Pete (The Cowboys)

by Leigh Greenwood

  Both outlaws stared open-mouthed at Mrs. Dean. Anne was certain they never expected—or intended—to look for anybody. Anne was relieved to see that Mrs. Dean kept a firm grip on the rifle she carried.

  Anne tried to pull away, but the outlaw didn’t release her. “You’ve got to help her,” she said. “We’ve got to take her to your cabin until she recovers.”

  Just then Mr. Dean darted out of the trees looking just as demented as his wife, brandishing a sword at some imaginary foe. He looked around as if he had no idea where he was or what he was doing there.

  Anne broke from the outlaw’s slackened hold and hurried forward to Mrs. Dean.

  “Get them both to come help me up,” Mrs. Dean whispered when Anne reached her. “You must get both of them.”

  Anne and Dolores attempted to help Mrs. Dean to her feet, but she collapsed rather dramatically, still holding tightly to her rifle.

  “Can’t you get the old cow to her feet,” the second outlaw scoffed.

  “She’s exhausted,” Anne said. “We need your help—both of you.”

  “We ought to shoot her and put her out of her misery,” the second outlaw said. He appeared to be weighing in his mind the possibility of getting rid of Mr. and Mrs. Dean and having Dolores and Anne to himself.

  “Don’t say things like that,” Anne said. “You’ll frighten Mama.”

  “Oh, hell!” the first outlaw said. “Let’s get her in the wagon and out of here.”

  The two outlaws bent over to help Mrs. Dean to her feet. As they did so, Anne and Dolores wrenched the rifle from the first outlaw’s slackened grip. At the same moment, Mr. Dean attacked the second outlaw with his sword. The outlaw managed to deflect the sword point, but the two of them went over in a heap.

  Mrs. Dean lurched to her feet, her rifle on the first outlaw. “Don’t move, or I’ll put a bullet in you. Horace, you fool, let go of that man.”

  “I’m holding him for you, my dear,” Horace said as he was flung against a tree. Ray came out of the woods at that moment, his gun drawn and pointed at the second outlaw. But Horace staggered to his feet and into his line of fire. The outlaw, unarmed, grabbed Horace for a shield.

  “Pull that murderer off Horace before he kills him!” Mrs. Dean cried.

  Ray tried fruitlessly to draw a bead on the outlaw, but he hid behind Horace. Holstering his gun, Ray attacked the outlaw, head first. They all went down with a series of grunts.

  “Don’t try to help your partner,” Mrs. Dean warned the first outlaw.

  He ignored her, and she put a bullet in his thigh. The man screamed and fell to the ground clutching his bleeding leg.

  “My leg is broken,” he cried.

  “I doubt it, but if it is, it serves you right. I warned you,” Mrs. Dean said. “I’m very good with this rifle.”

  “I’ll kill you,” the outlaw shouted to the accompaniment of grunts and groans from the three men wrestling on the ground.

  “Not until you can walk,” Mrs. Dean said, then turned her attention to the other man, who seemed to be holding both Ray and Mr. Dean down at the same time.

  “Hit him with something,” she said to Anne.

  “What?”

  “Anything.”

  Anne had nothing except the first outlaw’s rife. She was reluctant to do anything as violent as hit a man on the head with a rifle stock. Then she thought of Peter and Pete. Those men had shot them in cold blood and left their bodies in the open for wild animals to tear to pieces. Cold anger that anyone could be so cruel and coldhearted ousted any feeling of sympathy. Gritting her teeth, she raised the rifle into the air and slammed the butt into the back of the outlaw’s head.

  He subsided into an inert lump atop Mr. Dean.

  “See, my dear,” Mr. Dean said as he lay pinned under the outlaw, a self-satisfied smile on his face, “I told you we could capture these ruffians.”

  “I don’t deny these men stopped by my chuck wagon,” Bill Mason told the sheriff. “We give hospitality to any wandering cowhand. But I never hired them to kill Peter Warren.”

  The hearing had been scheduled for the sheriff’s office, but so many people had showed up that the sheriff moved it to one of the larger saloons. Anne was certain every person in town was in the room. It was so crowded, she couldn’t see the faces of half the spectators, but she hadn’t failed to notice her uncle and Cyrus McCaine. Apparently they still hoped some twist of fortune would return her to their control.

  “Eddie Kessling hired us to kill Peter Warren,” the outlaw said. “He’s the one who paid us and told us where to hide. That lady told me Mason hired Eddie.”

  The outlaw pointed at Anne. She cringed inwardly, but she didn’t avert her gaze. When it came her turn to speak, she’d tell them what she’d done and why. She hoped it would be enough to convince the sheriff, but things hadn’t been going well so far. With Eddie dead, there was no way to connect Mason to the men who killed Peter. Neither was there any proof Mason was behind the deaths of Belser and Eddie. Anne couldn’t even prove Mason’s men had rustled the Tumbling T steers. Mason’s lawyer had been very successful at making sure what little evidence there was pointed in Pete’s direction.

  Anne’s only consolation was they had no proof against Pete, either. If Pete could only convince the sheriff he didn’t want the ranch, then maybe the sheriff would agree he had no motive to murder Peter or anybody else. The money and the saddlebags supported Pete’s story, but it still didn’t look as though anybody believed he meant to walk away from ownership of the biggest ranch in Wyoming.

  “I don’t believe Anne would have said any such thing,” Mason said.

  Mason had been careful to act the role of the perfect law-abiding citizen—calm, considerate, concerned for the welfare of the community. Not once had he shown even a trace of his murderous temper. It made Anne sick to see the way he played to the townspeople, the way they accepted everything he said.

  “I love Anne,” Mason announced, sounding more a model of moral rectitude than the minister of the church. “We’re going to be married as soon as—”

  “No! It’s a lie!”

  Every head in the room jerked around at the sound of a woman’s voice. Anne turned to see Judy, the saleswoman from The Emporium, fighting her way through the crush of spectators at the back of the room.

  “You love me!” she cried. “Only me.”

  The sheriff tried to restore order, but Judy wouldn’t be quiet. She fought her way forward until she reached Bill Mason. Her face was red with anger. His face was white from shock.

  “I don’t want to know anything about your personal goings-on,” the sheriff said to Judy. “We’re here to decide who murdered Belser and Eddie.”

  Judy ignored the sheriff. “Tell her you lied,” she pleaded with Mason. “Tell everybody it was just a trick. You love me, not her.”

  The outburst had shocked Anne as much as it had apparently shocked everyone else. At first she’d been embarrassed. Then she realized Bill Mason had been jolted out of his pious attitude. His face was almost purple with fury. People had been whispering about Mason having a woman somewhere. It was clear now that Judy was that woman. By announcing that he loved Anne and meant to marry her—Mason must have thought that would somehow help his case—he’d broken some promise he’d made to Judy, and she was upset and angry. Maybe she knew something. If Anne could make her angry enough, she might tell it.

  “Of course he doesn’t love you,” Anne said in the most condescending and insulting tone of voice she could produce. “Why should he? You’re nothing but a shopkeeper’s assistant.”

  Judy spun to face Anne. “And you’re nothing but a redskin,” she shouted. “No decent man could love you.”

  “I’m young and pretty,” Anne purred. “And I’m very rich.”

  “Tell her!” Judy screamed at Mason, who was being restrained in his chair by his lawyer. “Tell her it was all a trick.”

  “He’s told everybody he wants to marry me,” Anne said in
a loud voice. “He loves me so much, he asked Mrs. Dean to take me into her home so she could launch me into society.”

  Mrs. Dean, who seemed to be as acute at some times as she was obtuse at others, spoke up immediately. “I’ve already arranged one party. Bill was so pleased he asked me to arrange the wedding.”

  “Tell them, Bill,” Judy screamed at Mason. “Tell them, or I will.”

  “Calm down,” Mason said, finally finding his tongue. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.” He looked ready to kill her. “Sit back down. We’ll talk later.”

  Judy turned and stormed across the room to where Anne sat. “It was nothing but a trick,” she snarled. “Once he had your ranch, you’d disappear and we could be married.”

  “Shut up, Judy! Don’t listen to her,” Mason shouted. “She’s crazy.”

  “But it’s not my ranch,” Anne said, determined Judy should tell everything she knew. “It belongs to my husband.”

  “Your husband’s dead. Bill had those men kill him in Montana.” She pointed to the outlaw. She didn’t notice when Mason started up from his chair. “Then he had Eddie kill Belser so the sheriff could hang that man you’ve been living with. You thought you’d steal the ranch, the two of you, but Bill is smarter than either one of you.”

  A shot rang out. Several men wrestled Bill Mason to the ground.

  Judy clutched her chest, then looked surprised when she drew her hand away covered with blood. “No redskin is going to steal him from me,” Judy said, still looking at her blood-covered hand. “He’s mine. He’ll always be mine.”

  She closed her eyes and fell down dead.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Anne felt her heart skip a beat when the Tumbling T ranch house came into view. In just a little while she’d see Pete for the first time since the hearing. Seeing Judy killed right before her eyes had sent her into a state of shock. Mrs. Dean had taken her back to her home and refused to allow anyone to see her for three days. Now that she was well enough to return home, Mrs. Dean accompanied her. She insisted Anne have a chaperone until Pete either married her or left for points south.

  Anne was returning as the sole owner of the largest and richest cattle ranch in the Wyoming Territory. A copy of the certificate of her marriage to Peter Warren had finally arrived, but it didn’t make her happy. She didn’t want a ranch. She wanted Pete. Mrs. Dean had sent him back to the ranch with orders to wait until she was well again. Anne was petrified he would believe all the terrible things she’d said to him after he told her about Peter’s death. Mrs. Dean had given Pete his money. It had been the only reason he’d come to the ranch in the first place. Anne had nightmares about him leaving before she got back.

  Before they reached the house, she realized that someone was standing out front with Pete.

  “Did the cowhands come back?” she asked Ray.

  “No. You’ll have to hire a whole new crew next spring.”

  “Then who’s at the ranch?”

  “Some man named Monty Randolph. He showed up the day we got back.”

  Uncle Carl had said Monty Randolph was one of the most important cattlemen in the Territory. Anne remembered that the letter Pete had written in the lawyer’s office had been addressed to him. What could have brought him all the way from Cheyenne?

  But she forgot to worry about Monty Randolph when she looked at Pete. Her heart started beating so fast it hurt. He looked just as handsome as she remembered. Not even a big, blond man who was taller, bigger, and even more handsome could draw her attention from the man she’d thought about constantly for three days. She was halfway out of the buckboard when she felt Mrs. Dean’s hand on her arm restraining her.

  “You will not throw yourself at him,” the dowager commanded. “You will wait until the buckboard stops and he helps you down.”

  Anne wanted to throw off Mrs. Dean’s restraint, to throw herself into Pete’s arms. But when the buckboard finally stopped and she got a good look at Pete’s sober, unsmiling expression, her heart sank. She waited for him to help her down.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  Concern was evident, but the restraint was still there.

  “Fine. I could hardly wait to get back.” Before she could say any of the things she’d been wanting to say for days, Mrs. Dean demanded that Pete help her down. By that time, the tall stranger had come down the steps.

  “This is Monty Randolph,” Pete said, introducing the man to Anne. “Jake used to send his cows to market with the Randolph herds. They even let me go along a couple of times.”

  She didn’t want to talk to Monty Randolph, and she didn’t want to talk about cows. She just wanted to find out why Pete was looking so sober, why he greeted her like a family friend rather than the love of her life.

  “It was kind of you to come all this way to help Pete,” she said to Mr. Randolph, “but he was cleared of all charges.”

  “That’s not why I’m here,” Mr. Randolph said. “Pete wrote me about the rustling. We can’t have that. If you let it start in one place, it’ll spread to the rest of the Territory.”

  A woman came out of the house. She held a small child in her arms and a little boy by the hand. A thousand ideas occurred to Anne at once, all of them involving this woman taking her place in Pete’s heart.

  “That’s the other reason I came,” Monty said.

  “Who is she?” Anne asked.

  “Gary Warren’s widow.”

  There had to be some mistake. “I didn’t know Gary was married.”

  “Myrtle is his common-law wife,” Monty said. “She’s been on our ranch for nearly a year. She never told us about Gary until she heard me talking to Iris about Pete’s letter.”

  “I’m not asking anything for myself,” Myrtle said, coming toward Anne, “just for my children.”

  “I should be very careful, my dear,” Mrs. Dean whispered rather too loudly. “You don’t know this young woman is who she says she is.”

  Anne thought that if anyone else was accused of being an imposter, she’d scream.

  “Come inside,” Pete said. “I think it’s best you hear her story from the beginning.”

  Anne didn’t want to go inside; she didn’t want to talk to this woman. She just wanted to talk to Pete, but he was acting so different. Surely he couldn’t believe she’d meant any of those things she’d said to Judy. He had to know she was just trying to provoke her, to get her so upset she’d forget caution and tell everything she knew. Judy’s disclosures had cleared Pete of suspicion in any of the deaths. But it was clear Anne wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to Pete until this thing about Gary’s common-law wife was cleared up.

  They were soon settled inside. Dolores provided coffee while Myrtle told her story.

  It turned out Gary Warren was just like his father. He ran away when things got difficult. He left Myrtle pregnant with a small child and got himself killed in a blizzard. Myrtle had gotten herself to safety at the Randolph ranch, where she stayed until she had her baby and got well.

  “Gary promised to marry me as soon as we got to Cheyenne,” Myrtle said.

  “I’m sure he would have,” Anne said.

  “But the fact remains he didn’t,” Mrs. Dean said. “You have no legal claim on Anne’s ranch.”

  “I don’t want her ranch—really I don’t,” Myrtle said. “I was hoping to find Gary’s brother. As the children’s uncle, surely he would…”

  Anne had had doubts about Myrtle’s story at first. But Gary had lived at the ranch until four years ago. She remembered him well. The little boy looked too much like him not to be his son. Peter would have taken them in without question.

  “Peter wouldn’t have hesitated to invite you to make the Tumbling T your home,” Anne said. “I’m happy to do the same.”

  “I’ll work for our keep,” Myrtle said. “So will the boys when they get big enough. We didn’t come here asking for a handout”

  Mrs. Dean interrupted to ask several questions that Myr
tle answered willingly.

  Anne wasn’t interested in the questions or the answers, only in Pete. He seemed to be withdrawing, moving further and further away from her. Maybe he thought that now that she was rich, she didn’t want him any longer, didn’t need a husband. Maybe he thought that after all the lies he’d told, she would never trust him again.

  She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that nothing was more important to her than being his wife, but she wasn’t sure he’d believe her. They’d said so many foolish things to each other it would be hard to see the truth.

  Then, quite suddenly, Anne knew what she wanted to do. It was so simple, she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it earlier.

  “You’ll have to work all right,” Anne said, breaking in on Mrs. Dean’s interrogation. “Running a ranch isn’t easy. We don’t have a foreman.”

  “That needn’t be a problem,” Mr. Randolph said. “I’ll be happy to help you find an experienced man for the job.”

  “See, it’s getting easier already. I’d offer you Ray and Dolores, but I hope they’ll go to Texas with me.”

  “You couldn’t keep me here,” Dolores said.

  “Me neither,” Ray added.

  “If Mr. Randolph will agree to look in on you from time to time, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mrs. Dean asked. “This is your ranch. You’ll naturally do the hiring.”

  Anne didn’t answer Mrs. Dean. She had turned to face Pete, was watching his expression change from a motionless mask to the impulsive expression of his inner feelings. She saw surprise, doubt, hope, fear, and hope once again.

  “Anne, you can’t—” Pete started.

  “Of course I can. It’s my ranch. I can do anything I want.”

  “I don’t understand,” Myrtle said.

  “I’m giving you the ranch,” Anne said. “Uncle Carl wanted it to go to blood kin. Otherwise it would have gone to Belser. I’m sure he would want it to go to Gary’s children rather than to me.”