Then she remembered what else Griff had said. A woman was unclean when she was with child and he wouldn’t be with her until after the child was born. She barely suppressed a sigh of relief. Surely she had time before Red claimed his rights. Maybe by the time the baby was born he’d forget what his rights were.
Red shifted his weight and made a clucking sound to start his horse moving. She shifted forward so he wouldn’t be so close, but he caught her. “Hold still. I can’t see when you lean that way.”
Cassie obeyed quickly, hoping she hadn’t annoyed him.
“It might be a good idea to stop at the bank and talk this out with Norm. He’ll move to claim the property, but I don’t want him to think we’re not willing. It’ll ease his mind some if we tell him we expect it.”
Red steered Buck around to the back door of the bank. Red slid off, reached up, lifted Cassie down, and led her into the bank through the back door. “It being Sunday, the bank isn’t open, but that Norm always has something that can’t wait until Monday.”
She’d never been inside the bank. She’d always either stayed home or remained in the carriage when Griff had bank business. A door was ajar next to the safe and Red walked toward it, but Cassie hung back.
“Norm, I can always trust you to be working on the Lord’s Day.”
“Now, Red, don’t start,” a deep voice replied. “I never catch up.”
“Can I talk to you a minute?” Red asked.
“Come on in my office.”
Red rounded the counter then leaned back to look at her. “Come on, Cass. I’m in a hurry. I’ve got chores.”
As always, Cassie obeyed because a woman must always obey her husband, but she couldn’t imagine why she needed to hear this.
“Hey, Norm. Cassie Griffin and I just got married.” Red reached across the desk and shook hands with the formally dressed older man who rose from his chair.
Red was dressed in coarse brown pants and a shirt made crudely from flour sacks. He was liberally coated with dirt from his grave digging. But he greeted Norman York like they were close friends. Griff had always called him Mr. York.
“Congratulations, Red. Congratulations, Miz Griffin, um, Miz Dawson, that is.”
For the first time, Cassie realized she had a new name.
“Sit down.” Mr. York gestured to the pair of heavy wooden chairs that faced his desk.
“No thanks, Norm. We’re in a hurry. Stock’s waiting.” Red got right down to business. “Now, we’ve heard about the mortgage. The one bay is in the stable and the other un’s out at Griff’s place. Seth fed him enough for a couple of days. We’re turning over ownership now. I’m not going that direction, so you’ll have to bring him in yourself. Reckon the whole place is yours now, so handle things any way you want.”
“Griff’s furniture …” Cassie began to protest.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Dawson.” Norman York became very formal. His grammar improved along with his posture. “Your husband mortgaged everything—the house and its contents. I really can’t allow you to take anything out of it. Of course the dress you’re wearing is yours to keep. Although I think there’s a bill at Seth’s to settle up on it.”
“But, there are personal things, my great-grandmother’s pearls …”
“Those are included in the mortgage, Miz Dawson.”
“I…I inherited them. They have been in my family four generations. Griff wouldn’t mortgage them!”
Mr. York went to a cabinet and pulled a file drawer out. He sorted through papers until he found what he was looking for. He handed it to Cassie.
She read it with ever-increasing shock. “My mother’s cameo? And the…the frames my grandparents’ portraits are in? But the portraits, surely I can have them?” Cassie looked up from Mr. York to Red, humiliated. She struggled to gain control of herself. It didn’t matter. Her heirlooms were all just foolish vanity. Surely that is what Griff thought.
She glanced back at the note one last time and lost her composure. “My Bible?” She looked up at Mr. York. “No, a Bible has no monetary worth. But it’s been passed down for generations in my family. It’s precious to me. No one else would ever want to buy it.”
Mr. York fiddled with his string tie for just a second as if it had been pulled a bit too tight. “The thing is, Miz Dawson, that Bible came from Germany a long time ago. I told your husband the same thing, that no one wants an old Bible except the folks who have their names written in it, but Griff knew that huge old book was a New Testament of something called a Gutenberg Bible. It’s worth quite a bit. I will have to ship it back East to sell it, but it alone is mortgaged for over two hundred dollars.”
“Two hundred dollars?” Red exclaimed. “For an old Bible?”
“I know it’s crazy for any book to be so valuable.” Mr. York nodded. “Your husband—uh, that is, your former husband—tried to convince me it was worth far more than the amount I agreed to. We could build a church with that. A big, beautiful church. If things settle up right, the Bible is the first thing I’ll save back for you. But you can see that I can’t just give it back. I will get the photographs for you but not the frames.”
“My family Bible is mine. Griff had no right—”
“The fact is, Miz Dawson,” Mr. York cut her off with considerable force, “a woman’s possessions become her husband’s on the day they marry. Now you may not understand that, but it’s the law. Griff had every right to mortgage that Bible. And if you didn’t want him to, you could have lived without your silk dresses.”
“Norm, that’s enough,” Red said.
Mr. York quit glaring at her and turned to Red. A look passed between the two men, but she couldn’t gather her wits enough to analyze its meaning. She was struck speechless by the venom in Mr. York’s voice. He blamed her for her fancy clothes. He probably blamed her for every beautiful thing Griff had bought. Her whole world shifted at that moment as she realized that the cutting comments she’d overheard about the china doll and the rather stiff way Muriel had always treated her came down to the perception that she was the one who demanded everything be so fine. Mr. York clearly believed that. Did Red?
This was a fight she should never have started. She swallowed hard and felt doubly stupid for having argued with the man while she was so ignorant of the law and of a man’s rights. Finally, she folded her hands, searched deeply for the china doll, and regained her self-control. She spoke demurely, her eyes lowered. “When you get the Bible, would it be all right for me to copy the names out onto a piece of paper? I’d like to keep a record of my ancestors.”
When Mr. York spoke, his voice had none of the unkindness that it had before. “That’ll be fine, Miz Dawson. I’ll have the Bible here when Red comes to town next week. He can bring it out to you, and when you’ve finished with it, send it back.”
Red looked at her. “It’s time to go. I’ll take care of the bill at Seth’s now. I know there’s a bill at the lumber mill and one at Harv’s. Anywhere else in town?”
Mr. York said, “The doc, the stable…check the blacksmith.”
Cassie listened to the list and felt the weight of all she owed press down on her shoulders. She swayed slightly and held herself upright by sheer force of will.
Red nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”
“It’s not your responsibility, Red. No one expects you to stand good for her fancy…that is…for Griff’s bills.”
“I pay what I owe, Norm.” The tone of Red’s voice pulled Cassie back from the edge of a faint. There was something cold in Red’s voice.
“I didn’t mean to imply you don’t pay your bills, Red.” Mr. York pulled a kerchief out of his breast pocket and mopped his brow.
“Good, I’m glad to hear you know better’n to say different. When I married Cassie, I reckon I married her bills. I knew that going in.”
Married her bills? Cassie couldn’t quite make sense out of that. Married her bills?
“I know, Red.” Norman York held both hands in front of
him. “If I come out ahead on the mortgage, you have my word I’ll put it to his other debts. But I don’t think there’s gonna be much.”
“Mort’ll take the spring,” Red warned. “You’ll have to be careful or he won’t pay for it. Too bad there’s not a second bidder.”
“Maybe Linscott will come in on it.” Mr. York watched Red closely as if afraid of him. “He’s got adjoining land.”
Cassie would do well to remember that Red was a man people feared.
“Yeah, but it’s too rugged between Tom Linscott’s land and that spring. He couldn’t use it.”
“Probably not.” Mr. York sounded thoughtful. “But he surely does hate the Sawyers. More importantly, Tom’s not afraid of Mort.”
“Throw in that Tom would usually rather fight than get along.” Red nodded.
Cassie thought the name Tom Linscott was vaguely familiar. She had a mental image of a huge, dangerous black stallion and a fairly young man with overly long white hair who’d struggled to control the beast and nearly run Cassie down in the street one day as she’d followed a few paces behind Griff. Linscott had apologized and seemed genuinely sorry and worried at her fright. Then Griff had lit into him and all of Mr. Linscott’s kind concern deserted him as the two had exchanged unpleasant words. It was one of the last times Cassie had been allowed to come to town with Griff.
“Yep, making Mort pay through the nose for that spring will suit him. I’ll see him before I talk to Mort.”
“Mort’s probably moving his cattle in on it already. And he wanted Cass, so he’s mad.”
“He really wanted the spring, not me,” Cassie said faintly.
Mr. York nodded. “I’ll watch him.”
“Wade wanted me.” Shuddering, she wasn’t aware of saying it out loud.
Red turned to her and laid one hand gently on her shoulder. “I know, Cassie. I saw. That’s why I stepped in. No decent woman would be safe around him.”
Cassie remembered the evil in Wade’s green eyes and recoiled from the memory. She forced herself to focus on the banker. “If my dress is not paid for, Mr. York, perhaps I could return it.”
She turned to Red. “It’s not useful for every day, and if I’m to have only one dress …”
“We can check with Seth. You’re a little thing, but with the waist let out …” Red shrugged and shook his head. “I doubt Muriel will fit in that thing, and no woman in town wears silk anyway.”
“Maybe one of the girls at the Golden Butte—” Mr. York stopped talking when Red turned toward him. Cassie couldn’t see Red’s expression, but Mr. York mopped his brow again.
Cassie wondered who or what the Golden Butte was.
“Let’s go, Cass. We’ve got a few more stops.”
Cassie followed behind Red. He strode out the back of the bank with Cassie trailing along.
CHAPTER 4
Wade shoved past Anthony Santoni as he emerged from the Golden Butte. Santoni was just going in. Wade sneered at the worthless man who lived off his wife and openly betrayed her in the Golden Butte.
Across the street, Wade saw Red and the china doll walk past the alley that opened between the bank and the general store. Swallowing hard, Wade’s hands trembled as he wished for the guts to reach for his gun and separate the china doll from her new husband. She’d been in Wade’s hands. He looked down at his shaking fingers, which flexed and burned with the memory of holding her. And having her torn away.
At least his father had failed. That was one bright spot in this mess. Red had thwarted that fat old man today, and Wade couldn’t help but enjoy that. Except his father’s failure had been his own because now the china doll was beyond his reach.
Wade touched the tender bruises on his face. His father’s plan had been sickening, but at least she would have been at the ranch. Now she’d be with Dawson instead.
Thinking of his china doll with that dirty odd-job man, living in his decrepit house on his poor excuse for a ranch, made Wade want to hurt someone. His hand went to his Colt revolver.
Tom Linscott chose that moment to ride that brute of a stallion down Divide’s main street. Linscott rode up the street toward the doctor’s office. Wade had heard one of Linscott’s hired hands had broken a leg falling off a bronc. Linscott must be coming in to visit.
The tall Swede cut in front of Wade in a way that prevented him from looking down that alley. The china doll was long gone, but it was easy to switch his anger to Linscott. The man had never given Wade his respect due as son of the area’s largest rancher, and that rubbed Wade wrong. Especially since Linscott wasn’t that much older than Wade.
Wade strode down the street to block Linscott’s way. Linscott wasn’t one for the Golden Butte, neither the girls nor the whiskey. The man had a hair-trigger temper and seemed like he was born looking for a fight, but he didn’t have the vices Wade enjoyed.
Linscott was heading into the doctor’s office without watching where he was going, and Wade made a point to step right in Linscott’s path and slam his shoulder into the man. Linscott was a couple inches taller than Wade and twenty pounds heavier, all hard muscle. A part of Wade wanted to hurt somebody and hurt him bad. Another part expected to be given a beating. It seemed like the physical pain canceled out the pain in his heart to think of the china doll married again.
Linscott stumbled back then lifted his gaze to Wade and scowled. “You looking for a fight, Sawyer? Because you’ll find one with me. I don’t step aside for a little man just because he’s got a big old brute of a daddy.”
Wade wanted to put a notch in his gun. He’d been hungry to claim he’d killed a man for a long time.
Linscott shook his head in disgust. “You’re such a fool, Sawyer. Get out of my way.”
Wade’s fingers itched and they flexed near his six-gun.
Laughing contemptuously, Linscott said, “You haven’t got the guts to pull that gun, and if you did, I’d beat you to the draw and put you down like a rabid skunk.”
Wade took a wild swing and landed a blow to Linscott’s chin, mainly because the man wasn’t taking any of this seriously.
Linscott staggered back, and his head knocked into a post supporting the overhang on the doctor’s office. Then Linscott’s famous temper ignited. He cocked his arm and hammered Wade in the face.
Wade hit the wooden sidewalk with a thud.
Two hands from the Sawyer ranch came out of the Golden Butte, and Wade landed at their feet. They both pulled their guns in the flash of an eye and aimed them at Linscott.
Wade looked with smug satisfaction at Linscott. He’d bought into a fight with the wrong man.
Linscott took two steps back, rubbing his chin, looking with cool eyes between Wade and his cowhands. Still, Wade saw no fear on Linscott’s face. Wade envied the man his guts and hated him at the same time.
“I’m not fighting your whole ranch, you yellow coward. You want to come at me, you come alone.” Linscott shook his head in contempt then turned as if the guns weren’t of any concern to him at all. Somehow that dismissal made Wade’s feelings of failure deepen.
One of the men standing over him said, “Pick a fight with someone you can beat next time, you young pup. Maybe a little girl-child.” Both men laughed and holstered their guns as they stepped over Wade to head for their horses.
Burning with shame, Wade hated everyone until the fire of it nearly burned a hole in his soul. That hate reminded him of the one person he didn’t hate.
The china doll.
She was only out of his reach as long as Red Dawson was alive.
He could accomplish two things at once. Kill a man and have his china doll.
Wade finally thought he could do it. He could kill. True, he’d never been able to before and he’d had his chances to draw and ducked them. But he’d never felt this kind of rage. He wanted this enough.
He pictured it.
Red dead.
The china doll his.
He’d be saving her, rescuing her. For that, Wade could k
ill.
Red and Cassie walked down the dirt walkway that ran behind the bank and led to the back doors of four other stores. All closed for Sunday.
Cassie stayed a step behind Red and didn’t speak when he went to the back door of the first one and knocked.
One by one, they were invited into the family living quarters. Each had a bill with Lester Griffin’s name on it. Red talked quietly. Cassie remained several paces behind, embarrassed by the business being conducted in front of her.
Griff had always told her a woman had no head for figures and it was not her place to buy and sell. Now Cassie felt as if she was watching something unseemly, and her cheeks warmed until she feared she blushed crimson. She got some scowling glances from the people with whom Red conducted his business, but he seemed to be ignoring her. That was a situation she hoped continued.
Before they were done, they’d been on both sides of the street and stopped in nearly every store in Divide.
They left the general store for last.
“Cassie needs a better work dress, Red.” Muriel gave Cassie a sympathetic look as if the expensive black silk she wore was something to be ashamed of.
Red and Muriel debated about her dress for a while. Cassie did her best to behave herself and not listen.
Then Muriel led Cassie into the back room. “I’ve got one that I hope will fit. It’s not cut for a woman who’s expecting, but it’s several sizes too big for you so I think it’ll work.” Muriel patted Cassie on the arm.
Cassie looked up at Muriel. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Red told me that you overheard what we said about Griff and you, honey.” Muriel didn’t look like a woman given to tears. She was tough and weathered and she’d seen too much, but Cassie thought the older woman’s eyes watered a bit and there was definite regret in her expression. “I apologize for that. It was gossip and it was sinful. I’m ashamed of myself. I hope you can forgive me.” Muriel extended a thin blue calico dress to Cassie.
Mary Connealy Page 4