by Pam Crooks
Well, she had another think coming.
“Tell me about Carina,” Mother said suddenly. “Have you heard from her?”
“Of course not.” Rogan wasn’t that stupid. If they ever got close enough to breathe in the same air, she’d shoot him dead. “But she’s getting closer to Dodge City. Right on schedule.”
“Very good.”
“She should be there next week,” he added, counting the days.
She appeared relieved. “And Mr. Durant is prepared to meet her as we discussed?”
Anger licked at the fringes of his patience. There she was. Controlling him again. Putting her nose in his business. Not trusting him to see to the details of a scheme that would net him a small fortune.
“Neal and I are taking a great deal of care to make sure nothing goes wrong, Mother. Getting that herd sold is important to us.” He gave her a cold smile.
So was his counterfeiting ring and escaping to the New York underground. Each as important as the other.
She sat back in her chair, eyed him with shrewd consideration. “Carina’s money doesn’t mean a thing, you know.”
His smile dropped from his mouth. “It does to me.”
“It’s more a matter of seeing her destroyed. The idea of my granddaughter being raised on a ranch and working her little fingers to the bone galls me. As a Webb, she deserves better. Sometimes, I think you forget that.”
He kept his features impassive. Refused to let her goad him into the argument they’d had again and again.
“I’ve decided to put the money from Carina’s cattle into a hidden trust,” she said.
“What?” he exclaimed, startled.
“For Callie Mae’s future.”
With no thought to his own. He schooled his features to hide his growing fury.
She regarded him, shrewd again. “Are you thinking of keeping it for yourself, Rogan?”
He’d learned long ago when she looked at him like that, she took on the maddening ability to read his mind when he least wanted her to.
“It’s none of your business what I’m thinking, Mother,” he said, his voice gritting.
She jerked, as if she disapproved of his small burst of rebellion. She drew herself up, imperious as always. “You may as well know, too, that I’ve arranged for a buyer to purchase her cattle and deposit the money into a special account until the trust papers can be drawn up.”
Rogan’s blood went cold.
“His name is Edward Lonner,” she added.
“I don’t care what the hell his name is!” Rogan exploded. “He wasn’t part of the plan. Carina was supposed to give the money to Durant. That was the plan.”
She eyed him sharply. “You’re a fool to think we can trust him. He’s a gunfighter, for pity’s sake. He’d shoot us when our backs were turned and take the money for himself.”
The anger simmered, bubbled and threatened to spew. Rogan had all he could do to contain it.
“No,” he grated. “He wouldn’t.”
“Edward will see that Durant gets his cut, of course.”
Rogan’s brain spun through the anger. Durant’s cut? What about his own?
“By then, we’ll be out of the country.” Her satisfied glance lifted to the window, as if she could see through the rain and into the future. “Untraceable.”
Rogan needed time to control the fury. To bank it and bury it and keep her from seeing how much he absolutely hated her for changing the scheme he’d meticulously designed, taking control of what had been, up to now, his perfect plan for blackmail.
“Brilliant, don’t you think?” she asked, her glance returning to him.
He strove for calm. Tried to think. Assured himself she wouldn’t have control long. That he’d be in Dodge City, find Carina and have her money before Mother’s cattle buyer ever laid eyes on that beautiful C Bar C herd.
“Indeed,” he said, finally trusting himself to speak.
“It’s settled, then.”
Far from it. Not in the way she envisioned.
But only if Rogan kept one step ahead of her.
“I’ve bought tickets for tonight’s performance at the Opera House across the street,” Mother said. As if she recalled Callie Mae in the adjoining room, she glanced at the closed door. Worry flickered again. “We’ll eat dinner first. You’ll have just enough time to freshen up before we must leave.”
A cow town like Salina having something of merit to parade across a stage? He couldn’t imagine it. “Did it occur to you, Mother, to ask if I wanted to go to the Opera House?”
“What else would you do?”
“I’d find something,” he said and thought of the myriad of saloons he’d passed on the way to the Metropolitan.
Her pale lips thinned. Clearly, she suspected his preference for entertainment.
“You must spend the time with your daughter,” she said firmly. “You have ten years of catching up with her to do, Rogan. Beginning tonight. I insist.”
He swallowed a protest down. Hard.
“Have you booked your room here at the hotel yet?” she asked.
“No,” he said in a crisp tone. And declined to admit he’d hoped she’d already done that for him, given his near-penniless state of affairs.
“Well, you’d best see to it immediately. Decent lodging is at a premium in this town.”
It took all his willpower not to glance down at her leather wallet. “Fine.” He cleared his throat. Hated himself for what he had to do. “However, the prices they charge for transportation around here are exorbitant, and I’m afraid I’ve miscalculated my costs. So until I can withdraw funds from my account, could you lend me a small sum? I’ll repay you.”
“You still haven’t repaid your last loan from me,” she said coldly.
“I haven’t?” He gave her an innocent look.
“The allowance I give you is plenty to live on, Rogan. There’s no reason why you can’t. Comfortably, I might add.”
“You wouldn’t be able to live on what you give me. So why should I? I’m just as much of a Webb as you are.”
“This has nothing to do with me,” she snapped in frustration. “Your penchant to mismanage your finances must stop. Until you begin to show more responsibility, how can you possibly expect to carry on your father’s reputation?”
“I’m not my father,” he grated. The coldhearted tyrant. No wonder he and Mother got on so famously before he died. “Nor do I want to be.”
“And isn’t that obvious?” She sniffed. “He left me his generous estate, of which you, as his only son, are in no shape to carry on. I’m warning you, Rogan.” She jabbed a bony finger at him, and the cluster of diamonds on her ring sparkled in the lamplight. “If you fail in your duties, then those duties must fall to your daughter. Sooner than you’ll expect.”
He clenched his teeth. Callie Mae Lockett. Heir to the Webb fortune and all its responsibilities.
At the irony, he expelled a bitter laugh. What would Carina think about that?
“She’s coming to the age where she’s ready to be groomed to take over your father’s fortune,” his mother continued. “And she will if this—this irreverence to your obligations continues. Let me assure you it’ll only take a few minutes of my lawyer’s time to draw up the papers to turn your entire trust over to her. Maybe then, you’ll appreciate the Webb name more than you do now.”
Alarm shot through him at this new threat. She couldn’t be serious. Callie Mae was just a kid. And the money in that trust was his. Had been from the day he was born.
“Can you see why having Callie Mae with us is so important?” she asked, her voice quieter, her anger spent. “Someday, she’ll be heir to all our family’s holdings. She’ll have earned her rightful place in society, and you must accept her as your daughter. Love her as a father should. She deserves it. Do you understand?”
Seething, he forced himself to nod. Once. Because that was what she wanted him to do.
“All right, then. Let’s start over,
shall we?” She smiled and reached for her wallet. Rogan’s gaze dropped to the bill she withdrew. “Will an hour give you enough time to prepare for dinner?”
He accepted the money she gave him. Enough to pay for his room and not much else.
He hid his disdain. Swept aside his resentment and hate. And agreed to the time she assigned him. He’d spend the rest of the evening being the son she wanted him to be, the father she hoped for Callie Mae.
But tomorrow, she’d learn that she’d never manipulate him again.
Stunned by all she heard, Callie Mae eased away from the door and rolled from her stomach to her back.
She didn’t care if she crushed her dusty-rose dress while she lay full out on the floor, her ears strained toward the voices seeping in under the threshold. Her instincts had warned that something was wrong.
Her instincts were right.
The shock pumped through her in waves. She stared up at the ceiling and replayed the words in her head again.
Carina…closer to Dodge City…her money…cattle buyer…a matter of seeing her destroyed…
Callie Mae’s heart pounded in horror from that awful word that stood out from the rest.
Destroyed, destroyed, destroyed.
Now, everything made sense.
Like why Grandmother made her leave the C Bar C as if their tails were on fire, distracting Callie Mae until it was too late to realize she hadn’t even told Mama goodbye.
And why they changed rigs in Old Steve Bussell’s pasture, even though Grandmother made it seem as if it was a perfectly ordinary thing they had to do to get to New Orleans.
And now, today, when Grandmother refused to listen to her pleas to go home.
One by one, the thoughts turned and twisted inside Callie Mae’s head until they straightened themselves out, fused together and formed a clear picture. Her horror shifted into fury at what they’d done.
At what she’d done, most of all.
The fury skidded into full-blown remorse. She’d been nothing but selfish and greedy, and she hadn’t seen the signs.
Tears prickled her eyes. Signs that had been as plain as a hump on a camel. Now she was no better than Grandmother and Rogan, and that was the worst.
Being like them.
If only she hadn’t been so stupid. If only she’d listened to Mama all along, then none of this would have happened.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
She flung her arm over her eyes and fought despair.
Yet after a long, punishing moment, the despair wavered. She wasn’t stupid. She got the best grades in school. Lots of times, Mama told her how proud she was to have a daughter who could think as well as Callie Mae could, which was really important because she’d be boss of the C Bar C some day.
Callie Mae lowered her arm and sat up. A new resolve surged through her.
She was a Lockett, not a pampered Webb princess. She refused to be selfish and greedy like Grandmother and Rogan.
She was determined to be smart and tough like Mama.
Her head cleared. She had to think hard, harder than she’d ever had to think before. Her mind sifted through the information her eavesdropping gleaned, and an ugly realization dawned.
The cattle buyer Grandmother hired was going to put the money from the herd into a special account.
Which meant he wasn’t going to give it to Mama.
Which meant she wouldn’t be able to pay the ranch’s bills.
Callie Mae pressed her hands to her cheeks in a new rush of horror. And that meant she’d lose the C Bar C. Oh, she’d lose everything.
It was all Callie Mae’s fault. Every bit. Because her mother would never, never, give up her precious cattle for anything.
Except for her.
Callie Mae’s breathing quickened. But she wouldn’t know about the special account. She’d think her cattle would get Callie Mae back, fair and square.
Callie Mae had to warn her.
She scrunched her eyes shut. Think, think! She’d have to find a way. Fast. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t get on that train with Grandmother and Rogan in the morning.
Her eyes opened. She knew where Dodge City was from Salina. She’d seen the map at the train station. Both towns were railheads, busy cattle-shipping points. If she never did anything else in her selfish, life, she’d do everything she could to get there.
Somehow.
Her glance caught on the wrapped caramels, scattered on the carpet where she’d dropped them. Callie Mae had fallen in love with their buttery, creamy taste in New Orleans. Of course, Grandmother bought her a whole sackful, more than any child could ever need.
An extravagance, that candy. A symbol of yet another of her grandmother’s attempts to win her affections. Bribing Callie Mae with love to get what she wanted, with no thought to the consequences.
Callie Mae stared at the tiny wrapped treats, and her stomach turned.
They were a symbol of what she’d become, too.
Resolutely, she gathered up the caramels and strode across the room toward the window. Turning the latch, she lifted the sash, leaned out into the rain and threw them all into the muddy street below.
Chapter 14
The Next Morning
Carina drew an admiring eye over the flat Kansas prairie. Here, the country abounded in deer, antelope, wild turkeys and an abundance of prairie dogs. Every mile they traveled netted something new to see, something wild. Like wolves or the occasional bear or an entire herd of mustangs, running free.
And of course, there was all that beautiful grass. Different than the tall blue sedge grass that grew in Indian Territory, miles of buffalo grass covered the ground here in Kansas. Short and wiry, the grass contained nutriments upon which the cattle and horses thrived. McClure claimed the herd would weigh more in Dodge City than it did now, even after walking scores of miles to get there.
Carina sobered. Not that it mattered what kind of price her fatted herd would fetch. She wouldn’t see a dime of it.
She tried not to think of all she’d lose. Only what she’d gain when she arrived in Dodge City. Her precious little girl, and there was nothing more valuable than that.
Yet her glance slid down the wide channel to find McClure, who’d created his own kind of value to her. And it seemed to grow a little more every day, so much she wondered if he’d gotten downright irreplaceable.
A bemusing dilemma she found herself in, this being so dependent on one man. Except for Woollie and Grandpa, she couldn’t remember herself being in such a fix.
Under the circumstances, though, it couldn’t be helped. This need she had for him. She assured herself it was only temporary, that soon her life would return to normal, in spite of everything.
She sent her thoughts onto a different road, on how McClure would get the herd over this stretch of the Cimarron, a tributary flowing low and so salty no one could drink from it. Especially the cattle, which would die if they took in too much.
He’d ordered them rounded up into a compact group, a safe distance from the deadly stream. Its bed reminded her of snow, there were so many salt crystals in the dry sand.
A good rain would fill the area with pockets of treacherous quicksand, and she urged the Appaloosa forward. But right now, all they had to concentrate on was getting the herd across, fast, without any of them trying to drink from the briny waters.
From the grim look on McClure’s face, it wouldn’t be easy.
“We have to keep ’em moving after we cross the stream,” he ordered the outfit, gathered in front of him. “They’ll want to turn back to drink. Seems they know there won’t be fresh water until we reach Bluff Creek in a couple of days. So run ’em hard, once we get going, you hear?”
The men nodded and reached for their ropes.
“You got that, Orlin?” McClure asked.
The cowboy glowered. Clearly, he didn’t like being singled out as the most inexperienced man on the payroll. “You think I don’t know what gyp water is, Mr. McClure?”
“I’m not havin’ any of that poison.”
“All right, then. I want you to ride drag. Use your rope, your slicker, whatever you have to to keep them cows from spreading out.”
“Yes, sir.”
He continued to bark out orders to the others, leaving Carina for last. His dark gaze heated over her.
“Stay with me,” he said.
He had a way of making the command sound like something it shouldn’t. Possessive, provocative, full of promise. Or maybe it was her mind, toying with her heart, making her think it did.
“I will,” she said, that easy.
He turned away and gave his attention to setting the herd into a sudden stampede across the water.
Carina had to admit she’d gotten used to being at his side, anyway. At least during the rough spots on this drive. She’d gotten used to him giving the orders, too. Sharing the responsibility with her.
Which would get her nowhere in the end.
I have every intention of returning to my office job as soon as I can.
The words he’d declared to her at the beginning of the trail drive were solemn and clear. Unforgettable. Next week, after they reached Dodge City, he’d be moving on to things more important to him, his debt to her fulfilled.
Her mood turning glum in a hurry, she unhooked her lariat, spurred her horse forward and moved into place beside him. It shouldn’t matter she wasn’t important enough to make him want to stick around the C Bar C. In her life. That he had one of his own that didn’t include ranching. Or her.
She stiffened her spine and refused to let it matter. She resolved to think of what lay ahead—getting her cattle across this damned briny stream—and how the cattle milled, bawling, restless, wanting the water they’d be denied.
“The sun is shining on the river,” McClure said, squinting an eye toward Happy Sam, a bovine veteran of C Bar C drives who had an uncanny skill for swimming. The old steer’s esteemed place at the front of the herd gave him the responsibility of leading the beeves to the other side. They’d follow like mice. “Going to blind ’em on top of everything else. We’ll have our work cut out for us.”