Clarissa answered the door in her night wrap, her hair pinned up and damp from a bath. “Fargo,” she squealed as if surprised. “I thought Papa had forgotten something and had returned. I knew he said he wouldn’t be home until midnight.”
“He asked me to give you these things from the store,” the man told her, making no attempt to keep his eyes off the way the thin garment clung to her wet body.
Aptly prepared for Fargo’s arrival, Clarissa had made certain her hands would be full when she opened the door. She smiled beguilingly, her mirror and hairbrush held up before her, and asked, “Would you mind bringing them inside?” As he kicked the door closed and followed her, she pointed to the settee and said, “You can place them there. You’re very kind to do this for me and Papa. Would you like a drink? I’m sure your throat is dry. This weather is so hot.”
“Don’t mind if I do, Miss Clarissa. Whiskey, if it’s no trouble.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all.” She walked to the liquor cabinet and pretended to search for the whiskey, which she had hidden earlier near the back. She knew Fargo was staring at her and becoming aroused. “Here it is,” she announced and turned to him with a smile.
Fargo joined her and took the glass. When he downed it in two gulps, she refilled it, then glanced toward the door and whispered, “You won’t tell Papa if I sneak a drink, will you?”
“’Course not,” Fargo replied, filling his glass again.
After several drinks, Clarissa pretended to be drunk. When Fargo was filling his glass again, she casually loosened her sash, causing her wrap to gape slightly. “I think I’ll find something cooler to put on,” she announced. “This old rag is roasting me.” She moved toward her room, knowing he would follow, and he did.
Clarissa struggled with the garment as if she were having trouble getting it off. “Let me help you,” Fargo offered, removing it. He bent to kiss her neck and began running his hands over her body.
Soon he had her on the bed and was enjoying her to the fullest, and, to her surprise, she felt her body responding. They slaked their lascivious appetites until it was nearing midnight, then Fargo covered Clarissa’s naked form and closed her door as he left the room.
Clarissa grinned as she heard him clearing away the “evidence” of his “seduction.” She stretched and yawned. Fargo wasn’t bad in bed, she mused, especially in the dark where she didn’t have to look at his pockmarked face and squinty eyes. She thought about the times Raymond had forced Marissa to bed that ugly vulture, and she laughed. Perhaps the next time she did this favor for her father, she would ask Fargo a few questions about those degrading times. With a few accurate facts, she might be able to stir little Rana’s memory…
By dusk the next day, Nathan, Rana, and Mace realized they would not be hearing any word from Travis for at least one more day. It was a very bad sign, for time was running out for them. Two hands had been ambushed and killed that afternoon, and a few of the others were getting worried. Alarmed by this added peril and dismayed by the extra work, Cody Slade suggested that the Sunday wedding he and Mary Beth had planned for tomorrow be postponed, but no one would allow it.
“If you don’t do it now,” Mace warned, “you might lose her. From now on, we’ll post guards day and night around the ranch. I promise you she’ll be fine over there with the Raineses and Davises. You’ve got everything set up in your new house. Do it, Cody.”
“Mace is right, son,” Nathan added. “Her pa is willing right now. But if Harry casts his eye on her again, it’ll be too late for you.”
Rana spoke up too. “Everything is ready, Cody Slade. How can you make her sad by refusing to show your courage and love?”
Todd told him, “Don’t worry, Cody. Rachel and Lettie will look out for her. They keep loaded rifles ready all the time.”
“That’s what I’m talking about, Todd. That ain’t no way to live.”
“It won’t be this way much longer,” Todd replied.
“Then I should wait until it’s better, and safe here for her.”
“What you should do,” Nathan advised sternly, “is snap her up while she’s there for the taking. Listen, son, you know how Harry takes whatever he wants. You’d best claim her as your wife before he decides he wants her again.”
“I guess all of you are right. We’ll do it as soon as the preacher gets here after church tomorrow. Where do you want guards posted?”
Mace went over the evening’s assignments, then everyone left except Nathan and Rana, who talked a few minutes before turning in.
Try as she might, Rana could not settle down. She lay across her bed, thinking distressing thoughts. In only twelve days her grandfather might lose his land and his heart. If Travis was not on his way back by now, he could not possibly make that deadline. And if he was on his way home, he would have sent word to them from one of the forts along the trail.
She went to her window, pushed against the thin covering, and gazed at the heavens to pray for her love’s survival. He had taken such a great risk in going after that treacherous gold, she reflected.
Only a sliver of moon was showing and it was very dark outside. On such concealing nights, Oglala warriors had made secret raids on enemy camps, using skills and stealth she had persuaded her Indian brother to teach her. Long ago, on a dare, she had sneaked into an enemy camp, stolen a war shield, and sneaked home without getting caught; Lone Wolf had been furious with her and had tried to pretend he was not impressed, but she knew he had been secretly pleased that she had learned her lessons so well. He had taught her defense and escape and disguise using methods that had begun as amusing games, but there had come a time when her skills exceeded his, and his male pride had been injured. Often he had told her that these skills and practices would prepare her to meet and conquer her true destiny one day, and now she knew that the day had arrived.
Rana’s keen mind began to whirl with daring plans. Saving this ranch was vital to her, because it was so important to the men she loved. She could live anywhere with them, but they loved this land and were a part of it. She truly believed it would be wrong and cowardly of her to do nothing while their enemy cleverly defeated them. If there were only a slim chance of recovering that money… She would not allow such speculations to continue. Her mind was set.
The daring redhead slipped into the dark pants she wore for riding and working around the house, then pulled on her darkest shirt. Taking another one of similar color, she secured it around her head to hide her flaming tresses. Strapping on her knife sheath, she concealed another, smaller blade in the long pocket that had been sewn into her knee-high moccasin, for she knew a gun might make noise and total silence was imperative. Remembering the bow and arrows in Travis’s closet and confident of her skill with them, she went to fetch the quiet, lethal weapons. Cleverly and cautiously she obliterated any markings that would expose them as being Sioux, in case she was compelled to use one or more that night.
Perhaps she would not be able to reach the enticing safe or open it, but she could “nose around,” as Travis called it. The more they learned, the more they would be prepared to deal with Harrison Caldwell when the moment of challenge came. She would not take any foolish chances or risk being captured, for she could imagine what that evil man would do or demand if she were to fall into his power.
The Caldwell ranch was fifteen miles away, but she could not risk taking a horse to ride there. Though she realized her stamina was not at its peak after having lazed around this house for three weeks, she knew how to travel across country and how to pace herself, thanks to Lone Wolf’s training. Over this kind of terrain, she estimated she could travel a mile in ten minutes, which, allowing time for caution, would bring her there in less than three hours. Even if she could not steal a horse to ride most of the way home before releasing him, she would have time to get back before dawn.
Determined not to waste another moment, Rana climbed out her window and slipped around the house. Because she knew where Mace had posted the
Rocking C guards, she could easily avoid them, and, once she had done so, she took the shortest route to Caldwell’s home. Gingerly adhering to her plan, she arrived at the Circle C Ranch within the time frame she had set for herself. Within the concealment of several trees, she rested as she studied the area around the house and the other structures.
It was Saturday night and Rana assumed that most of Caldwell’s hands would be in town, for if her suspicions were correct, this ranch had nothing to fear or protect from the villains who had raided other ranches and were currently attacking her grandfather’s. The men who were around all seemed to be gathered in the bunkhouse, which Caldwell had placed a good distance from his home. Rana began to slip from tree to tree as she circled the house. There were no lanterns burning upstairs, which indicated that either no one was up there or those who were were in bed. There were several lanterns burning downstairs and cautiously she peered into those windows. The kitchen and parlor were empty, but she found Caldwell sitting behind his desk in his office, counting money and making notes in a large book. As she surveyed the room, she noted with mounting excitement that he was alone and the safe was open.
She sat down behind thick bushes, knowing she could do nothing but wait, watch, and listen. Because of the location of his desk and the office door, it would be impossible for her to steal into the house and into his office unobserved. She needed a miracle. Help me, Wakan Tanka, she prayed fervently.
Time passed and Rana was about to give up hope of any success that night. Suddenly she heard the sounds of several horses galloping into the yard followed by the low muttering of men talking. She strained to catch the words but could not. Cautiously she peered around the edge of the window and watched Harrison rise to answer the summons at his front door. Slipping to the corner of the house, she saw him join the men and begin a conversation. She assumed he did not want them to enter his office and see the tempting money on his desk. From his casual stance, she could tell he was relaxed, as if he were in no hurry to get the talk over with quickly.
Furtively she returned to his office window and climbed inside. She hurried to the safe and pushed wide the door to examine its contents. To the rear on the bottom shelf was a pair of saddlebags with rattlesnakes carved on the flaps. Seizing them, she fumbled nervously with the stubborn straps. She knew her time was short, yet her quivering fingers almost refused to work. Swiftly she removed the numerous, tightly bound packets she found within, cramming them into her roomy shirt and positioning them around her waist as she did so. Noting the many, small, decorative pillows on the settee in his office, she quietly retrieved two and stuffed one inside each saddlebag so that the missing contents might go unnoticed for a time. Then she refastened the straps and replaced the saddlebags. After carefully returning the safe door to its former position, she climbed out the window and concealed herself once more.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly with the forceful pounding of her heart, and she found it difficult to control her erratic respiration or ignore the dryness in her mouth. Her hands were trembling wildly and she felt as limp as a freshly skinned ermine pelt. No sense of power or smugness filled her; instead, she was almost overwhelmed by fear and tension. It was too soon for her to experience pride or relief or the sheer joy of success, for she was not out of danger yet. She had the stolen money, but she had to get away without being caught, stuffed as she was with the evidence of her “robbery.” She prayed Caldwell would not look inside the saddlebags that night.
Feeling weak and shaky, she decided to risk riding home on a horse she would take from the corral farthest from the house and stable. She realized she would have to make her way slowly, for the paper money made a crinkling noise as she moved. Rana knew she would also have to wait until Caldwell’s men had left the yard before attempting her trek to the corral, and, as she waited there in the darkness with the money packets tickling her waist, she gradually began to compose herself.
Eventually she heard Harrison returning to his office with one of the men. There the lawyer counted out some money and handed it to the other man, saying, “Pay the men for that excellent job, and make sure they hide those branding irons. We don’t want Kincade or any of his boys finding them.”
The other man replied scornfully, “Kincade ain’t been around for weeks. What’ cha think he’s up to, boss?”
“I don’t know, but very soon it won’t matter. In two weeks the Rocking C Ranch will be mine,” he boasted cockily. “When Monroe and Hayes return, make sure they come to see me immediately. I want to make certain they understand my orders and follow them to the letter.” Harrison glanced up at his hireling and scoffed, “That Monroe bears close watching; he’s an arrogant, dangerous son of a bitch. The damned idiot actually thought he had Mace Hunter fooled by that schoolboy trail he laid so he could raid Nate’s stable. Hell, I really can’t depend on anybody except you and Silas!” he lied to flatter the man. “Keep your eyes and ears open wide. I can’t have any of my men’s bodies showing up in the wrong places. I’ve worked too long and hard building this empire, and my final victory is at hand. I’ll be damned if I allow some two-bit gunslinger to ruin things for me. I don’t want any more burnings or shootings. It’ll be my property soon and my cowpunchers. For now, I only need to scare them and harass them from time to time. There’s no reason to get real nasty unless Crandall finds another loan and gets stubborn about selling out, which he won’t.”
“Where’s Miss Clarissa tonight?” the man asked in an eager tone.
“She went to that barn dance in town. She should be heading home soon. It wouldn’t hurt if you rode that way to escort her home, if you don’t mind,” Harrison suggested nonchalantly.
“Don’t mind at all, boss. I’ll hide those branding irons in the barn, then be on my way,” Fargo answered cheerfully.
“I’ll walk you to the door,” Harrison insisted.
The two men left the room. Fargo went outside and paid the waiting men, who then rode toward town to make the most of what was left of Saturday night by buying women and whiskey at the Fort Worth saloons. Whistling, Fargo headed for the barn with his horse’s reins in one hand and the illegal branding irons in the other while, inside the main house, Harrison poured himself a drink and sat down to daydream about the vast empire he would soon control.
Without stopping to weigh the consequences, Rana set off at a cautious pace to follow the ugly man to the barn and see where he would hide the offending irons. She peered inside and watched him lift several boards to conceal the curved irons, which reminded her of the sliver of moon overhead and which easily altered the Rocking C brand into a Circle C. It was too simple for Caldwell to change their brand to his, she realized with sickening clarity. She would have to convince her grandfather to change his brand completely and into a pattern that Harrison Caldwell could not so readily alter. She moved out of sight as Fargo left the building and rode off on his horse, eager to encounter Clarissa Caldwell on her way home from town. Rana made no attempt to steal the irons, for she knew they would have to be found on Caldwell’s property if they were going to serve as undeniable evidence against the villain. At least she knew where they were hidden and could tell Travis and Nathan, who would then tell the sheriff.
Rana made her way to the last corral and chose a horse. To conceal the fact of his theft, she left the gate open for others to slip out as well. She patted him for several moments and allowed him to get accustomed to her scent and touch; then she gently seized his mane and led him away from the inhabited area. He was sluggish and old, and because she was not intimidating, he went with her docilely. She mounted him bareback and guided him into a slow walk until they were out of hearing range; then she galloped toward the boundary line between the ranches. There she dismounted and left him nibbling grass, with no saddle marking to suggest he had been ridden.
Rana walked the rest of the way home, which took her over an hour in the mid-July heat. Her entire body was moist by the time she sighted the ranch, and she could feel t
he money sticking to her sweaty flesh. Not a breeze stirred to ease her discomfort. She was so weary, so thirsty, and she would have liked nothing more than to have been able to head for the river, strip off her clothes, and go for a soothing swim. But she did not dare. Skillfully avoiding the ranch guards, she slipped into the house and quietly made her way to Travis’s room. Entering his closet, she closed the door and lit a candle. Carefully she climbed the wooden rungs that led to the attic. There she looked around for a place to hide the money until she could expose her daring deed to her grandfather.
A black trunk was positioned in one corner. She went to it and, withdrawing the packets from her shirt, stuffed the money behind it, assuming anyone who might come to search their house would look inside the trunk, not behind it. She removed the dark shirt from her head and crammed it on top of the packets to conceal them. Then she immediately proceeded to the water closet and took a long bath, hoping she would not make enough noise to awaken her grandfather. Either she succeeded or he awoke and assumed she was only trying to cool off from the stifling heat. Whichever the case, he never came to check on her.
Refreshed from the bath, she stretched out on her bed, naked and damp. It was done, she was home safely, and the money was recovered. It was nearing four o’clock in the morning and she was exhausted. Snuggling her old doll into her arms, she closed her eyes and was asleep in moments.
Travis continued his long journey between the Dakota Territory and Texas, traveling mainly at night. He found it was more comfortable to ride at night than during the heat of the day and he could more easily avoid the trouble that had begun to brew fiercely in this area if he rode under the protection of darkness. There were only twelve days remaining in which he had to cover a seemingly impossible distance. He had slept little and rested even less, but he forced himself to keep pressing onward. The telegraph lines had been cut by hostile Indians near two forts at which he had halted, and he could not afford to lose any more valuable time by seeking a place to send a telegram home. He could only hope that Nathan and Rana would realize there was a good reason why they hadn’t heard from him.
Sweet Savage Heart Page 45