Hill Country Cattleman

by Laurie Kingery

  “Why, it seems you know the essential facts about my home already, Mr. Allbright,” Violet said, striving to conceal her irritation at the man’s chatter.

  “Please, call me Drew,” Allbright insisted.

  She knew he was hoping she’d say he could address her less formally, too. “There’s really very little else to add to that, other than that my other brother is a vicar.”

  “Mr. Allbright, you won’t mind if I borrow Miss Brookfield for a while, will you?” Maude Harkey said. “I fear she hasn’t had a chance to meet some of the other gentlemen.”

  Allbright looked as if he’d like to object, but he couldn’t ignore the polite hint. “Of course,” he said, rising and bowing. “But you must promise to sit with me for supper, Miss Brookfield.”

  There was no way she could politely refuse, so she murmured her assent and let Maude lead her away. “Land sakes, that man thinks he’s already put his brand on you, doesn’t he?” Maude said with a sympathetic smile.

  Violet dared a glance backward, and Drew Allbright hadn’t removed his gaze from her. She nodded ruefully. “He’s quite a nice gentleman, and very attentive, but I’m merely a temporary visitor here in Simpson Creek. If he’s looking to establish himself in the area, I think he really ought to concentrate on the local ladies....”

  Maude rolled her eyes sympathetically. “I quite understand, Violet dear. But let me introduce you to—” There followed a round of introductions to the various bachelors who had come to meet the marriageable misses of Simpson Creek. Violet met a banker, another pair of ranchers, the proprietor of a mercantile, a lawyer and, of course, Prissy’s promised cousin from Burnet, the handsome and flirtatious Anson Tyler. All of them professed to be charmed by her accent, and wished to hear about her life among the aristocracy of England. Violet became quite tired of being a curiosity, but it seemed there was always a new fellow who wanted to ply her with the same questions, and who deserved a courteous answer. She almost wished to return to Drew Allbright’s side—at least she had already covered this ground with him.

  The man she really longed for was nowhere to be seen. Raleigh Masterson had not come to the barbecue.

  “Reckon you’re wondering where Raleigh is today,” Shep Goodwin, one of the cowboys from Colliers’ Roost, suggested when she was finally introduced to him and his fellow ranch hand, Quint Ryan.

  Violet felt herself coloring. Was she so transparent? “Not at all,” she said. “I—”

  “’Cause we tried to get him to come, but he said he needed to get ready for the big race,” Shep informed her, seemingly unaware he had interrupted. “All work and no play makes Raleigh a dull boy, we told him, but—”

  “You’re speaking of the horse race next month, gentlemen?” Drew Allbright had approached without her noticing. “I couldn’t help but overhear you. You might want to let this friend of yours know that he’d be wasting his time. I own the fastest pair of horses in Texas, so the race is already won, as far as I’m concerned.”

  The Colliers’ Roost cowboys bristled.

  “That a fact?” Quint drawled. “I’ll be sure and let him know.”

  Shep guffawed. “Mister, it’s obvious you never seen his blue roan run. That critter is the fastest thing on four legs, a veritable blue streak. And his second horse is as fast as a cat with her tail on fire.”

  Violet winced at the mental image as Drew uttered a deprecating laugh. “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we? Perhaps we should go over to the buffet table, my dear,” he said, putting a proprietary hand about her waist. “It seems they’re starting to gather for supper.”

  Violet wanted to slap him for his presumption, but that would make her the center of attention in a negative way. Instead, she stepped backward, and very deliberately trod on one of the flounces at her hem, pasting dismay on her face when the sound of tearing cloth filled the air. She looked over her shoulder, and was satisfied to see that a couple of inches of flounce had torn away from the skirt.

  “Oh, dear,” she said, forcing every bit of dismay she could manufacture into her voice. “I’m afraid I must go repair this, or it’ll get worse. Please go ahead and get your supper, Drew, and I’ll join you as soon as possible.”

  She fled inside the mansion, where the Gilmores’ Mexican housekeeper, her hands full with a platter of little cakes bound for the buffet table, showed her to the ladies’ withdrawing room and promised to join her in a few minutes with a needle and thread.

  There was a large mirror in the room, and Violet checked her appearance, patting a few stray locks back into place. Then she heard the sound of footsteps and looked into the mirror to see that it was not the housekeeper, but Ella Justiss, who had entered.

  Chapter Twelve

  Violet rose quickly from the gilt chair she had been sitting in and turned around. “Hello, Ella. Are you enjoying the party? I—I was just leaving,” she murmured. She assumed the other woman didn’t want to be around her, either. The last thing she wanted was a confrontation with this prickly female at a party.

  Ella put up a hand to halt her. “I wanted to talk to you, and I’d just as soon it was private, so when I saw you go into the house, I followed.” She waited, as if daring Violet to object.

  Violet was startled, but she straightened. If she was cornered, so be it. She’d give the other woman as good as she got—verbally, of course.

  “Very well, then. You have something to say?” she asked in a clipped voice.

  Ella nodded. “Kate told me what you did,” she said. “This dress, I mean. Buying the fabric for me, a-anony...secretly,” she amended. “She said you told her not to tell where the money came from, but she thought I ought to know. I said I didn’t want no charity, especially from you, but she said I should be thankful, ’cause you did it outta the goodness of your heart, in spite of the way I had treated you.”

  Violet took a shaky breath. Of all the things the waitress could have said, this wasn’t what she’d expected. “I...I just wanted you to have something special to wear to the party, since you said you didn’t have anything. I know I always feel more confident when I have a pretty dress,” she said carefully, hoping she didn’t inadvertently reoffend the girl’s pride. Violet had always had a wardrobe full of clothes to choose from, but she realized not every woman was so fortunate.

  “She said I should thank you, so I am. Thank you.” Ella said the words like a challenge. “It’s the nicest dress a girl like me’s ever likely t’ have, all due to you—and Mrs. Patterson’s skill with a needle and thread. I figure I’ll probably be buried in it someday.”

  Amazed, Violet took an impulsive step forward.

  Ella took a quick step backward and held up a hand as if she feared Violet was about to hug her. “Don’t get me wrong, now. I didn’t say I like you. You’re a foreigner, and rich as all get-out, and when you’re around, our men don’t have an eye for anyone in the room but you. But Kate likes you, so I said I’d thank you. Now I have.” She turned and started to leave the room.

  “Ella, wait, please. I... We got off on the wrong foot, as you Americans say, with each other. I...I believe you heard something I said in your restaurant, the day I arrived...” She hesitated, not wanting to sound like she was blaming the girl. “I didn’t mean to sound as if I thought I was better than anyone. I meant that my clothes made me stick out, and not in a good way.”

  To her credit, Ella didn’t deny knowing what Violet was talking about.

  “And I’m not trying to flirt with the men,” Violet went on, since Ella hadn’t left. “I’m only visiting here, you know, and the fact is, I have a beau at home, whom I plan to marry when I return to England.”

  Ella’s eyes widened at that, and Violet could practically see the thoughts swirling in the other girl’s head.

  “But what about—?” Ella began, then shut her mouth.


  Had Ella been about to say something about Raleigh? Violet suspected the girl had a tendre for Masterson, judging by the way she’d possessively pulled him away that morning after church, but how far did it go? Violet watched the emotions play out on the girl’s face. The last one was resignation.

  “See, that’s just it—you don’t have to try!” Ella cried. “You’re so beautiful, and fancy an’ all—all you have to do is breathe and they want to lap up your words and that funny way you talk like honey,” the girl said bitterly. “Like that rich rancher fella that’s been pantin’ after you like a winded hound dog since you came to the party. What would this beau you say you got waitin’ at home think of that, hmm?”

  The taunt of the last sentence struck her like a blow, but not the way Ella probably intended it to. Violet didn’t feel guilty that a man such as Drew Allbright was paying rapt attention to her. No, it was because she wondered, and not for the first time, whether or not Gerald was truly waiting for her.

  It was such a stunning realization that she involuntarily uttered a sharp cry and sank back onto the gilt chair.

  Ella rushed forward. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Sometimes I’m so mean I can’t even stand myself. Are you going to be all right? Do you need me to find some smelling salts?” She fluttered around Violet, obviously not knowing what to do.

  “I—I’m fine, Ella. Really. I just...want you to know I haven’t...been trying to attract anyone, truly I haven’t.”

  “All right, you haven’t. I’m sorry for what I said. You can’t help it if you’re beautiful, I reckon. I... Thanks again for the dress,” she said, and rushed out of the room.

  Violet stared at the door that swung shut after Ella until the housekeeper returned with the promised needle and thread.

  * * *

  As she emerged from the house, Violet saw an empty chair waiting for her next to Drew Allbright’s at one of the long tables that had been set up for the guests. She saw a plate heaped with fried chicken and a portion from each of the dishes she’d seen at the buffet table.

  Allbright was deep in conversation with a couple of men—the banker and the lawyer—across the table. She overheard enough to discern that they were talking about the horse race. Each sat by one of the unmarried spinsters, and she was pleased to see Kate Patterson was one of them. She looked quietly happy to be there. Maude Harkey was the other, and she smiled at Violet as she approached.

  Her smile alerted Allbright that Violet was there. He jumped to his feet. “Ah, there you are, Miss Brookfield,” he said. “Everything all right now?”

  She wondered if the emotions that had so recently been colliding inside her still showed on her face, and wondered how to redirect the conversation, then saw that he was staring at the back hem of her dress.

  She nodded, relieved that was all he had noticed. “Yes, the Gilmores’ housekeeper is a genius with a needle and thread,” she said.

  Allbright pulled back her chair for her, then sat down once she was settled.

  “Goodness, you brought enough for a regiment,” she said, looking at the heaped plate in front of her.

  “Wasn’t sure how hearty an appetite you have, Miss Brookfield,” Drew said. “I can fetch more of anything you like.”

  Violet stared down at her plate, wondering how she was going to eat anything at all, with the tension still clenching her stomach. “I can honestly say I haven’t come across anything in the way of Texas cuisine that wasn’t quite tasty.” Then to distract attention from herself, she said, “I believe you gentlemen were discussing the horse race? Please, go on. I find it very interesting.”

  “Do you ride, Miss Brookfield?” the banker asked politely.

  Violet nodded and went on to tell him a little about foxhunting in England. This was obviously more than the gentleman had been expecting, and he was clearly awed.

  Allbright was clearly loath to give up her attention, though. “If you need a horse to ride while you’re here, I can supply it,” he asserted, leaning back. When had his arm stretched possessively across her chair? “That’s why I bought a ranch here—to have a place to raise blooded stock.”

  “Thank you, but I’m borrowing a mount from Colliers’ Roost,” she said, instinctively not mentioning that it was Raleigh’s horse after Allbright’s earlier boast about having the winning horse for the race.

  Neither gentleman was troubling to bring his dinner partner into the conversation, so Violet leaned over and said to Maude and Kate, “Perhaps the Spinsters’ Club should do something in conjunction with the horse race—a booth with refreshments at the starting line or, better yet, at the finish? There will be a lot of newcomers in town for the event, I would guess.”

  Maude’s jaw dropped open for a moment, then she said, “What a brilliant idea, Violet! Of course you’re right. We should begin planning for that right away.”

  Conversation went on more equally after that, until at last dessert had been served and it was time to adjourn to the ballroom inside the Gilmore mansion. Through open French windows, Violet could already hear the sound of fiddlers tuning up.

  Drew would have tried his best to monopolize her after partnering her in the first dance, a waltz, but etiquette came to Violet’s rescue, forcing him to graciously accept defeat when other bachelors came to claim her. He asked other spinsters to dance at those times, Violet noted, but always appeared again at her side. She found the other dances were much like the ones she had done in English ballrooms, and so she rarely found herself without a partner. Sometimes she would have rather sat out a dance or two in one of the chairs at the edge of the ballroom with a cup of punch and talked to Milly.

  Violet was pleased to note that both Kate and Ella had no lack of partners during the dances. Ella still avoided eye contact with her, but Violet thought she had managed to achieve some sort of truce with the girl in the withdrawing room.

  Violet had a good time, but she was happy when the lead fiddler announced the last waltz. Drew had already claimed it, of course, but she looked forward to riding back to the ranch in the buckboard and thinking about Raleigh as the wagon rolled over the moonlit road. Ella’s words had made her realize something this evening—she could not count on Gerald to be there for her when she returned, and despite all reason, she was falling in love with Raleigh Masterson. She had to figure out what to do.

  Woodenly, she put her arm on Drew’s shoulder and tried to avoid looking directly at her partner as they moved into the dance. If only it could be Raleigh...

  “You’re such a good dancer,” Drew murmured. “The most graceful lady I’ve ever danced with.”

  “Thank you,” she said automatically. “My dancing master would be most gratified. He despaired of me when he was first brought to Greyshaw. All gawky limbs, I was.”

  “That certainly doesn’t describe you now,” he said. “I was wondering if I might see you home tonight?” he asked as they whirled around the floor.

  She tried to hide her dismay at the question. “But you live in the opposite direction, I believe, and it’s late. It wouldn’t be practical. Perhaps another time,” she said. “I’ll go home with my brother and sister-in-law.” She wanted to get away from this man, not spend more time with him.

  He smiled fondly at her. “There’s something about you, Miss Violet, that urges impracticality. My buggy has lanterns, so the dark need not matter.”

  There had to be a way she could gracefully refuse.

  “I know we’ve just met, Miss Violet,” Drew said. “Don’t worry, we can follow your brother’s wagon, or lead it, if you’re worried about propriety—”

  Just then she was turned toward the door of the ballroom, and she spotted a tall, lean figure silhouetted there, his head raised as if searching the throng of dancers.

  Raleigh! He had come to dance with her, after all!

  * * *

 
; Just moments before, Raleigh had heard music wafting from the open doors as he jumped down from the wagon. He found Quint and Shep standing out on the veranda with a couple of the spinsters—which two he didn’t notice—taking the air with cups of punch in their hands.

  “Hey, Raleigh, you’re just in time for the last waltz!” Shep called. “If you hurry, you could probably cut in on that Allbright fellow who’s been dancin’ with Miss Violet.”

  “Yeah, he’s been stuck to her side like glue most th’ evenin’,” Quint added helpfully.

  The information did nothing to soothe Raleigh. “I’m not here to dance,” he snapped as he strode past them for the door. “Cookie’s out in the wagon, moaning and clutching his belly. I’m here to find Doc Walker.”

  “He’s in there, too....”

  Raleigh couldn’t help searching the ballroom first for Violet, finding her at last, waltzing in the arms of someone he’d never seen before, probably that newcomer from Houston like Shep had said.

  The fellow was staring down on her like a man smitten by Cupid’s dart, blast his hide. Despite the worry over Cookie that had brought him here, Raleigh couldn’t help the instant surge of jealousy that arrowed through him and had his fists clenching at his side. The fellow had no business putting his hand on Violet’s waist—even though every other male dancer held his partner exactly the same way.

  She was looking away from her partner, Raleigh saw, and it made him feel the tiniest bit better. But perhaps she was just maintaining that cool English composure....

  No. She’d caught sight of him, and instantly her face was aglow with joy. He saw her pull away from the fellow she’d been dancing with and agilely thread her way through the crowd, murmuring, “Pardon me,” as she evaded the dancing couples.