Mary Connealy (43 page)

“Quitting men.” Belle hadn’t meant to shout, but the idea of giving up her ranch startled a yell out of her. “Three times a widow is enough. Now promise me you won’t say a word.”

Cassie nodded solemnly.

“I’ll keep your secret, Belle. But word will get out soon enough,” Libby predicted.

“If I can get through this cattle drive then get snowed in for the winter, I’ll have a long stretch of peace and quiet. I’ll spend my time whipping up a backbone to turn men away.” Belle stood, sorry she’d stayed this long. Hoping these women could keep a secret. “I don’t have time for jawing. I’ve got to buy supplies, pick up the hand I hired, and get back to my young’uns. Thanks for the coffee, Lib.” Belle tossed a coin onto the table and left before they could ask any more personal questions.

She stalked out of the diner, spurs clinking, the bell over the door tinkling, and her ears ringing from the gossiping she knew the women would do about her. It served her right. She should have brought hardtack and biscuits instead of being so weak as to eat her meal in the diner.

She headed for the general store, determined to hurry Seth up and get out of Divide even if it meant packing her horses herself.

“Sawyer, why haven’t you hit the trail yet?” Tom Linscott was already snarling as he rode up to the general store on his thoroughbred black stallion and dismounted.

There’d been plenty in and around Divide who believed Wade had changed, but some still had their doubts. The difference was Linscott took the time to do it right.

“I’ve just come from Bates’.” Wade jerked his thumb at the general store he’d just exited. “Belle Tanner rode in with a long order, and Seth’s gotta finish that up first.”

“Well, I want you on the trail today.” Linscott wrapped his reins around the hitching post in front of the general store. His black stallion snorted and fought with the rope and tried to take a bite out of Tom’s shoulder, but Linscott dodged; he’d reinforced all the hitching posts in Divide long ago, for this very reason. The stallion was as cranky as his owner.

Wade looked straight into Linscott’s cold blue eyes and went on as always, being the best he could be and not worrying about anyone else. Linscott had let him do some work here lately. But even that was the tall Swede rubbing in his contempt. It was a big improvement over the days Wade hadn’t been able to keep from goading Linscott until Wade ended up bleeding, sprawled on his backside in the dirt. What Tom felt or believed wasn’t Wade’s problem. He had enough of his own. “I’ll be moving as soon as Seth gets time.”

“Then I want you back here. I’ve got some more work, if you’re willing.” Linscott said it like he was sure Wade
wouldn’t
be willing.

Smiling, enjoying the moment, Wade said, “Belle’s driving a herd to Helena, and I signed on with her. Once I’m back from the drive, I’ll stop out to the ranch. But it’ll be a month or more.”

“She’s taking a herd to Helena this late in the year?”

“So she said.”

Linscott settled his gloved hand on top of his Stetson and adjusted it so it rode low over his eyes. “Who’s she finding to work for her? If she’s askin’ you, she must be scraping the bottom of the barrel.”

Wade knew better than to even clench a fist. He was a believer now. A man of faith. Getting into a fistfight on Main Street wasn’t part of the way he conducted himself. “Lucky for me she is. I need the work.”

With a snort that probably charmed the black stallion, Linscott showed clearly that by
not
defending himself, Wade had just proved he was a weakling.

That didn’t upset Wade much either. Much. He had so many weaknesses he couldn’t count ’em all. That’s why he needed God. Trouble was everyone needed God. Linscott included. And since the man didn’t believe himself one bit weak, he’d be hard pressed to ever figure it out. That reminded Wade of his father—a man who thought he didn’t need anything and had never admitted to a weakness in his life.

“Just get the supplies out to that line shack.” Linscott stripped his gloves off his hands and tucked them in the pocket of his fringed buckskin coat. My men’re running out of food by now.” Linscott brushed past Wade and stomped into the store.

The horse snorted, speaking Linscott’s language.

Wade stared at the beautiful beast for a few long seconds. “What do you think, boy? You like takin’ orders from that grouch?”

The thoroughbred’s midnight black eyes flashed, almost like an answer, and Wade knew the horse didn’t take orders from anyone. He lived on his own terms, and he’d judged Tom Linscott to be worthy, or the horse would have stomped the man to death by now.

It occurred to Wade that the horse had the same temperament as Wade’s father. Then Wade mentally apologized to the stallion.

B
elle conducted her business, doing half of Seth’s work for him to move things along. Then she headed over to the saloon where Silas would be sleeping above stairs.

Belle strode into the Golden Butte, a place two of her husbands—one a drunk, the other a cheat—had taught her to hate. Two flouncy-dressed women sat playing poker with a couple of no-accounts. She had no idea how many women worked here, but since there was no sign of Silas down here, he might have been telling the truth about wanting to sleep.

“I’m heading out, Harden!” she hollered up the stairs. “You awake?”

Silas was only a few seconds coming out. He must have been sleeping with his boots on.

“What are you doing in here?” Silas clumped down the steps, scowling at her. No woman followed after him. Belle didn’t care, but she noticed. “This is no place for a respectable woman.” He glanced at the scantily clad females. “No offense.”

One of them raised her glass. The other crossed her legs and hooked her arm over the back of her chair. “None taken, cowboy.”

“I’m in here to get you. How’d you think I was supposed to get you without coming in?” Belle supposed her behavior was shocking. She didn’t care much, but she could see he did. She took a long look at the two women and was tempted to take them with her, get them away from these men, teach them to work, to grow up, to have some shame.

He clapped his hat on his head. “You should have sent someone up for me.”

“I reckon you’re right.” She didn’t respond beyond that. Instead, she gave up on the women, turned on her heels, and led the way out of the saloon. She had her string of pack horses lined up out front.

Silas had a buckskin standing at the hitching post. He swung up, and the feisty little horse perked up its head like it was rested and rarin’ to be on the move.

The buckskin had the look of a mustang that’d run wild for a time, and Belle knew the sure-footed mare would make the treacherous cattle drive with ease. The horse also looked well fed, and it had no ugly scars where a cruel man might work his mount with a whip or spurs. It raised Belle’s opinion of Silas. She did a quick check of the ropes tying her four heavily laden horses to her roan and tested that her supplies were well secured.

Silas rode up beside her. “Did you find any more drovers?”

“Nope. Well one, maybe, who might come along later.” It grated on Belle to think she might have to settle for help from that low-down Wade Sawyer. “I found a few no-accounts here and there. None of ’em needed work.” She wondered angrily if she’d told them she was widowed would they come slithering out from under rocks and come along out to the place. She probably could have had those two bums from the saloon.

She glanced at Silas, knowing he might figure out Anthony was dead sooner or later. His well-groomed horse stretched out to a brisk walk beside her.

Silas had brown hair and eyes and was just under six feet tall. Belle had the strange thought that if she had a baby with this man and it looked like
him,
at least some of the time she could convince herself it looked like her, too.

Then she realized what she was thinking and almost spurred her horse into a gallop. The string of ponies she was dragging along kept her from running.

“Okay, what about the trail we’re taking?”

The question thankfully took Belle’s mind off nonsense. “It’s a killer. There’s a canyon near my cabin that has a high pass out of the north side. We’re going in on the south—that’s the only other trail in, and it’s a few hundred feet lower in altitude than the one we’ll take tomorrow. I’ve got the cattle settled in that grassy pasture, and they’ll fight us leaving it and climbing up the side of a cliff to get out.”

A thin whistle escaped Silas’s lips as he listened.

“Then is when it gets really bad.”

Silas shook his head. “Sounds like a killer all right.”

“Yep, we’ve got a hundred miles of treacherous turns, flanked by steep cliffs a good part of the time and going up and down one mountain after another. The trails are blocked in places with talus slides. The landslide areas seem like they’re looking for a horse’s leg to break.”

“A hundred miles isn’t much as cattle drives go.”

“Nope, we’ll make it. But where there aren’t cliffs, there are heavily wooded mountainsides that will have to be constantly combed for bunch quitters. This trail is part of the backbone of the Rockies. The herd will be strung out over miles. The—” Belle faltered. She’d almost said “the girls,” but she’d let him find out about the girls when they were well away from Divide. “The drovers will be forced to move constantly, circling, pushing.”

“And we’re heading out tomorrow?”

“Yep. I already have the cattle cut out. Old stuff and almost all my steers, plus a few head of heifers just to cull the herd down to a level that won’t ruin my pasture. The cattle have been getting fat and lazy for the last week. I’ve also scouted the trail a bit, and the start’s not so bad. I’ve cleared the first couple of slides and found some likely pastureland. We should be able to keep the herd well fed and content for the first couple of days. By then they’ll be trail broke, and hopefully, when they have to scale the rugged pass along Mount Jack, the cows and my…my cowhands will come through.”

“How many hands did you find? You wanted six.”

“There’ll be five of us. And I talked to one man who had a couple of days’ work to finish, but he might catch up to us along the drive.”

“That’s still a short-handed drive. But we should manage since it’s so short.” Silas settled his hat more firmly on his head as if he were ready to shoulder the work.

Belle doubted he’d be one that came though—he was a man after all—but she could hope. Right at this moment she was worried enough that she almost wished for all three of her husbands back just because she could make them come along at least and add their body count to the number. In the end she knew they’d just be extra, ornery bulls to deal with, so all in all, she decided their being dead was for the best.

“Now tell me details about this trail. Tell me everything.” Silas looked back, as if checking on the horse string was his job. The man had knowing eyes, studying the ropes and packs. Then, apparently satisfied, he turned back to her.

As they made the trek home, she did more talking than she’d ever done with a man, and that certainly included her husbands.

As she talked, he asked questions and impressed her with his knowledge of cattle. By the time they rode up to the ranch, they were talking like old friends.

Silas swung off his horse and paused for a moment to look at her house.

It was a ramshackle, leaking wreck, and Belle knew it. But she didn’t know how to fix it. Mostly she was used to it, but having Silas stare at her house made her cheeks warm. When was the last time she’d given a whit what anyone else thought of her? Then she remembered that she’d blushed in front of Cassie and Libby today and hoped her tanned skin didn’t show red.

“Let me unload the supplies. Then I’ll put the horses up.”

Belle glanced up, startled. She’d never expected help. When Lindsay and Emma came out and started hauling, Silas was helpful and respectful—two traits Belle didn’t know existed in a man.

Silas picked up the reins of two horses then reached for a third, obviously to lead the horses toward her crumbling barn and makeshift corral. Belle and the older girls each grabbed a horse before he could collect them all. Th en there were horses to rub down, hay to pitch, a cow to milk, and eggs to gather. With Silas helping, evening chores were done in quick time.

“Supper!” Sarah’s little voice called.

All four went toward that homey call.

Belle stepped into the house through the sagging door.

“I put the same amount of potatoes in the pot I did afore Anthony turned up his toes,” Sarah spoke from the stove.

Belle gasped and glanced at Silas who was visibly surprised by the news.

He arched one brow at her in an unasked question.

She resolutely looked away. She had learned a long time ago not to give too much away about what she was thinking and feeling. She’d discovered that a husband often made himself feel more like a man by battering on a woman’s feelings, and men not used to doing business with women dealt better when there was no feminine behavior on the woman’s part.

She scoffed inwardly at her foolishness. She had assumed that whoever she hired would know that Anthony was dead—probably before they got on the trail. Word would eventually get back to town. But since the only man who’d come with her wasn’t from around here, she’d been sifting ideas in her head about claiming Anthony was just away.