Pete (The Cowboys)

by Leigh Greenwood

  “Young man, I will not be made fun of.”

  Pete had had enough. Mrs. Dean was probably Providence in disguise come to keep him from doing what he knew would be wrong. He ought to take the chance he’d been given, accept it gracefully, and get out before he did something he’d really regret.

  “I won’t sleep with Anne,” Pete said. “I’ll sleep in Belser’s old room.”

  “I won’t have an unidentified man sleep under the same roof with me,” Mrs. Dean said.

  “This is my house,” Anne said. “I’ll say who sleeps where, and I want my husband to sleep with me.”

  “It’ll just be until the description comes,” Pete said.

  “But—”

  “It’s not worth fighting over,” Pete said. “The sheriff and I will sleep in the bunkhouse with Ray. That way you can lock the doors, and Mrs. Dean can feel perfectly safe.”

  “This is ridiculous. How can you let—”

  Pete put his finger over her lips. “I don’t like it either, but we’ve got years ahead. It seems a lot now, but you’ll forget it before long.”

  “I’ll never forget it,” she said. “Or forgive it,” she added, directing the last to Mrs. Dean.

  “I still have my bedroll,” Pete said to the sheriff. “You ready?”

  “Sure. I hope you don’t snore.”

  “He doesn’t,” Anne said, directing a triumphant look at Mrs. Dean. “He breathes very softly while he’s asleep. I’ve listened to him often.”

  Pete was glad Mrs. Dean had the good sense to keep her mouth shut for once. He didn’t know what Anne meant to say to her later, but the glitter in her eye made him regret he wouldn’t be there to hear it.

  “That was decent of you,” the sheriff said as they walked toward the bunkhouse.

  “No point to putting people’s backs up unnecessarily. Are you really expecting the description by tomorrow?”

  “It should have been here with the affidavit.”

  “What about the other papers?”

  “It’ll take a while before they get here.”

  “Can Anne do business for the ranch in the meantime?”

  “I don’t see why not. Her claim isn’t in dispute.”

  That was all he needed to know. He’d tell her tomorrow. No, he’d wait until Mrs. Dean left. Hearing the truth was going to be hard. Making Anne listen to it front of that woman would be cruel. “I hope you don’t mind sleeping in the bunkhouse,” Pete said to the sheriff “It’s not fancy.”

  “I’ve slept in worse. I bet you have, too.”

  Worse was about all he was going to have for a long time to come. There were no luxuries in the goldfields.

  “Mrs. Dean wishes to return to Big Bend today,” Anne announced as soon as they’d finished their breakfast. She turned to the sheriff. “I’d be obliged if you’d escort her.”

  “Sure, but I thought—”

  “I’m being thrown out, Owen,” Mrs. Dean said, her brow even more thunderous than it had been during the meal. “Anne said I’m no longer welcome in her home.”

  “I’m surprised you thought you would be,” Anne said. “You’ve lost no opportunity to call my husband an imposter and a murderer. Last night you had the effrontery to drive him from his own house.”

  “I was only trying to protect you.”

  “I’m a grown woman. I can protect myself.”

  “You’re still a girl.”

  “I’m a married woman. This is my home. You are no longer welcome.”

  Mrs. Dean flounced from the table. “Be so good as to see that my box is placed in the buckboard,” she said to Ray. She completely ignored Pete. “I will be ready as soon as I get my coat.” She turned back to Anne. “Before long, young woman, you will look back on this day and wish to God you could do it over again.”

  “You didn’t have to leave. All I asked was that you stop slandering my husband.”

  “The man is a liar and a killer,” Mrs. Dean declared. “It is my duty as a Christian woman to see he is unmasked.”

  “Then you ought to be satisfied.”

  Anne had thought she’d be quaking in her boots when the time finally came, but she felt quite calm. She’d been so angry the night before when Mrs. Dean drove Pete to sleep in the bunkhouse, she’d lost her temper—and her fear of the formidable woman—and told her she was surprised she’d stooped to slander and innuendo to find something interesting to fill her dull days. The resulting argument only served to make Anne angry enough to conclude by saying Mrs. Dean would have to leave in the morning.

  But she’d spent the night tossing in her bed being angry at Mrs. Dean, missing Pete, and regretting she’d lost her temper. By morning, she’d almost made up her mind to apologize. Mrs. Dean’s continued attacks on Pete’s character overwhelmed that impulse. She was actually glad to tell Mrs. Dean to leave.

  The silence that followed Mrs. Dean’s departure to her room nearly unnerved Anne. Fortunately, Pete came over, took her hand, and gave it a squeeze.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “I don’t care what she says.”

  “I do. She has no right.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “People are going to do all kinds of things they have no right to do. It’ll drive you crazy if you let it. Just ignore them.”

  “I don’t know how you can.”

  “I’m a lot older. I’ve been called a lot of things in my life.”

  “You won’t be if I have anything to do with it.”

  “My, but you’ve turned into a fierce little kitten.”

  “Kittens are babies. I’m a lioness. I’m not afraid of anybody.” And much to her surprise, she found she wasn’t. If she could stand up to Mrs. Dean—a woman who frightened every woman and half the men of Big Bend—she could stand up to anyone.

  Mrs. Dean came down carrying her coat and a small suitcase. “You will be sorry, young woman. Mark my words.”

  Anne and Pete followed Mrs. Dean outside. As they watched silently, the sheriff settled Mrs. Dean into the buckboard. Before he could reach for her luggage, they heard first one shot and then another come from somewhere beyond the hills east of the ranch buildings.

  “Are we being attacked?” Mrs. Dean asked.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I think it’s an advance signal,” Pete said. “Somebody must be in trouble.”

  Everybody waited. In country as empty as the Wyoming Territory, everybody had to help everyone else. You never knew when you’d be the one needing help.

  A short time later, Cookie, driving as fast as his two mules could go, pulled the chuck wagon around to the front of the ranch house and jerked it to a stop.

  “What’s wrong?” Pete asked.

  “The herd’s been rustled,” Cookie said, jumping down from his seat. “The boys are out chasing down their horses. I got Eddie in the wagon. He’s hurt bad. He needs a doctor.”

  “Eddie!” Dolores practically threw herself down the steps to the man who lay in the bed of the wagon. He didn’t respond to her entreaties to open his eyes and look at her, to say something.

  “Let me see,” Mrs. Dean said. “I’m a trained nurse.”

  Anne was surprised Mrs. Dean had been trained to do anything except intimidate people, but she told herself not to be small-minded. Even cruel people could have good qualities.

  “What happened?” Pete asked.

  “They was ready for us,” Cookie said. “Eddie had just called everybody in for a meeting to reorganize their positions during the drive. Not a soul was near a horse. The rustlers came over the rise shooting and yelling like painted redskins. Everything on four legs except my mules was gone in a flash. They did a lot of shooting, but Eddie was the only one got hurt.”

  Mrs. Dean emerged from the wagon. “This man needs a doctor immediately.”

  “The sheriff will take him,” Dolores said.

  “I’m riding in the buckboard,” Mrs. Dean announced. “There’s no room.”

  “Cookie can take
him in the chuck wagon,” Pete said.

  “I’m going with him,” Dolores said, climbing into the wagon. “Drive as fast as you can,” she ordered Cookie.

  Cookie whipped up his mules, and the wagon started down the trail toward town.

  “He’ll never make it,” Mrs. Dean said. “He’s been shot with a rifle. He’ll be dead within two hours. This is all your fault,” she said to Pete.

  “People have been rustling herds ever since there have been cows in Wyoming,” Pete said. “Even Carl had trouble.”

  “I warned you,” she said to Anne. “This man will destroy you.”

  With that pronouncement, she let the sheriff help her into the buckboard and they started down the trail after the chuck wagon.

  “Shouldn’t the sheriff go after the rustlers?” Anne asked.

  “He can’t do anything by himself. Besides, they can’t get far. I’ll send Ray out with some extra horses. After the boys round up their horses, we’ll go after the rustlers.”

  “Won’t that be dangerous?”

  “Facing people willing to steal or kill is always dangerous, but they’ll rob you blind if you don’t. While I talk to Ray, you check on how much food we have. We’ll pack everything in our saddlebags.” He gave her a quick kiss. “Don’t look so worried. With luck we’ll be back inside a week.”

  It was nearly dark when Ray returned. When Pete saw he’d brought back the horses, he knew they were in for trouble.

  “They won’t come back,” Ray said. “They said you were an imposter, that they were going to kill you. They said if any of the boys came back to the ranch, they’d kill them too.”

  “Who said that?” Pete asked.

  “It was written on a piece of paper nailed to a tree.”

  “Was anybody else hurt?”

  “No. But there’s something strange about that. The boys said there was a lot of shooting going on. They didn’t think anybody was trying to hit them. I heard Mrs. Dean say Eddie was shot by a rifle, but the boys swear there weren’t no rifle in the group they saw.”

  If Pete had had any doubts, he didn’t any longer. Somebody had planned to steal the herd some time ago and had laid very careful plans. The only reason he could figure that Eddie would be the only one shot—and with a rifle, which indicated somebody had shot him from hiding—was to keep his mouth shut. But what could Eddie tell?

  “They’re going to attack the house,” Pete said.

  “How do you know?” Anne asked.

  “Somebody is after this ranch. They’ve killed P—tried to kill me twice, killed Belser, and now tried to kill Eddie. I don’t know all the reasons, but that’s got to be what’s happening. Ray, take the horses and hide them in that canyon behind the ranch house. Then you can leave.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “You know what that letter said.”

  “I don’t run because of no letter.”

  “Thanks. If we get though this, I’ll remember that.”

  “What are you going to do?” Ray asked.

  “Pack up enough food to last a few days. If they attack us, they’ll try to make certain we can’t reach town. That means we’ll have to find a place to hide.”

  “I know a cabin up in the hills, in the timber,” Ray said.

  “Can you take us there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. We’ll start loading the food. Anne, pack some warm clothes for both of us. The first snow could come any day.”

  But Anne didn’t move. “I don’t understand. Why should anybody want to attack us? Why should we leave?”

  The time had come to explain everything.

  “The food is in the kitchen,” he told Ray. “Pack what you can in fifteen minutes, then leave. If you take the horses down the canyon behind the house, no one will see you. We’ll be right behind you.”

  “Pete, what is going on? I insist you tell me.”

  “I will, but you’re not going to like it.” He took her by the shoulders, sat her down in a chair in front of the fireplace, and pulled another up close to her.

  “Why?” she said when he’d sat down and was looking at her intently.

  “Because I’m an imposter.”

  Anne’s complexion turned white.

  “Listen to every word I have to say before you make up your mind about anything,” Pete said. “I’ll make this quick. We may not have much time.

  “My name is Pete Jernigan. I’ve been working in the goldfields of Montana and Idaho for the last five years. About a month ago I decided to take my money and head south. I had already made camp for the night when two men rode up and asked to join me. I invited them to get down. Next thing I knew, I woke up buck naked with a concussion from a gunshot to the head. They took everything I had, stripped my camp bare. I don’t know how my horse got back. I managed to get on his back and start him walking, hoping he’d take me to the nearest ranch.

  “He stopped at a wagon abandoned along the trail. Someone had taken the mules, but they’d left the body of the owner sprawled out on the ground.”

  Anne’s swift intake of breath told Pete she’d guessed who the man was.

  “I was nearly unconscious, but I managed to climb into the wagon and sleep. Later I woke up, ate some of the man’s food, and went back to sleep. I did this for eleven days, until I was strong enough to ride again. In the meantime, I searched the man. I found his wallet and dozens of letters from you. I wondered why everything had been left on him, why the wagon had been left in the open where it could be seen from miles away. Now I know. Someone was supposed to find him so Belser could inherit the ranch. It was pure chance I discovered him first.”

  Anne’s expression was blank. He wished she’d say something, give him a hint of whether she believed a word he was saying.

  “I used to think Belser killed Peter, or at least hired those two men to do it, but now I don’t think so. Anyway, I read all the letters. That’s how I knew Peter was coming here to claim his inheritance. But I wasn’t interested in that. I meant to turn everything over to the first sheriff I found. I wanted to find the men who stole my saddlebags. Every bit of the money I had to show for the last five years was sewn inside the lining. As soon as I was strong enough, I went back to my camp. The hoof prints of the killers’ horses were easy to see. The men who’d robbed me and left me for dead were the same men who killed Peter.”

  Still no reaction. He couldn’t tell if Anne was feeling shock or disbelief.

  “Their trail led me here. I arrived just as your uncle was trying to haul you away. I realized the only way to protect you was to pretend to be Peter. Since I was sure the killers were hiding on your ranch, pretending to be Peter would also give me a chance to find my money. So that’s what I did. You know the rest.”

  “You’re not Peter.” She looked dazed from the shock. Worse than that. She seemed paralyzed, devastated, as if he’d destroyed her whole world.

  “No.”

  “But I let you … we …”

  She didn’t look at him. Rather, she looked at her hands as though she’d somehow gotten them dirty. He could excuse everything else he had done, but not that.

  “You lied to me.” She looked up, pain in her eyes. “Why?”

  “I did it to help you.”

  “Everybody told me you were lying, but I wouldn’t believe them. I was certain you were honest and true and good.”

  “Maybe I’m not as good as I ought to be, but I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to keep you from having to marry Cyrus. But you were so sweet and charming and trusting, I couldn’t help but like you.”

  “You thought I was a gullible child who wouldn’t care whom I married as long as I was safe from Cyrus McCaine.”

  “I thought you were a lovely young woman who’d been mistreated by the very people who ought to have valued her. At first I stayed only so I could find my money. Later I stayed to make sure you’d be able to keep the ranch after I left.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’re lying
again.” She said it quietly, calmly, as though it didn’t mean anything to her anymore. “You know that description isn’t going to prove anything one way or the other. Peter’s clothes fit you. You even look alike. There never was any money or saddlebags. You want this ranch, and you’re banking on my being so afraid of Cyrus that I’ll back your claim.”

  “If that was true, I wouldn’t have told you anything.”

  She paused, but only for a minute. “You’re afraid somebody will find Peter’s body. What did you do with it?”

  “I buried Peter where no one will find him and burned the wagon.” He shouldn’t have told her that part. Now she’d be certain he wanted to steal the ranch.

  “Did you kill Peter?”

  “No!” He’d been afraid she might think that, but hearing the words were a shock. They hurt.

  “Were you the one who came up to his camp, asked to join him? He would have let you. Peter wouldn’t have suspected you meant him any harm. He never could see the bad in people. He thought they were all innocent, like him. You wouldn’t have had to read those letters. He’d have told you everything if you just knew how to manipulate him.”

  “He was dead when I found him. I was shot in the head, remember?”

  “Maybe Peter’s the one who shot you. Maybe he realized, before you killed him, what you meant to do and made one desperate attempt to save himself.”

  “That’s Mrs. Dean’s story. You told me you didn’t believe it.”

  “She was right about you being an imposter. Why shouldn’t she be right about everything else?”

  “Look, Anne, I’m sorry I lied to you. If I’d had time to think, maybe I would have done something else, but it was all I could think of on the spur of the moment.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that first night?” Her chin was up, defying him to tell her anything she’d believe.

  “If I’d told you then, I’d have had no excuse to stay here to find my money. You’d probably have thought I killed Peter, just like you do now.”

  “Why should I believe anything you say? You’re a very practiced liar. Whenever I had questions, you always had an answer ready. Did you plan out your answers ahead of time, or did you think them up on the spur of the moment? That would be real genius if you did.”