across the line in Arkansas, not far from Dutch Mills," Lije explained. "If you believe all the stories, he buried the gold he made smuggling whiskey somewhere in the woods behind his cabin." His gaze centered on The Blade. "Why do I have the feeling Scott's death has something to do with Alex?"
"A neighbor of Scott's saw two men ride past his house right around dark. He didn't get a good look at the men, but one of them was riding a black mare with a white star. The old man was found dead the next morning, and fresh tracks of two horses were found in his yard."
"Was the gold taken? Do they know?" Rans asked curiously.
"There were holes dug in the woods, and a couple of rusty iron pots were found nearby—empty, of course."
"Then all those stories about buried gold may have been true after all," Lije mused. "Does Sorrel know about this?"
"She knows, but she's convinced Alex had no part in it. According to her, there must be dozens of black mares with white stars in the territory. There's no proof the neighbor saw Alex's mare."
"She wouldn't believe it if there were," Lije said in disgust.
"No," The Blade agreed. "Alex has cast some sort of spell over her. The only way I know to break it is to keep her away from him. I don't want him near her again."
"That may not be wise," Lije warned.
"Wise or not, I don't trust him. The man's a thief and a murderer, and I don't want him near my daughter."
Lije couldn't argue with that, but Sorrel would. He knew that, too.
"We aren't going to solve any problems standing around here," Rans said at last. "We might as well head to the house and get washed up for dinner."
"You go ahead." Lije knew how small the house was. It would be even smaller with Diane in it. "I have a few things to finish here."
He dallied outside as long as he could, then went to the house and killed more time washing his hands and face, all the while listening to and for the occasional sound of Diane's voice. He splashed his face with cold water one last time, then wiped it dry.
When Lije finally walked into the house, everyone was seated at the wooden table. Two chairs remained empty, one beside Diane and the other one at the far end next to Susannah. Lije made the long walk to the latter. His muscles felt knotted, and his nerves were on edge.
A platter of roast beef, a basket of homemade bread, bowls of hominy, roasted onions, fresh green beans from Susannah's garden, and parsnips, dishes of pickled beets and corn relish, and jars of honey, horseradish, and butter, all made the rounds of the table. Lije filled his plate, the chink and clatter of dishes and silverware jangling his nerves. He speared the first bite of green beans.
"Let me cut that for you." Diane's quiet voice ripped through him. His glance shot to the far end of the table where Diane calmly sliced her father's meat into bite-sized pieces.
Unembarrassed, Jed Parmelee leaned back in his chair to give her room. "As useless as this arm of mine is, there are times when I wish the surgeon had sawed it off. I never thought I would consider it a nuisance, but that's what it has become. Especially in the summer when it gets hot. If I wrap it against my side the way I usually do, the heat makes a rash. If I rig it in a sling, the cloth rubs my neck raw. And if I let it dangle, it flops in my way." It was all said with more bemusement than rancor.
Diane chided him in mock reproval, "Complain, complain, that's all you ever do." Jed chuckled as Diane returned his fork to him. "There, you're all set." She picked up her own utensils. "Actually I am constantly amazed by how well Father has adjusted to the use of only one arm. Believe me, he can do more things with one arm than most people can do with two. Of course, his right arm is as strong as two."
"I know what you mean," Rans spoke up and proceeded to tell them about a friend of his in Texas who had lost a leg in the war and been blinded in one eye. "You should see him work cattle. I still don't understand how he stays in the saddle."
The food turned tasteless in Lije's mouth. Changing. Diane had talked about changing. But one thing would never change—Jed Parmelee would never regain the use of his arm. It would always serve as a reminder of just how far apart their beliefs had taken them.
He ate the food on his plate, drank his coffee. The minute Susannah rose to clear the table, Lije excused himself and walked out of the house.
On the porch that ran the length of the house, he stopped and breathed in deeply, his nerves quivering from the strain of the last hour. When he heard the creak of the door hinge, followed by light footsteps, he stiffened and shoved his hat on his head, moving toward the steps.
"Lije, wait." The sound of Diane's level voice was
like a rope cast around him, pulling him up short. He fixed his gaze on the green grass prairie that rolled to the far horizon, its vastness dwarfed by the immense sky. She came up behind him. "I hoped we might talk."
Hardened with grimness, Lije looked back to meet her gaze. "About what?"
"Us," she replied evenly.
"There is no 'us,' Diane. Not anymore."
She dropped her gaze. "That's very definite."
"What did you expect me to say?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "I . . . I received a letter from Adam Clark last week. He was the physician at the fort during the war. He's been mustered out and gone back to Abilene to take over his father's practice. He's asked me to marry him."
"Congratulations." He pushed off the porch steps and headed across the yard.
Diane came after him and swung ahead to block his path. She held her head high; her eyes sparkled with determination. The combination accentuated the pride and strength of will Lije had always admired in her.
"I haven't accepted his proposal yet, Lije," she told him, then challenged, "Have you thought at all about what I said at Susannah's wedding?"
His breath ran out in a silent, humorless laugh. "I've thought about it, but my opinion hasn't changed. I can't be your friend. I told you before—we went past that."
"I know we did. But it would be a beginning, Lije."
He shook his head, visualizing the hell of being with her and not taking her in his arms, of watching her smile and not kissing her.
"Have you forgotten your father's arm was crippled in a battle against my regiment, Diane? Have you forgotten just how far apart we have drifted since the war began?"
"I haven't forgotten, but the war is over, Lije."
"Yes, the war's over." Lije nodded. "But the feud isn't, Diane. Alex is still out there."
Impatience and disdain nickered in her eyes for an instant; then she collected herself. "I know you still regard Alex as a threat. Heaven knows he's turned into a dangerous criminal, capable of anything."