Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier] (9 page)

Brita fell silent. Mara waited for her to say more about her beloved Gallagher, but slowly sleep overcame Mara’s determination to stay awake. She slept dreamlessly until she awakened with a dull headache and to the smell of coffee. She opened her eyes and found herself staring at Trell’s young face bent over his mother.

“Pack?” Mara slid off the bed and hurried around the end of it to the bunk.

“He’s sweatin’. Ma says the fever broke.”

Pack was awake. His eyes were clear. He looked different this morning. His face was leaner, his lips thinner. Much of the swelling had gone from his face. Small beads of sweat stood on his forehead.

“Are you feeling better?” Mara placed the palm of her hand against his cheek.

“Much better.”

“You’re not at all feverish.”

“You took care of that last night. Thank you.”

“Why, Pack Gallagher!” she teased. “If you don’t watch out you might be civil to me.” Her smile was radiant. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“I’ll fix you something.”

“You best be making yourself decent first unless you’re wanting every man on this place to see you in your night-clothes.” He swung his gaze down the full length of her body.

Mara backed away from him as if he had struck her. A rosy redness rushed up her neck to flood her cheeks, and anger kept pace.

“I had no such thought in mind, Pack Gallagher! You’re an evil man to even think it!”

“Evil or not, I am a man, Mara Shannon. A man who knows you’re naked under that gown!”

“Oh! Why . . . damn your rotten soul! I needn’t have wondered about you ever being civil. You don’t know what the word means! You’re a crude, rude, asinine man with cow dung for brains. And you can go straight to hell for all I care!”

“Swearing too! Your Pa didn’t send you to school to have you come out talking like a mule skinner!” Pack’s face was rigid with lines of disapproval.

There was silence, a bitter aching silence.

Mara seethed with anger. His criticism grated on her nerves like chalk screeching against a slate, filling her with a red rage. Not trusting herself to speak lest she bring forth more swear words that came to mind, Mara lifted her chin and walked from the room. Her legs were unsteady, but her shoulders were square and her back straight. Not until she reached her room did she give way to her anger. Then she slammed the door so hard the house shook.

*  *  *

The day had started off badly, and it didn’t get any better as it progressed. By the middle of the afternoon Mara was tired and angry. She had sent Trellis to find Aubrey only to discover that her cousin had gone to town. Now she stood at the window of one of the upstairs rooms and looked down at the three men sitting on the porch of the cookshack. They had been sitting there for hours while she had been carrying trash down the stairs and piling it on the back porch. The two upstairs rooms had been filthy. Mouse droppings were everywhere. Mara vowed to buy a cat if she couldn’t get one any other way. Finally the rooms were clean, the mop and pail were carried down to the back porch, and the windows were open to let a cool breeze pass through. She had done all she could do without help. She needed someone to carry the old musty mattress out into the yard to air, and needed help to carry her things up the stairs.

The bureau in the room was usable, as was the washstand. The bed and mattress in the room downstairs would have to be brought up as well as her trunk. Before winter she would purchase a rug for the floor. Up here she would at least have a measure of privacy.

Before Mara had quite realized that she had made a decision, she was down the stairs, out of the house, and heading for the bunkhouse. The breeze felt good on her hot face; the pistol in her pocket slapped reassuringly against her leg as she walked.

The men on the porch stopped talking and watched her approach. She recognized the man who had helped Sam Sparks carry Pack into the house. An old man without teeth sat on a bench, one leg crossed over the other, and a young man, hard looking with bold black eyes, sat on the edge of the porch. He wore down-at-the-heels boots and cruel-looking spurs.

“Do you men work here?” Mara asked curtly, addressing all three.

They looked at her silently, sullenly. Then the young bold-eyed man grinned at her, folded the knife he had been using to pare his nails, and put it in his pocket. He moved his eyes slowly over her body, then brought them back to linger on her breast.

“What ya wantin’, sweetheart?”

Mara gave him a scornful glance that had sent schoolgirls scurrying to their rooms in tears. He didn’t seem to notice her displeasure. His grin broadened, showing a missing tooth. He looked at her with his head cocked to one side.

“Do you understand English? I asked if you
worked
here.”

“Work here?” he echoed. His eyes moved over her again before they came back to her face. “Sweetheart, I ain’t likely to ever be that hard up!”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Why, I’m just passin’ the time.” His eyes darted to the other two men.

“Then I suggest you pass the time someplace else.”

“They work here.” Cullen spoke belligerently as he came out the door. “What are you doing out here?” he demanded.

“If they work here, why aren’t they working? It seems to me there’s plenty to be done.” Mara had to tilt her head to glare at Cullen who stood on the porch.

“Get on back to the house. What goes on down here is no concern of yours.”

“Everything on this place concerns me. I want to know why these men have loafed out here all afternoon. Look at that corral. Look at that shed. A good wind would blow them away. They need repair as well as—” She caught herself just before she mentioned the outhouse that leaned perilously to one side. “Just about everything around here needs repair.”

“I’m tellin’ ya to mind your own business ’n get back to the house. I thought takin’ care of that son of a bitchin’ Gallagher would keep you busy.”

“Don’t you dare cast a reflection on Cousin Brita’s character!”

“Don’t be tellin’ me what to do or
say!
I’m running things here, and if you don’t like it, you can hightail it back to your fancy school!”

“You worthless, mouthy, slimy little piece of horse dung!” Mara sputtered. “You’ll not be running things here for long. I can assure you of that.”

“Whoopee! She’s got some mouth on her, Cullen.” The bold-eyed man slapped his thigh and shouted with laughter. Mara ignored him and spoke to Cullen again.

“When your father gets back, tell him that I want to talk to him . . . tonight!”

“Tell him yoreself.”

Sam Sparks came out the door and stood behind Cullen.

“Afternoon, Miss McCall.”

“Hello, Mr. Sparks.” Mara’s color was high. She didn’t think she had ever been so angry in her life, but she would not give this group the pleasure of laughing at her. “Could I trouble you to help me for a short while, Mr. Sparks?” she asked calmly. “These
gentlemen
are too busy.”

“Certainly, ma’am.” He moved around Cullen and stepped off the porch.

“If’n you’d a asked me that nice, I’d a helped you do most anythin’ you’d want done, little sweet thin’.” The bold-eyed man stood. He was as rangy as a wolf and reminded Mara of one.

“Mister, I don’t like your looks, and I don’t like your manners.” Mara spoke icily. She looked from the bold-eyed man to Cullen. “If this is an example of the men you have working here, it’s no wonder the place is run-down. Get rid of him.”

The man whooped with laughter. “Well, foofaraw! Ain’t she uppity? You’d better set Miss Lacy Drawers straight about a few things, Cullen.”

“Go on back to the house, Mara.” Cullen’s eyes were blazing with anger and his voice choked.

“Come on, ma’am.” Sam took Mara’s elbow in his hand and urged her toward the house. “It’d be best if you didn’t come down here, Miss McCall,” he said after they had walked a distance from the bunkhouse.

“Do you mean to say that it isn’t safe for me to move about on my own property?”

“The property may be yours, Miss McCall, but it’s not in your possession. Yes, I’d say it’s not safe for a genteel young woman to wander away from the house.”

“I have a pistol in my pocket, and I wouldn’t hesitate to use it.”

“Have you ever shot a man?”

“No, but I could . . . if I had to.”

“I wouldn’t count on gettin’ the drop on a man like Sporty Howard. Stay away from him.”

“Well . . . for goodness sake!”

“How is Pack?” Sam dropped his hand from her arm as they neared the house.

“Grouchy as a bear.”

“He must be feeling better.”

“Mr. Sparks, something is going on here that I don’t like. I can’t get Aubrey or Cullen to tell me a thing.”

“It’s not my place, ma’am, so don’t ask me. It might be best, as they say, if you went back to Denver.”

“No! If one more person tells me to leave my home in the hands of these incompetent fools and go back to Denver I’m going to throw a screaming fit!”

Sam Sparks grinned down at her. “I’m not sure I’d want to be around when that happens.”

They had come into the kitchen. Mara flashed him a saucy smile, unaware that Pack could see them from where he lay on the bunk in the adjoining room.

“I’ll tell you a secret if you’ll not tell anyone.” She moved close and spoke in a confidential tone. “I’ve never thrown a screaming fit in my life. But threatening to do it gets pretty good results . . . sometimes.” She laughed softly.

“Someday someone will call your bluff; then what are you going to do?” Sam placed his hat on the table.

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

Mara’s laughter floated into the next room, and the man on the bunk felt his muscles tighten.

“What was it you wanted done?” Sam asked.

“There’s a mattress upstairs that needs airing, and I’d like help getting my bed and the rest of my things upstairs. I’m going to use the upstairs rooms because,” she paused, then continued, “because I can bar the door!” She looked at Sam closely to gauge his reaction.

“Not a bad idea.”

“Sam,” Pack called. “Come in here.”

Sam looked away from Mara and into the bedroom. “I’ll be in shortly, Pack, after I help Miss McCall.”

Mara walked past the doorway on the way to the stairs without looking into the room where Pack lay. Each time she passed, she tilted her nose a little higher. She would never forgive Pack Gallagher for the way he had talked to her that morning and vowed to do as little as possible for him. Trellis had brought his breakfast from the cookshack. She had carried a tray to Brita at noon, returned to set a bowl of beef and dumplings down on the stool beside Pack with a loud thump, and walked away. Since that time she had ignored him.

Sam carried Mara’s trunk and carpetbags up the stairs and put the straw mattress on the back porch to air. The bed and mattress from Mara’s old room was brought up and reassembled. After that Sam examined the door.

“This slip lock won’t hold, ma’am. Ya need a stout bar to wedge under the knob. I’ll cut one ’n leave it on the back porch tonight.”

“Do you think I’ll be needing it?”

“Ya can’t tell, ma’am. A man gets to drinkin’ at times ’n don’t use no judgment.”

“Thank you for helping me. Are you going to be here for a while, Mr. Sparks?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t usually stay in one place long enough to get a growth a beard.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin and grinned at her.

“Why are you here?” Mara asked.

“To rest my horse ’n eat grub I didn’t cook over a campfire.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I pay for bed ’n board.”

“Do the other men pay to stay here too? Is that why they thought it so funny when I asked why they were loafing?”

“I only speak for myself, ma’am.”

“I appreciate your honesty. I would have been disappointed if you had said you worked here.”

After Sam went down the stairs. Mara stood in the center of the room, her arms folded across her chest, her mind crowded with questions. Sam was right when he said that although she might own the land, it wasn’t in her possession. How in the world was she going to get control? And what would she do with it if she got it? She knew nothing about making a living off the land.

A feeling of utter despair came over her. Whom could she turn to for advice? Certainly not Cousin Aubrey or his son, Cullen. Her father had liked Pack Gallagher, but he had already told her to go back to Denver. He had troubles of his own and would not be around long enough to help her with hers even if he were willing. She suddenly thought of Ace January, the marshal. She filed it in the back of her mind to ask Trellis if he would take her to town to talk to him.

*  *  *

Sam sat down on the low stool beside Pack’s bed. “How’re ya doin’, Pack?”

“I’ll make it. I’m obliged to you for getting me in the house and sewing me up.”

“Ya got yoreself worked over real good. I’d a swore ya was out cold when Miss McCall brought ya in.”

“I was. Trell told me what you did. I’m surprised to see you out here, Sam.”

“Why?”

“You know
why.
I never thought you’d have the need to hide out.”

“It just goes to show that ya don’t know everythin’, Pack.”

“Do you know the Rivers place over west of here?”

“I’ve not been there, but I heard a fellow by the name of Charlie Rivers has a place over along Lodgepole Creek.”

“I’d be obliged if you’d ride over and tell him I need clothes and boots. Ma says he’ll be bringing his sister over sometime during the next week or so, but I can’t lay abed until then.”

“I’ve been warned to stay clear of the Rivers place.”

“Charlie’s all right if you ride in and tell him your business. It’s the ones that sneak around trying to get a look at Miss Emily that gets him riled up.”

“How long’s he been out there?”

“Three or four years. He’s doing all right. He’s got a little herd, does some trapping, and he gets along with the Sioux that come through there.”

“Where’s he from?”

“Ask him. I figure he’ll tell you if he wants you to know.”

Sam shrugged. “Guess he would. I’ll ride over in the mornin’.”