Warrior's Prize (Panorama of the Old West Book 15)

by Georgina Gentry

  The ride turned out to be pleasant enough, except that Keso stuck to the couple like flypaper. She was really annoyed with him as they stopped in a little grassy dell to eat. She spread the picnic Silver had sent. “After we eat, Keso, you might want to scout the area to see if any of our strayed cattle might have wandered here.”

  “Sure.” He flopped down and watched her unpack the crispy fried quail. “Great ride, huh, Cleve?”

  Cleve seemed to be having trouble dismounting. When he did, he came down off Blue slowly as if every muscle and bone in his body hurt. “Yes, wonderful ride. After we eat, Wannie, we probably ought to start back.”

  “So soon?” Keso asked. “Why, I thought we might ride another five or ten miles at least.”

  Cleve grimaced. “I don’t think so. At least, not today.”

  “Pity,” Keso said and grabbed up a piece of juicy quail, wrapping it in a hunk of Silver’s crusty homemade bread. “I was really enjoying the trip.”

  “You’re the only one,” Wannie said through clenched teeth.

  He grinned at her as he stuffed his mouth. “Maybe the next ride will be better.”

  Cleve merely grunted as he hesitated, looking at the food. “You forgot the plates.”

  “Plates?” Keso said and dug into the food with gusto. “You don’t need plates at a picnic, Cleve.”

  “We’re going to have to eat with our fingers?” He sounded just like a prissy old maid, Wannie thought.

  “Oh, Cleve, don’t make such a big deal of it—you can wash your hands later,” she said.

  “But we didn’t bring any towels.”

  She must not be short-tempered with him just because he didn’t fit into her world. She must remember that soon, they would be living in his world of china plates and crisp linen napkins. A butler would probably accompany picnickers to serve and clean up. “Wipe your hands on your pants, Cleve.”

  “You must be joking.” He picked up the meat gingerly and began to eat.

  Just watching Cleve pick at his food set her teeth on edge.

  “Well, I’m through,” Keso announced and wiped his hands on the grass. “Reckon I’ll go water the horses—there’s a creek over the next rise.” He stood up and led the horses away.

  Cleve looked after him until Keso disappeared. “Wannie, can’t we do anything or go anywhere without your brother?”

  “I don’t see how I can politely tell him he’s not wanted.”

  “Try,” he said and gave her a charming smile, reaching over to take her hand. “After all, we’ve hardly been alone together at all.”

  “I’m sorry, dearest,” she said and patted his face, “I have to apologize for Keso.”

  He looked wounded and sighed. “He just doesn’t like me, I’m afraid, and he seems determined to turn you against me.”

  Wannie shook her head, remembering. “I realize that and I just don’t understand it. Why, he was even mean enough to hint you were less than honorable—”

  “Whatever he told you he saw Maureen do—”

  “Maureen? What about the maid?”

  Cleve’s face went white, then red, and he stuttered. “I—I’ll tell you why he’s out to turn you against me if you promise not to mention it to him.” Cleve lowered his voice. “He seemed determined to force his affections on Alexa, and you know, she’s really promised to one of my friends from college. Keso was very offended when I cautioned him against pursuing her.”

  Why did she feel such disappointment? Was it because she’d harbored the tiniest suspicion that Keso was jealous of Cleve on her account? “Early on, I thought that he might be interested in Alexa, but he made it clear I was wrong.”

  “You see!” Cleve said triumphantly, “I just hope you realize now his motive is revenge—if he can’t have Alexa, he’s determined to break us up.”

  Her disappointment was tempered by anger. “Don’t worry, Cleve, I won’t let him do that.”

  He smiled at her. “Good. Now, we’ll just get through this visit somehow and go ahead with our plans. Remember, a big society wedding takes a lot of planning.”

  She nodded, her thoughts already full of the balls and parties, the clothes and jewels. “Oh, Cleve, I’m so happy.”

  “Not as happy is I am, my dear.” He looked soulfully into her eyes as he kissed her fingertips. “Perhaps while I’m here in Colorado, we might inspect some property. I’m thinking of buying some mining interests and expanding Brewster Industries throughout the state.”

  “Of course,” she said, pleased that he wanted to share his dreams and ambitions with her, “but I thought your family had plenty of money already.”

  “Wannie, you’re so naive,” his tone was smug, “nobody ever has enough money. Besides, don’t you see? Right now, I’m beholden to Father for a position in his company. I have to ask for every dime. If I could make some successful business deals on my own, he might stop treating me like an irresponsible boy.”

  “I’ll help you,” Wannie promised, “we’ll look at any town or any property you want to.”

  “And about your brother,” he lowered his voice, “just discount anything he says. I’m sorry he doesn’t like me, but now you know his motives.”

  She nodded, her heart full of love for this handsome, charming man. She was annoyed and disappointed with her foster brother. She hadn’t thought he could be so petty and vengeful.

  Keso returned just then, leading the horses. “It’s getting late. If you two are through eating, we should head back.”

  Cleve frowned. “Don’t you ever ask anyone else’s opinion or do you just take charge?”

  He pushed his Western hat back and grinned. “I reckon I just take charge, but then, I feel responsible when I’m herding tenderfoots.”

  “Keso is right, as much as I hate to admit it,” Wannie said as she began to gather up the picnic things. “It’s time to head back.” She favored Cleve with her warmest smile. “It’s been an unforgettable day.”

  “Made possible by an unforgettable girl,” Cleve purred.

  Keso made a rude noise and Cleve shot her a knowing look. She nodded to show she understood. Such pettiness wasn’t like Keso—she was disappointed in him. There was still tomorrow, Wannie thought, and the day after that and the day after that. Somehow, she and Cleve would steal a little time alone to plan their future.

  Cleve hummed to himself as the trio rode back toward the cabin. He still didn’t know exactly what Keso had told Wannie about Maureen, but he’d convinced Wannie that Keso was being petty and vindictive. Now she would discount everything the lout said.

  This trip to this primitive place to meet Wannie’s foster parents was a nightmare; these hicks had no idea how to enjoy life. Cleve yearned to get back down to Denver where he could savor the local bordellos and gambling dens. No, he decided as he rode, it wouldn’t be worth the risk of Wannie finding out about it. He’d better be careful until he married her. He watched her back is she rode ahead of him. Such a naive beauty, but Father liked her and she’d be a dutiful wife as soon as Cleve broke her spirit so she would behave herself. Once he was her husband, he could lock her in her room or take his riding whip to her if she did such an outrageous thing as wear men’s trousers again. Besides, all those fine grandchildren she was going to produce would soften the old man’s heart and make him loosen the purse strings.

  In the meantime, Cleve was busily planning how to get his hands on some of the Evanses’ mining interests or maybe buy up some mines of his own and expand Brewster Industries in Colorado. Just let that ruffian Injun try to stop Cleve Brewster!

  FOURTEEN

  The next several days were ghastly, Wannie thought. Cleve seemed bored with the simple pleasures around the cabin and the tension between Cleve and Keso was so bad, it hung in the air like a dark cloud.

  One night, as they sat around the table after dinner, Cleve said, “Wannie, I’d like to explore some of the Western slopes. Isn’t that where they’re making new mineral finds?”

  Chero
kee frowned. “Yes, but a lot of that area is Ute land, Cleve, so that doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

  “Some of it isn’t, and it would be such a coup for me if I could expand Brewster Industries into mining and timber.”

  Keso snorted. “Looks to me like it’s already been expanded enough. Didn’t you say your father has shipped a bunch of plows and farm equipment to the White River Agency?”

  “Yes, that agent, Meeker, ordered them right before I came. That’s what interested Father into expanding still further,” Cleve admitted. “Pots, pans, and other kitchen utensils are being shipped to Colorado, too. More settlers mean more business.”

  It all seemed so logical to Wannie as she sat playing with the expensive pin and gold bracelets Cleve had given her and beamed at him. “Eventually, the Utes are going to have to walk the white man’s road.”

  “I reckon even the Utes have accepted that,” Silver said. “Tension seems to have died down lately.”

  “Good,” Cleve said, “in the morning, I’d like to do some exploring for a few days.”

  Keso looked amused. “Good way for a tenderfoot to get lost and die in the mountains.”

  “Keso’s right,” Cherokee drawled, “Wannie says your pa sets a heap of store by you.”

  Wannie said, “I could go with him—I know the area fairly well.”

  “Drat, Wannie!” Silver reminded her, “that would hardly be proper, even if you are engaged.”

  “Mrs. Evans is right,” Cleve said sanctimoniously. “As a gentleman, I could hardly besmirch a young lady’s reputation.”

  “Unless you got a chance,” she thought she heard Keso mutter.

  “Keso,” she snapped, “what was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I might hire a guide,” Cleve said.

  Silver frowned. “As a matter of fact, the one person who knows these mountains best is Cherokee, followed by Keso.”

  As much as Wannie hated to admit it, she knew Silver was right. All of them turned and looked at Keso.

  “No,” he shook his head, “I’m not gonna mollycoddle a greenhorn on a jaunt around the Western slopes.”

  “I didn’t ask you,” Cleve snapped.

  “Well,” Cherokee said, “he sure can’t go alone.”

  Wannie fixed her big, dark eyes on Keso. “Keso, you could do this.”

  “N-o, no,” Keso shook his head.

  She took his hand, looking up at him as she had when she was very young and attempting to cajole him into doing something that she knew he didn’t want to do. “Please? For me?”

  For a long moment, they stared into each others’ eyes. She was abruptly conscious of the warmth of his hand. It felt like a surge of electricity passed between them. She turned his fingers loose is if they had burned her.

  “Wannie, I don’t think so,” Keso said.

  Cleve seemed peeved. “I’m sure I could hire a competent guide in Denver. I think I’ll go down there, spend a few days and look around.”

  “Why don’t you do that, Cleve?” Keso challenged. “You’ll hire an old drunk who’ll get you lost in some canyon and you’ll never find your way out.”

  “He’s right,” Cherokee said, reaching into his shirt for his little sack of tobacco. “Keso’s the only one who knows this country like the back of his hand.”

  Cleve looked at Wannie. “Is he really the best?”

  She nodded.

  “I suppose I could pay you to take me.” Cleve’s tone was grudging.

  “You don’t have enough money to tempt me,” Keso said and leaned his chair back on two legs.

  “Keso!” Silver and Cherokee said in shocked unison.

  “That’s no way to treat a guest—especially since he’s about to become a member of the family,” Silver added.

  Wannie turned her most imploring gaze on him again. “Please, Keso, do it for me.”

  Keso sighed. “Damn, Wannie, why do you do this to me?” There was a long pause, but she knew he was weakening. She had always known how to get her way with Keso. She turned big, wistful eyes on him again.

  “All right, Brewster,” Keso said as his chair came down on the floor with a resounding bang, “I’ll do it, but it’s against my better judgment. Let’s get our gear together tonight and we’ll leave tomorrow.”

  “You know,” Cherokee said as he rolled a cigarette, “I might be tempted to go with you two.”

  “I think not,” Silver said gently, “your arthritis can’t take sleeping on cold ground. Let these two young bucks go out there and prowl around in the woods for a while if they want, but you ought to have better sense.”

  Cherokee grinned at her. “You’re right.”

  “Well,” Wannie said as she hopped up, “what time are we leaving in the morning?”

  “We?” Cleve said.

  “Yes, we,” Wannie echoed.

  Keso laughed and shook his head. “Uh-uh, brat. This is too rough a trip—you can’t go.”

  “You two are going off and explore and have a wonderful time without me? Nothing doing.”

  “Wannie,” Cleve said, “proper young ladies don’t do things like this.”

  “You expect me just to cool my heels here at the cabin until you get back?”

  Silver said, “Wannie, stop it. You know we wouldn’t even consider letting you go.”

  “But they’ll be having all the fun.”

  “Sleeping on the cold ground and cooking over a campfire isn’t all that much fun. Besides, you’ll slow them down,” Silver said.

  “Silver’s right,” Cherokee lit his cigarette. “The Utes may have calmed down, but there’s still too many reasons a girl doesn’t have any business out in the wilderness.”

  She was losing this argument. She knew it when she looked into their faces. “It isn’t fair. Keso used to take me everywhere with him.”

  “Wannie,” Cleve said, drawing himself up primly, “as your fiancé, I forbid it.”

  “Forbid? Forbid?” She was very close to losing her temper.

  Keso looked amused. “Behave yourself, brat. I say you’re not going.”

  She was as disappointed as she was angry. “I’m not a child anymore.”

  “Then stop acting like one,” Keso said and give her his no-nonsense frown. “You can’t go.”

  “Humph!” She knew it was useless to argue with Keso when his mind was made up.

  “Well!” Cleve bristled, “why is it what he says carries more weight with you than what I say?”

  “Because I raised her,” Keso said, “and I know her better than anyone in this world.”

  He was looking at her strangely and she wondered what he was thinking.

  Cleve’s handsome face was set in annoyance. “Wannie, when we are married, I will expect you to obey me.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Wannie snapped, “I was planning to have that ‘obey’ thing taken out of the ceremony.”

  Cleve looked scandalized. “That would cause a great deal of gossip in proper circles. The next thing I know, you’ll be wanting to join up with those crazy suffragettes.”

  “Just in case you didn’t know,” Wannie seethed, “I already—”

  “More coffee, anyone?” Silver hopped up and began clearing the dishes.

  Wannie glanced around the table. Cleve looked annoyed, while Silver and Cherokee seemed to be holding their breath. Keso seemed slightly amused, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

  Slowly, Wannie formed a plan. She couldn’t win this fuss head-on—she’d have to be more clever than that. She forced herself to smile and ducked her head. “Of course it’s not smart to take me—I realize that. I’ll just stay here then and maybe start on some needlework for my trousseau.”

  “Spoken like a proper graduate of Miss Priddy’s,” Cleve said with such smug satisfaction that she wanted to slap him until his teeth rattled.

  Cherokee and Silver breathed sighs of relief.

  Keso looked at her with puzzlement. He knew her all too well, sh
e thought, and he’s trying to figure out why I’ve suddenly become so agreeable. He smells a rat, and he’s right.

  Wannie had no intention of being left behind while the men had all the fun. She intended to slip away from the cabin and follow them. If she caught up with them way out in the middle of the mountains, they would have to take her along. Wannie didn’t intend to miss this big adventure!

  At the White River Agency, Nathan Meeker clasped his hands behind his back and watched out the window with satisfaction. Out in the valley, the new plow turned over furrow after furrow of fresh dirt.

  A heavy footstep stomped across the porch, then entered the building. As Meeker turned around, the big Ute the whites called Johnson strode in, his dark eyes blazing with anger. “We thought we agree—no plow up our racetrack.”

  “Be reasonable,” Meeker said and made a placating gesture. “Surely the Utes realize that farming that land is more practical than using it for a racetrack.”

  Johnson stomped over, and glared down at Meeker. “I got many horses. If I can no race them, what I supposed to do?”

  “Well,” Meeker smiled, “like all the other Indians, you have more ponies than you can feed. I suggest you kill some of them.”

  “Kill them?” The other’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Kill my fine ponies?” He reached out suddenly, grabbed Meeker by the coat, and slammed him backward against the desk. Even as the Indian agent yelled for help, the angry Ute turned and stalked out of the building.

  Arvilla ran into the room. “Dear, are you all right?”

  He stood up and brushed himself off. “Bruised a little, that’s all. I’m going to alert Major Thornburgh that I may need his troops. I’m through trying to be reasonable with these savages!”

  A lean rider galloped into Fort Steele and swung down from his lathered horse. “Where’s the Major? I’ve got an urgent message.”

  The old sergeant on the porch eyed the man with curiosity. “Gone elk hunting up in the mountains with his visiting brother—take a day or so to find him. How urgent?”