On occasion, Muriel would have to get up and help a customer, but she hurried them through ruthlessly and came back to the stove.
Leota finally slipped her needle securely into her growing quilt and got to her feet. “My husband will be hauling the children on his back through town, screaming my name, if I don’t get home.”
Libby rolled the scarf around the ball of yarn and pinned the whole thing together with the two long knitting needles.
“I have baking to see to before suppertime.”
“I don’t think I’d better carry anything over to your diner, Libby. I don’t feel right about the help I got last week.”
Libby said, “Carryin’ for you last Saturday and hearin’ your sweet thank you was the highlight of those men’s lives. You shouldn’t deprive them of the pleasure.”
Cassie laughed and she wished she could do this job for Red, but she didn’t haul the groceries.
The general store got busy as the afternoon wore on. Muriel said menfolk didn’t buy anything ahead. They just noticed they needed something when they ran out, so right before suppertime every night she had a crowd.
Red appeared briefly out of the back room and said, “Hi.” He hurried away with a wooden box of supplies for Libby.
After that, Cassie was aware of every movement from the back of the store, but Red never came up front again.
Mort Sawyer came in with an order and seemed surprised to see Cassie folding a bolt of cloth in front of the counter. He said hello gruffly.
Cassie inhaled slowly and said, “I heard you bought the spring, Mr. Sawyer. I know you wanted it. I’m glad it worked out.”
Mort studied her with narrow eyes, and she knew somehow he’d taken her comment as offensive. She opened her mouth to apologize for she knew not what, but Red came from the back at that moment. He’d come to lend support. She smiled gratefully at him.
“Afternoon, Mort.” Red stood beside Cassie, with one hand resting on her lower back.
Mort had been annoyed with her, but surrounded with people like she was, Cassie hadn’t really been afraid of him. When Red showed up, Mort seemed content to refocus his temper on Red.
“Your interference cost me over a thousand dollars. There were two other bidders on that worthless spring, and it should have been mine along with her.” Mort tipped his head at Cassie like she was nothing except a part of the bargain.
“You know that’s not true, Mort,” Red answered mildly. “Cassie no more belonged to you than that spring. And a thousand dollars is a fair price for a good water source like that. And you can afford it. Plus you got the house—”
“That house is worthless and you know it! No one can live in it back in there!” Mort said gruffly.
“Rip it apart for the wood then.” Red shrugged casually. He tightened his hold on Cassie’s back just a little as if to apologize for Mort’s dismissal of her beautiful house. Cassie stood calmly beside Red, determined to make him proud of her. She didn’t even flinch when he suggested tearing down Griff’s house.
Wade stepped into the store at that second and came to stand beside his father. Standing side by side like that, Cassie thought Mort had the look of an aging wolf. Some of his strength was gone, but he’d replaced it with a lifetime of brutal lessons. Wade looked like a fox, with shifting eyes and a mind that turned to slyness. He had none of his father’s strength of character. Even though Mort used his iron will to solidify power at the expense of others, no one could deny that Mort had what it took to conquer this unforgiving land. Wade would have never made it out West without his father’s wealth and power to ease the way.
In a moment of insight, Cassie knew that Mort was the cattle baron Griff had always wanted to be. She had an urge to smile as she thought how far from Mort’s vicious ruthlessness Griff had been. Griff had been more fox than wolf, too, but without Wade’s sadistic streak. Then Cassie thought of the times Griff had raised his hand harshly against her and wondered if Griff didn’t have more in common with Wade than she wanted to admit.
Then she wondered about Red. He’d said he had five hundred head of cattle. Did that make him a cattle baron, too? “How many head of cattle do you have, Mort?” Every person in the place turned to look at her before she realized she’d spoken aloud.
Mort wouldn’t probably have deigned to answer her question except it gave him a moment to boast in front of all Muriel’s customers. “Over ten thousand head.”
“And how much land?”
Mort said, “With my water claims, I control forty thousand acres. It’s the biggest spread in western Montana.”
Cassie shook her head from side to side. Mort and Wade watched her, curious about her question. She even thought she saw a gleam in Wade’s eye like maybe he thought she was considering whether she’d chosen right to marry Red when she could have had a Sawyer. “If you’re so well-to-do, then surely a thousand dollars isn’t that much to you. Why are you so upset about spending it?”
“I can afford twenty times that amount if I want to!” Mort roared at her.
Two weeks ago, Cassie would have fainted dead away in the face of all that male anger, but Red was beside her, and he’d even been angry with her before and it hadn’t been so bad. Somehow Mort had lost a lot of his power to intimidate, and it was easy for her to stand face-to-face with the two of them. “And why do you need me for a wife?”
She turned to Wade. “Or you? With all your land and cattle and the nice place you live, can’t you go find a wife somewhere who wants to marry you? I know women are in short supply, but get away from here for a few months. Denver is a big city. Go spend the winter in Denver and bring yourself a wife back. Chasing after me the way you’ve been isn’t necessary for a rich man like you.”
Cassie didn’t think she was being rude. It just seemed like common sense. Of course a man ranching alone couldn’t abandon his place and go wife hunting. But with all the hands on the Sawyer place, Wade didn’t have to be alone if he didn’t choose to be.
She didn’t expect Wade to lash out at her like a striking snake. He grabbed her arm and yanked her forward until she was so close to him their noses touched. “No little snip of a woman is gonna tell me …” Wade’s eyes flickered with a stunned look and he loosened his hold on Cassie. He sank to his knees in front of her.
As his face left her vision, she saw Red’s arm around Wade’s neck, choking him so tight that Wade lost consciousness within seconds of Red’s getting ahold of him. Red grabbed Wade by the collar to stop him from falling on his face.
Muriel stepped to Cassie’s side and pulled her back as Cassie babbled, “I didn’t mean to be insulting. I—I just thought—It’s just common sense that he’d—”
“Let up on him, Red,” Mort said quietly.
Red stepped back, grim lines etched around his mouth. He still spoke calmly, but there was iron in his voice. “He’s not gonna lay his hands on Cassie. Get him under control, Mort, before he comes to a bad end. You’ve raised yourself a poor excuse for a man. He’s been prowling around my place, and he poisoned my water hole this week. I’m letting it pass because none of my stock died, but I’m watching for him now. He won’t get off so easy next time.”
“You can’t prove nothin’, Dawson.” Wade dragged in a deep breath of air. His voice was hoarse.
“I can read signs, and every man here knows it. Your horse steps high and takes a long pace, and your boots leave a mark as good as a signature. There’s law out here, Wade, even for a Sawyer. And if you ever touch Cassie again, you’d better hope I remember I’m a Christian man, because that’s the only thing that will protect you.”
Cassie was standing well back from Wade. Red was right behind him. She was watching Wade struggle to his feet until she glanced at Red. He wasn’t looking at Wade. He was focused on Mort.
Right before Cassie’s eyes, that hard, old tyrant shrank to something far more human, and Cassie could see that Red was Mort’s equal. Red was as tall. He wasn’t as broad, but that was because
Mort had gone more and more to fat over the years. Red had broad shoulders and corded muscles in his arms. But the thing that really made Red a man to respect was the force of his will. He held Mort’s eyes and spoke with a confidence that no one could deny. There was no threat in Red’s voice, only promise.
Wade staggered sideways as he stood and knocked into his father, breaking the stare down between Red and Mort. Mort looked at his son and disgust crossed his face.
For a second Cassie felt sorry for Wade. Wade had grown up weak because his will had been broken by his father.
Cassie knew in that instant that Mort might respect Red and leave him alone, because Mort was the kind of man who would face anyone head-on. But Wade would turn to deviousness—like poisoning a water hole or manhandling a woman or shooting someone in the back. Mort couldn’t promise anything for Wade and Cassie knew it. She hoped Red did, too.
“It’s over, Red.” Mort turned to Wade. “You hear that, boy? There’ll be no feudin’ with the Dawsons. You stay off his land and keep away from the china doll. She ain’t for you. Not anymore.”
“I hear you, old man.” Wade sneered and started for the door. “I hear you bawlin’ ‘cuz you’re afraid of the preacher here.”
Mort snapped at his son. “Remember what I said, Wade. It’s over.”
Wade jerked the door open and left the store, slamming the door much as he had the Sunday before.
Mort turned to the gathering of people around him, and stepping past them like they were stray dogs beneath his notice, he went up to Seth. “I’ll be back for my order in an hour, Bates. Have it ready.” Mort thrust a piece of paper at Seth and left the building.
The second he left, Cassie rushed to Red’s side. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start all that. I didn’t mean to be so bad-mannered. I’m the cause of—”
Red leaned down and kissed her. He didn’t kiss her for long, but she quit talking to try and catch up with the kissing. He pulled away and said flatly, “Don’t go anywhere alone, Cassie.” He looked up and said to Seth, “You see she minds me, Seth. You have to watch her every second. She’s a wily little thing.”
Several people laughed, and some of the tension in the room fell away.
Red looked back at her. “And don’t you dare take the blame for Mort and Wade Sawyer. There’s not another man in this place, maybe in the whole territory, who would grab you like that even if you spit on him and told him his lacy pantaloons were showing under his skirts. Why, most of us would thank you for the insult and keep the spit for a memento of having a moment of your attention.”
Several men surrounded them and they all added their agreement to Red’s statement.
One of them said, “I’d be much obliged for you to spit on me, ma’am,” and the crowd laughed.
“No decent man hurts a woman, Cass.” The way Red was looking at her, she knew he was talking about Wade, but he was thinking of Griff, too. And these crude, uncivilized men who had always been beneath Griff’s notice felt the same way. There was silence between her and Red for a second until she nodded slightly.
Red rubbed her arms as he did sometimes, as if she were chilled and he wanted to warm her. “The Sawyers were pestering the people around here long before you or I came, and a sweet little thing like you can’t make ’em better and you can’t make ’em worse, so don’t bother to try.”
Red’s tone lightened and his smile took on a teasing quality. “Anyway, even if it’s all your fault, it doesn’t make any difference.”
“Why not?” Cassie asked suspiciously.
Red leaned so close his lips brushed against her ear. “‘Cuz, I knew when I married you, you were gonna be trouble.”
Cassie pulled away slightly, trying to conceal her hurt.
Red caught her chin with two fingers and leaned in close and spoke so nobody could hear. “Now’s when you’re supposed to say, ‘Red, you low-down, worthless excuse for a man, I’m not trouble. You are. And if I am any trouble, I’m worth every minute of it.’ ”
Cassie could feel her cheeks turning pink at the very thought of speaking so to her husband. She whispered something completely different than what he’d ordered her to say. “Red, I think you’re about the finest excuse for a man I’ve ever known.”
Red’s eyes looked deep into hers. For a long moment Cassie felt joined to another human being in a way she never before had. Then he seemed to remember himself because he shook his head a little. “You are one disobedient woman. All this niceness is a big disappointment to a man who likes sass.”
“I promise I’ll try to be meaner,” Cassie said demurely.
Red laughed and tapped her on the tip of her nose. “You do that.”
Cassie had a sobering thought. “Mort can’t control him, Red,” she warned softly.
“I know. But I had to give him a chance to try. I’ve never killed a man, and I never want to. I don’t want it to come to that. It’s about more than wanting something like that on my conscience. I don’t think it’s too judgmental of me to suspect that if Wade died now, he’d never make it to the Pearly gates. In some ways it would be better for me to die than him because of what he’s facing in the afterlife. I don’t know if I’d have the courage to die to save the life of a man like Wade Sawyer, but it would be the right thing to do, I reckon. But I have you and the babe to consider. I have to protect the two of you. Maybe Mort can do something. Maybe he’ll send him to Denver like you said.”
“Oh, but the poor woman who’ll end up married to him.”
Red smiled. “Maybe he’ll marry someone like Belle Tanner. She could handle him.”
Cassie arched both brows. Belle could handle Wade. “But Belle’s already married.”
“True, but her husbands don’t seem to be permanent, exactly.” Red looked out the door as if seriously considering introducing Wade to Belle. Then he shrugged. “Let’s don’t worry about the imaginary woman he marries now. I’ve got food to deliver and the windows to wash at Grant’s and a few more things to do before I can quit for the day.”
“I wish I could help you with the food, Red.”
Muriel interrupted. “I can’t spare you, Cassie. Red’s gonna have to do it alone.”
A look passed between Muriel and Red, and Cassie knew Muriel had special instructions to not let Cassie overdo. Cassie’s heart warmed to think people were taking care of her.
Red headed to the back of the store, and, to Cassie’s surprise, a dozen men who had gathered to get supplies while Mort and Wade made their fuss filed past her, each tipping his hat. They followed Red back and each hefted an armload of the goods that were sitting there, gathered to fill Libby’s order. Cassie hurried to the hallway to watch and saw the men follow Red across the street.
Red was ahead and didn’t notice them until he was opening Libby’s door. He turned enough to see he was leading a parade, and he started laughing. Cassie smiled to see Red’s shining white teeth and generous smile. Then, although he had two fifty-pound bags of flour on his shoulder, he held the door for the whole long line of men.
The men filed straight back out and came to be waited on at the store. Cassie made sure to thank each of them personally and did her best to call each by name.
CHAPTER 18
Mort knocked Wade into the wall. His head cracked against the rough native stones of the fireplace in the huge Sawyer dining room and he sank, stunned, to his knees.
His father drew back his fist. “I’m not telling you again, boy!”
That huge club of a hand hammered Wade’s jaw. Wade flew sideways, landing with a thud, stretched out flat on his belly. His head reeled.
“You leave that woman alone!” Mort’s boot slugged Wade’s chest, flipping Wade to his back. “I’m sick of you sniffing around her!”
Another kick made the room go dark. Wade struggled to remain conscious. Through blurred eyes he saw a smear on the floor where blood dripped from his nose.
He was a man. Eighteen just last summer. Wade lay there and wish
ed his father dead. He hated himself for not having the guts to kill him.
He struggled for air. In his muddled brain he heard the china doll cry for help. She’d been done wrong, too. Wade had seen the marks Griff left on her porcelain white skin. Now Dawson had her. Wade’s head spun and he clearly saw Dawson raising his fist to poor Cassie. She’d told Wade to go to Denver. Now he heard the real meaning.
Go to Denver and take me with you.
“Get up! Stand up here and take it like a man!” Mort taunted.
Wade didn’t move. He knew his father in a mood like this, and only abject submission would make him stop. Wade swore it was the last time.
“You’re a little coward. How’d a man like me raise such a weakling?” Mort leaned down and grabbed the front of Wade’s shirt and lifted him until his feet dangled above the ground. “The hands laugh at you to your face.”
Mort threw Wade against a table. He crashed to the floor. A broken pitcher slashed his skin.
“They sneer at you right in front of me and I can’t even call them on it because they’re right.” Mort kicked him in the stomach. “I’m ashamed to call you my son.”
Wade coughed and spit up blood. He didn’t move. His vision blurred and the blood seemed to be doubled and tripled. He lay there, trampled into the floor like dirt and knew every word his father said was the sheer truth.
He was weak. He didn’t have the nerve to pull his gun. If he could kill a man, his father would respect him. Maybe even fear him. And maybe, if Wade ever found the backbone to use his weapon, his father should fear him.
Mort finished his tirade and stormed out, slamming doors. Wade laid there, a whipped pup.
The cowhands, when Wade had been knocked down by Tom Linscott, had called him a pup.
Gertie, their housekeeper from the time Wade’s mother had died, came in as soon as the door slammed and sank to her knees beside Wade. She already had a wet towel to wipe away the blood. “I’m so sorry, Wade. Poor baby,” Gertie crooned as she bathed his face, bathed his face like an infant that had made a mess eating his food.
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