Texas Lonesome (12 page)

S
omewhere a rooster crowed, and Noah opened his eyes. He hadn’t been asleep but lying on his cot, listening to the cowhands already up and moving about in the large common area of the bunkhouse on the other side of his door. He’d lain awake the entire night, wondering what he should do about the cockamamie situation he’d landed himself in. Under Dustin McCutcheon’s thumb, and living on the McCutcheon ranch.

The trip to San Antonio had sounded good at the time his friend Harry Brennon suggested it. Blow off a little steam before earnestly launching into his studies. Reading, comprehension, and retention were easy for Noah; he took half the time to do what others did all year. He didn’t study for tests and still earned top marks.

Harry was the opposite of Noah. His bulky friend avoided his academics like the plague; he struggled with every subject. He also liked trouble. He’d been the one who insulted several rabble-rousers full of whiskey, starting the fight in San Antonio. Noah hadn’t lied to the judge, but he’d just left out the part about Harry. Now he was the one made to work off months of recompense.

Noah wondered where his friend was now. He hadn’t seen Harry since the saloon fight when the sheriff was slapping a pair of cuffs on Noah’s wrists.

He locked his fingers behind his head and stared at a knothole in the ceiling. What was so all-fired important about him going to college anyway? No one in his family had gone before, and the reason certainly wasn’t for the engineering degree he was working toward.

Jock Jr. had heard St. John’s had adopted compulsory military training into their program. How convenient. His brother didn’t think him tough enough, man enough, or gutsy enough to ranch with the rest of them. Even without asking Noah, the decision had been made.

So what? He’d comply. Then when he was finished, he’d make a life of his own, somewhere off the ranch.

Sidney was his main concern. He’d get through the days, do whatever McCutcheon wanted, even if eating crow was involved. Wouldn’t make much never mind to him at all, but not so for his sister. She’d practically raised him, and her being here in Rio Wells hampered her chances of finding a suitable husband in Santa Fe.

Each time she traipsed after him, her reputation as a hellion grew. A few of the women in town had begun to give her the cold shoulder. Twenty-four and unmarried. That status didn’t seem to bother her at all, but the rest of the family never seemed to forget. Pa especially wouldn’t be happy with the news. And Jock Jr.? Noah didn’t even want to think about his reaction.

With eyes gritty from the lack of sleep, Noah glanced at the tempting window above his head. He could be out and on his horse in five minutes, assuming he could find the animal without raising suspicions. He’d not steal a horse from the McCutcheon ranch. They’d like nothing better than to hang him as a horse thief.

Besides, he couldn’t leave Sidney.

From the other room, a resounding burst of laughter filled the bunkhouse plenty loud, even with his door closed. The clink of forks against plates mixed in with the aromas of bacon, butter, and coffee made his stomach rumbled. Breakfast was well under way.

Somebody rapped hard on his door. “If you want any eats, Calhoun, you’d better roll out of the sack. Lazybones go hungry.”

He was at a disadvantage. They all knew him and knew his name. Certainly knew the history between the two ranches.

Annoyed, he stood, pulled his shirt over his sweat-stained undershirt, and opened the door before the man who’d called him lazy had a chance to move away.

“You callin’ me names?” he asked as he buttoned his shirt.

The cowboy, surely a good ten years older, smirked. “Just calling a spade a spade. We’re all finished, and you’re—”

“Lay off, Paulson,” a skinny fellow at the stove barked. He wiped his hands down the front of his apron, then took a large spoon and scooped something from a black cast-iron skillet onto a plate. “Remember what Dustin said. We’re to give the kid a wide berth until he settles in.”

The cook brought the plate, now heaped with food, to the table. “Here you go,” he said not kindly and not unkindly.

While he listened to the cook, Noah took in the large square room. Ranch hands lazed around drinking coffee, already finished with their meal. Two continued to dress, three stared, some sauntered out the door. The ceiling, crisscrossed with sturdy beams, was used for hanging possessions—a heeling rope, a few hats, and several papers tacked from the top that moved when someone walked by.

Noah stepped over to the long bench and sat himself at the table. The plate of flapjacks, eggs, and bacon looked better than gold bars in the amber light of the lantern. A bowl full of chocolate bars sat in the center of the table that had seen better days. He forked in a mouthful, chewed, and swallowed.

The cook brought over a cup and gestured to the stove. “Help yourself to coffee, and also one of those, if you have a mind,” he said, gesturing to the candy. “Boss brought ’em all the way from San Antonio. Says there’s one for each man.”

That doesn’t mean me.

Wiping his mouth with the napkin next to his plate, Noah stood, stepped back over the bench, and went to the stove in the corner of the large room. He eyed the coffeepot’s wire handle, knowing it would be hot.

Am I
being set up?

Taking a rumpled dishcloth, he folded the checkered fabric several times and used it as a hot pad. The last of the dark brew trickled into his cup and stopped halfway to the brim.

“Guess you’ll be up a little earlier next time,” Paulson said from across the room. He chuckled, pulled on his hat, and headed for the door. “By the way, you’re riding with me today,” he said over his shoulder. “And I’m riding out in about,” he glanced at the clock over the white enamel stove, “three minutes.”

Hellfire!
Living with a bunch of yahoos who’d like nothing better than for him to make a fool of himself, or worse, was going to be drudgery. Especially if he had to keep his temper in check the entire time.

He thought of Sidney. If not for her, he’d stir this beehive good. He still might.

Shame for bringing down the situation on the Calhoun name, especially with the McCutcheons, made him clench the fist that wasn’t holding his coffee mug. But then a thought occurred to him.

Maybe I can turn this situation to my advantage. Make my pa proud.

He gulped down the little coffee in his cup at the same time he plunked himself back down on the bench, cut the tall stack of flapjacks with the side of his fork, and shoveled in a huge mouthful.

“You better get a move on, son,” the cook mumbled. “Paulson meant what he said. Wolf that down and make tracks, if you know what’s good for ya.”

Feeling cranky with only two and a half hours of sleep, Dustin stood in front of the barn, speaking with Paulson while waiting for Noah. Manolito stood alongside, the reins of his horse in his hand.

“I don’t want Calhoun to leave your company, Brick, is that understood?” Dustin said to his ranch hand. “If he gets into any trouble, doesn’t matter what, I’ll be held responsible. This isn’t his first brush with the law, and by the way he acts, I’m sure it won’t be his last.”

Sighing, he added, “I have to go to town today, or else I’d break him in myself and show him the ropes. Work him as you would any other wrangler who’d hired on—without letting him out of your sight. Put him through his paces, and don’t go too easy or be too tough. Don’t let him trick you. He’s sharp, and maybe a bit calculating. I’ll be back before supper and check in to see how things go.”

“He’s a Calhoun!” Brick Paulson replied, jerking back his shoulders. “You expect me and the rest of the fellows to turn the other cheek after all the years of grief he’s caused your pa? After everything he’s said about this ranch? We’re loyal to this brand, Dustin, you know that. We don’t take kindly to slander, or that nonsense about how Winston paid to have Calhoun bushwhacked. Anyone that knows your father knows that’s hogwash.”

The ranch hand glanced away, the muscle in his jaw working double-time. “Now we’re supposed to treat him like nothing has happened? It don’t seem right.”

“That’s exactly what I’m asking.”

“What about Winston and Chaim? They feel the same as you?”

Pa?
Maybe not quite the same, but he knows how to put aside his own feelings.

“You’re damn right they do. Now, don’t make me angry. Calhoun won’t be here that long.”

Paulson glanced at Manolito and then back at him. “Any amount of time is too long to be bunking with a varmint like him, in my way of thinkin’. You best know, I don’t like this situation at all, or what you’re asking of the men. I can’t promise you anythin’.”

“You don’t get paid to like it, Brick,” Dustin snapped. This setup might be a rougher go for Noah than he’d first thought. “You do as I ask, and let me take care of the others. Understood? This is the Rim Rock. We treat everyone the same. Friend or foe makes no difference.”

Noah rounded the corral fence and pulled up when he saw them waiting in the entry of the barn. He only paused for an instant before continuing toward them with stiff shoulders, and stopped a few feet away. The attitude Dustin had grown used to seeing on their ride from San Antonio was still evident.

“I’m riding into town today, Calhoun. Taking your sister to the telegraph office and then to the hotel, as well as tie up a few other errands. I’m trusting you to stay here with Paulson and behave. You don’t need any more trouble dogging your heels.”

Several hands stood around idly out of curiosity, waiting to see how the boss would handle Calhoun, and their heads whipped in his direction at the mention of a female Calhoun being on the property. He hadn’t shared that part of the story yet with anyone outside the family, and the few who’d met Sidney in town early this morning.

“Manolito’s our head man,” Dustin explained to Noah. “Whatever chore you and Brick are assigned, you’re to complete to his satisfaction. It’s no less than I’d expect out of any man working this ranch.”

“Sure, McCutcheon. You have me at a disadvantage, being my sister is beholden to you.” Noah dropped his hands on his waist. “I’m ready to put in a full day of work for as long as it takes.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Dustin stepped away when he heard Noah call out, “Where’s Sidney?”

“In the house. I haven’t seen her this morning, but I’m sure she’s up by now.”

“The big house?”

Dustin glanced over his shoulder. “Well, she’s not staying in the bunkhouse.”

Noah’s face turned red, and several men laughed as they mounted up and rode out. The kid wasn’t making things any easier on himself by confirming what everyone already thought of him.

Without another word, Dustin walked away.

L
ater the same day, with her palms braced on the peeling paint of her hotel room’s windowsill, Sidney glanced below at the inhabitants of Rio Wells.

I’m so far from home. Can’t run back the way I’ve come.

Loneliness closed in around her. She’d been in other towns before as she chased after Noah and his ever-growing wanderlust, namely Roswell, Albuquerque, and Las Cruces, the city of crosses. He’d traveled all the way to Pueblo, Colorado Springs, Denver, and only two months ago, Fort Collins. The lawyer in San Antonio hadn’t known the half of his transgressions.

But being here in Rio Wells was different. Her dismay wasn’t caused by the extra miles or the new territory. This big, scary grip around her chest was related to the fact that Rio Wells was the home of the McCutcheons.

A woman in the postal station attached to the stage office lifted up the window and looked out onto the street, much like Sidney was doing right now. On the same block was a barbershop, a leather smith, and another building that wasn’t marked. All three looked quiet.

She thought of the telegram she’d sent to be delivered to the ranch by Harold Carp. She shuddered.
Is Pa reading my plea now?

In the telegraph office, Dustin had insisted on waiting. He’d remained by the door, giving her privacy but all the while staring a hole in the back of her borrowed blouse. He’d said he was waiting so he could escort her to the hotel when she was finished, and get her settled. But his motivations were clear.

He wanted to make sure I wasn’t turned away. Who would extend credit to me, a total stranger in town?

Even though doing so galled her, she’d been forced to accept his loan for the price of the telegram, but that was as far as she’d go.

If the Union Hotel hadn’t accepted her on credit until her father wired the money to the bank, she would have been in trouble. Dustin had remained a perfect gentleman the whole time, in spite of the history between them. Gentleman or not, that didn’t matter. Her father would come through with money, and soon. That she could depend on.

She thought of Dustin now, and the slight look of disapproval he always wore when he addressed her. Well, not always. Not at the badlands shack when he’d been teasing her about her marital status. And not when he’d lifted her atop his horse, concern darkening his eyes as bullets sprayed around her feet.

She crossed the braided rug to the room’s other window and looked out. She’d hated leaving Jackson at the ranch, tied to a post on the bunkhouse porch, but Madeline and Becky had assured her the dog would be fine. In no way could she have cared for him in the hotel and see properly to his needs. As much as she loved him, she knew he was sure to get into mischief, and she already had enough of that with Noah.

A knock sounded on her door.

“Yes?”

“Telegram, Miss Calhoun, the one you’re waiting on.”
The telegraph operator.
The one who couldn’t stop smiling at her. “I was on my way to lunch, so I decided to drop by your missive. I hope you don’t mind.”

Sidney opened the door.

In his mid-thirties, the man stood hat in hand with the same amiable smile she’d already memorized. His dark blond hair receded an inch at the hairline, fell to the side of his tall forehead, and then was tucked behind his ears. He held a folded brown paper in his fingers.

“Thank you,” she said. “Do I owe you something?”

“No. Sender paid the fee on their end. This is free of charge.”

Thank goodness for small favors. I have less than a dollar left to my name.

“What about the delivery? That was very thoughtful. Do I owe you for that?”

He beamed. “No charge.”

She glanced at the note he still clutched close to his chest.

“Oh!”

He extended his arm, and she carefully plucked the telegram from his fingers.

“Thank you again,” she said, hoping he’d step away so she didn’t have to close the door in his face.

He slowly inched back. “My name is Stanton Drake.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Drake,” she said in her most businesslike voice.

He wasn’t making this easy. He’d already learned her name when she sent the communication, and she had no intention of making friends in Rio Wells. The sooner she was out of here, the better.

Seeing his expression dim, she felt a bit uncharitable. He
had
gone out of his way for her, after all.

She gave him a wide smile. “And again, thank you ever so much for bringing this to me. The gesture was very thoughtful.”

Mr. Drake drew up, smoothing the front of his shirt. “Can I interest you in a bite to eat?” he asked, seeming to rally. “I mean, you being new and all, I’m sure you don’t know the eateries in town. My treat.”

“Thank you, Mr. Drake, but I’ve just eaten.” Her stomach pinched with emptiness, reminding her she’d turned down breakfast with the McCutcheons.

He shrugged. “Can’t blame a fella for trying. Good day to you then, Miss Calhoun. I best be on my way if I want to open again on time.” Seemed not everyone in Rio Wells was put off by the Calhoun name.

Sidney closed the door quietly and opened the paper.

COME HOME STOP THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO FOR NOAH STOP THAT BOY HAS MADE HIS OWN BED STOP

Her hand shook. Did that mean her father wouldn’t send any money for her living expenses? He wanted her to come home now? How did he expect her to do that without any funds? Besides, she’d not leave Noah here alone sentenced to time on the McCutcheon ranch.

Resentment ignited in her belly. How unkind! Couldn’t he even ask how she was, or Noah?

Sidney crumpled the note, pushing back her angry tears. Surely her father would comply once he’d cooled off. This business with the McCutcheons had him seeing red. In a day or two, he’d soften and realize his mistake. He
would
soften, wouldn’t he?

Turning, she gazed out the far window, her thoughts blinding her to the outside world. Of course he would. She was his only daughter, and he loved her. Before she knew it, funds would arrive at the bank, and all would be well.

She just had to bide her time and be patient.