Like Beth under Matt’s spell.
No, she refused to think of any man in that way. Never again would she let herself fall prey to a handsome face and charming manners. Living with Lionel those long, horrible months had taught her never to put her trust in any man, like Mama should have learned from Papa. The Phifer women were unlucky in love, and that was that.
Surprised she’d any tears left, she brushed moisture from her cheek at the painful memories of her married life and maybe a few for the death of the man who had fathered her son. Then, she went upstairs and started her dusting with a vengeance. With prickly Bessie Pounds’ departure, they should offer the vacated room to Matt, but she hardly wanted to encourage him to feel wanted or comfortable.
How embarrassing that he’d witnessed her when she’d been abused and her spirit was at its lowest ebb. For a time, the last weeks of her life with Lionel, Matt had roomed next door. Her cheeks flamed with the knowledge he’d been privy to Lionel’s shouted taunts about her shortcomings.
He might have been a gambling drunk, but Matt had always treated her with dignity and kindness. She wondered now how much different her life would have been had she married him instead. Would he have had reason to drink if married to her? She pictured him with her and Davey in a house somewhere, a happy family. Would his arms cradle her, would he turn to her in the night?
She pinched herself hard for even dreaming such things. After all, Matt’s courtesy to her—and it was only that and nothing improper—had enraged Lionel into unjust accusations she flirted or worse. Mortified by the recalled scenes, she sank to the chair and hid her face in her hands. How had she borne it? Knowing Lionel would never hit her again or touch Davey did not erase the humiliation and memories of the abuse she’d endured. She didn’t know how to go about reclaiming her pride and self-esteem. Would she ever recover?
She heard Matt greet those in the parlor and braced herself. His booted tread sounded on the stairs and she left the empty room. “Miss Pounds sent for her things, so this is vacant if you’d like to move in here.”
His gray eyes searched hers and she wanted to close her own against his piercing gaze. Her eyes probably showed she’d been crying and her face must be all blotchy like it became when she was upset. She forced herself to endure his examination.
He twisted his hat in his hands. Maybe he wasn’t as calm as he always appeared. “No, I’m fine in Ivan’s room. Someone else will snap this one up unless Miss Pounds comes to her senses and moves back.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Let’s hope she doesn’t.”
He laughed and she couldn’t stop her own smile in response or the rush of heat that spread through her. Suddenly, she remembered his afternoon’s plans. “How can you be so cheerful when you’re facing that place this afternoon?”
“Well, I hope to be back for supper. Thinking of your mother’s cooking makes me happy.” He shot her a grin that curled her toes.
“I-I help with the cooking, too, you know.” My heavens, what had come over her, flirting with a man, especially him?
He touched a finger to her cheek. “Then I’ll be sure to show up on time.”
He leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her mouth. Just a touch of his lips feathering across hers, really, but her bones melted.
When he raised his head, he cupped her chin and stared as if memorizing her face.
She fought down her longing to throw herself into his arms and beg him to stay. Instead she straightened her spine. “Mr. Petrov, whatever can you have been thinking to take such a liberty without my permission?”
He offered no apology, only a crooked smile that lit his gray eyes. “Save my place.” With that, he turned and went toward Ivan’s room.
Save his place? Did he mean on her lips or at the dining table? She stood staring after him, clutching her rags and feather duster to her breast like a smitten girl instead of a grown woman old enough to know better.
“Mama, Mama.” Davey pounded up the stairs. “The sheriff never did ask me questions. Reckon why?”
“He’ll probably get around to it, Davey. I expect he knows you’re such a good boy you wouldn’t leave town without telling him.”
Davey looked at her as if she’d gone crazy. “I can’t leave town unless you take me.”
“I know.” She bent and kissed his cheek then went to help her mother with dinner.
Beth couldn’t keep her eyes off Matt through the meal. All the talk centered on his impending ride. She couldn’t stand it. “You should take the sheriff with you.”
He only offered her a shuttered smile. “Should I? I believe the sheriff has duties this afternoon.”
“Then…then I’ll go with you.” She wondered if she’d lost her mind.
From the stares all around the table, everyone else thought she had. Matt laid down his knife and fork and the tiniest hint of a smile quirked his mouth. “Nice of you to offer your company, but you’re needed here. I’ll tell you all about my excursion after supper.”
Feeling as much a fool as everyone here no doubt thought her, she busied herself getting Mrs. Tabor and The Widow Nehmier refills of bread pudding from the kitchen. Excursion? He acted as if he planned a leisurely Sunday afternoon ride.
Whoever had kidnapped Ivan could do the same to Matt Petrov—or worse. One man against a whole ranch full of men made no sense. The person or persons who tore through this house meant business, deadly business. What could she do to help?
Nothing came to mind.
When she returned to the dining hall, Matt had finished his meal and stood. He put a hand on Davey’s shoulder. “You take care of things until I get back, soldier.”
Davey puffed out his chest and sat taller. “I will, Matt. You can count on me.”
Matt thought how much these folks acted like a big family. Nice to be a part of that, even for a day or two. He tipped his hat to those gathered around the table. For Beth, he offered a soft smile, and then strode toward the livery.
Devil of a thing, her offering to go with him. Kind of brainless thing that got her linked up to Lionel Jeffers. Still, it created a little kernel of warmth deep inside Matt. Someone cared what happened to him. Cared enough to ride along. Imagine that?
He took his horse, Jezebel, out of the stall and saddled her. Oslo came up before he finished, but not near as soon as Matt would have liked or expected. Anyone could have come in and taken Jezebel for all the good the man watching her did.
Oslo appeared interested. “Off to them foreigners’ ranch now?”
Matt looked up. “Reckon I’ll ride out that way. Why?”
The man shuffled and inspected his sleeve. “No reason. Just making conversation is all.” Oslo stuck a piece of hay in his mouth. “Going by yourself?”
Matt avoided an answer. “You like to go with me?”
The man shook his head. “Not me, no. I got to stay here and watch my place.”
Without a backward glance, Matt mounted up and rode out. When he crested the hill outside town, he saw a horseman waiting in the shade across the creek. He drew even with Tom and halted.
“Reckon I should hold back in case someone’s watching for you. Go on and I’ll be five minutes behind.”
Matt held Jezebel back. After several days in a stall, she wanted a run. “You tell the man owns the stable I was coming out here?”
The sheriff frowned. “Now why would I do a fool thing like that?”
“He knew. I sure as hell didn’t tell him.”
“That’s interesting. Something to keep in mind.” Sheriff Carpenter waved. “You look sharp out there.”
Matt let Jezebel run until he drew near the ranch. Then he pulled her back so he could be watchful. At a tree on a hill overlooking the gate, he stopped and waited until a few minutes before two.
Off in the distance he caught a glimpse of a lone horseman who left the trail. Matt figured the sheriff circled to get in position without being seen. Confident at least one person would know what happened to him, M
att rode toward the sentries and presented himself. He hoped he’d ride out with Ivan along.
One man still had nothing to say, but the other motioned him to follow. “Minister Warinsky waits in office.” He mounted and Matt followed him.
A grand house, sort of like a fancy lodge, came into view. The Bayergrovenia and the U. S. flags flew from twin flagpoles. A dozen or more other buildings formed mighty fancy ranch headquarters.
Matt dismounted and tied his horse at the rail then followed his guide into the main building. More guards stood inside the door. Matt passed them and tried not to look intimidated. His nerves were on edge, but danged if he’d let these boys know it.
The place might look rustic on the outside, but inside it looked fancy as a small palace.
A tall, thin man rose from a desk as they approached.
Smooth as a snake oil salesman, the man stepped forward as if he were pleased to see Matt.
The guard clicked his boot heels and bowed. “Minister Warinsky, may I present Matthias Petrov.”
“Ah, so this is a fellow countryman. I do not recall your family.”
“My grandfather’s name was Matthias Petrovsky. My father shortened it so Americans could get a handle on it.”
The man’s black eyes reminded Matt of a weasel. “Ah, yes, the Americans have trouble with our language. I believe your grandfather was a minor cousin of the late King Rudolph?”
Matt heard the emphasis on “minor” but he pretended otherwise. “Yes, and he was proud of Bayergrovenia. Talked about it all the time. That’s why I couldn’t pass up the chance to pay my respects while I’m in the area.”
Warinsky clapped his hands. A servant glided in with a tray of cups and a samovar that looked heavy enough to bring most men to their knees.
Warinsky gestured to a chair. “Let us enjoy refreshment. Won’t you have a seat?”
“Thank you, don’t mind if I do.” Matt figured his only chance was to keep up his role as the dumb bumpkin impressed with the fancy trappings of the old country.
“How long have you been in the U.S.?”
Warinsky took the cup offered by a silent servant. “Alas, almost a year. I long to return to my home, but I must do my duty to my King. No doubt a replacement will be sent in due time.” He raised the cup to his lips.
Matt tasted his own coffee. Strong enough to stand a spoon in. “Tastes like my grandfather served.”
The first genuine smile creased Warinsky’s face. “And what brings you to Texas?”
“I’m on my way to Austin, but stopped off to see a friend. Thought while I’m here I’d see how the King runs his cattle ranch.” Matt set his cup down. “You favor the Herefords?”
Apparently surprised, Warinsky set his own cup and saucer aside. “Actually, we breed a mixture.”
Matt rubbed his hands together. “I’d be pleased to have a tour of the place if you have time. I’m fixing to start my own ranch. Using this trip to gather information that’ll help me along.”
Warinsky took the bait. “But of course.” He rose and people hustled to assist him as if he were the King. “We’ll start with the lodge here.”
After a tour of a lodge fancier than any big city hotel, they moved to the outbuildings. An hour of touring brought them back to the front of the main building. Matt figured this was a not-too-gentle adios.
Warinsky bowed. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your tour?”
“Sure did. It’s a mighty impressive place.” He stopped mid stride. “Oh, we missed that little building yonder.”
Warinsky frowned and gave a dismissive wave. “That is the infirmary. We have a man there who’s under quarantine for a difficult problem and must not be disturbed.”
“No fooling? I sure don’t want to catch anything contagious.” Matt spoke loud as he untied Jezebel’s reins and mounted. He touched his forefinger to his hat brim.
Matt rode a few feet then turned back to shout, hoping his voice carried to the infirmary. “Thanks for the hospitality. You ever get down around Austin, you look up the Petrov spread, you hear?”
With a sense of failure at not having secured Ivan’s release, he turned and rode away.
From inside the infirmary, Ivan longed to cry out. The guard beside his bed made that futile. No point in getting Matt killed.
How he’d hoped Matt would secure his release today. He fought tears welling behind his eyelids, but never would these ruffians see him weep. A man who had received his country’s highest medals for bravery could offer no less to his captors.
The sentry sneered. “Our visitor has left, so don’t expect help from him. You have wasted our time long enough. Time is running out.”
“I am Ivan François Romanovich, Ministre de Valeur, aide to Rudolph Mischa Rhonesburg, King of Bayergrovenia. You will accord me the respect due my position.”
“King Rudolph is dead, and so are your chances of escaping. Minister Warinsky represents the new Bayergrovenia of King Gregorov. He will have his way.” He closed the door decisively as he left.
Ivan lay on his bunk, too weak to rise. He’d had little to eat and too much of the sleeping draught since he’d been here. Periodically, Warinsky used that crop to beat him in the hope of getting the papers he wanted.
Ivan closed his eyes. He thought of his beautiful Katrina and their daughter, Anna. What a happy family they’d been and how much he missed them since their deaths. Lately their images melded into Lena Mae and Beth, and it worried Ivan. He couldn’t forget his wife and daughter, but maybe this was a signal to move on.
If he survived…no, when he escaped from Warinsky and his minions, he would tell Lena Mae of his heart’s desire. He hoped she missed him, yet didn’t want her worried. She had Beth and their friends to comfort her.
And Davey. Ivan smiled. Davey was as dear to him as if he’d been his own son.
But how long could Ivan bear up under this treatment from Warinsky. He rose from the bunk. He must exercise to keep his muscles strong. When Matt brought help, Ivan Romanovich would be ready.
Chapter Five
Matt had put a mile between him and Warinsky’s sentries when he stopped under a giant cottonwood and waited for Tom. Worry created a burning ball in the pit of Matt’s stomach. If Ivan had even heard his shout, would the man feel encouraged or abandoned?
Tom reined in minutes later. “You got sand, I’ll say that. What was in that little place you pointed at? Man rushed in while you were around back then left after you’d gone.”
“Warinsky said it was the infirmary with a man under quarantine in there.” Matt snorted. “No telling what shape Ivan’s in, but he must be alive at least.”
“Not likely to hold out much longer.” Tom leaned on his pommel. “This’ll make three days he’s gone.”
Matt nodded. “He’s no youngster, that’s for sure, plus he’s recovering from a gunshot.” When the sheriff appeared surprised, Matt explained about Ivan being shot when he’d tried to claim the ranch a couple of weeks earlier. “Damn, we don’t know if he’s even conscious.”
“How many men you count? I figured twenty guards and as many cowboys.” Tom rode slowly, waiting for Matt to come alongside.
Matt nudged Jezebel. “Plus as many servants. The cowboys are American, though. Didn’t look too fond of Warinsky, either. Matter of fact, neither did the servants, but they’re probably loyal to the King.”
“Didn’t recognize any of the drovers, so I don’t think they’re local boys.” Tom scratched at his chin. “Sure wish I knew just one person who works there I could talk to—friendly or not.”
“Why don’t we see who comes to talk to the man at the livery stable?”
“Henry Oslo?” The sheriff laughed. “I believe you got something there. You’re wily as a wolf.” He pulled up and stopped laughing. He turned an accusing glare on Matt. “That’s it. I knew your name sounded familiar. Well, I’ll be damned, you’re Wolf Peters.”
Matt lifted his hat and ran his hands through his hair before he set his
hat back on his head. He hated the name he’d acquired and the reputation. He’d begun using Peters when he first hit the bottle to spare his family any shame. Others stuck him with Wolf because he usually worked alone. Usually did everything alone. Took a lot out of him to ask the sheriff along today.
“Tom, I’d sure appreciate it if you kept that quiet a while longer.” He pulled out his Federal Marshall’s badge and showed it to the sheriff.
“Well, I’ll be damned if I didn’t think you’d been a lawman at one time or another.” The sheriff speared him with an angry glance. “Why didn’t you tell me up front you was a Marshall? You think I was in on some skullduggery?”
How could he have known without some investigating? But he shook his head to Tom’s question. No point riling the local law. “You’re a good man, Tom. Thing is, I’m supposed to be undercover until this mess with Ivan is squared away.”
They made plans to watch Oslo’s place around the clock and separated before the town came into view. Matt rode into the livery stable and unsaddled Jezebel. After he’d rubbed her down and given her a hefty measure of oats, Oslo appeared.
“I could’ve done that for you.”
Matt figured the man had watched from somewhere until all the work was done. Did he spy on the boarding house the same way? “No matter. I like to take care of my own horse when I can.”
“Guess you’re heading back over to the boarding house. Hear they got real good food there.”
Matt smiled, knowing this man would be watched the way he spied on the boarding house. “You heard right. Best food I ever ate in my life.”
The man narrowed his eyes and spat a stream of tobacco juice onto the ground. “Wouldn’t rent to me. Said I’d likely track up the place.”
And smell it up. Matt couldn’t see this man fitting in with the other tenants at the Phifers’ place. “Women boarders are mighty fussy. Make you clean up before you sit down to a meal, set a big store by manners.”
Wild Western Women Boxed Set Page 34