Sweetwater (8 page)

“You stupid son of a bitch! You want the Territorial marshal down on us?”

The man who spoke swiveled around in his chair. Cold blue eyes beneath bushy white brows glared at the Indian agent.

“I never told them to kill him. I said scare him and if he didn’t move, burn him out.” Havelshell leaned against the doorjamb. He had not been invited to sit down.

“I don’t like bringing in uncontrollable gunmen.”

“Hartog said the man drew on him. What was he to do?”

“It doesn’t stand to reason that a lone man would draw on three armed men unless he had no choice.”

“I wasn’t there. I only know what they told me,” Havelshell replied.

“I hear that Hartog is pretty mean with women. Tell him not to try any of that rough stuff around here. I don’t want to get people riled up. There is nothing that draws people closer together than to be against someone. It’s already known that Hartog’s your man. What he does is reflected on you.”

“I’ve already talked to him about that.”
Not that it’ll do any good. The horny bastard will do as he pleases.

“If that land comes up for auction, the squatters on it will be given compensation for the improvements they’ve made. I went to considerable trouble to get you appointed Indian agent as soon as we learned of Walt’s will. I want those squatters off without any trouble that will draw attention. What about the teacher? Anyone been out to see how she’s doing?”

“I plan to let her stew out there for a week or two. I want to give her time to be good and sick of it. I’ve put out the word that no one’s to give her a hand, no matter what she offers to pay. She’ll be gone by the first of the year. She’ll not stay when the weather gets to below zero and she doesn’t have help.”

“I’m depending on you to see to it.” The man rocked back in his chair and studied the agent. “Who is with Arvella out at the reservation store now?”

“Linus is still there and a Shoshoni girl. Two, sometimes three, hands to take care of the stock. Old Ike Klein comes and goes. ’Course, old Ike is more Indian than white. I heard that he and Whitaker came west together. Ike hunted meat for a freight line, and Walt went to the gold mines and made a fortune. Shows you how smart old Ike was.”

“He’s a gutsy old buzzard, from what I hear. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for him to be nosing around.”

“He’s harmless. No one pays any attention to what he says. They figure he’s got mountain fever. It happens to a lot of men who spend time alone in the mountains.”

“How about old Chief Washakie? Is he still up north in the Wind River country?”

“As far as I know.”

“I’ll expect to hear from you as soon as you call on Miss Gray. Don’t let her hoity-toity manner put you off. She’s a gentlewoman from the East; one of them suffrage women come to help the
poor
Indians. She’ll put on a show of having a stiff backbone, but you can bet she’s shaking in her shoes.”

“She’s got a right to be. If she’s got any brains at all, she’ll realize she and those girls will starve or freeze to death this winter when snow is about six feet deep.”

“Is Walt’s Indian kid still hanging around?”

“He knows better than to go off the reservation. I’ll take a whip to him if he does.”

“That will be all, Havelshell. Report back after you’ve been out to Whitaker’s.”

Alvin Havelshell seethed as he left the house and got into his buggy. Damned old fool sitting in his fancy house treated him like he was one of his hired hands.
A hired stud.

He wished that he’d never brought Walt Whitaker’s will to the man. But, hell, after that first cattle drive, when he saw how easy it was to cut out half the herd that went to the reservation, he had needed the man’s help getting the steers to market.

They had been partners … he thought. He wished to hell he’d not agreed to the old man’s conditions. He hadn’t realized that it would be so difficult.

The old fool better watch himself when he gave orders to Alvin Havelshell, or he might be tempted to turn Hartog loose on
him
!

Chapter Five

Trell saw the cloud of smoke as he neared the Whitaker ranch. Borne on a light breeze, the acrid scent stung his nostrils. It was far too much smoke to be coming from a chimney. He put his heels to the roan, and the horse’s long stride ate up the distance to a rise where he could see the flames. The fire was in an open area north of the house and was so far confined to grass and the brush edging it.

He saw little flames lick across another expanse of grass and into the brush, then run up a small tree like hungry red tongues. The fire was out of hand and racing toward the ranch house. At his urging, the roan jumped a small stream, sped along a pole corral, and skidded to a stop behind a woman beating at the flames with a blanket. A small girl staggered from the stream carrying a bucket of water.

Trell leaped from his horse and grabbed the blanket from the woman’s hand.

“Use your feet on the small patches,” he shouted. “Keep upwind from the flames. Watch out for the girl and stay away from the heavy smoke.”

Jenny beat at the larger flames with the grain sack Cassandra had dropped when she rushed to fetch the water. Jenny held up her skirts and stamped out the small ones with her feet. Like red-and-gold dancers the flames raced back and forth, edging closer and closer to the house. With a swish of the sack she beat them back.

No! You will not get to my house!

Tears streamed down her face from the smoke and blurred her vision. The heat seared her throat. She did not know who the man was who had come to her aid, nor did she care. She was exceedingly grateful he was there. When the flames engulfed a bush, she circled behind it, flailing the grass with the sack to keep the fire from spreading. Jenny worked strictly on instinct while the sweat rolled down her face and her hands became locked onto the end of the sack. It was an exhausting effort.

Cassandra carried bucket after bucket of water from the stream. Jenny dropped the sack in the water to wet it and poured the rest on the flames. She had no time to think of her parched throat, or her heat-flushed face. Her arms felt as if they weighed a hundred pounds each. As fast as one patch was stamped out, another seemed to flare into being. She worked as if her life depended on it, and gradually they began to win against the flames.

When it was over, they stood smoke-grimed and red-eyed in the blackened section.

“Well, we did it.” Trell grinned at Jenny. His face was smudged by smoke and his head wet with sweat.

“I’m Jenny Gray. I’m so glad you came.” Jenny dropped the sack and extended her hand.

“Trellis McCall. Glad to know you.” He shook her hand firmly.

“I could use a drink of water. How about you? Oh, this is my sister, Cassandra. Honey, I’m so proud of you!” She hugged the girl. “Are you all right?”

“I expect so. I haven’t decided yet. I’m sorry, Virginia. I didn’t realize that there were embers in the ashes when I dumped them.”

“It’s all right. We’re learning, aren’t we? It was a lesson we won’t forget. One that turned out all right thanks to Mr. McCall. Where’s Beatrice?”

“In the house. I threatened to give her a good whipping if she came out.”

“You did … what?”

“I merely threatened. I wouldn’t have, but she didn’t know that. It kept her out of the way.” Cassandra tilted her head and looked up at Trell. “Do you have a job, Mr. McCall? If not, we have need of a man to work here.”

Trell’s amused eyes went from the child, who spoke like a grown-up, to her sister.

“You’ll discover, if you get to know Cassandra, that she comes right out with what’s on her mind.”

“I thank you for the offer, miss, but I have a horse ranch across the river that demands more time than I have to give it.”

“Well.” Cassandra’s shoulders slumped. “It did no harm to ask.”

“Will your horse wander off?” Jenny asked as they walked toward the house.

“No, ma’am. He’s ground-tied when I drop the reins.”

“How remarkable. Back home we tie the reins to a weight on the ground.” At the door Jenny stopped. “Won’t you come in? The least I can do for what you’ve done for us is to offer you a meal.”

“Flitter!” Cassandra snorted. “You’d better know before you accept that it’ll be burnt beans and rock-hard biscuits.”

Laughing green eyes met Trell’s.

“Now you know. Cooking is a skill of which I know very little. But I’m learning … from my little sister. We haven’t yet discovered how to control the darn cookstove, but we will.”

“Even if she could
control
the stove, she couldn’t cook.”

“Cass,” Jenny chided. “Why do you always have to be so frank?”

“I’m being honest. And don’t call me Cass.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“You don’t like the name?” Trell asked. “I’ve always liked it.”

“Why? Did you have a horse named
Cass
?”

“No. I knew a woman who was the prettiest little thing I ever did see. She was sweet as sugar and … smart. Lordy, she was smart! And she could sing like a bird. Her name was Cass. The name’s been a favorite of mine because of her.”

“Really? Did you love her?”

“Like a sister.”

“Well. In that case,
you
can call me Cass. But no one else can.” With the air of a queen, Cassandra walked into the house.

Jenny watched her with a proud smile. She lifted her brows in question when she turned back to Trell.

“It’s true.”

He couldn’t stop looking at her. She didn’t seem to care at all that her face was smudged with black smoke and her hair hung in strands down her back. A sudden burst of happiness sent his heart galloping like a runaway horse.

“I’ve met Irishmen before, Mr. McCall. You’re full of blarney, But I forgive you. You made Cassandra happy.”

Trell took the water bucket and went to the pond. His observant eyes had spotted a well without a rope and a pulley. Had it been deliberately put out of use in order to make things here difficult for the teacher? He washed at the pond and ran his fingers through his hair before he put his hat back on his head. On the way back to the house he passed the woodpile where an axe lay on the ground. He picked it up, wiped it off and sank the blade in a stump.

“I can bring over a rope and pulley so you can use the well,” he said when he returned to the house with a full bucket of water.

“I would appreciate it. It would be easier than carrying it from the pond.”

Jenny had washed and pinned up her hair. She introduced her younger sister, who was so bashful that she hid behind Jenny’s skirt.

“You are our first visitor. Whit, Mr. Whitaker’s son, comes at night and brings grass for the horses. He’s Shoshoni and isn’t allowed off the reservation.”

“Not even to come here and help with chores?”

“I was told by the man who drove us out here that the agent would take a whip to him if he caught him. He’d better not touch that boy while I’m here! It is the silliest rule I ever heard. I intend to write to the Indian Bureau in Washington about it.” Jenny motioned for Trell to sit down. Cassandra and Beatrice took their places.

“Jenny!” Beatrice whined. “I want bread and jam.”

“We don’t have bread and jam, honey. Eat a cookie.” Then to Trell, “Cassandra made the cookies. They are really good.”

“Too bad Tululla didn’t teach me to make biscuits.”

“Help yourself to the beans. I’ll pour you a cup of tea. I do make a decent cup of tea.”

“A person can’t live on tea, Virginia.” Cassandra passed Trell the plate of cookies. “I think you’ll find that these will go down much easier than Virginia’s biscuits. Tululla, our cook back home, said that the route to a man’s heart was through his stomach. I’m afraid Virginia will never get a man.”

“I’m not looking for one, Cassandra.” For the first time Trell heard impatience in Jenny’s tone. “I admit that cooking isn’t something I know a lot about. Thank goodness you spent time in the kitchen at home, or we’d starve.”

“You need some hired help if you’re going to stay here.”

“We’re staying. That disgusting man hopes to run us off, but we’re staying,” she said again. “As soon as I can get to town, I’ll hire a cook. The children need better meals than I’m capable of making.”

“What makes you think Havelshell doesn’t want you here?”

“It’s obvious. Oh, I don’t think it’s me … personally. For some reason, he doesn’t want a teacher to occupy this ranch. Why else would the school be torn up, the books and slates destroyed? Why else would he dam up the stream so the horses can’t get to water, or take the rope and pulley from the well? Why else would he tell us there were chickens when there never have been chickens here? He wanted us to think the Indians had stolen them.” Her eyes flared with indignation. “It’s clear to me that he’s trying to discourage and frighten me so I’ll back out of my contract with the Bureau.”

“Has he succeeded?”

“He’s only made me angry and more determined than ever to stay here.” Jenny’s face relaxed and she laughed. It was the loveliest sound Trell had ever heard. “I realize that I’m ill equipped for this life, but I will learn. The girls and I are going to stay and claim Stoney Creek Ranch when the terms of the will are met.”

“You’ll need help.”

“Yes, I know. Will you be our friend?” she asked on a sudden impulse.

“You can bank on it.”

“Jen … ny. I don’t like these old beans.” Beatrice put her spoon down hard on the table.

“Are you married, Mr. McCall?” Cassandra moved the plate of cookies to within Beatrice’s reach. “Take one,” she ordered. The younger girl swallowed her mouthful of cookie and stuck her tongue out at her sister. Cassandra ignored her, and said to Trell, “Well, are you?”

“No, Cass. I’ve not found a woman who’d have me.”

“Well. Virginia isn’t married either and, of course, I’m too young. She may get desperate enough to take you.”

“Cassandra! If you’re not the limit!”

Trell observed Jenny’s rosy cheeks. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement, and he thought for a brief moment of how soft those cheeks would be if he stroked them.

“I’d not be that lucky, Cass.”