“Dillon came to the room behind the café to tell us that the judge was there and that court would be held in a room at the hotel at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. He and Cleve were on their way to serve the papers on Forsythe. Later, just when Bernie and I were getting ready to come here, Dillon came back with the news that Forsythe was dead.”
“She seemed like a nice lady,” Bonnie said sadly.
“According to Dillon,” Buck said, “Forsythe had been beating her. It had gone on for several weeks, maybe longer. He and Cleve had seen her with marks on her face.”
“She stopped coming to church a few weeks ago,” Rose said. “She and her man had been here only a few months when he up and died on her, leaving her nothin’. She had to work for her keep.”
“The lad that worked there and slept in the carriage house heard her screaming. He went to the kitchen door and found her sitting on the floor . . . all bloody, and Forsythe dead. He ran up to the main street and got the sergeant in charge of the men on patrol. After he saw what had happened he reported to the lieutenant who was in the hotel lobby with the judge and Cleve.”
“Poor woman. What will they do with her?”
“I don’t know. But it would seem to me that a lady has the right to defend herself. Dillon said the preacher’s wife and some other ladies are with her.”
“Folks liked Ruth DeVary even if she did sleep with that no-good Forsythe. Women ain’t got it easy makin’ their own way,” Rose added.
They heard the thump of Bernie’s peg as he came up onto the porch. Gustaf hurried to the door to let him in. He came to the kitchen and sank wearily down in a chair.
Bonnie pressed her hand on Rose’s shoulder when the older woman would have gotten up.
“I’ll fix them some supper, Rose.”
“I guess Buck’s told you the news,” Bernie said, rubbing his stump. “The only new thing I can add is that Forsythe’s thugs are high-tailin’ it out of town. Mark Lee is in jail, and the banker has orders not to leave his house. That judge is a pisser!”
“Bernie!” Bonnie turned and glared at her brother. “Watch your mouth.”
“I meant it in a good way, Sis. He don’t let any grass grow under his feet—”
“Don’t worry, Bonnie.” Kristin was holding Buck’s arm with both her hands. “I’m getting used to the colorful language of the West. After I’ve lived here a few years, I’ll probably be using it myself.”
Buck tilted his head so that he could look at her. His face was wreathed in smiles, and his eyes shone with happiness. Kristin laughed, hugged his arm, and rested her cheek against it. Buck’s heart swelled with pride and pleasure.
“Cleve said court will still be held tomorrow morning. They’ll deal with the lawyer and the banker. They need Kristin to swear that she never signed the paper giving Lee authority to sell and that she didn’t get any pay for the land. Hellfire,” Bernie scoffed. “We all know that. She wasn’t in town long enough. Wish old Cletus knew that Forsythe got it the way he did.”
“That old bugger’s sittin’ up there laughin’ his head off.” They all looked at Rose. She could hear every word that was said. “Flitter! I got in on a lot of thin’s with folks thinkin’ I couldn’t hear. Even heard the preacher fart and nearly died, wanted to laugh so bad.”
Kristin looked up at the man smiling down at her to see how she was taking the plain talk. When she spoke, it was evident her mind was on other things.
“We’ll get married tomorrow and go home?”
“Now I’ve been thinkin’ about that,” Gustaf said, and all eyes turned toward him. “While you’re with the judge, the rest of us can make arrangements with the preacher. I want to get this thin’ done before Buck changes his mind.”
“Oh, you!” Kristin’s eyes left her cousin to rest lovingly on Buck’s craggy face. “Is there a danger of that?” she asked softly.
“Sweetheart, if the sun comes up in the west tomorrow morning . . . I may change my mind,” Buck said with a deep chuckle.
“Bernie, have you seen Tandy?” Bonnie asked with a worried frown. “The ride into town didn’t do that gunshot wound any good.”
“The last I saw of him, he and Gilly were goin’ down Center Street toward—”
“Heavens!” Bonnie’s worried look turned to shock. “Not that place!”
“Well—for cryin’ out loud! They’re old enough.” Her brother shuffled his one foot against the floor.
“They went to Flo’s,” Rose said loudly. “Them girls’ll take their money and make ’em think they’re as randy as a two-peckered goat.”
“Really?” Gustaf smoothed his hair down with his fingers. “Bernie, you got plans for . . . later?”
“Go on down there.” Bonnie plunked a plate of food on the table in front of her brother. “If you’re so dead set on gettin’ the . . . clap!”
Kristin was not the least shocked by the bold talk. Buck held her tightly to his side. They smiled into each other’s eyes, reading each other’s thoughts.
After tomorrow they would be together forever.
They might just as well have been alone on a mountaintop for all the attention they paid to the voices of the others floating around them. Kristin’s caressing fingers stroked the inside of his thigh, his hand on her hip pressed her closer to him.
Kristin’s senses reeled with happiness as they always did when he looked at her so lovingly with his beautiful green eyes. She was sure in her heart that the magic would never fade. This was real. This was forever. It was all there in his eyes, and the wonder of it filled her with joy.
Epilogue
Court convened at the appointed time. The judge heard the testimony of Kristin regarding her meeting with Colonel Forsythe and Mark Lee. She swore that she had left town because she feared she would be forced to sell and that she had never signed a document giving Lee the authority to act on her behalf.
Cleve testified that Forsythe had told him the land was sold and handed over a written statement from the Ryersons that they had been forced off their land.
The judge allowed time for the accused to defend himself. In a surprising move the young lawyer threw himself on the mercy of the court. By midmorning it was over and the judge passed sentence. Mark Lee was sentenced to five years in the territorial prison for his part in the land-grabbing scheme. His assets were to be confiscated to pay restitution to his victims, and he would no longer be allowed to practice law in Montana Territory.
The evidence against the banker was not sufficient for a jail sentence. His bank accounts, however, would be tied up for a time to allow auditors to determine to what extent he had been involved in the scheme.
Ruth DeVary was not charged in the death of Colonel Forsythe. The judge ruled that she had acted in self-defense. Forsythe’s assets, which were vast, would also be used to pay restitution to his victims.
There was some discussion between Pablo and Cleve about revealing Forsythe’s relationship to Dillon so that he could inherit the mansion in Big Timber. On hearing this, the storm that Dillon raised was nothing short of a cyclone, and he threatened to burn the place to the ground rather than accept anything that had belonged to that dirty, lowlife bastard Kirby Hyde or Franklin Kyle Forsythe or whatever he chose to call himself.
Since Colonel Forsythe had no known heirs, the judge ruled that Ruth DeVary would be considered the Colonel’s common-law wife and would therefore inherit the mansion. It would be suggested to her that she use the house as a home or a school for girls. The woman was in bed suffering from the severe beating she had taken before her mind had snapped and she killed her tormenter. The judge volunteered to help her with the legalities when she was well again.
Kristin and Buck were married as soon as the court was recessed, and all walked over to the church to witness the ceremony. Kristin wore a blue muslin with lace at the neck and cuffs that she had brought along for the occasion. Buck had purchased a new shirt, a string tie, and pants for the event. He was handsome, in an unt
amed sort of way, with his shiny, dark unmanageable hair, dark face, and rugged features. He smiled from the beginning to the end of the ceremony and squeezed Kristin’s hand so tightly that it was numb when he slid the gold band he had purchased that morning onto her finger.
When the ceremony was over, the bride and groom emerged from the church to find a buggy decorated with ribbons and Buck’s big gray tied on behind.
“A gift from Mr. Lee,” the judge said smiling, and then added when he saw Buck’s frown, “This fancy buggy would be sold to pay restitution to your wife for his mishandling her affairs. Take the buggy and enjoy the trip home.”
“Come see us sometime, Judge Williams,” Kristin called, after Buck helped her up onto the seat. “Thank you, for fixing up the papers so my husband’s name will be on all the Larkspur land. Thank you, Lieutenant, for seeing that no harm came to him yesterday. Thank you, Rose. ’Bye, Mr. Stark. You and Dillon come see us.”
“But not right away,” Buck called.
“ ’Bye Bonnie. If Gilly gets to be too much trouble, send him home and don’t take any sass from Gustaf. And, Gustaf, don’t you dare go back to Wisconsin without coming out to the Larkspur.”
“I’m not so sure I’ll ever go back, cousin. Girls out here are prettier than the ones back home.” His merry eyes flicked to Bonnie.
Kristin’s eyes filled with tears when she looked at her cousin’s familiar face. Until now he had been all that was dear to her.
“Thank you, Gustaf, for insisting I come to Montana and then coming out to see about me. I’ll always love you . . . next to my husband, of course.”
“Of course.” Gustaf tilted his cap at a jaunty angle. “I’ll just have to get used to playin’ second fiddle. Ya better get goin’, Buck, or she’ll be rattling on ’bout something”—his voice became thick and he had to clear his throat—“or the other this time tomorrow.”
“You’re welcome at the Larkspur anytime, Gus. That goes for the rest of you, too.” Buck slapped the reins against the mare’s back. “Giddy-up, horse. I’m taking my bride home.”
The buggy moved away from the church, down the side road and bypassed the town. Neither Buck nor Kristin spoke until they came out of the woods and saw the grassland spread before them.
“I’m Mrs. Buck Lenning,” Kristin exclaimed proudly, her eyes shining with happiness. “Mrs. Buck Lenning.” The name came shiveringly sweet from her lips.
Buck pulled the horse to a halt, loosed the reins so the mare could eat the grass growing beside the road, then turned and opened his arms. Kristin went into them eagerly. He held her to him gently, carefully, as if she were the most fragile thing in the world. Her hand caressed his face and he became one silent groan of pleasure.
“I’m so proud! I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have you for my husband.”
Buck closed his eyes and whispered, “Kristin.” His lips touched hers as he whispered again, “I’ll always love you.”
Whatever had begun within him when he first had seen her asleep in his chair weeks ago had been growing steadily. Now it consumed him. She was so open, so honest, so kind and giving—and so brave. He had been proud of her when she spoke to the judge.
Dear God, help me never to disappoint her.
The kiss he gave her was an innocent kiss—soft, generous, uninhibited and incredibly sweet. She responded with parted lips, yielding and vulnerable to the wanderings of his.
His heart was drumming so hard that he could hardly breathe, his love for her was overpowering. He burrowed his face deep into the fragrance of her hair and felt his whole self harden and tremble.
Kristin abandoned herself to the heavenly feeling of being in his arms, knowing that she was his, that he was hers and that they would be together . . . forever. Her fingers touched the wild soft hair she loved and then traveled to his nape and felt along the line of his jawbone. A low moan escaped from her lips when at last they were freed, and she clung to Buck as if to merge with his body.
“I think we’d better go on home before we have more kisses like that or I may carry you off into the woods.”
“I’d not mind—”
He locked his arms around her more tightly, traced along the side of her face with his lips and gently kissed her trembling mouth again.
“I may never get tired of doing this, Mrs. Lenning.”
“I hope not, Mr. Lenning.” She cradled his face with her hands. Her wanton little smile grew into low, throaty laughter.
“Let’s go home.” She touched his lips gently with her fingertips.
“I don’t want anyone to come visit for months and months!”
“You might get pretty tired of just me for company.”
“Mrs. Lenning . . . that’s impossible. There are things we can do without talking!”
Heartened by her smile and the love for him that glowed in her eyes, Buck felt he could take on the whole world. A surge of love for her flowed through him like a river. How was it possible that this woman, and only this woman, with her soft smile and calm words could make him feel so joyous?
He kissed her again with lusty delight and then picked up the reins and urged the mare on down the road.
Sitting close to him, her shoulder behind his, her hand resting on his thigh, Kristin looked up at the wide expanse of cloudless sky.
Thank you, dear Moss, Uncle Yarby . . . Papa, for making it possible for me to be here with this man. I hope you are as happy with your Anna as I am with my love.
Author’s Note
Dillon Tallman, Cleve Stark and Colonel Kyle Franklin Forsythe alias Kirby Hyde were first introduced to my readers in Yesteryear, Warner Books—January 1995.
Oil was never found in large quantities in Montana. It ranks seventeenth among the oil-producing states.
Larkspur is an annual plant that grows from one to three feet tall. The flowers are one and one-half inches wide and appear in long terminal clusters. The color varies from clear blue to purple to pink and occasionally to white. Larkspur is distinguished by a spur, formed by the upper sepal of the flower, which bears a likeness to a bird’s claw.
Larkspur is listed in Magic and Medicine of Plants (Readers Digest Association—1986) as a dangerously poisonous plant. It is second only to locoweed in causing death to livestock that accidentally eat it while grazing.
For centuries Larkspur has served mankind as an agent that destroys human parasites such as lice and itch mites. At the Battle of Waterloo in 1815 the British issued it to Wellington’s troops for that purpose. And the Union troops are said to have used it also during the Civil War.
Dorothy Garlock
Clear Lake, Iowa
Larkspur Page 36