Untamed Cowboy (C Bar C Ranch Book 1)

by Pam Crooks

  “So I hear.”

  “I don’t trust her.” He kicked the dirt with the toe of his boot, as if he wished it was the woman’s scheming fanny instead.

  “You think any of us do?”

  “No, sir. But folks like her, why, they’ve got so much money, they always get what they want, no matter what.”

  “Scary, isn’t it?” Penn said and meant it.

  “She wants to keep Callie Mae all for herself.” TJ frowned at the ground. “I think she’ll find a way to do it.”

  “I’m going to do my best to see that she doesn’t. We all will,” Penn said. He kept his voice firm. The kid had to know it was the truth.

  TJ’s head came up. Distress showed in his face, barely old enough to need a razor.

  “But her son ain’t no better than she is, Mr. McClure,” he protested. “Worse, I reckon. With them two in cahoots with that gunslinger, hell, Miss Lockett don’t have a chance against any of them.”

  The wrangler’s words hit a raw nerve. An ugly reminder to Penn that if he hadn’t failed in Denver, if he hadn’t been so stupidly duped by Abigail, Rogan wouldn’t have escaped him at the Brown Palace, fled to Texas and ended up on Carina’s doorstep.

  But Penn had failed. Now, because of it, Carina was being blackmailed.

  “And you know what else?” TJ demanded.

  Penn dragged himself out of the guilt. “What?”

  “Trailing this herd is a waste of time,” TJ said. “Ain’t no way the Webbs are going to give up Callie Mae. I just got a feeling they won’t.”

  Penn thought of the revenge that would be waiting for him in Dodge City. He bent to retrieve his saddle from the ground. “I’m going to prove you wrong, TJ.”

  “I hope you do, Mr. McClure. Truly, I do.”

  TJ stepped forward and took the saddle. Though Penn had every intention of saddling his own horse, he let the kid do it for him. TJ seemed to have a need to stay busy and work off some of his suffering.

  “Going to be real hard on Miss Lockett if she can’t get her little girl back,” TJ muttered and buckled the cinch.

  “She will,” Penn said. And vowed it. Again.

  “Going to be just as hard on her if she loses the C Bar C,” TJ added.

  Jesse Keller strode toward them with a loose-hipped swagger. “Aw, quit your fussing, TJ, will you? No one wants to hear it.”

  Stinky Dale strode with him. “You got to stop thinking like you are. Where’s it going to get you?”

  TJ stiffened. “We’ll be in Dodge City next week. Can I help it if I’m scared about what’s going to happen when we get there? Miss Lockett thinks the world of her little girl and the C Bar C, too, and she stands to lose ’em both.”

  “You don’t know for sure. None of us does,” Jesse said.

  “Damn shame Callie Mae has such rotten kin.” Stinky Dale shook his head in regret.

  The spicy smell of his cologne sailed toward Penn on a current of air. The scent was always stronger in the mornings, after he slathered his cheeks with the stuff. Penn had learned not to grimace when he was in the cowboy’s company.

  TJ opened his mouth to keep his place in the discussion, but Penn held up a hand. He slid a concerned glance toward Carina, standing near the chuck wagon with the drummer, who, Penn learned over breakfast, could talk the hide off a cow.

  “That’s enough, boys. Your voices will carry,” he said. “Miss Lockett doesn’t need to hear you ruminating about her affairs.”

  They kept their silence, then, but their expressions revealed their troubles. They’d stand by her through whatever happened, Penn knew. Ready to fight for her and Callie Mae, if necessary.

  He hoped they wouldn’t have to. Spilling their blood wasn’t in the plan.

  “Go on now,” he said. “Miss Lockett will want to pull out as soon as the drummer leaves.”

  From the looks of him, TJ didn’t feel much better about her situation, but he obediently headed back to the remuda with the other two following. Penn wished he could’ve found the words to assure them Carina would find happiness in the end.

  But he couldn’t. Because she stood to lose a lot.

  Her men didn’t fully understand what drove Rogan and Durant, besides, or that greed was only a part of it. Rogan’s need to avoid arrest, Durant’s partnership, and their certain escape into hiding with Carina’s blackmail money stuffed in their pockets… hell, Penn didn’t know himself how it’d all turn out.

  He’d sleep better at night if he did.

  His scrutiny found her again. She took the drummer’s breakfast plate and dropped it into the wreck pan with the rest of the dishes waiting to be washed, then took his elbow and urged him toward his supply wagon.

  Penn’s gaze clung to the soft sway of her hips while she walked. Damned if she wasn’t something to look at. Tall, slender, always in control. She had presence, even out here on the desolate Kansas prairie, an aura about her that kept a man interested.

  And Penn was interested, all right.

  An image of those long legs twined with his formed into a fantasy that stirred up a slow heat in his groin. A sudden longing to have her arms wind around him, pull his body to hers. He imagined the feel of her rounded breasts pressed to his chest, her skin smooth and warm, her lips full and deliciously wet, and how she’d sheath him, slick and hot. Little sounds would come from her throat, female sounds, wild and on the edge of control…

  The fantasy was real and always there, on his mind. This wanting that didn’t go away.

  It shouldn’t have happened, but Carina had come to mean something to him. More than she should. Different than her being a mother, desperate to meet the demands of her child’s conniving father. Or a woman, forced to endure the rigors of a cattle drive for weeks on end.

  She couldn’t have been more different than Abigail. Yet Abigail had meant something to him, too. In ways opposite, but no less troubling.

  Penn shook off the thoughts. That blood-heating fantasy. He had no business dwelling on either woman, not when he had revenge to win against the man who stood between them both.

  But he couldn’t help wondering how he’d walk away from Carina when it was all over.

  Salina

  Callie Mae propped her chin on her hands and stared out the Metropolitan Hotel window into the dirt street three stories below. A light afternoon rain dripped off the edge of the roof and spattered onto the glass. The gray clouds covered up the sun like a dirty blanket and left her spirits feeling as dismal as the day.

  Sighing, she dragged her stare down one side of Iron Avenue as far as she could. Then, because there wasn’t anything new to see from the last time she looked, she did the same thing to the other side, with the same result.

  Her mouth tilted into a pout. There was nothing to do here except watch a few horses and rigs go by. Folks who didn’t mind getting a little wet moseyed along the boardwalks so they could do their shopping or go to a restaurant, but mostly, Salina was boring.

  Grandmother said the place was a wicked cow town, and she wouldn’t let Callie Mae go outside, even if it wasn’t raining. And if she could go outside, well, there wasn’t any place for girls like her to play except at Oak Dale Park maybe, which was only a few blocks away, but Grandmother didn’t know anyone, so she said Callie Mae couldn’t go there, either.

  Blast it.

  Callie Mae didn’t want to be cooped up in the hotel, like a dressed-up chicken in a fancy henhouse.

  She didn’t want to go to Europe anymore, either.

  She wanted to go home.

  Really bad.

  Except she didn’t know how to tell Grandmother.

  At first, Callie Mae had been excited about traveling on a big ship across the Atlantic Ocean. She’d never done anything like that before, but that was days and weeks ago, and now Grandmother would be very disappointed she’d changed her mind.

  Callie Mae didn’t want to hurt her feelings, especially since she’d been about as nice as she could be, buying Callie Mae w
hatever she wanted. Like ice cream, every day. And there were so many new dresses and shoes and hair ribbons in her trunks, why, Callie Mae couldn’t remember them all. Books and games and the latest toys…

  Sometimes, Callie Mae felt guilty having them. Maybe because none of her friends back home did. But mostly because Mama would frown and call them an extravagance.

  Which they were. Callie Mae knew they were.

  Mama… her throat tightened. Oh, she missed Mama a whole bunch. More and more every day, so much it made her heart hurt.

  And she’d go on missing her if she didn’t do something about it. Callie Mae knew that, too. She’d just have to find a way to tell Grandmother she’d already had plenty of fun, and now she wanted to go home.

  The scary part was that it had to be today, and soon, because she didn’t have much time left. Rogan was coming. When he did, they’d all go to Kansas City, where they’d take a train to New York. Getting on the ship would come after that, and by then, she’d be so far away from Mama, she might never get back.

  Well, not for a really long time, anyway.

  Callie Mae had been gone long enough already.

  A carriage appeared, and her thoughts drained away, like the rain on the windowpane. The rig appeared alongside the Opera House on the corner, turned onto Iron Avenue and finally drew up in front of the Metropolitan. The carriage door opened, and a man, dressed in a dark suit, stepped out.

  She drew in a breath, straightened and turned toward her grandmother, sitting at the desk, her reading glasses perched on her nose. A lamp illuminated the papers spread out before her, the itinerary for their upcoming travels. On one side of the desk, her pocketbook sat open with her fine leather wallet beside it, left there after she’d paid the beautician for curling their hair.

  “Rogan’s here,” Callie Mae said.

  Grandmother looked up, her brow arched in surprise. “Rogan?” She removed her glasses. “He’s your father, darling. You should address him as such.”

  Callie Mae remained silent. He didn’t act like a father, so she’d stopped calling him one. She knew how babies came, and that he’d been with Mama a long time ago, but ever since, he acted as though Callie Mae was a stranger. Even after they left the C Bar C.

  No wonder Mama didn’t like him very much. Callie Mae didn’t, either, and sometimes, that made her sad. Other times, though, like now, she just plain didn’t care.

  “I want to go home,” she blurted.

  Grandmother stilled. But slowly, she smiled and set her glasses on top of her papers. She held her arms out. “Come here, darling.”

  Callie Mae obediently drew closer, her petticoats rustling beneath her dusty-rose silk dress, her step silent on the thick carpet.

  But she halted just beyond reach. Because if Grandmother hugged her and smoothed her hair and said loving things like she always did, Callie Mae would give in and do anything she wanted her to do.

  “Please send a wire to Mama and have her come get me,” she said.

  Grandmother’s arms lowered. “The weather’s dreadful, and it’s making you restless, isn’t it? Have I told you I have tickets to see a champion roller skater in Kansas City? Why, he’s a boy just your age, and he’ll be great fun to see. I’m told he’s all the rage right now. That will give you something to look forward to, won’t it?”

  Callie Mae shook her head. She’d already been to a magic show and a Chinese acrobat performance in New Orleans. A children’s opera, a comedy and a puppet show, too. So what if she didn’t get to see a roller skater?

  “No, thank you. I’d rather go back to Texas.” Callie Mae strove to be polite, but it was hard when Grandmother tried to distract her like this. “Will you go with me to the telegraph office?”

  Grandmother cocked her perfectly coiffed head. “Are you missing Daisy again? Perhaps we can find a stable in Kansas City—”

  “I’m missing Mama,” Callie Mae said and barely kept from stomping her foot from frustration. She didn’t like it that Grandmother wasn’t listening to her. “I’m missing Grandpa, too. I’ve been gone a long time from home, and I want to go back to see them.”

  “But arrangements have already been made to go to Europe, darling. You know that.”

  Callie Mae bit her lip. Yes, and the tickets were really expensive. Besides, Grandmother had spent a lot of time planning this trip across the ocean, and she was looking forward to it a bunch. Now, everything would be wasted.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Will they give you your money back?”

  “It’s not about the money.” Grandmother leaned forward and reached for her again. “I just want to be with you, that’s all. It means so much to me when we’re together.”

  Callie Mae took a step back. Rebellion she hadn’t felt for a good long while stirred. It meant a lot to her to be with Mama and Grandpa. “I’ll go to the telegraph office by myself, then.”

  Grandmother looked alarmed. “No, you won’t. A beautiful child like you, alone on those streets out there? Absolutely not.” She sat back in the chair and regarded her. “How about we write a letter instead? You can tell your mother all about the wonderful things you’ve seen and done, and we’ll mail it, first thing in the morning. I promise.”

  Callie Mae had already sent letters. Almost every day. Grandmother should know—she’d posted them for her at the post office.

  Still, mail could be slow in getting to Mobeetie, and even slower out to the ranch. Maybe Mama hadn’t gotten the letters yet.

  But if she had, she didn’t answer. Every day, Callie Mae waited for word from her, and it never came.

  She always found that disappointing. And strange. Why wouldn’t Mama write her back?

  A knock sounded, and her glance jumped toward the door, the dismay building inside her that with Rogan’s arrival, the opportunity to convince Grandmother to let her go back home was lost.

  “Let your father in, won’t you?” Grandmother asked, tidying up the papers strewn in front of her. Clearly, she considered their discussion finished.

  Callie Mae debated disobeying until she got the answer she wanted, but in the end, she did as she was told. Rogan entered the room, unbuttoning his overcoat. His brief nod acknowledged her; he removed the garment, shook off the rain and hung it on the rack.

  “Hello, Mother,” he said, adding his hat.

  “Rogan.” She smiled, happy as always to see him.

  Callie Mae rolled her eyes and shut the door. She didn’t bother to greet him, and he didn’t appear to notice. She glowered at them both.

  He bent and kissed his mother’s cheek. “A dreary day, isn’t it?”

  “The worst. Come, sit here beside me. I trust your trip went well?”

  “As well as can be expected, I suppose.” He took the chair she offered, his glance touching on her purse, her wallet, the papers stacked in a neat pile. “The roads in this godforsaken part of the country are wretched. I’ve never seen so much mud in my life.”

  “Indeed.” She nodded, sympathetic. “We’ve been spoiled by life in the city, haven’t we? I don’t believe I’ll ever take a paved street for granted again.”

  “I can’t wait to get back to civilization,” he muttered.

  “Tomorrow. When we arrive in Kansas City. Conditions will be better for us there.” She smiled again.

  Rogan shifted in his seat and indicated the papers on her desk. “Do you have everything arranged?”

  “Of course.” Her smile wavered, as if she recalled her conversation with Callie Mae. She reached for her pocketbook and withdrew several pieces of wrapped candy. “Darling, your father and I have some things to talk about. Here’s some caramels. Why don’t you read one of your books while you eat them? You’ll feel better, and then we’ll write your mother a letter, like I promised.”

  Callie Mae made no move to take the candy. She hated being ignored. She considered the merits of flinging herself to the floor and throwing a full-blown tantrum right then and there.

  And discarded th
e idea.

  If she’d never understood how selfish Grandmother was before, she did now. It was one of the things Mama had never liked about Grandmother. Her selfishness.

  Like a fog melting in the sun, Callie Mae began to see things different. Clearer. Like a grown-up.

  Like Mama.

  Rogan watched her with eyes as blue as her own. She didn’t like the way he looked at her with his lids lowered all secretive. As if there were things about him he didn’t want her to know.

  He didn’t care one blasted whit about what she wanted. He never had. He wouldn’t help her get home to Texas, so she’d just have to get there on her own.

  Putting on her polite face, she stepped forward, took the caramels from Grandmother’s outstretched palm, then went into the adjoining bedroom and shut the door.

  Chapter 13

  “She wants to go back to Texas,” Mother said. She kept her voice low and slid a worried look at the closed door.

  Mother was too confident of herself to get worried. Which made Rogan nervous.

  “You’re not going to let her, are you?” he asked.

  Her gaze snapped toward him. “Of course not. After we’ve come this far?”

  He relaxed a little. “Good. Distract her, then. Buy her something expensive.”

  “She’s not swayed so easily anymore.”

  “Then you must not be spending enough,” he said and smirked.

  But Mother wasn’t amused. “She’s a smart child, Rogan. She’s discovering what matters most to her.”

  “She’s just a kid. How would she know what matters? Convince her you have what she needs, and she’ll get over her whining.”

  “She’s whining to go back to her mother. How can I compete with that?”

  His gaze hardened. “Find a way.”

  Her thin nostrils flared, but she inclined her head, conceding him the point. “It’ll be easier to distract her once we’re on the train and out of this awful place.”

  Rogan let her go on believing he’d be on that train with her. It never occurred to the old biddy he might have plans of his own. Ambitions and dreams. Did she really think she could manipulate him to fit hers? Did she honestly believe he wanted to spend weeks on end with her and the daughter he had no room—or desire for—in his life?