Promises Kept

by Scarlett Dunn

  The stagecoach driver approached and advised them it would be at least an hour before he departed due to needed repairs.

  “We’ll be in the hotel dining room having a cup of coffee if you’re ready before then,” Colt told him.

  On the way to the hotel several people stopped to speak with Colt, and he was certain they were all curious about the beautiful woman on his arm. A few feet from the hotel, Colt’s attention was on Victoria, and he didn’t see Maddie and Lucy until he nearly collided with them.

  Colt’s first thought seeing them was Dang my luck, or lack thereof. But he was taught to be a gentleman, so he raised his fingers to tip the brim of his hat in greeting. To his dismay, they didn’t move on, but stopped in front of the door to the hotel. To say he was stunned when Lucy moved in close to him didn’t say it by half.

  “Hi, Colt, honey. Are you coming in to play poker soon?” Lucy asked sweetly.

  The gals from the saloon didn’t make a habit of speaking to men outside of L. B.’s establishment, particularly if they were in the company of a lady. Colt was certain L. B. would not approve of her gals taking such a liberty. Not that he was one of those men who ignored the women when he saw them. He had no problem acknowledging them, but with Victoria at his side, he wasn’t inclined to stop and have a conversation. Like most ladies in town, he doubted Victoria approved of being seen in the company of a sportin’ woman. He’d certainly never seen a lady in Promise have a chat with one.

  “No poker today,” he replied.

  He expected them to keep walking, and when they didn’t he glanced from Maddie to Lucy, but they were both glaring at Victoria. He tipped his hat again and said tersely, “Ladies.” Still, they didn’t move. He wasn’t sure of their game, but he knew trouble when he saw it.

  “Well, maybe later tonight then,” Lucy urged.

  Colt remained silent, thinking that might send the message.

  Victoria couldn’t believe these women had stopped to talk with Colt. Their attire and painted faces told her they worked in the saloon. She thought it best for her to go inside the hotel and allow Colt to handle the situation. “I’ll just be inside,” she said to him.

  Colt foiled her attempt to walk away by curling his arm around her waist. “If you ladies will excuse us,” he said, his tone brusque.

  Lucy refused to move out of the way, and he couldn’t reach the hotel door without knocking her aside. Maddie had rarely seen Colt angry, but she knew from his tone that he was riled. He looked like he was ready to throttle Lucy. Maddie had been in love with Colt from the first moment she saw him. Every Saturday night she would take extra care with her appearance, and wait for him to walk through the door. Worried that Lucy was going to ruin her relationship with him, she wrapped her fingers around the girl’s arm and tried to pull her away. “Lucy, mind your manners. Let’s go.”

  Shaking off Maddie’s hand, Lucy stared at Victoria with undisguised hatred. When her gaze drifted back to Colt, she didn’t seem to care that he was seething with anger. She smirked at Victoria, and said, “I’d say you’ll need whiskey later to thaw you out, honey. You know where to find us.”

  Victoria couldn’t believe the audacity of the girl. For some reason she was acting like a scorned woman. Stealing a sideways glance at Colt, she saw his jaw muscles twitching.

  Lucy’s rude comment aimed at Victoria made Colt furious. If she were a man he would have shoved his fist in her mouth. Seeing as how he didn’t think that would be the gentlemanly thing to do, he was at a loss how to handle a woman acting like a she-cat. He reached for the door behind Lucy, and she either had to move or get hit with the door, so she finally edged out of the way. Once Victoria and Bandit walked inside, he heard Lucy say, “We’ll see you later, honey.”

  “Lucy!” Maddie shouted, and pulled her toward the saloon. “What are you thinking? If he tells L. B., she will fire you for sure.”

  Colt nearly ground his molars off. He wasn’t sure what Lucy was trying to accomplish, but he planned to find out as soon as Victoria was on that stagecoach.

  After coffee and a piece of meat for Bandit were delivered to their table, Colt glanced around the room to see if anyone was close enough to overhear their conversation. When he was satisfied no one was listening, he said, “I’m sorry about those gals.”

  Victoria met his dark eyes, wanting badly to ask questions yet unsure what would be appropriate. But it was difficult to hide her curiosity about his relationship with the women. “I gather they work in the saloon?”

  “Yes,” Colt replied, trying to think of a plausible explanation for Lucy’s behavior, but finding none.

  “The one seems to know you well . . . ah . . . I mean . . . you must be . . .” Victoria spoke before she thought about how her words would be interpreted. She didn’t know how to finish.

  Watching her turn pink from the neck up, Colt couldn’t help but smile, and some of the tension eased from his body. Placing his brawny forearms on the table, he leaned forward and said in a low voice, “I know her, but . . . not that well . . . if that is what you are asking.”

  Victoria’s face changed from pink to crimson in a flash. She was so embarrassed she could barely meet his eyes. “I was asking no such thing!”

  One dark slash of eyebrow arched up. “Weren’t you?” he teased.

  “Certainly not! I didn’t mean . . . I . . . well, it’s none of my business, Mr. McBride.” All the while she was thinking he must know that girl very well for her to act so familiar with him. The other woman wasn’t as obvious in her feelings, but Victoria saw the way she looked at Colt. She had the look of a woman in love.

  The waitress refilled their coffee, and Colt lounged back in his chair, his long legs to the side of the table. It amused him to see Victoria blushing to her toes, looking everywhere but at him. It had taken four days before he got her to call him by his given name; now she was back to Mr. McBride. When she finally met his eyes, he grinned. “Well, I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea. I’m not rightly sure why she acted the way she did.”

  Victoria sipped her coffee, and without thinking she gazed at his wide chest and muscled forearms. Remembering how he looked without his shirt, she wondered if those women had seen him that way. She knew exactly why they’d acted jealous; they both thought Colt McBride was quite a catch. Well, that was not her concern. She was leaving Promise, and it was none of her business if he went to the saloon every night. She glanced up to see him smiling like he knew what she was thinking. She was surprised she didn’t burst into flames. “As I said, it’s none of my business,” she told him primly.

  His smile widened, and he wasn’t about to let it drop. He’d watched her gaze drop to his chest and he knew she really wanted to know how well he knew Lucy. “Now, I’m not saying I don’t visit the saloon. I’m not married, and just like every other red-blooded man in Promise, I go to the saloon to play poker, and I even—”

  “Mr. McBride!” She interrupted before he said more than she should hear. She was all too familiar with things that happened in a saloon. “This is not a conversation we should be having,” she whispered emphatically.

  Colt gave a deep chuckle, the sound reverberating around the room, garnering stares from some of the patrons. He was enjoying her reaction. “I was just going to say sometimes I drink whiskey,” he went on to say, grinning. He sat back and sipped his coffee, his black eyes watching her like the devil ready to pounce on a sinner.

  She knew he was teasing her, and this was a side of him she had seen when he joked with Tate. Seeing that dimpled smile of his did funny things to her insides. Goodness, he was a handsome man when he smiled; it almost made her forget how formidable he was. Almost. Unlike most men she encountered, he didn’t flirt with her. The men who came to the boardinghouse flirted with her all of the time. But Colt was different. At first, she thought he had a woman in his life, or perhaps a fiancée, though he hadn’t mentioned anyone. The few days she was at his ranch, he’d been up before dawn and worked until
dinnertime, then finished up chores late at night, so it didn’t seem likely there was anyone special in his life. If there was, he certainly didn’t leave much time to devote to her. Was it possible he cared for one of those women from the saloon? He obviously found the time to frequent that place. She’d seen many God-fearing men who forgot their religion as soon as they stepped through the swinging doors of a saloon.

  “Did you make a decision about the dog?” he asked, pulling her from her reverie.

  Taking a deep breath, Victoria thought of Bandit and how she hated to leave him behind, but she was forced to consider her situation, and what was best for him. He wouldn’t have room to roam like he would on Colt’s ranch. Every dog needed that. “I think it would be best if he stayed with you. He’d have the whole ranch to run and play, and he’s become very attached to you.”

  He could hear in her voice that she hated to leave the dog behind. “I give you my word he will be well cared for,” he promised.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The stagecoach was ready to depart when Colt and Victoria made their way without incident back to the livery.

  Colt waited as Victoria said good-bye to Bandit, listening to her softly explain to him why he had to stay behind. The forlorn look on the dog’s face made Colt think he knew what was happening. He’d always thought animals were smarter than people, and Bandit’s response was more evidence of that fact.

  “You ready, ma’am?” the driver asked.

  Victoria leaned down and planted a kiss on Bandit’s snout. “Be a good boy,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. Composing herself, she faced Colt. “Thank you for everything, Mr. McBride.”

  Colt reached for her hand to assist her inside the coach. He had to admit it was difficult to put her in that coach knowing he would never see her again. It reminded him of that morning in St. Louis when she was standing at the window of the boardinghouse when he’d ridden away. He told himself it was for the best because he wasn’t a man that wanted to commit to a woman.

  “Colt, hold up!” Bartholomew yelled, hurrying toward them.

  “Just a minute,” Colt told the driver. He turned to Bartholomew, relieved he had finally arrived. “I was worried you weren’t going to get here in time to see Victoria off.”

  “I wouldn’t miss saying good-bye,” he replied, smiling at Victoria. He held out a piece of paper to Colt. “But I think you best read this first. This was inside the letter Chet left for me. I just read it this morning.”

  Giving him a quizzical look, Colt took the paper and read the contents. After he finished reading, he passed the paper to Victoria. “It looks like you’ve just inherited a farm.”

  Victoria’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

  “Read,” Colt said, nodding at the paper.

  Seeing Mr. Barlow’s handwriting made her think of the day she received his letter in St. Louis. After she finished reading, she looked from Colt to Bartholomew. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

  “It does. You now own the Barlow farm,” Colt said.

  As much as she wanted a home for the boys, she didn’t feel right about receiving one this way. She looked at Bartholomew to gauge his reaction. “I don’t understand. You deserve to have the farm. Mr. Barlow didn’t even know me. Why would he leave the land to me?”

  “Chet’s letter explained how he came to the decision. He wrote this after he sent his letter to you, and it was the smart thing to do. We were both getting on in years, and neither one of us had family left. Even if you married another fellow, you could leave the farm to the boys one day. He left me some money, and the right to live on the farm until I die. That would be my preference, seein’ as I don’t have any place I would rather be, if that would be agreeable with you.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “Of course you would stay at the farm. But I still don’t feel right about this, Bartholomew. He didn’t even know if I was going to come to Wyoming. What about distant relatives?”

  Bartholomew moved to her and patted her gently on the back. “He was the last Barlow. Somehow I think the Good Lord told him you were going to come, and he arranged everything.” Bartholomew choked up remembering how his friend was planning to build a new home for his bride. “Just think, you and the boys have your own home now. Isn’t that what you wanted? We’ll keep the farm going, and then one day it will belong to them.”

  “Is this the lovely lady that everyone has been telling me about?” a voice said from behind them. Colt, Victoria, and Bartholomew turned in unison to see Euan Wallace standing there.

  Wallace reached for Victoria’s hand. “I’m Euan Wallace. I understand you were a friend of Chet Barlow’s.”

  “I’m Victoria Eastman,” she replied.

  Wallace gave her a half bow and looked her up and down before he brushed the back of her hand with his lips. “I see the gossips did not do you justice.”

  Like Mrs. Wellington, the man had a heavy British accent and a polished manner. He was tall and thin, with pale blond hair, icy blue-gray eyes, and a long, dark blond mustache. Victoria thought he was quite handsome in an aristocratic way. She also thought he looked vaguely familiar, though she wasn’t sure why.

  Pulling her hand from Wallace’s grip, she nervously glanced up at Colt and was startled to see him glaring at the man with what could only be described as a look of contempt. Glancing from one man to the other, she couldn’t help but notice the differences between them. Colt’s darkly tanned skin and his black eyes and hair provided a stark contrast to Wallace’s light, almost angelic appearance. Colt’s muscled shoulders and chest strained the seams of his shirt, and his well-worn jeans hugged his powerful thighs. Wallace was well-dressed, his suit tailored perfectly for his lithe frame. Colt’s loosely flowing, wavy black hair almost reached his shoulders, while Wallace’s pale hair was cut neatly above his collar, each strand in place. Colt’s large calloused hands spoke of his long hours laboring outdoors. The soft white hands of the stranger told her he was a man unaccustomed to manual labor, more likely a man who gave the orders. Of course, there was Colt’s ever present pistol; she couldn’t imagine the seemingly genteel Mr. Wallace armed.

  Colt didn’t like the way Wallace was eyeing Victoria. “Did the sheriff give you my message?” he asked, hoping to take his attention off Victoria.

  “He did,” Wallace responded smoothly. “You don’t actually believe I had anything to do with a fire on your property?”

  Colt pinned him with a black glare. “The thought did occur to me.”

  “I assure you I don’t resort to such tactics. The sheriff said you were waiting to speak to the judge, but that is a waste of your time.”

  “We’ll see,” Colt ground out.

  Wallace turned to Bartholomew. “Actually, it was you I wanted to speak with, but I was sidetracked by this lovely creature,” he said, smiling again at Victoria.

  Wallace was smooth, Colt had to give him that. Even though he knew the man was lying through his teeth, he did need more proof than the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end whenever Wallace was around.

  “What did you want with me?” Bartholomew asked.

  “Since Chet didn’t have family, I assume the farm will be sold,” Wallace stated.

  Bartholomew’s eyes widened and he glanced at Colt before he responded. He couldn’t help but smile at Wallace when he replied, “I reckon not, seeing as how he left all of his property to Miss Victoria.”

  Wallace was surprised by this piece of news. “I was of the understanding this young woman was of no relation to Barlow.”

  “Relation or not, he left her the land,” Colt ground out.

  “Miss Victoria was Chet’s betrothed,” Bartholomew added, and Colt bristled at the comment. He reminded himself to tell Bartholomew to keep that piece of information to himself in the future.

  Wallace recovered quickly, turning back to Victoria with a sympathetic smile plastered on his patrician face. “My condolences then, Miss Eastman. I was not awa
re of your engagement.”

  Victoria simply nodded, and Wallace questioned further, “So Chet had a will?”

  Colt was about to say it was none of his business, but Bartholomew spoke up again. “Yes, and it was properly witnessed.”

  Annoyed that he hadn’t been aware of Barlow’s will, Wallace planned to go right to the bank to hear an explanation from Mr. Ford. He paid Ford a tidy sum to keep him informed of any situation where he might profit. He surmised McBride was already ingratiating himself with Victoria so he would have first chance to purchase the farm when she sold. His eyes swept over Victoria again. It would be no burden to spend some time with her. He might be persuaded to marry her since she obviously wanted a husband if she was engaged to a man old enough to be her father. That thought made him wonder why she had settled for Barlow. She was beautiful enough to grace his table, and she appeared to be a lady of breeding. “Would you be available to—”

  He was interrupted by the approach of the stagecoach driver. “You ready to leave, ma’am?”

  “Are you leaving Promise?” Wallace inquired.

  All eyes moved to Victoria, but before she could form a response, her attention was diverted by a plump, red-haired woman scurrying across the road hailing the stagecoach driver.

  “Wait! Tom!” the woman yelled. “I’ve a letter I need you to take.”

  Victoria glanced back at the men and saw they were still awaiting her response to Wallace’s question. “I’m not leaving now. My plans have changed,” she answered.

  Wallace gave her a wide smile. “That is good news. Might I ask to escort you to dinner this evening at the hotel? Since you are already in town, it will give us the opportunity to become better acquainted. There are some matters I would like to discuss with you.”