“Mr. Lenning, I’ve gleaned a little information from you about my uncle, but I still know nothing about what I may, or may not, have received from him.”
“It seems clear to me. You’ll get Yarby’s land and half a herd of about two thousand head of steers.”
“Two . . . thousand?”
“More or less. By the time we get the herd to the buyer there will be considerably less. Rustlers know I’m shorthanded. If not for the Sioux they would already have them.”
“Forsythe told me that Uncle Yarby’s cattle had been stolen and that you were in with the thieves and would get part of the money.”
“Steal my own cattle? I’m not surprised he’d say that. He’s got a mouth that spouts what he thinks folks will swallow. He can make some believe black is white.”
Hearing that made Kristin smile, and dimples appeared in her cheeks. Buck felt a jolt of something warm and exciting deep in his belly.
“He’s smooth as silk. If not for Cletus and the Gateses warning me, it would have taken me longer to catch on to his palavering. My brother has business friends with blathering tongues, but none of them can hold a candle to Colonel Forsythe.”
“Were you not tempted to take his money and go back home?”
“Not for a single second.” She looked away from him, hoping he would not see the hurt of Ferd’s rejection.
“Why not?”
“Personal reasons.”
“Do you have someone back there that . . . you care about?”
“Only my cousin Gustaf.” Kristin took a deep shuddering breath. “My brother would be happy to know of the predicament I’m in. He said this was a wild-goose chase and I’d end up in a . . .” She caught herself before she revealed her bitterness toward her brother.
“He didn’t want you to come out here?”
“He forbade it.”
“Then why did you? Couldn’t another member of your family take care of things for you? This Gustaf for instance?”
“Gustaf encouraged me to come. It was my chance to be independent, to have something of my own. You couldn’t possibly understand unless you had lived on someone else’s charity all your adult life.”
His dark brows drew together in a frown. “I guess not.”
“I’m sorry to bring my troubles down on you, Mr. Lenning. I just don’t know what to do. But it’s not your problem, is it?”
“It’s a problem for both of us. You’re here, and I’ve got to decide what to do with you.”
“I’m truly sorry to be a bother to you. But, please understand that I’d planned to make my home here, walk on my own land, sit on the porch and look at the sunset, watch the moon come up, plant a garden, prepare food for winter knowing that I could stay here until I died. I could let my hair hang, go without shoes if I wanted”—she smiled at that and Buck couldn’t take his eyes off her face—“I would have no one to tell me to leave or that I must do this or that for the sake of what folks would think.”
“Life isn’t that simple.”
“It should be. If you put all your hopes, dreams and toil into a place, you should be able to enjoy the fruits of your labor. Of course, I’ve not put any toil into a home yet, but I’m willing. I need to find a place for myself.”
“Yarby had toiled for this place. Someone was willing to kill him for it.”
“You helped him, didn’t you?”
“Everybody needs somebody.”
“It’s strange that you’d say that. You seem to be the most self-assured person I ever met. I can’t imagine you needing anyone.”
She waited and was rewarded. He smiled again.
“I’ve had a lot of practice looking after myself.”
“Didn’t your father look after you when you were young?”
“I guess so.”
Buck had never sat over breakfast and visited with a pretty woman before. As pleasant as it was, he knew that they had to get a few things settled between them.
“I just don’t know what to do,” she said for the second time, giving him the opening to say what had been on his mind, what he’d mulled over for most of the night.
“You can stay here and . . . help me with Moss. It will give me time to deal with Forsythe. After that we can decide what to do about Larkspur.”
He saw the narrowing of her eyes. She opened her mouth and closed it without saying anything. When she spoke it was with stiff lips.
“Stay here in the house . . . with you?”
“You can’t stay in Yarby’s house.”
“Without another woman present it wouldn’t be decent!”
“Who’s to say what’s decent and what isn’t? You said you wanted to be someplace where you didn’t have to worry about what folks think.” His voice was set; his eyes on hers were unwavering. A look of angry frustration ran rampantly across his face. “Do you consider yourself a decent woman?”
“Of course!”
“If folk thought otherwise would it change that?”
“Of course not! I know what I am.”
“Then why care what they think? If you’re afraid I’m going to force myself on you, rest at ease. Getting you in bed is the last thing on my mind.” Watching her to see if she believed the lie, Buck held his breath until his chest hurt, then breathed deeply to ease it.
His tone of voice as much as his words had brought a deep flush to Kristin’s face.
“You needn’t be crude.” She voiced the rebuke because she could think of nothing else to say.
“It’s just an offer. Gilly will be back in a few days. If you don’t want to stay here on the Larkspur, he’ll take you to wherever you want to go. I doubt that there’ll be anyone along before he gets back.” A strange unaccustomed loneliness possessed him at the thought of her leaving.
“I’m not ungrateful, Mr. Lenning. It’s just that this . . . ah arrangement would be . . . scandalous back in River Falls. An unmarried woman would not live in a house with a man even if his aged father did live there.”
“Do you think the ladies in Big Timber will look down on you for living out here with me and Moss?” Her lips tightened, and she refused to answer. “If you’re here in the West long enough, you’ll learn that out here folks are not so quick to jump to judgment. I’ve known whores who play the piano in church and sing in the choir. On Sunday you can’t tell them from the virgins.”
The thought came to Kristin that a man as roughly handsome as Buck Lenning would have known many whores. Horrified that he might be able to read her thoughts, she suddenly rose to her feet, went to the cookstove and stood with her back to him.
“If you stay, I’ll sleep in the bunkhouse if it’ll make you feel . . . safer. Moss and I would have slept there last night, but I wasn’t sure if you’d been followed and didn’t want to leave you in here alone.” He spoke quietly, but his voice roared in her ears.
“You think the colonel will send men out here to . . . try to kill us?”
“What do you think? Without you and me, the Larkspur is his.” He laughed without humor. “I’m hoping my Sioux drovers will bring back a few relatives who’ll help stand guard. If so, we’ll not be completely surprised when the colonel’s men come. I’ve a place up in the hills behind the ranch where I can hide you and Moss.”
She went back to the table and sat down.
“You’ve done it before?”
“Several times. I’ve had to tie Moss to a tree and gag him.”
“How . . . awful.”
“It saved his life,” he said quietly, his eyes so narrowed she could hardly see the green glint between the thick lashes.
“I didn’t mean to criticize. It’s like a war, isn’t it? You really shoot at each other.”
“Yes. Someone will die before it’s over. I intend to make sure that it isn’t me, or Moss, or . . . you.”
She looked at him quietly, trying to read his thoughts. The silence stretched between them like a taut thread. The moment came to an end when she drew in a ragged breath.
“You’re right, Mr. Lenning. What people think about me shouldn’t matter. It’s what I think of myself that’s important. I accept your offer and thank you for it.” She reached across the table to extend her hand. “I’ll look after your father and tend your house in exchange for your protection.”
Buck grasped her slender hand tightly in his large rough one. When she smiled, her eyes moved over him like a touch. Watching her lips spread and her eyes light up, he was filled with a quiet peace. He suddenly felt the desire to hold this soft woman in his arms, kiss her lips and beg her to stay here in this house he had painstakingly built and tried to furnish, and to care for him in all the ways a woman cared for her man.
The thought was so real that before he could comprehend what was happening, his own body responded to his thoughts. He dropped her hand quickly and turned to Moss, who had risen from his chair.
* * *
It was dark by the time choir practice was over and Bonnie Gates came out of the church.
Del Gomer was waiting.
Bonnie recognized him immediately and put her hand in her pocket and grasped the little derringer Bernie insisted that she carry.
In the three days since Bernie had helped Kristin Anderson get out of town Del had eaten every meal at the restaurant. Mike Bruza had been there several times. He was loud and a braggart, but he’d been polite to Bonnie. Del always waited until the man had gone before he left himself.
“Miss Bonnie—” The tall man stepped out of the shadows and came to walk beside her. “You shouldn’t be out alone at night.”
“My safety is no concern of yours.”
“It is very much a concern to me.”
“I have a derringer in my pocket and I won’t hesitate to use it.”
“You need a real gun. That little pistol wouldn’t stop a man unless you hit his heart.”
“It would stop him if I aimed it between his legs,” Bonnie said staunchly, and continued walking.
“It would slow him up a bit, that’s sure.” His hand cupped her elbow, she shook it off, stopped and waited for him to walk on. He stayed beside her.
“I don’t need your protection.”
“Yes, you do, Bonnie. But don’t worry. Anyone who bothers you will answer to me.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want your attention. I don’t even like you.”
“Yes, you do,” he said again. “You just won’t admit it.” He walked along beside her as she hurried down the road. “I’ve been watching to see that you’re not bothered.”
“Spying on me, you mean.”
He chuckled. It was a strange sound coming from a killer, soft and musical.
“It wouldn’t take much spying to know what you do. You work too hard. All you do is go to the mercantile, to church, to visit with Mrs. Gaffney. You didn’t even go to the ball game on Sunday afternoon.”
“If you hurt Rose Gaffney, I’ll shoot you! I swear I will.”
“She’s in no danger from me.”
“That’s very kind of you.”
He ignored the sneer in her voice.
“Would you like to go to Laramie or Denver, see a stage play and buy some nice clothes?”
“In exchange for what? Sleeping with you? No, thanks. My brother and I have a business to run. That takes up most of my time.”
“Let me take care of you, Bonnie. Don’t you get tired of waiting on men who take a bath once a year?”
“Look, it doesn’t matter to me if they never bathe. I’m doing honest work. I don’t kill people for my living.”
“I’ll be away for a few days.”
“Lucky me! Is Forsythe sending you out to kill someone? How much is a life worth to you, Mr. Gomer?”
“Watch out for Mike Bruza. Don’t get close to him. If he grabs you, shoot him.”
“I’ll shoot anyone who grabs me, and that includes you.”
“Bonnie.” He stepped in front of her so that she had to stop. “I’ll never hurt you.”
“How about my brother? If Forsythe told you to kill him. would you do it?”
“It depends.”
“On how much money he’d pay you?”
“No. It’d depend on if I wanted to or not.”
“You’re a cold-blooded bastard.” She spat the words with disgust and tried to step around him.
“You liked me once.”
“I didn’t know what you did for a living then.” She moved again to go around him. “Get out of my way. My brother is expecting me home.”
“Believe me. I’ll never hurt you.”
“And you believe me. I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“I accept that for now.” He cupped her elbow with his long, slim hand. “Don’t pull away,” he said sharply. “I’ll see you safely home.”
Bonnie walked along beside him, hoping and praying that her brother would not be waiting for her at the foot of the steps leading up to their rooms over the restaurant.
She had liked Del when she first met him. He had come to town shortly after she and Bernie had arrived and opened the restaurant. He was quiet, well mannered, attentive, and appeared to be genuinely interested in her.
He lived in the hotel, came and went at odd times and never seemed to be short of money. That bothered her as did his evasiveness about his personal life. She began to suspect that he was married. Then later, he had killed a man in the alley behind the mercantile, and no explanation was ever given.
Jim Lyster was the law in Big Timber. He made a big show of it, walking up and down the street with a big tin star on his chest. He never arrested anyone except a drifter or a railroad bum. It was well-known that he was on Forsythe’s payroll.
No one knew the man Del had killed or why he had killed him. He never mentioned the incident to Bonnie. Cletus had told her of Del’s connection to Forsythe. At first her disappointment had been great. Then she began to chide herself for being so blinded by his good looks and polite manner.
Now she despised him.
Bonnie saw with relief that Bernie was not waiting for her. As soon as they reached the stairs going up the side of the building, she jerked her elbow loose from Del’s hand and hurried up the steps.
“Good-bye, Bonnie. I’ll be back at the end of the week.”
She ignored him, but at the top of the landing she looked back. He was standing there, waiting for her to go inside. She rearranged her angry features so as to not alarm her brother, shoved open the door and stepped into the room. She looked toward Bernie’s bed, where he usually lay reading this time of night, giving his knee and stump relief from the wooden peg.
The bed was empty. Her brother lay on the floor beside it, his face a bloody pulp. Her breath caught in her throat. She let out a little cry of anguish and rushed toward him.
Abruptly she was grabbed from behind. A wiry arm wrapped around her neck as another arm locked hers to her sides and pulled her tightly against a chest.
“Hold on, sister. I ain’t through with that bastard on the floor yet. I ain’t goin’ hurt ya none if ya behave yoreself.”
Fear knifed through Bonnie and with it came a shriek that was cut off by a hand over her mouth and nose. Her attacker was holding her head so far back that she couldn’t see Bernie. She struggled and tried to kick backward. The hand tightened, cutting off air to her lungs. Then a voice penetrated the roar in her ears.
“Let go of her.”
The arm around her dropped as did the hand over her mouth and nose. As she gasped for air, she heard a loud bang. Staggering to a chair, she grasped the back of it to steady herself. While she drew air into her lungs, she looked around. Through a daze she saw Del Gomer shoving his gun back into the holster that lay against his thigh. The man he had shot had been flung back against the wall and lay crumpled on the floor. Bonnie’s frantic eyes sought her brother.
“Bernie? Please . . . no! Ber—” Her voice deserted her. She dropped to her knees beside him.
His face was a
lmost unrecognizable. Blood poured from his nose and seeped from the broken skin on his face. It oozed from a deep cut on his forehead. His crippled leg was folded beneath him as if his good leg had collapsed, letting him fall to the floor.
“I’ve got to get a doctor!” Bonnie jumped to her feet only to bump up against Del, who was holding a wet towel.
“Put this on his face and let’s see how bad he’s hurt.”
Bonnie grabbed the towel. At this moment she would have accepted help from the devil himself. Del knelt down on the other side of Bernie and carefully lifted his hand and placed it on his chest. Bonnie gently mopped her brother’s face.
“Please, Brother, don’t be hurt bad,” she whispered over and over.
Her sight was blurred by the tears that fell on her hands as she wiped the battered face. She wasn’t aware that she was crying or that it was Del who placed a pan of water on the floor beside her. She rinsed the bloody cloth and dabbed at the wounds again while Del straightened Bernie’s leg. She was aware, however, that it was Del who brought the lamp, set it on a chair, knelt down and looked closely at the wound on Bernie’s forehead.
“He needs a doctor.”
“Doctor’s gone to Billings.”
“Oh, Lord.” Bonnie reached for Bernie’s hand.
“Don’t touch it, Bonnie.” His fingers closed around her wrist. “His fingers are broken.”
“Oh . . . oh merciful God! Why did he do this?” Her eyes flew up to meet his.
“I’ll put him on the bed, then go get some things to patch him up. I think the bastard knocked him out and then stomped him. That cut on his head needs a couple of stitches.”
“You can do that?”
“I can do it. First I’ve got to get rid of that trash in the corner.”
Bonnie’s legs were so weak when she stood that she stumbled to hold on to the end of the iron bedstead.
“Who is he?”
“Can I borrow this towel. I’ll wash it in the horse tank and bring it back.” Without waiting for permission, he wrapped the towel about the dead man’s head, picked him up and slung him over his shoulder.
“Who is he?” Bonnie demanded again.
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