Mountain Wild

by Stacey Kayne

  “It matters to me. I’ll be the perfect gentleman, well…as close to a gentleman as this dusty cowpuncher can manage,” he said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. For the first time she sensed his easy grin was a mask.

  Not since her father had she known such a gentle, considerate man, and her father had been the perfect gentleman.

  Garret’s fingers laced with hers and Maggie didn’t resist as he led her from the room. Despite Garret’s confidence in his sister, she doubted any woman would be pleased by her brother entertaining the likes of Mad Mag.

  As they neared the kitchen, the sounds of activity at the stove made Maggie’s stomach flop something awful. Her breath stalled as she spotted the tall woman setting coffee mugs on a tray. Even from the side-view, she could see that Garret’s sister was strikingly pretty, and nearly as tall as Garret. Her long blond hair had a yellow tinge that Garret’s lacked and was tied back at her nape with a white ribbon. A floppy hat hung from the chinstrap and rested on the back of her brown canvas coat. As they drew closer Maggie’s eyes widened at the full sight of her. Beneath her coat she wore denim britches.

  “Morning, Skylar.”

  Maggie hung back in the doorway as the woman turned. Skylar’s blue eyes widened with shock and horror at the sight of her brother, reminding Maggie of the blackened eyes and bruising she’d gotten used to seeing.

  “Oh, Garret.”

  “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  “I doubt that.”

  His arm slid around Maggie’s shoulders and dragged her forward.

  “Oh!” his sister said. “Hello.”

  “Maggie, this is my sister, Skylar Morgan.”

  Skylar’s smile was as bright as her brother’s.

  “Good morning,” Maggie managed to say, while resisting the urge to ram her elbow into Garret’s bruised ribs for making her come downstairs.

  “Skylar, this is Margaret Grace.”

  His formal introduction took Maggie by surprise. The pride in his voice made her chest ache and her eyes burn.

  “I’m so glad to finally meet you.” Skylar rushed forward and took her hand. “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.”

  “I haven’t done much.”

  “Nothing but save my life,” Garret said in a droll tone.

  Skylar released her hand to inspect Garret’s bruised face, lifting his hair for a close view at the gash near his eyes. “You look like you’ve seen the underside of a stampede.”

  “Honestly, sis, I’m on the mend.”

  “Bruises tend to darken as they heal,” Maggie said, tucking her hands beneath her crossed arms while discreetly easing out of Garret’s embrace. “He was hardly recognizable a couple of nights ago.”

  “And your shoulder?”

  “Better every day.” He shifted his shoulder, but his eyes revealed the stiffness in the joint.

  “We’ve brought Mr. Patterson,” Skylar said, a firmness seizing her expression.

  “My attorney,” Garret said to Maggie.

  “He and Tucker are taking care of the horses. He was anxious to come. I’m hoping he has some news you can use.”

  “Will he know who attacked you?” Maggie asked.

  “That’s what we’ll be discussing.” Garret hoped Skylar would bite her tongue if Tucker had filled her in on Strafford’s involvement. He preferred to take care of him without involving Maggie. “If you’re here, Cora must have had her baby.”

  “A boy,” Skylar said.

  “About time I got another nephew. Poor Josh has been on his own with eight little girls. What’d they name him?”

  “Tucker James. They’re going to call him TJ so as not to confuse him with his proud uncle.”

  Maggie watched their shared smiles, sensed the affection and joy shared between them and felt a sudden sting of tears. She tried to steel herself against the unexpected burst of emotion.

  What’s wrong with me? she silently scolded. She knew his family was important to him. As they should be, she told herself. Most brothers didn’t try to kill their sisters. And she doubted the men on this ranch would have stood idly by had he tried.

  “How’s the rest of the wild bunch?”

  Skylar handed him a cup of coffee, her gaze sympathetic. “Far better than their uncle. And missing him, as well.”

  “Things have been…hectic.”

  “Maggie?” Skylar said, holding out another cup of coffee.

  Struggling with a tangle of nerves, her stomach roiled. “No, thank you. I should go check on Boots.”

  The concern in Garret’s eyes told her she wasn’t hiding her distress.

  “It was really nice meeting you, Mrs. Morgan,” she added, forcing a smile.

  “Please, call me Skylar. I hope we’ll have a chance to visit more.” She picked up the tray of coffee and cups. “I’ll be waiting in the study.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Garret told her, his gaze on Maggie. “Well?” he said when they were alone.

  She didn’t know what he was expecting. “She’s nice.”

  “So are you.” He pulled her close and the next thing Maggie knew she was clinging to him, kissing him with a passion he evoked in her so effortlessly. When he released her, it took a moment to catch her breath.

  “That is exactly why I need to get going,” she said accusingly.

  “I think you’ve got that backward, honey,” he said, looking rather smug and positively edible as he leaned against the table.

  “I can’t stay, Garret.”

  “Have I asked you to stay?”

  The realization that he hadn’t felt like a blow.

  “I know it hurts you to be here, and I wish to God it didn’t. You’re free to stay or leave, I’m not setting any trapdoors. I’d like you to at least stick around until I find out what my attorney’s found out. Can you do that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.” He kissed her lightly on the lips before turning away. “I’ll be back.”

  Watching him walk from the kitchen, she felt drawn in a hundred different directions. She wanted Garret but she didn’t belong here. With Nathan in the area, she’d never be safe. She couldn’t lose another home, another person she loved.

  Needing fresh air, she turned and hurried out the back door. Her gaze landed on the longhouse across the yard. She needed to look in on Boots. As she reached the steps of the bunkhouse Tucker’s voice carried through the open door.

  “…threatened to frame him for rustling if he didn’t tell them where to find Maggie.”

  Hair prickled on the back of Maggie’s neck. Garret hadn’t told her any such thing.

  “Strafford’s man admitted to killing Duce, thinkin’ he was holding out on how to find Maggie.”

  Nathan? Shock and rage slammed through her. He’d attacked Garret because of her—and Garret hadn’t told her.

  “Garret wants to keep it hush until he figures out an approach. He knows he can’t just ride in and shoot the mayor of Bitterroot Springs without earning a noose. I’m sure he’s tryin’ to figure out how to go after Strafford while keeping within the law and his woman safe. By what his attorney’s told me, Strafford has a knack for bending the law to his will.”

  “If Strafford’s the one who got a hold on Garret’s cattle brand,” said Mitch, “Garret better act fast. If he’s charged with cattle rustling—”

  Maggie took a sliding step back, her heart raging as she rushed to the house. She knew just how crafty her brother could be.

  Garret should have told me.

  He couldn’t ride in and shoot the mayor of Bitterroot Springs, but she could.

  “She’s a lot younger than I’d thought.” Skylar smiled over a cup of coffee as she eased back in the striped armchair in his study.

  “Yeah.”

  “And pretty,” she added.

  Garret grinned, knowing he didn’t have to voice his agreement for his sister to see it.

  “She’s created quite a stir on our ranch. Ten of our work
ers lined up this morning, willing to ride over with us.”

  Garret tensed at the thought.

  “I imagine most folks have never seen her up close. Chance’s hostile reaction likely cooled their interest. I imagine she’s not too comfortable being surrounded by curious onlookers.”

  “No, she’s not.” With just the two of them in the house it was easy to forget all that it cost her to stay with him, the fear she’d set aside to help him. She’d worked hard to keep herself hidden away from everyone.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall before Tucker walked into the study. Jim Patterson trailed behind him. The man’s slight build and tailored wool suit didn’t hint at the aggressive man he knew the investigative attorney to be. Garret had sought him out after reading a newspaper article on the man’s success and belief in thoroughly investigating plaintiffs and clients.

  He stood and offered his hand to both men in greeting. “Tuck. Patterson.”

  “You look a world better than the last time I saw you,” said Tucker.

  “That’s hard to believe,” said Patterson, his slender hand giving a firm shake.

  “I feel a world better.”

  “Shoulder functioning okay?” asked Tucker.

  “It’s getting there, thanks to Maggie. Have a seat.” He motioned to the chairs Skylar had arranged around a low table holding the tray of coffee and mugs. “Patterson, Skylar tells me you’ve uncovered a good deal of information on Strafford.”

  “I have indeed.” He sat across from him and removed his hat, revealing dark hair slicked back across his scalp. “I can’t say I’m surprised Nathan Strafford is involved in all this. Of all the new ranchers in the area his property has expanded with the most notable speed. I haven’t been able to connect him to Duce’s death, but nearly all of those titles passed ownership following some sort of violence on the seller’s end.” He opened the valise on his lap and pulled out a fat folder. “His father was a former senator of Connecticut before coming to Wyoming. It would seem his son shares his political ambitions.”

  “The father still around?”

  “No.” He opened one of the folders and shuffled through a stack of papers. “Thomas Strafford died in an Indian raid back in seventy-five. Nathan Strafford returned home with a hunting party to find the rest of his family slaughtered. Here’s a newspaper clipping I found.”

  Garret took the thin paper.

  “With his family connections and knowing that Strafford recently brought in his own judge, I doubt it will do you any justice to file charges in Bitterroot Springs. I suggest we file with the territorial governor.”

  Garret’s gaze was drawn to a small family photo. A younger Strafford stood behind an older man sitting in a wing chair. A little girl in ribbons and a ruffled dress stood beside him, her hand on the arm of the chair tucked beneath her father’s palm. Even in the black-and-white photo, he could tell her hair was pure black and her eyes…were Maggie’s.

  His gaze skimmed down to find her name. Margaret Grace Strafford, age thirteen.

  “Damn.”

  “What?” said Skylar, leaning toward him.

  “It’s Maggie.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  Garret handed her the article.

  “Who’s Maggie?” asked Patterson.

  Garret’s mind drifted to the first day he’d met her in the alleyway, the shock on Strafford’s face just before she rammed her rifle into his gut…He’d recognized her. And she’d laid him out.

  Why did you stop me? Gentle society would be a better place without him.

  She’d meant to kill him. And Strafford seemed to be doing his damnedest to return the sentiment.

  “Shouldn’t a man who’s discovered his little sister survived an Indian attack be trying to help her, instead of putting a bounty on her head?”

  “What exactly are you saying, Mr. Daines?”

  “His sister’s not dead. She’s in my kitchen.”

  “There was a death certificate.”

  “It’s not real.” Strafford was her brother. He’d asked her point-blank and she hadn’t told him!

  Nothing worth mentioning. I know who he is, what he’s capable of.

  “You think the attack on his family was staged?” asked Tucker.

  “I don’t know. She’s never mentioned how her family died. She only told me that Ira saved her.”

  “Perhaps you should bring her in here,” Patterson suggested.

  He glanced at the three of them. “She’s not real fond of crowds. I’ll talk to her alone.”

  “Does this change our plans?”

  “No. I’m filing the charges for Duce’s murder.” He stood and started toward the door. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to talk to Maggie alone. Can you give me a day?”

  “Certainly.” Patterson closed his case before he stood. “I need to prepare the paperwork. If there’s a hotel you can recommend—”

  “You can stay at our place,” Skylar said.

  “I’ll come by tomorrow and then we can finalize everything.”

  “Perhaps you’d like Maggie to come and stay with us until all this is settled?” Skylar asked.

  As much as he wanted to tuck Maggie away in a safe place, he knew full well her idea of safety didn’t include a ranch teeming with people. “I don’t know that I can even talk her into staying here.”

  “Should I draw up any paperwork on Miss Strafford’s behalf.”

  Miss Strafford. “No. I can’t speak for Maggie.”

  “If I could meet with her—”

  “She wouldn’t talk to you.” He wasn’t at all sure how she’d take being confronted about her connection to Strafford. A man concerned about his sister’s safety wouldn’t be sending out mercenaries like those he’d met.

  “I’ll talk to her. I don’t want her brought into my battle. I don’t want Strafford to know she’s here.” Not that she’d be here long after he started demanding answers.

  He led them to the front door. “I really appreciate you coming,” he said, stopping at the end of the porch.

  “Tomorrow evening then,” Patterson said, pulling on his hat as he strode to the barn.

  Skylar looked back at him.

  “My boots are on the back porch.”

  Skylar glanced at his stocking-covered feet and smiled. She gave him a quick hug. “Tell Maggie I hope to see her again soon.”

  “I will,” he said, appreciating his sister’s understanding. “Be sure to give Cora and Chance my congratulations. I’ll be by tomorrow for supper.”

  Anxious to ask Maggie about her brother he made his way back through the house. She wasn’t in the kitchen where he’d left her. His gaze was drawn to a splash of color by the stove. The dish towel baring his brand hung from the handle. An array of colorful flowers surrounded the insignia he’d stitched. His gaze shot to the corner by the door where her supplies had been for the past two days.

  The corner was empty.

  He hurried out the back door and shoved his feet into his boots. The paddock that had held her horse was empty, too.

  Everett rode in from the side yard and Garret waved him over.

  “Did you see Maggie leave?”

  “Yeah. She rode out near twenty minutes ago.”

  “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

  “She’s stayin’ in the house with you. I figured you knew. She came out with her gear and asked me to fetch her saddle. She packed up and rode out without sayin’ another word.”

  She wasn’t going to leave without a word to him. “Give me your horse.”

  “You sure you’re in shape enough to ride?”

  “Now!”

  Everett’s eyes widened and he stepped down from his saddle.

  “She head south for the river?” he asked, gritting his teeth against the pain in his sides as he mounted.

  “Nope. She rode east.”

  Garret’s gaze moved across the miles of green hills to the east, dread turning his blood cold. Had she
been listening outside the study?

  Strafford’s place was nearly a full day’s ride—he’d catch up with her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  L ike a swarm of bats dispersing into the darkness, Nathan’s cowhands rode out for another night of rustling. As Maggie waited for the thundering hooves of twenty horses to fade into the distance, her brother’s shadow moved past a lit window.

  Anger surged hot through her blood. Crouched low near the house, she bid her time. The long ride to Circle S only served to fuel her rage as she remembered all he’d taken from her. Her family, her security. At the age of thirteen she’d been too naive to recognize the feeling of unease she felt in Nathan’s presence had been warning signs of danger.

  Nathan had moved into these hills like a plague. Garret had already suffered for helping her. She’d stop Nathan before he could cause further harm. This was a score she should have settled last fall.

  Turning her face to meet a cool evening breeze, Maggie drew in a deep, calming breath. Her black hair a decent camouflage against the night, she’d left her hat with Star. Surrounded by the chirping of evening insects and intermittent murmurs from a bunkhouse off in the distance, Maggie straightened.

  Clutching her rifle, a long blade tucked into each boot, she moved around to the front of the house. She kept her gaze on lights cast from bunkhouses farther out on the property as she ascended the front steps of his brightly lit porch. Her rifle resting against her shoulder, she stepped in through the front door.

  No one stirred in the darkened foyer. The quiet house smelled of tobacco and wood smoke. Light seeped from a room at the end of the corridor, a door left slightly ajar. Her moccasins silent on the long carpet runner, she walked to the doorway. She stepped through the narrow gap, her gaze sweeping the dark paneled room. A fire crackled to her left. His boots had been left by the hearth. The only other light came from a small sconce on the far wall. A lit cigar sat in an ashtray on his desk at the back of the room.

  He’ll be back.

  She glanced at a hutch to her right displaying an array of crystal cups and decanters as well as pretty plates of silver and gold. A white oval plate she remembered seeing in their parlor sat near the top, the center bearing three grapevines and the words Sigillum Reipublicae Connecticutensis inscribed around the outer edge.