“No matter what way she has to make, she’ll never do it alone,” Cord replied.
Chapter 30
“Do you think you can talk him into it, Sam?” asked one of several men gathered around the cookstove in Sam’s old cabin on one bitterly cold afternoon. The little stove glowed bright red in its effort to heat the small room.
“How do we know we can trust him?” objected another.
“When are you people ever going to learn?” Sam asked in disgust. “Stedman was just where you are when he bought the Matador, but he’s a lot smarter, he works a lot harder, and he’s gambled everything he has over and over again to build up his spread. Sure he’s a big rancher now, but has any of you ever forgotten what it was like to ride roundup for somebody else?”
“Of course we haven’t, but Cord’s never been one of us. He keeps to himself, and nobody’s at all sure where he stands on things.”
“He keeps to himself because he’s too busy to stand around talking. Besides, what do you expect a man to do when you back away every time he comes up to the bar.”
“Who wants to drink with a man who hardly says two words and stares at that singer like there weren’t nobody else in the room?”
“And if you say something he doesn’t like, he looks like he’s going to take you apart right there.”
“You’re making a big mistake not to trust him,” Sam insisted.
“Why should we trust you? You’re taking his money? You’re even living in his house.”
“And I’m also taking Croley Blame’s money,” Sam said, aware every one present knew of Croley’s attempt to steal Cord’s herd on Christmas day, “but I don’t see any of you accusing me of taking his side.”
“I don’t trust Blaine either.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m saying you’re a fool to keep distrusting Stedman just because he’s got more cows than you. You’ll never find a better leader for your roundup. He’s not about to back down before rustlers or the Association foremen, and if you think they’re not going to come down on you when they hear you’ll be dividing up the mavericks, then you don’t know the Association.”
“Well, I’m still not sure. I heard tell he attended a ranchers’ meeting in Burton’s office last week.”
“If you heard that much, you ought to know he walked out on them. Go ask Burton’s clerk. The man’s dying to tell it to anyone who’ll stand still long enough.”
“I say we ask him,” argued the first speaker. “Even if he does tell the Association, we haven’t lost anything. They’re going to hear it from somebody the minute it’s announced, and there’s nobody better able to stand up to that bunch of crooks than Stedman. And I’ll tell you something else. I intend to ask him to take my steers to the railhead along with his this year. Those Association inspectors don’t dare impound his herd and they know it. I’m still owed money for beeves I sold eighteen months ago. The only reason I haven’t gone under yet is I borrowed money from Burton at enough interest to keep both his wife and daughter in furs.”
“Then you want me to talk to him?” Sam asked. There was a discontented rumbling and a reluctant assent. “Make up your minds. I’m not sticking my neck out and having you change your minds. You need Stedman, but he can do without you.”
Realizing the bitter truth of that statement, the men agreed to invite Cord to lead their independent roundup, thereby dividing northern Wyoming into two hostile camps.
“But I don’t know anything about contracts.”
Eliza was in a quandary. Lucy had come up twenty minutes earlier to tell her a theatrical agent was downstairs and insisted upon hearing her sing before he would even begin to talk about terms.
“They don’t ever want to give you more than they have to. Make sure you do your best. Then tell him you want twice what he offers.”
“I wouldn’t know what to ask for.”
“Then you let me do the talking. I know all about what to do.”
“I imagine it will take a lot of money for both of us to live.”
“You mean you’re taking me with you?”
“I’d be lost without you.”
“The agent will take care of you,” Lucy said, trying to hide her pleasure.
“I can’t trust a stranger.”
“You can’t trust anybody if he’s a man,” Lucy stated unequivocally. “Now you get warmed up while I’ll talk to this fella and find out just what he’s got in mind.”
Eliza wasn’t at all sure she wanted to go East. At first it seemed like a good way to get away from Cord, but she hadn’t been wanting to get away from him so very much lately. Now that an agent was actually downstairs and she was faced with what leaving Buffalo would mean, she didn’t know if she had enough courage to go to Chicago and meet all those strange people, even if it did help her to keep from thinking about Cord all the time.
But she knew she wouldn’t forget him, not even if she traveled to every major city in the country. The more she thought about it, the less important their differences seemed to be.
The night he ruthlessly exposed her uncle and threatened Sam and Susan, he became a veritable demon in her eyes; he was awful, terrible, and she wanted nothing else to do with him. But when he let them invade his house to have Susan’s baby and then gave Sam a job, he unquestionably blunted the cutting edge of her anger and disappointment. Seeing him at Mrs. Burton’s meeting only stoked her great physical hunger and reminded her of how much she longed to be in his arms. She had no doubt that, in time, her heart and body would overrule her mind.
And it didn’t help to have Susan Haughton singing his praises until Eliza almost dreaded to see her coming. Living in Cord’s house and sharing confidences with Ginny, Susan knew how deeply he felt about Eliza and how greatly he suffered, and she had made it her special duty to mend the rift between them. Every time Susan came into town to supervise the construction of her new house, she took the opportunity to launch another attack on Eliza’s crumbling defenses.
Eliza was such a soft-hearted creature her sympathy would have been engaged even if she hadn’t liked Cord at all. But she still loved him, and she was finding it more and more difficult to remember why she had been so angry with him. When she ran into him outside the bank just this past week, she forgot completely. His mind was so completely taken up with something else he nearly walked past without seeing her. She was used to having to fend off Cord’s attentions, and to have him practically ignore her knocked another prop from under her anger. Now there was a stranger downstairs waiting to listen to her sing, and she was less sure than ever what she was running from.
The agent was seated near the front of the empty room when Eliza came down. “I’m not going to let you say a word to him until he hears you sing,” Lucy whispered. “He is even sharper than I remembered, and unless you surprise him out of his britches, he won’t offer you enough to keep a bird alive.” She glanced at the agent, and her eyes crinkled merrily.
“It seems that just looking at you has sparked his interest. Now give him your best. Don’t let him catch his breath until your name’s on that contract.”
Eliza had already picked out the songs she intended to sing, but now she wondered if the simple, folk-like songs that appealed to the cowboys and soldiers were quite the right thing for a big-city theatrical agent. She was so nervous she had to take a deep breath before she could start.
She hadn’t reached the end of the first verse when Cord walked in and sat down near the middle of the room. Her body was shaken by such a jolt of electricity she almost forgot her words, but she recovered quickly, and was pleased to see that the agent didn’t seem to notice her stumble.
Even a casual observer could have noticed the single minded intensity with which Cord listened to Eliza, but not the closest scrutiny yielded a clue to his thoughts. Eliza had often inveighed against the stone-like impassiveness of his countenance, and that quality was never more in evidence than now. She wondered what he was doing in town, why he had picked
this morning to come to the saloon. She had been careful to choose the time when Croley and her uncle went over their business affairs with Sanford Burton. She didn’t want them to know she was thinking about leaving, but it wouldn’t hurt Cord Stedman to know. It would show him she hadn’t forgiven him and didn’t need to depend on him or anyone else anymore.
But just as she started the second song, Iris came in. Never once turning in Eliza’s direction, she scanned the room swiftly until she found Cord, then moved quickly to his side. Eliza watched with gathering indignation as Iris began to whisper to Cord. Now they had their heads together, and even from a distance Eliza could tell he was no longer listening to her.
For the first time in her life, instead of being self-effacing and slinking off to hide her hurt, Eliza was eager to fight back. The accompanist had already begun the introduction to the third song, but Eliza stopped him and directed him to play a song they had been working on mostly for fun. She wasn’t sure she could remember it, much less sing it without a mistake, but Iris still held Cord’s attention and she was determined to get it back.
The song was full of runs, trills, and high notes. It had been fun to learn in spite of the wry faces Susan made. Susan didn’t care for what she called opera singing, but she admitted that when Eliza sang it, it didn’t sound half bad.
The agent thought it sounded a lot better than that. He sat up in his chair when Eliza performed the opening runs flawlessly, and leaned forward eagerly as she successfully executed one difficult passage after another, but Cord continued to ignore her, and Eliza redoubled her efforts, taking the last chorus even faster. The cadenza was coming up, one Eliza had never been able to sing to her satisfaction, and she needed all her concentration to get through it, but to her horror Cord and Iris got up and started toward the door. Desperation and anger caused Eliza’s adrenaline to flow more than ever; she tore into the cadenza, sang every flying note with a deft but true tone, and finished with a high note that astounded even Lucy. It brought the agent to his feet, but Cord didn’t hear it. He was already gone.
Eliza tried to concentrate on what the agent was saying, but all she saw was Cord leaving with Iris. Lucy made one outrageous demand after another in her name, and the agent granted them almost without argument; Eliza’s total lack of interest had unnerved him. He was used to people willing to do anything to attract his attention, yet this backwoods Jenny Lind seemed more interested in a couple of locals than the fact she could be singing in New York a year from now.
This girl was a sure thing. Her beauty and voice would place her in a class by herself, but she also possessed a quality of undemanding innocence that made her irresistible. She might even become a favorite of the ladies for she was not the type to steal their husbands or wear costumes designed to show more of her body than her talent.
“Miss Smallwood, I really must know what you think of my offer before I can draw up the contracts,” said the agent.
“What do you think, Lucy?” Eliza asked, unable to remember anything the man had said.
“I’m not saying you can’t get more money once the right people see what you can do, but you won’t get a better contract now.”
“Well, if you really think I should.”
“What else do you want, Miss Smallwood? Just name it and you can have it,” the agent added.
“I don’t know that I want anything else—“
“Yes she does,” interrupted Lucy. “She needs a room to herself. She doesn’t want everybody tramping in while she’s getting ready and using up her stuff the minute her back’s turned.”
“All the major theaters have private rooms.”
“And she wants the best spot, the one next to closing.”
“I’m not so sure of that.”
“Yes, you are. You know if people are coming to see Miss Eliza, they’ll put her anywhere on the program she wants to be.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll see she gets the best spot. Anything else?” he asked, feeling wrung out.
“Not just yet. You get those papers drawn up by one of your fancy lawyers, one who fixes it so you can’t sneak out of paying her what you promised.”
“My lawyer is the best—”
“Then we’ll get our lawyer to give it a going-over. I don’t trust you Easterners. I lived in New York too long to do a fool thing like that.”
Eliza didn’t know if Buffalo even had a lawyer, but she couldn’t generate any interest in the contract. Why had Cord walked out? He couldn’t have fallen in love with Iris, not when only last week he’d made it obvious he still wanted to marry her. Even Ella said Cord was hers for the asking.
But somehow that didn’t make Eliza feel any more secure. For the first time she had exerted herself to attract a man, and she had failed miserably; he had walked out on her. Surely he wouldn’t have done that if he still loved her.
Suddenly Eliza realized she was falling back into her old habits of self-doubt, and she gave herself a mental scolding. Cord did love her, and he must have had some perfectly good reason for leaving. But if she had waited too long and he had given up hoping she would change her mind, well, then she could still carry on. There were plenty of other men in the world—maybe not any she could love as much as Cord, but there had to be hundreds of handsome, rich, kind, loving men in a place like New York; she could find a dozen within six months.
But she had a growing suspicion that once she found the paragons, her treacherous heart wouldn’t rest until it found a way to make them seem inferior to that stiff-necked cowboy.
Chapter 31
The first rumor raced through Buffalo with the speed of a galloping horse. The Cattlemen’s Association had blackballed Cord Stedman again, and this time they’d taken pains to see the news was carried to every ranch in Wyoming. It meant Cord wouldn’t be able to participate in the Association’s roundup or buy unbranded maverick calves at ten dollars a head. No one expected it to bother him—he’d been blackballed before and survived—but it did remove any lingering suspicion that Cord was friendly with the hated organization the absentee landlords had set up to preserve their stranglehold on the Wyoming cattle industry. Now when he rode by a homestead, he was more likely to be met with a friendly greeting and an invitation to step inside for a cup of coffee. He never did, but instead of his refusal being viewed with resentment and suspicion, it now showed he was a man with too much on his mind to waste time talking.
The second rumor swept through the entire state faster than a prairie fire in a high wind: The small ranchers had joined together to hold a roundup of their own a month before the Association’s scheduled roundup, and Cord Stedman was going to lead it. At stake was the ownership of uncounted thousands of mavericks, unbranded calves worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, and the confrontation everyone had long feared now seemed unavoidable. The Association couldn’t possibly let such a challenge to its authority go unanswered, but no one in Buffalo or Cheyenne doubted Cord would be as good as his word; he and his men had a reputation for carrying the fight to the enemy instead of waiting for it to be brought to them.
Sanford Burton tried to reason with Cord, and then to apply financial pressure, even going so far as to say, when it was clear Cord wasn’t going to change his mind, that he would squeeze the smaller ranchers and Cord could blame himself if they went under. The only result was that two days later Cord withdrew his money from Burton’s bank, opened his own Northern Wyoming National Bank, and installed Sam Haughton as his cashier; before the end of the week he had talked fifty people into bringing their business to him, including the substantial account of Bayliss Hardware and Dry Goods.
“I can’t think of a more harebrained thing to do,” Ella told Cord, “but I don’t see not supporting you against that grasping pinch-penny. Besides, I’ve been looking for a way to keep Jessica Burton from pestering the life out of me for nigh on ten years, and I’m willing to bet next month’s receipts this has done the trick.”
Ella’s money was safe. Jessica did no
t speak to Ella, or anyone else who took their money out of her husband’s bank. As for her intention to marry Melissa to Cord Stedman, Jessica would have preferred Melissa die an old maid rather than live a rich and happy life as the wife of a man she termed the greatest criminal west of the Mississippi. Ira and Croley were loud in their determination to stay with Burton, but the real blow came when the Army transferred its accounts. Sam offered to handle the payroll himself rather than have the Army cart the money out to the fort to pay the men and then bring it back to town to deposit. Burton had never agreed to do that because he said the soldiers’ pay was quickly spent or sent back East, but Sam managed to see that enough of it stayed in his vaults to make a tidy profit.
But this upheaval only served to draw the lines more firmly: the larger ranchers, the merchants who had a common interest in serving them, and the town’s respectable citizens sticking with Burton; the smaller ranchers, disgruntled merchants, farmers and homesteaders, plain cowboys, common soldiers, and Lavinia’s girls changing to Cord. In a matter of days the antagonism was visible on the streets as citizens who had always greeted each other with friendly words either passed in silence or backed up their differing opinions with their fists. Sheriff Hooker had all he could do to see no one carried firearms within the town limits. He said if they wanted to kill each other outside his jurisdiction that was the U.S. marshal’s business, but people were quietly building up their arsenals feeling that something—no one was quite sure what—was about to happen.
The only person who was unconditionally delighted was Susan Haughton. She had a new baby, a new house in town, and a husband who in a few short months had gone from a starving farmer to a respectable bank clerk who might possibly become a bank president some day. She knew if Eliza married Cord, the two of them could combine their efforts and become the most influential women within a hundred miles.
Wicked Wyoming Nights Page 31