Texas Lonesome (20 page)

S
eeing Sidney come out the back door with three coffee cups in her hands, Dustin stood and stepped out from the bench. He reached for the teetering cup in the middle of her grasp and placed the coffee in front of his cousin.

Sitting beside Sidney all night had tested his fortitude. He’d wanted to ask her a thousand questions, just so he could hear her respond. Watch her facial expressions and gauge her reactions.

No denying the fact now—she stirred his blood. Made him think dangerous thoughts. Made him want something that could destroy his father. Or maybe not destroy, but disappoint and hurt.

Dustin hadn’t missed Noah’s quiet but scrutinizing gaze. He’d like to know what Sidney’s little brother was thinking. On the ride to Draper Bottom today, their frosty relationship had warmed. They’d had nothing but time and so had engaged in a discussion of politics, beef prices, and ranching. The boy knew a great deal.

Did he fully trust Noah yet? He wasn’t sure. But he did feel a lot different since their first day out of San Antonio.

As Sidney made another trip into the kitchen and Lily served the cobbler, something good and homey took Dustin by the heart.

“Here you are,” Sidney said, setting a cup of coffee in front of him. “Last, but not least.”

“Thank you.” The plates, heaped with apple cobbler, were passed around, and the men waited until the women were seated.

“This looks mighty good—again,” John said, smiling into his wife’s face. “Lily, you’re an amazing woman, and I’m a very lucky man.” He picked up his fork.

Everyone else followed suit. For the next few moments, just the clinking of utensils on the ceramic plates blended humorously with the tinny piano music from the saloon. The sunlight had dimmed even more, making the lantern’s light all the brighter.

“So, I have good news myself,” John began. He set his fork in his plate and all but stretched back as he looked around the table thoughtfully. “And I see no reason not to share my idea this evening with you all. See what you think.”

When Lily sat forward, she had a look of awe and love on her face.

Dustin noticed it and swallowed. He wanted what they had. True meaning to one’s life meant having someone to share with. To love. He sneaked a glance at Sidney, who watched John with curiosity.

“Go on, cousin,” he said. “Don’t keep us in suspense any longer.”

John nodded. “Maybe only my wife knows this, but I’ve been a bit languid here in Rio Wells of late. The town is small, and there’s not that much for me to do as a doctor.” He glanced at Lily. “I’m not complaining that people are healthy. That’s good. And my true goal. But I’ve decided to take on another venture—or at least see if it’s possible.” He picked up Lily’s hand. “That is, if my wife likes the idea.” His face grew serious. “I hope you’ll forgive me for springing this on you in front of everyone.”

“John!” She squeezed his hand. Her tone was filled with trepidation. “What is this about?” Her smile had faded as well, her eyes dark with worry. “I hope I wasn’t the one that brought on your dissatisfaction when I said I wanted to move. You know I’m happy wherever we are. Just as long as we’re together.”

“Don’t panic yet, Lily. Everything is still just in the planning stages.”

She pressed a hand to the base of her throat. “Too late. I’m already panicked.”

“Some of you know about the salve Doc Bixby makes, the one that healed my scar so well.” He pointed to the small, almost invisible line on the side of his face.

Dustin nodded, intrigued. Did this have something to do with John’s strange comment a few days ago when he was washing the office windows? Dustin had felt his cousin’s frustration then. He’d also sensed his cousin had had more on his mind than he was saying. Seemed he’d been right.

“I’ve already spoken with Bixby,” John went on. “He feels he’s too old to begin a new venture, but he doesn’t mind if I do. He’s given me his blessing to bottle and sell his concoction. Ship the blend to doctors in Boston. Other places as well, as the demand grows. For years, Indians and Mexicans have used the juice of the aloe plant, but time is needed to strip the juice, and the plants are scarce.”

He paused and looked around the faces. “The plants only grow in certain places. Doc’s recipe contains a few other ingredients that may be behind the incredible healing properties I’ve witnessed over the months. Anyway, I’m excited as all get-out. I’ll be productive in a way that won’t interfere with my doctoring.”

Lily’s back was as straight as a board. Dustin could practically see her mind whirling.

“If I’m not in my office when someone comes looking for me, I’ll be in Knutson’s barn, only a few minutes away, producing and bottling the new product.”

Dustin frowned. Certainly John knew a business venture of this size took capital to start. His cousin had shared how he’d spent most of his money helping out with the cost of his education. He wasn’t flush with cash.

“What do you know about running a business?” he asked. “Your roots are in cattle and ranching, just like mine.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “Surely, cousin,” he said in a flat voice, “you understand ranching is a business just like any other. Profit and losses. A bottom line that must be respected. I’m no country hick, and know plenty. I have sufficient information, and I’m confident enough in the product to move forward.”

Dustin shook his head. He wasn’t asking to be rude; he had another idea on his mind. “True,” he replied. “It’ll take capital. Do you have that?”

The eating had stopped, and several moments passed in strained silence.

John scrubbed a hand across his face. “I haven’t quite worked that through yet. I’ve penciled out numbers for the items I’ll need to get started: product acquisition, glass bottles, crates, and the cost of shipment. My time will be in exchange for the recipe; that’s only fair. One of the stipulations Bixby has is that I take in Tucker on the deal with me. He’s to have Bixby’s share, and we’re to split the arrangement seventy-five/twenty-five, working with me side by side. My contacts and experience against his labor.”

He shot a quick glance at Lily. “I thought I’d write home for the startup costs. See if my father is willing to throw in. Invest in something other than cattle. I’m pretty sure he’ll like the idea.”

Tucker? Good idea, Dustin thought. Bixby had practically raised the one-handed boy after the Comancheros mutilated his arm and left him for dead after killing his entire family. As John’s assistant, he earned five dollars a month, and was growing up fast. If this idea actually took off, he could be a wealthy man someday.

“I’ve been looking for a place to invest some of my money,” Dustin said. “Why not keep this in Rio Wells? Montana already has enough riches of its own without looking to Texas.”

John’s mouth opened and then closed. His eyes narrowing, he sagged back in his chair.

“I’d like to invest,” Dustin explained. “Become a silent partner. Put up the cash to get you started, for a small percentage of the profits.”

John stared at him for a long time.

“Cousin?”

“If profits
are
produced, Dustin. I have no guarantees how this will pan out. I have several friends I went to school with who started their practices back east, and I hope to get them interested. Also my instructors and anyone they can point me to. This is all speculation.”

“Are you turning down my offer? Almost sounds as if you think this new venture of yours is doomed to fail. I’m surprised.”

John looked at Lily. Sidney observed him with a contemplative expression, and Noah sat quietly taking in the discussion.

“Well?”

“You should know, I have no way of paying you back if we go bust.” John leaned forward and rested his elbows on the tabletop.

As serious as his cousin’s expression was, Dustin could see a great deal of excitement igniting behind his eyes.

“Is that so?” he asked.

John nodded. “I’m nothing more than a poor doctor.”

Lily reached over and took his hand.

Excitement for the new venture burned inside Dustin, as well as happiness to see the spark of life glowing in John’s eyes. They’d make a good team.

“I’ll take that chance,” he said.

With a bark of laughter, John stuck out his hand. “It’s a deal, cousin! Welcome to the fold!”

Everyone began talking and laughing at once. John stood, and Lily jumped up and vaulted into his embrace. As they kissed, Dustin dragged away his gaze, laughing and smiling at Sidney.

Even Noah seemed pleased to have been in on such a private matter of the McCutcheons. Did wonders never end?

John picked up his coffee cup and raised it high. “To McCutcheon, Noble, and McCutcheon!”

“Hear, hear,” Dustin called out in a loud voice.

Sidney’s laughter made the whole deal sweeter. Dustin didn’t care if he lost his investment. Taking the chance was worth the adoring expression on her face.

“On to bigger and better things,” he boomed out, feeling almost giddy.

“Hooray,” the women chorused.

Suddenly, the laughter and celebration died out. Dustin turned.

His pa stood stone-faced in the tapered space between the shop and the medical office, taking in the scene—Sidney’s high color, Noah’s face-splitting smile, John and Lily arm in arm, and his own happiness.

The look of devastation on his father’s face made Dustin clamber to get from behind the bench. He scrambled out and then stood rooted to the spot.

“I saw your horse out front,” his pa said. “Heard you around back.”

“Uncle Winston,” Lily said quickly. “Can I dish you a plate of chicken and dumplings? They’re still warm.”

“No, thank you, Lily. I had my supper at the ranch.”

Dustin was well aware the question his tone was asking.
Why didn’t you return for supper, Dustin?
The dark-eyed gaze he knew so well circled the table and landed on Sidney. It lingered on her several seconds before returning to him.

“Apple cobbler then?” she said, gesturing to the glass dish in the middle of the table. “There’s plenty.”

Winston shook his head, and Dustin felt his hurt, his betrayal.

“What brings you into town this late in the day, Pa?” he asked, wondering what he could do or say to make things better.

“Just felt the need to stretch my legs a bit. It’s been a fortnight since I’ve been into Rio Wells.” He half turned toward the direction he’d come. “Don’t mind me. Good evening.”

“Don’t run off, Uncle!” John said, hurrying around the table to where Winston stood. “We’d love for you to join us.”

“John, I appreciate the gesture, but I’m headed to the saloon where there’s a drink with my name on it. Nothing wrong with that occasionally. Unless any of you would like to join me, I’ll be bidding you good night.”

Feeling lower than a snake, Dustin listened to the fall of his father’s boots on the ground as he walked away.

As much as he’d like to think different, Sidney and Noah were Calhouns, the children of his father’s worst enemy, a man who had been a bone of contention for years. And here Dustin was laughing up a storm with them as if they were long-lost buddies.

When he thought about it like that, the situation turned his own stomach. If he didn’t have Noah to watch over, he’d go with his pa and have that drink. Spend the time with him he should have since he’d been back from San Antonio.

The Calhouns had rocked his father’s inner peace, and yet Winston had treated them both with hospitality. Dustin should have sought him out, but he hadn’t. Sure he’d been busy—heck, they both were—Dustin going one way and his pa the other.

But that didn’t excuse him. Not by a long shot.

T
ired after so many hours in the saddle, Dustin ambled toward the dark ranch house, glad the day was finally over. The moon had just topped the trees and gave a small measure of light. He knew this route by heart, and could walk the well-worn path with his eyes closed.

Feeling down, he sighed. He’d seen Noah back to the bunkhouse and made sure all the men understood exactly where Dustin was coming from. Another infraction like what happened at the showers might cost someone their job. He’d hate to see that happen so he’d advised everyone, especially Noah, to tread lightly. The situation was a tinderbox. Afterward, Noah had gone to bed without a word to anyone.

“Dustin.”

He hadn’t noticed his brother leaning against the corral fence in the dark.

“Why’re you still up?” he asked, but he knew the answer. Chaim was missing his runaway bride.

Well, she wasn’t actually runaway yet, but Dustin wasn’t holding out too much hope. His gut told him they’d seen the last of the Boston beauty, which would be a real shame. He liked Emmeline. She fit in with his family. His mother would be crushed if the young woman didn’t return, as well as both sisters. But most of all, he prayed to God she didn’t break his younger brother’s heart.

Chaim straightened as Dustin drew near. “Time’s only eight o’clock.”

At the ranch, they turned in early since they rose early to beat the heat. This time of year the temperature wasn’t so bad, but the habit of rising at four thirty was difficult to break. That made falling into bed in the early evening easy.

“That’s so. Did you see Pa tonight?” Dustin asked. “At supper?”

“Yeah, why?”

A horse ambled over to the corral fence and snuffled at Chaim’s back.

“Just wondered. He showed up in town, said he was going to the saloon for a drink. I would’ve joined him if I didn’t have Noah attached to my side. The more I can keep those two apart, the better.”

Chaim grunted. “Now that you mention it, he was rather quiet. Madeline and Becky were prattling on about a festival, a museum attraction coming through Texas, or some such thing. I didn’t pay much heed.”

A wagonload of guilt pressed down on Dustin’s chest. The expression in his father’s eyes had been haunting.

Dustin hadn’t chosen the Calhouns over his pa. He wouldn’t do that.
Ever!

His thoughts of Sidney made him keep his gaze far away from Chaim. The affair shouldn’t be about choosing, he argued in his mind. She’d only been a small girl when the ambush had happened to her pa. Since then, she’d not had control over his pigheaded ways or the lies he’d spread.

A troubled memory of Sidney telling him Calhouns and McCutcheons were like fire and ice beleaguered him.

Was that the truth? She hadn’t acted that way tonight.

He didn’t need to add to his brother’s problems. Come a few weeks from now, Chaim’s plate would be full to overflowing with grief if his betrothed didn’t return. They’d almost lost Chaim a few months back when he’d been shot by Harland Shellston. The bullet had come dangerously close to his heart, and his life had been touch and go for days. Dustin remembered how frightened he’d felt at the moment he understood that Chaim might actually die. He’d been damn angry he hadn’t been able to help.

John had breathed life back into his lungs, or his brother would be a fresh mound in the family graveyard. If he was protective over his brother, he had every right to be. He glanced at him, and his heart swelled. He hoped Chaim wasn’t in for heartbreak too.

Madeline was just coming out of her sorrow over the stranger who’d bought her box lunch at the Fourth of July celebration last July, wooed her, and would have married her as well if Dustin hadn’t discovered he was more interested in being a part of one of wealthiest ranches in Texas. Once the scoundrel had learned they were on to him, he’d cut and run.

Love. Relationships. Dustin would have wondered if they were worth the time and effort at all if he didn’t remember Sidney’s warmth tonight as she sat at his side.

“Well, I guess I’ll turn in,” he mumbled, gazing at the house.

A deep loneliness crept into his bones. He’d never choose the Calhouns over his pa. That was hogwash.

But what about Sidney? His heart trembled at his answer. Could he break his father’s heart, as well as his spirit? That’s what would happen if he entertained any more of these whims he’d been having since running into her in San Antonio. He needed to get his head on straight. Prioritize his values.

“Something on your mind, Dustin? I know you’re not just standing out here taking in the sight of the corral.”

Dustin grasped his brother’s shoulder. “Not much of anything important. Just checking on you.”

Chaim chuckled. “Thanks, brother. I’m doing fine.”

The huskiness of Chaim’s voice said otherwise. Dustin would keep a close watch on him. Not get caught up in his own troubles and forget his brother was going through a really rough time.

He turned from the house and took several steps before Chaim said, “Where’re you off to? The house is that way.”

“Just thought of something I want to check on.”

“Noah?”

“Nope.”

“Need any help?”

“Sure don’t. I’ll catch you in the morning, brother. We have a day of cattle sorting to get finished.”

Inspiration had hit Dustin like a windfall. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? Because his pa was always playing down any talk of the lies Jock Calhoun spouted. The last five years had been pretty quiet, only catching glimpses of the Calhouns when they hit the stockyard. Since there was no fixing the problem, ignoring any talk was the best action to take. One man’s word against another man’s word was a special kind of hell.

Now that he had a definite purpose in mind, Dustin walked quickly in the moonlight, alongside the barn and then striding along the sandy wagon trail that passed the bunkhouse. The track meandered through a patch of ironwood and scrub oaks until it opened on this side of the main horse pasture, where a small cabin was nestled under a few loblolly pines. A light glowed in the window, and for that Dustin was thankful. Until he had a chance to flush out these ideas rolling around in his head, he’d not get any sleep.

Diaz Sanchez resided here alone, retired now, quietly living out his remaining days in solitude. The ancient Mexican seldom ventured up to the bunkhouse anymore where he’d lived since the ranch was first built. Maria cooked his meals, and another woman saw to the cleaning of his small cabin. Except for his failing eyesight, his bent old body was in darn good shape for his eighty-five years.

Dustin knocked on the door.

“
Hola
?” a scratchy voice called out. Sounded as if he’d been asleep.

“
Señor
Sanchez, it’s Dustin McCutcheon. May I come in?”

“
Sí, sí,
Dustin. Come in,
por favor
.”

Dustin ducked under the low door frame. He stepped inside, taking in the neat room, the faint scents of rosemary and garlic still lingering on the air from the evening meal, and the wide smile on the man’s face.

“Sit,” Diaz said, gesturing to the chair to his left. “Get comfortable,
amigo
. Something important has brought you out late this evening. How can I help?”

Dustin shook his head in amazement as he lowered himself into the chair. “You know me pretty good, don’t you,
amigo
? There’re no secrets kept from Diaz Sanchez.”

The old man beamed.

No one knew his full history except that when he’d signed on, he’d said he was the only remaining person in his family line. All had been slaughtered by renegades deep in southern Mexico. After he’d hired on with Winston McCutcheon, he never quit the ranch, never took a wife, and never spoke of his past.

As a boy, Dustin had asked Diaz several times about his past, being an inquisitive kid, but the man had a way of talking around a question so long a young mind forgot where the conversation had started. A sly old fox wrapped in a lamb’s coat, Dustin was sure.

“I’d like to talk to you about the early days. A few years after the ranch was established and was growing. Do you remember back then?”

Diaz’s gnarled hands moved up and gripped the arms of his chair. “My mind is as good now as it was back then. I remember everything!”