Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier] (45 page)

“You’re wearing yourself out, Mara Shannon. You’ve lost weight these last few weeks. Pretty soon I’ll not be able to find you in the bed.” Pack attempted humor because he didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m going to pickle some string beans, make chow chow and start a barrel of vinegar.” She spoke absently, as if her mind were a million miles away.

Pack watched her. Her head was tilted back against the porch post, her profile and the arch of her neck clearly defined. Of late her cheekbones were a little more prominent, her eyes less bright. Those things came with hard work and sleepless nights. Her face was the same, but it seldom changed expressions.

It was killing him to be with her and not have the intimacy they had shared those few short weeks in early summer. At that time he had been as near to heaven as he ever hoped to be. Each day now the distance between them seemed to widen. She didn’t nag, question or demand. She didn’t laugh or smile or make unnecessary conversation either. She was sick with disappointment. He could see it in her eyes.

“It’s cooler now. I think I’ll go to bed.”

Pack didn’t reply. It was the same each night. He sat alone, dealing with his own misery while she got ready for bed. After awhile he would follow, slip into the bed like an anonymous, faceless lover, and take her in his arms. No matter how tired he was or how determined he was not to give way to his desire, his body would leap in response to the touch of hers, and he would love her until they were both drained and exhausted.

It all boiled down to one thing, Pack concluded as he looked up at the stars. Mara Shannon’s love didn’t include Pack, the bareknuckle boxer who was going to debase himself and humiliate her by climbing into the ring in two days’ time. It didn’t include the man who had a sisterly love for a little whore who had never known kindness, and her love wasn’t for Pack, the man who was held in contempt by the “Laramie Ladies.”

How in the hell was he going to make it through the next thirty years living with her, but without her? She was his life.

With a long stick Mara punched the quilts down into the soapy water again and again, going from one washtub to the other. It was an hour after sunup and she had two quilts in each tub and four blankets hung on the line. She was wet from her bosom to her knees. The twins had helped her fill the washtubs and now they were getting ready to leave for town.

Already she was exhausted by the heat and the labor. She poked the quilts down in the water one last time, left the stick in the washtub, and went to the well to draw up a fresh bucket of water. She carried the bucket to the shade of the back porch, wiped her face on her already wet apron, and drank a dipperful of water.

A lone rider was coming up the lane from the road. At first Mara didn’t pay much attention, thinking the man was just passing through. She opened the screen door to go into the kitchen. She wasn’t frightened, but she didn’t like being caught looking so untidy.

“Cousin Mara.”

The call stopped her. She squinted her eyes to get a better look at the rider and recognized him just seconds before he rode into the yard. Cullen removed his hat and wiped his forehead with his shirt sleeve. He had grown a mustache since she had seen him last, and he looked leaner, harder. When he smiled, his teeth showed white against his deeply tanned face. The smile was not meant to be friendly, and Mara knew it for what it was: a lecherous leer.

“You’re lookin’ mighty purty today, Cousin Mara.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm. “To see you like this was worth every hot, dusty mile I rode to get here.”

“What do you want, Cullen?”

“Do I have to be wantin’ somethin’? Ain’t I welcome to see my pa ’n brothers ’n my purty cousin?”

“Your father and the boys are down at the bunkhouse.”

Even as she spoke Cullen was stepping down from his horse. He dropped the reins, and the ground-tied trained animal stood motionless, his nostrils flaring at the smell of the water. Cullen took the dipper from the bucket, his eyes still on Mara, and drank.

“Your horse needs water.”

“I’m hungry. Fix me somethin’ to eat, Cousin Mara.”

“You can get something at the cookshack.”

“I want to eat here.” He walked into the house.

“I didn’t invite you into my house, Cullen,” Mara said, following him.

Cullen stood in the kitchen and looked around. “My, ya got it fixed up purty fancy, ain’t ya?”

“Leave. I don’t want you here.”

“Chairs ’n’ a oilcloth for the table,” he mused as he grasped the round knob on the back of one of the chairs and rocked it.

“Steamboat will feed you before you leave,” Mara said pointedly.

Cullen threw his hat into the corner and sat down at the table. “You fix me somethin’.”

“Pack will be back soon. He’ll tear you up if he catches you here.”

“That’s a pile a shit, Cousin Mara. He spent the night in town with the little whore from the barbershop. And today Moose Kilkenny will tear him up, scramble his brains and cripple him for life.”

“You’re lying.”

“About what? The whore or the fight?”

“Both.”

Cullen lifted his shoulders and grinned. “If that’s what you want to think, it’s all right with me. Fix me a meal ’n I just might tell ya what I found out ’bout yore dear papa while I was in Denver.”

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say, but I’ll fix you a meal to get rid of you.”

“You’ll want to hear this. Yes, sirree bobtail, you’ll want to hear how you got passed over by your old man.”

Mara set out the meat she had cooked the day before, bread, butter and boiled eggs.

“Miss High-and-Mighty McCall ain’t got a pot to piss in,” Cullen remarked and laughed at the way she clamped her jaws together and glared at him. “Chaw on that news while I eat, Cousin Mara.”

Travor came bounding in the door. “I thought that was your horse.”

“Howdy, little brother. Sit down. Cousin Mara invited me to breakfast.” Cullen cut off a portion of meat and took a big bite. “Get me some coffee, Mara.”

“I’ll not fire up the cookstove. You can drink what is left.” She poured the lukewarm coffee in a cup and set it on the table within his reach.

“Purty persnickety for a poor relation, ain’t she, Trav?”

“Are you here to cause trouble, Cullen?”

“Naw, Trav. I just wanted ta see my pa ’n my brothers afore I head out for Californy.”

“Pa’s in the shed working on the harnesses.”

“Then switch yore tail down there ’n tell him I’m here.”

“Leave Mara Shannon alone, Cullen. Pack’ll stomp you in the ground if you don’t.”

“Pack’s in town gettin’ stomped, little brother. I’ll stomp yore ass in the ground if you don’t do what I tell you.”

“Go on, Travor,” Mara said calmly.

Travor stood hesitantly in the doorway for a moment. Then he went out, slamming the screen door behind him. Cullen laughed with his mouth full. Mara turned away in disgust.

“Sit down, Cousin. I’ll tell ya all about my trip to Denver. I got a whole parcel a news.” Mara sat down at the far end of the table. Cullen laughed again. “Yo’re just dyin’ to know what I found out. Ain’t that right? Yo’re so nosey, I almost think yore kin to ole Brita instead a Pa.”

“Say what you’ve come to say and stop playing your stupid games.” Mara’s temper flared as she spoke.

“Now, now, now,” he said soothingly. “Don’t get upset. I need what money ya got on hand, Cousin Mara, afore I set about rememberin’ anythin’ ’bout that trip to Denver.”

“What?” Mara rose up out of her seat.

“I’m headin’ for Californy, like I said. I need money.”

“Then go. I’ll be glad to see the last of you.”

“I jist couldn’t believe yore fine, upstandin’ papa would go through all that money he got from sellin’ his claim.”

As Cullen’s eyes bored into Mara’s, she felt a numbness in her chest. He was mean and evil, and he cared for no one but himself. But he was smart enough to come here when he was certain Pack would be away.

“I’ll give you what I have and I want you to leave. I don’t want to hear anything you’ve got to say.” His laughter followed her up the stairs. Mara opened her trunk and took out the twenty-two dollars she had brought with her from the school. She dropped four dollars back in the trunk, took the rest downstairs and threw it down on the table. “This is all I have. Take it and go.”

“Jesus Christ! Eighteen pukin’ dollars! Ole Pack holdin’ out on ya, Cousin? If I find yo’re holdin’ out on me—” His voice carried a threat.

The door opened and Aubrey stood there. Travor crowded in behind him.

“Howdy, Pa. The family black sheep’s come home.”

“How be ye, son?” Aubrey’s eyes went to the money Cullen was stuffing in his pocket, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Fair to middlin’, Pa. Where’s Trell?”

“Waterin’ yore horse. The poor beastie was fair in need. ’Tis no way to be treatin’ a good horse.”

“Sit down, Pa. Have ya ate? Mara Shannon’ll fix ya somethin’. Fix my pa some breakfast, cousin.”

“Cousin Aubrey ate breakfast hours ago. I want you out of here, Cullen. You can talk to your father and the boys outside.”

“Ain’t she the limit, Pa? Ya’d think she was queen a the roost. I come to tell her ’bout ole Shannon’s will, but she don’t want to hear it.” Cullen laughed in a boastful way that made Mara detest him all the more.

“Ye best be shuttin’ yer mouth ’bout it ’n bein’ on yer way, son.” Aubrey’s voice was stronger and more positive than Mara had heard it before.

“Ya givin’ me the push-off, Pa?”

“I dinna want ye to be makin’ trouble for Mara Shannon. Me ’n the boys has a good place here, ’n we be treated fair.”

Cullen’s eyes narrowed as his lips curled downward. “You willin’ to kiss Pack’s ass to have a roof over yore head? What happened to yore pride, Pa?”

“I’m thinkin’ I finally found it. Say what ye’ve come to say, Cullen.”

“I was down in Denver ’n went to see a lawyer feller named Randolph. I seen his name on a letter that come here to ya. ’Course I know ya can’t read a line,” Cullen said with a sneer in his voice. “Ole Brita’d only tell ya what she wanted ya to know. I got to thinkin’ Shannon might a left somethin’ to us ’n the spiteful ole bitch didn’t tell us.”

“Brita dinna lie!”

“Ah, shit, Pa. She’d spit on Christ if it’d helped that bastard!”

“Hush yer mouth, Cullen,” Aubrey commanded harshly.

“Whata ya know, boys? Our pa’s gettin’ guts!” Cullen’s eyes darted to Mara. “I ain’t hushin’, cause I want this prissy ass woman with her nose in the air, who come here a stirrin’ things up, to know that her pa didn’t think she was so much. He cut her outta his will ’n left this land ’n everythin’ on it to Pack Gallagher! Her name ain’t on the papers a’tall!”

Mara, standing behind a chair, held onto the knobs on the back. It took a few seconds for the import of Cullen’s words to penetrate her mind. The smile on his lips and in his eyes was spiteful. She tore her eyes away from his gloating face and looked at Aubrey. She waited for him to deny what his son had said. He was shaking his head sadly and looking at Cullen as if he were seeing him for the first time.

“Ye’ve got a mean streak in ye, son.”

“Papa wouldn’t do that!” Mara said stoutly. “Cousin Aubrey, you know Papa wouldn’t do that.”

“Aye, lass. ’Tis true. I dinna know till after ye left the school ’n come here. Brita told me the land ’n all was Pack’s and he’d a put us out long ago if not fer her ’n the boys.”

Mara pulled the chair out and sat down.

“You got all that school learnin’, cousin, but yore just
poor
shanty Irish like the rest a us. This house ’n everythin’ in it ain’t yores. Yo’re payin’ to stay here by sleepin’ with a
prizefighter.
Them high mucks in town call him Irish trash. How’s he in bed, cousin? Whores say he’s hung like a bull ’n can outlast a two-peckered stallion.”

“Shut up, Cullen!” Travor shouted. “You’ve done your dirt. Why don’t you just shut up?”

Cullen turned a mean gaze on the young boy. “Ain’t you forgettin’ who yo’re talkin’ to, boy? Watch yore mouth or ya’ll be spittin’ teeth.”

Mara jumped to her feet. “Get out!” she shouted.

“What’re ya all up in the air for, Cousin Mara?” Cullen stood, his hands palms down on the table.

“I want you out of my house!”

“Yore house?” He cocked his head to one side. “I’ve been ponderin’ on why yore papa cut ya out ’n left it all to Pack. There ain’t but one reason I can think of. Ya warn’t old Shannon’s kid. I’m thinkin’ Pack was. Him ’n Pack was mighty thick. Shannon McCall could a had the hards for crippled ole Brita.” His lips curled in a travesty of a smile. “Now that’ll give ya somethin’ to think about for awhile.”

Fury rippled through Mara, turning her emerald eyes dark, loosening the violence that had seethed just below the surface since he had arrived. She took two long strides and swung. Her palm connected sharply with Cullen’s cheek.

He grabbed her wrist and bent her arm backward.

“Ya damn uppity bitch, I’ll show what a real man—”

“Let go of her!” Travor yelled.

The young boy made a flying leap and landed on Cullen’s back. Trellis, from beside the door, tackled Cullen from the front. Beneath the weight of the two boys, Cullen let go of Mara’s arm and went down. Chairs went crashing to the floor. The oilcloth slipped and Mara grabbed the lamp before it fell from the table.

“Here now! Here now! Stop! Ye hear?” Aubrey pulled first at Travor and then Trellis.

Eyes wide with the horror, Mara knew that if she’d had the strength she would have killed Cullen. She stood with her back against the cookstove, her hands on her cheeks. Fighting back waves of nausea and tears, she watched as the boys were pulled off their older brother. Cullen got to his feet. For a long moment he stared at Mara with pure hatred in his eyes before he picked up his hat and stomped out of the house. Aubrey and the twins followed close behind him.

Watching from the window, it seemed certain to Mara that Cullen was going to attack the boys. He went as far as to shove one boy against the other, but the twins stood their ground shoulder to shoulder, and if Mara hadn’t been so upset over all that had taken place she would have been terribly proud of them. Cullen shouted something and shook his finger in his father’s face. After a few minutes of hot exchange, Cullen mounted his horse. He pointed the animal down the lane and kicked him into a run.