Cattleman's Courtship

by Lois Faye Dyer

  “Well?”

  She glanced up. Seated across from her, Lonna eyed her expectantly.

  “Give, girl. You left with Cully and came back with Quinn. What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  Lonna huffed in disbelief. “Right. You’re always this ruffled and flushed after a dance with any other guy in the room.”

  “Okay, you’re right,” Victoria conceded. “Quinn told me he doesn’t do relationships. I gathered that’s because he tried it once and it didn’t work.”

  “Hmm. He must have been referring to that college thing.”

  “What college thing?”

  “He was engaged while he was in college—senior year, I think. But I heard she broke it off.”

  Victoria’s heart sank. “So he fell in love, his heart was broken and he’s never gotten over her?”

  “No, I don’t think it was that. Gossip said he was lucky since the ex-fiancée was mostly interested in money. It may have been true, since right after graduation, she married an older man who had fistfuls of cash and was willing to spend it on her. In any event, Quinn never acted like his heart was broken. Of course, with the Bowdries, it’s hard to know exactly what they’re feeling. It’s not as if any of us are really close to either Quinn or Cully except maybe their neighbor, Becky Sprackett. They’ve always been a law unto themselves. My mother thinks it’s because their father never hid their parentage, and Eileen was so horrible about it that the boys must have been affected.”

  “It’s difficult to imagine that they weren’t,” Victoria agreed, sympathy for the young boys vying with anger at the woman who had hurt them. “But that doesn’t solve my problem,” she continued, forcing her thoughts back to the present. “What am I going to do about Quinn?”

  “Are you sure you want to do anything?” Lonna asked, eyeing her with concern. “I’ve never known you to react to a man like this, Victoria. Don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily. “I’m delighted that some guy finally distracted you from your single-minded obsession with your career. But Quinn is…well, he’s Quinn. And you’ll be going back to Seattle, and he’ll be here in Montana. Are you sure you want to pursue this? It couldn’t have been easy for Quinn when his fiancée broke their engagement. Do you want to chance becoming involved with him when you know you’ll leave him too? Maybe Quinn is right, perhaps you should avoid each other while you’re in Colson. You’re not a one-night stand, ‘affair’ kind of person, are you?”

  “No,” Victoria sighed, turning the bottle in a slow circle on the tabletop. “I’m not. And I have to confess that all the questions you just raised are ones that have occurred to me, too. But.” She propped her elbow on the table, dropped her chin in her palm and her gaze met Lonna’s. “I’ve never met a man as…distracting…as Quinn. He makes me feel things I’ve only read about in books before. I know you and Nikki think Quinn might break my heart, but I’ve spent my whole life being careful. Quinn makes me want to take chances, be reckless. And isn’t that what you told me I need?”

  Lonna shook her head in disbelief. “I never thought I’d see the day that my intelligent, practical, attorney cousin completely derailed. Honey, when I told you that you should learn to have fun and take chances, I was talking about working less, laughing more, dating some guys. I never meant for you to pick Quinn Bowdrie! That’s like going from a bicycle to a nuclear rocket in one step.”

  “But you told me that you believe he’s a better man than he thinks he is.”

  “I did—I do,” Lonna said promptly. “But that doesn’t mean that he won’t break your heart.”

  “Nonsense.” Victoria waved a hand dismissively. “That won’t happen. I’ll only be here a short time. Besides, I owe him a favor for fending off Sam Beckman for me.”

  “Hmm.” Lonna couldn’t hide her lack of conviction. “If you say so.”

  Victoria was no closer to resolving her mixed feelings about Quinn two days later when lunch-time arrived. She stripped off her pharmacy smock and walked next door to Annie’s, a small cafe that served wonderful home-cooked meals.

  The temperature had soared into the nineties, the hottest day since she’d arrived in Colson. She pushed open the plate-glass door and stepped into the cafe, sighing with relief as the air-conditioning dropped the temperature around her. Since the cafe was busy and there were no vacant stools at he counter, Victoria decided to bide her time and wait to be seated.

  One of the women in front of her glanced over her shoulder. Victoria nearly groaned aloud as she recognized Eileen. Instead, she forced herself to nod a polite greeting.

  “Good afternoon.”

  Mrs. Bowdrie sniffed and lifted her chin a notch higher. “Good afternoon.” Her voice was frosty. Her eyes narrowed. “I understand that you ignored my warning.”

  “What warning was that?” Victoria said mildly, determined not to lose her temper with the difficult woman.

  “About my stepsons.” Her narrow body seemed to contract, her spine stiffening, her hands clutching her purse with a force that creased the expensive white leather. “You were seen dancing with not one, but both of them at a notorious bar.”

  A notorious bar? Victoria stared blankly at her for a moment before she realized what Eileen was referring to.

  “My aunt and uncle have assured me that the Crossroads Bar and Grill is a completely respectable establishment,” Victoria responded, hoping to distract the older woman from her obsession with Quinn and Cully.

  “Hmph.” Mrs. Bowdrie sniffed. “Just because most of the population of Colson can be found there on Saturday night doesn’t make it respectable. And even if it were,” she added, “that won’t save your reputation after you were seen carrying on with Quinn Bowdrie.”

  Victoria forced herself to count to five, slowly. “Just exactly what do you mean by carrying on, Mrs. Bowdrie?”

  “Dancing and heaven knows what else in dark corners, Miss Denning.”

  Victoria’s teeth snapped together with a click. She could feel the flush of anger surge up her throat and heat her cheeks. Her patience disappeared. “Since when does dancing with a man in a public place qualify as carrying on?”

  “Since you chose to do it with Quinn Bowdrie.”

  Eileen’s voice rose, carrying easily to the tables nearest the door. The occupants turned to stare, openly listening.

  “I have a table for you, ma’am.” The young waitress interrupted, nervously eyeing Victoria and Eileen. At that precise moment, the woman who had shared lunch with Eileen touched her arm tentatively.

  “If we’re going to make our one o’clock reading group, we should really leave, Eileen.”

  “Very well.”

  The woman smiled apologetically at Victoria and, chattering nonstop, eased Eileen out of the cafe.

  Victoria, eyes narrowed angrily, frowned, unsure whether she was relieved or furious that the interruption had made it impossible for her to deliver a stinging reply.

  “Ahem.”

  Victoria turned away from contemplating the door to find the waitress, menu in hand, waiting patiently.

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  The girl’s worried expression eased and she turned and led the way across the room to a table near a window. Still seething over Quinn’s stepmother’s remarks, Victoria seated herself and opened the menu while the waitress hurried away to fetch water. Victoria, her appetite gone, closed the menu with a snap, glancing up to discover that many of the cafe patrons were watching her. With an effort, she forced her facial muscles to relax and curved her lips in a smile, waggling her fingers in hello to a white-haired woman in a neat blue shirtwaist dress seated across the room. Becky Sprackett returned the wave and added a wink and a wide smile before she returned to her soup.

  Fifteen minutes later, Victoria glanced up from her lunch salad to find Becky nearing her table.

  “Hello,” she said pleasantly, wondering what the blunt-spoken elderly woman wanted.

  “Afternoon.” Becky pulled out the chair opp
osite Victoria. “Mind if I join you?”

  “No, not at all.” Victoria waited as Becky settled her spare figure onto the wooden seat and set her handbag next to her. “How are you?” she asked politely.

  “Arthritis has been acting up some, but other than that, pretty good. But I didn’t sit down to talk about my health. I came over here to talk to you about Quinn.”

  Oh no. Victoria struggled not to sigh with exasperation and not to let her annoyance show on her face.

  “I see,” she said noncommittally.

  “I doubt it.” Becky eyed her assessingly. “Just what are your intentions toward that boy?” she demanded bluntly.

  Chapter Four

  “My…” Victoria got out. Speechless, she took a sip of water, choked, swallowed, carefully set the glass back on the blue-and-white checkered tablecloth and drew a deep breath before she squeaked. “My intentions?”

  “That’s what I said, girl.” Becky pushed the water glass toward her. “Sounds like that went down your windpipe. Have another drink.”

  Wordlessly, Victoria obeyed.

  Becky watched her down half the glass of water, listened as her coughing subsided and at last, nodded in satisfaction.

  “There you go. Now, as I was saying, I’m the closest thing Quinn and Cully have to family. They barely knew their mama, their daddy’s gone—rest his soul—and Eileen Bowdrie is worse than no stepmother at all. It’s obvious to anybody with half a brain that Quinn’s taken with you. Even Eileen has heard about it. The important question is, what do you think of him as a person.”

  Victoria had an instant mental image of Quinn on one knee, carefully steadying a little boy’s stumbling, and decided to answer as bluntly as Becky had asked. “I think he’s kind and caring, and I think he goes out of his way to convince people that he’s just the opposite.”

  Becky visibly relaxed against the chair back.

  “Good.” She nodded approvingly. “If you know that about him, then you must be smart enough to figure out that Eileen’s warnings are poppycock. He was a good boy, and he’s a good man. I suspect that after listening to Eileen curse and rave all these years, Quinn—and Cully—have come to believe that she’s right about them. But she’s not.” Becky fixed a stern gaze on Victoria and pointed an arthritis-gnarled forefinger at her. “And you may be just the one to convince Quinn they’re all wrong.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “Hmph. In a town as small as Colson, a person can’t sneeze without everyone in town knowing that they have a cold. The gossips have been burning up the telephone wires ever since Quinn danced with you the first time at the Crossroads. The Bowdrie brothers are the most eligible bachelors in the county, but neither of them have shown any signs of being seriously interested in a woman until you.”

  “But, Becky,” Victoria protested, slightly dazed, “I’ve only danced with Quinn twice and talked to him a couple of times away from the Crossroads. Why would anyone jump to the conclusion that he’s seriously interested in me?”

  “Because that’s four times more than he’s ever bothered to single out any other woman in the county.”

  “That’s unbelievable. Lonna told me that Quinn rarely dates, but I didn’t think—”

  “It’s closer to the truth to say that Quinn never dates,” Becky interrupted. She waved one hand in the air dismissively. “Oh, I’m not saying that he has no contact with women. Cully teases him about some divorcee he visits now and then in the next county, but as far as taking a woman to dinner or the movies—he simply doesn’t.”

  “But why not?”

  Becky shrugged. “Darned if I know. He was engaged for a short while when he was away at college but broke it off before he came home.”

  “What happened?” Victoria asked, curious.

  “Don’t know. He never talks about it.”

  “Mmm.” Victoria wished Becky had asked him because her instincts told her that the broken engagement was an important piece necessary to the solving of the puzzle that was Quinn. The older woman had been blunt about her loyalty to the Bowdrie brothers, and Victoria was convinced that Becky genuinely cared about Quinn. She decided to return Becky’s bluntness with her own. She glanced around the cafe and found that the other diners had lost interest in her.

  “I’m going to be honest with you, Becky.” The wiry little woman edged forward in her chair, eyeing her expectantly. “I’m…interested…in getting to know Quinn better, but he told me in no uncertain terms that we won’t be seeing each other because a connection with him will inevitably destroy my reputation in Colson.”

  “He’s probably right.”

  Becky’s words dashed Victoria’s hopes. She’d expected an adamant denial.

  “The gossips will have a field day at first,” Becky went on. “But they’ll get bored and move on to the next juicy tidbit soon enough. If you want Quinn, that’s a gamble you’ll have to take.” Becky’s mouth firmed and she frowned at Victoria. “Who do you care most about, girl, Quinn or the local gossips?”

  “I’ve never dealt with small town gossips before,” Victoria admitted. “But in the office, I’ve always dealt with gossips and rumors by simply ignoring them.”

  “Good.” Becky nodded with satisfaction.

  “Of course, all of this may be moot,” Victoria said thoughtfully. “There’s always the possibility that Quinn was letting me down easy and that the real reason he doesn’t want to see me is that he simply isn’t interested.”

  “Hah,” Becky snorted. “I’ve never heard that Quinn Bowdrie lost so much as a single night’s sleep over a woman. But you’ve got him so stirred up that Cully’s threatening to move out of the main house and pitch a tent in the yard because Quinn’s impossible to live with. Don’t you worry about whether or not he’s interested. In fact, I think it’s downright encouraging that he’s worried about your reputation. That’s a good sign.”

  “You think so, huh?” Victoria grinned at the little old lady.

  “I know so.” Becky slapped her palms against the tabletop and pushed to her feet. She slung her handbag over her forearm and fixed Victoria with a stern eye. “You do something about that boy. You hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Victoria responded solemnly, struggling to keep from smiling. “I will.”

  “Good. See that you do. You come on out to the ranch and have lunch with me tomorrow. We’ll talk about it.”

  “All right.” Victoria agreed.

  “Come early, before it gets too hot.”

  After Becky had left the diner, Victoria turned back to her half-eaten salad and cooling coffee. Not that she was inexperienced, but she wasn’t at all sure that she could charm Quinn into believing in himself. She wasn’t even sure she knew where to start, even if she could get past his determination to save her reputation by staying away from her.

  Shortly before noon the next day, Victoria left the outskirts of Colson behind, the two-lane blacktop stretching ahead of her with only an occasional passing car or truck to break the isolation. Barbed wire fences paralleled the road and beyond their barrier, Victoria caught an occasional glimpse of cattle grazing in pastures. Tilled fields broke the monotony of rough terrain with neat sections of spring-green wheat. The land of plains and buttes surrounding Colson had been wheat and cattle country since the turn of the century. Only in the flats along the riverbanks did the occasional rancher’s truck garden boast a green lushness from irrigation.

  Victoria checked her mileage and fumbled on the seat beside her to find the scribbled note with the directions Becky had dictated over the phone that morning.

  The road curved, climbing slightly as it rounded the base of a flat-topped butte, then straightened again, the crossroads no longer visible in Victoria’s rearview mirror. Her sense of isolation grew, her car the only sign of human occupation. The empty gravel road stretched ahead of her while behind her, a plume of dust rose from her tires, hanging in the air before slowly dissipating.

  Victoria glanced at her mileage gau
ge, again, wondering if she’d missed the mailboxes and gone too far, when she spotted a lane leading inland from the road just ahead. A large rural mailbox sat atop a sturdy post at the edge of the road, and she slowed to a crawl to read the block letters, painted in black on the gray box.

  “Bowdrie.” The graded gravel lane curved away from the main road but then it, too, disappeared around the base of a butte. She had no idea how far the ranch buildings were from the main road and she resisted the temptation to drive down the lane to find out. Instead, she accelerated to a fifteen-mile-an-hour crawl, looking for Becky’s lane. The car crested the rise of a small hill and below her was another mailbox, black this time, standing guard at the junction of lane and gravel road.

  “This must be Becky,” she murmured, nodding with satisfaction when she read the gold block letters spelling out B. Sprackett on the big box.

  The Sprackett ranch buildings were visible from the road. Victoria pulled up in front of the neat, two-story white house and got out, glancing around her at the well-kept barn, corrals, and several smaller outbuildings.

  Her knock on the screen door was answered with a frenzy of barks. She peered through the screen just as a collie threw herself against the door, the racket from her frenzied barking deafening. Startled, Victoria jumped back, wary of the noisy animal, but the door proved a solid barrier between her and the dog and she inched warily closer once more.

  “Becky?” she called. If the older woman heard her above the loud barking, she didn’t respond. Victoria tried again, louder this time. “Becky!”

  The dog grew more agitated, barking louder, but still Becky didn’t appear. Victoria eyed the collie.

  “What is it, girl? Is something wrong?”

  The dog whined frantically, dropped to all fours and barked sharply.

  “All right. I’m coming in—but you’d better not bite me.”