Wicked Wyoming Nights

by Leigh Greenwood

  “These mules ain’t exactly used to being saddled, ma’am,” the boy said politely. “They ain’t never been hitched to anything but a wagon that I know of.”

  “I don’t have time to take a wagon,” she insisted impatiently. “I must have one saddled as soon as possible.”

  “Maybe you ought to borrow Mr. Ed’s saddle horse.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Up at the store. He likes to have it handy in case he has to go out sudden. It frets him to have to send a boy to tell me and then wait while I saddle it up.”

  “Then he won’t want me to use it. I may not get back for some time yet.”

  “I don’t know about these mules,” the boy said, hesitating. “They can be real ornery critters.”

  “Please hurry,” Eliza almost shouted. “I can’t wait forever.”

  “Okay,” the boy said, taking a saddle off the wall. “I’ll saddle that old jennet. She won’t be very quick, but maybe she won’t leave you in a draw either.” The chosen animal did not regard the proceedings with a kind eye, but she did allow the saddle to be placed on her back.

  “Maybe I’d better sit on her first, just in case,” the boy offered. Eliza was profoundly thankful he did, for the animal threw back her head, delivered herself of a shattering heehaw, and proceeded to tear around the corral as fast as her legs would carry her, running into any animal that happened to be in her path and lashing out with her heels for good measure. Then just as suddenly as she started, she stopped and walked placidly toward the fence. The boy got down, opened up the gate, and lead the now-quiet beast over to Eliza.

  “She’s okay now, ma ‘am. She just had a few fidgets to work out first.”

  “Thank you,” Eliza said faintly, and allowed the boy to help her into the saddle, She fully expected to be sent sailing through the cold, clean air, but the jennet stood quietly, and then set off at a trot that threatened to rattle loose every bone in Eliza’s body.

  Yet Eliza felt better than she had for a long time. After weeks of indecision, it was a relief to have made up her mind about something, but she was tortured by the fear she might not arrive in time, or if she did, Cord might not still think well enough of her to heed her warning. Even worse, he might think she was acting with her uncle against him. And why shouldn’t he? Hadn’t she sided with Ira against him several times already?

  No one besides Lucy and Ella knew of the months of anguish she had endured, the sleepless nights, the torturing doubt that never for one minute ceased to act upon her tender self-esteem like a corrosive acid, drop by scalding drop scarring her soul forever. No, her pride had forced her to keep this agonizing indecision to herself, to shield from Cord the only information which might have redeemed her in his eyes. She didn’t care what anyone else might believe. They could think her the most heartless and capricious female in existence if only Cord would trust her once again, would open his arms to shelter her, would open his heart to give her sanctuary. Secure in the embrace of his love, she could and would endure anything, face anything, dare anything. Without it? Well, there wasn’t much she could think of that mattered at all.

  Eliza thought the trip would never end. For hours she saw no one at all, but after she turned away from the fork leading to the Matador, she was met and passed by several men, all heading toward the Bar-T Ranch. She kept her head low and answered any greeting with a shake or nod of her head, and the riders rode on, their horses quickly outdistancing her mount.

  Long before she could see the ranch buildings, Eliza heard the sounds of sporadic gunfire coming over the hills. There was nothing to stop the sound, and it rolled on for miles, teasing her into thinking she was much closer than she was.

  When she at last came upon the scene she was nonplussed. There were men everywhere, hundreds of them, everyone armed and everyone firing into the small ranch house in the distance. Eliza rode around to the other side, but the cordon of men offered no break, no opening she could get through, and she ended up right back where she started, unable to get through to the man she now realized she loved above, all loyalties and allegiances. In desperation, she approached a young man she had never seen before, hoping he’d never seen her either.

  “I have to speak to someone inside that house,” she said as the flabbergasted young man gaped to find himself face to face with a stunning beauty in the middle of a range war. “Can you ask them to stop shooting long enough for me to go in?” The poor man tried to gather his shattered wits.

  “Go in there?” he echoed, aghast. “That’d be sure death. We’ve got these killers surrounded. Not a single one of them is going to get away.”

  Eliza’s throat closed. “But you’ve got one man in there by mistake.”

  “Ain’t nobody there by mistake, ma’am, and nobody’s getting out. There’s over two hundred men with rifles aimed at the house, and there’ll be another hundred or so before this time tomorrow.”

  “But I’ve got to warn him,” Eliza insisted. She tried to move past the young man, but he pulled her back. Eliza’s hat fell off, revealing the full extent of her beauty, and he was so shocked he nearly let her go.

  “You can’t go in there” he stammered.

  “But he’ll be killed,” Eliza groaned, near hysterics.

  “Nobody’s going to get killed unless they do something foolish. We’re just holding them here until the sheriff can decide what to do with them. He’s still over at the Lazy C.” He cast an eye in the direction of some of the men. “He’d better get here soon, though. Some of the boys are so riled up they might Dot remember when to stop.”

  “But they are going to kill him. I heard them talking about blowing them up with dynamite.”

  “They can’t do nothing like that. Even if they had the sticks, there isn’t a man alive that could heave it that far.”

  “You’ve got to let me go,” Eliza said, her voice breaking with sobs. “My fiancé’s in there, and I’ve got to get him out.”

  “A nice lady like you can’t be engaged to any of those rascals.”

  “I told you, he was in there by mistake.”

  “How?” he demanded, looking older than his few years. “Who could come to be in there by mistake?”

  “Cord Stedman,” she said at last. “I don’t know how he came to be here, but I’ve got to talk to him.”

  “I thought I knew you. You’re Belle Sage,” he said, pleased at his feat of memory. “But I heard tell you and him busted up.”

  “That was all a mistake,” Eliza answered, becoming more frantic by the minute.

  “You can relax, ma’am. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Relax? You don’t know my uncle’s friends. They’re on their way here right now. I know, because I heard them.”

  “That’s as may be, but they ain’t going to do Cord Stedman any harm, no matter what they do.”

  “But who’s going to stop them?”

  “Nobody.” He could see that Eliza was coming dangerously close to the end of her rope. “Cord Stedman ain’t anywhere near here. As far as I know, he’s at the Matador getting ready to set down to his supper. Something I could do with a little of myself. It’s been a long day.”

  “Are you sure?” she demanded, miraculously revived. “I’ve got to know for sure”

  “I don’t know for sure he’s setting down to supper, but I do know he ain’t here, because I asked him to come and he said he wouldn’t.”

  “Where did you see him? When was it?”

  “Sometime this morning when I rode by his place. I told him what was happening and asked him to come help. He said he’d help us round up our cattle, but he wanted no part of people taking shots at each other like it was a turkey shoot.”

  “How do I get to the Matador?”

  “You go back along the road until you come to the fork going west.”

  “That’s nearly twenty miles. Isn’t there a shorter way?”

  “You could go over those hills, but there’s no track to follow, and it�
�s real easy to get lost.”

  “I’ll chance it.” The boy continued to protest, but when he saw that Eliza was determined, he gave in and described the route as carefully as he could. Eliza was so impatient to be on her way she had difficulty paying attention, but he made her repeat the directions, and wouldn’t let her go until he was satisfied she knew them by memory.

  “You tell him he’s better off staying at home,” the young man called after her. “I wish to he’ll I’d done the same.”

  Eliza set off, urging her reluctant mount into a canter. The sun was getting low, turning the endless sky brilliant shades of orange and purple, but its beauty was lost on Eliza. All she could think of was reaching Cord as soon as possible. The flood of relief that swept over her when she learned he was still at the Matador had washed away all of her doubt, and she could hardly wait to see him, to throw herself in his arms and pour out all the love that had been stored up inside her like water behind a dam.

  She followed the light track until she came to a shallow creek. At that point the trail turned abruptly south and Eliza struck out over the hills, looking for the landmarks so carefully described by the young man and trying to keep herself pointed directly into the setting sun.

  But Eliza soon discovered that every hill, rise, or gully looked the same to her, and even when she had to go hundreds of yards out of her way to go around some obstacle, she still seemed to be heading directly into the sun. She tried in vain to decide whether she had passed the dip with the twenty-degree rise, or whether it was still ahead. She kept urging her tired mount on, but the poor beast had traveled over thirty miles and was rapidly nearing exhaustion.

  At last the jennet stopped and Eliza didn’t try to force her to go on. She studied the landscape for anything resembling the landmarks the young man described, but could see nothing besides endless hills, each exactly like the other. A coyote howled in the distance and chills ran down her spine; she was completely lost, her mount was exhausted, and she had no idea how to survive a night on the open plains.

  Chapter 33

  Eliza slid off the jennet. There was still another hour of sunlight, enough time to make one last attempt to find the road. She chose the highest hill and began walking toward it. The jennet followed willingly enough when it discovered it didn’t have to carry its human burden. The climb was long and tiring, but the view from the summit was truly magnificent, and for a moment Eliza forgot her fear in awe of the panorama of the open plain all around her. Rolling hills, turned blue by the evening dusk, stretched before her as far as she could see, and scattered cows grazed contentedly, unmindful of the coming night or the cold that caused Eliza to shiver.

  The darkening sky convinced Eliza rain was likely and she must find shelter for herself and some way to secure her mule; if it wandered off she would never get back to town. Already her shoes were badly torn and blisters were forming on her feet, but to her surprise, she didn’t feel like she wanted to cry or give up. She was furious with herself for having no more ability to distinguish landmarks than the rankest tenderfoot, and afraid of what might happen to her during the long night, but she was keenly alert and spilling over with energy.

  The first thing she had to do was find a stream. Both she and her mount needed water. Eliza remounted, but she had gone only a short distance when she saw a man suddenly appear atop the crest of a distant hill and ride swiftly along its ridge. She was of two minds whether to attract his attention, but common sense told her she’d most likely be better off with a stranger than sleeping in the open. She applied the reins to her mount’s rump, dug her heels into its sides, and set off hoping to intercept the rider before he could disappear.

  But he saw her long before she was within calling distance and pulled up; then seeing her progress was slow, he galloped in her direction.

  “Miss Sage,” Royce exclaimed upon getting close enough to recognize her, for it was the same cowboy who had terrified Eliza at the creek. “What are you doing out here by yourself?”

  “Getting lost,” admitted Eliza, trying not to show her tremendous relief. “I was given the most careful directions, but all these ridges and canyons look alike. I can’t find the road I was assured would take me to the ranch without any possibility of a wrong turn.”

  “You’re too far south. You should have turned at the red butte.”

  “That’s what I tried to do, but every butte I passed was the same rusty orange. Not one of them looked the least bit red.”

  Royce laughed. “I guess they do look alike. Never mind. Come with me.” He looked inquisitively at the jennet. “Why are you riding a mule?”

  “Every horse in town was already taken by somebody rushing off to the Bar-T Ranch.”

  Royce’s mood changed swiftly. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

  “I know, but I have an important message for Mr. Stedman, and I was told he was at the Bar-T” The boy’s face grew stern.

  “Mr. Stedman won’t have any part of that fight. He says if those fools want to kill each other, who’s he to try and stop them.”

  “Certainly a practical point of view, but not very civic-minded.”

  “There ain’t nobody takes an interest in Mr. Stedman unless they want something from him. The rest of the time one side tries to steal his cattle with the help of the law, and the other side tries to take them without. But he beat them both, and now he’s so powerful they’re both after his help. Mr. Stedman said they got into this mess by themselves, so they could get themselves out.” Royce continued to deliver more opinions than Cord had been known to express in a lifetime, and Eliza had begun to wonder just where truth and fiction met when they topped a rise and the Matador came into view.

  “Do you mean I was barely a mile away all the time, and I was already trying to figure out how to get through the night without freezing?”

  “You’d be more likely to catch pneumonia,” said Royce, pointing to the deep purple sky and the stirring tree limbs. “We’re in for some rain.”

  “I’d race you to the house, but I don’t think this poor beast could stay on her feet that long.”

  “I’m surprised you managed to get this far,” Royce said with the natural scorn of a cowboy for anything other than a true cow pony, but the mule had borne Eliza faithfully and she gave it a friendly pat on the neck.

  The rain started before they reached the house, and Ginny greeted a dripping Eliza with such loud exclamations Cord emerged from his office to discover the cause of the commotion.

  Eliza heard the sound of his boots on the polished wood floors and she froze. Without looking up she knew it was Cord; the electricity of his presence was unmistakable. For a split second she panicked, afraid of what he might do, of what she might see in his eyes, but when she looked up, there was none of the hardness she feared. Inexplicably, there was the same warm smile of invitation, the same look of hunger, that same quiet, unconquerable strength; there were no questions, just acceptance.

  “I got lost,” she said, losing control over her brain. His fixed gaze, his absolute immobility, further unhinged her. “Then I got wet, which seemed an unnecessary reminder not to travel the plains at night.”

  “You’ve got to get out of those wet things this minute,” Ginny said, cutting off any response Cord might have made. “I’ll have the food heated and back on the table before you can turn around. Nothing of mine will fit you, but some of Susan’s things are still here.” Apparently Susan had also given Ginny a more favorable view of Eliza because there was none of the anger Ginny had displayed earlier.

  Eliza followed Ginny up the stairs in a daze. Outside the thunder crashed around the house, lighting up the hills so often it seemed almost day. The rain came down in torrents, causing Eliza to remember the supperless young man at the Bar-T Ranch who had helped her and to hope he had found shelter for the night.

  But she had few thoughts for anyone else tonight except the huge, silent man waiting downstairs who could grant or deny all that she had ever wa
nted. There was little to do beyond dry her hair and try to make the borrowed dress look as though it fit her, yet she lingered over her preparations, putting off the final moment when she would come face to face with Cord. What could she say? How should she tell him of her change of heart?

  He was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her. The aromas coming from the steaming dishes momentarily distracted her attention from his powerful presence and radiating sexuality, but it didn’t take her long to take the edge off her hunger, and when Ginny placed coffee on the table and disappeared to the kitchen, she could delay no longer.

  “I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing out there alone,” she began.

  “No.” That monosyllable threw her thoughts into disarray. Was his love so completely dead he was no longer interested in what happened to her?

  “I suppose I deserve that, especially after the way I treated you in town last week. I was angry, but I guess you knew that. I wouldn’t blame you if you never cared what happened to me again.”

  “I’ll always care what happens to you,” Cord said, in the same even, contained voice Eliza had come to dislike. Why couldn’t he lose control just once? Why did he have to maintain that Spartan front while she made a fool of herself? “I don’t care what brought you here as long as you’re here.”

  “I can’t stay,” Eliza said foolishly, knowing the dark and the rain made the trip back to town utterly out of the question.

  “I’ve imagined us sitting like this, discussing the little things that happened during the day, knowing tomorrow and the day after would be the same.”

  Eliza swallowed too much of her coffee and burned her throat. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Uncle Ira,” she said, keeping her head lowered.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “Yes, it does. This is terribly hard for me to say so please don’t stop me until I finish. I’m not sure I’ll get it said if I stop.”