Texas Tender (2 page)

Will dismounted and held out his hand to the little dog, who looked like a scruffy mongrel cross between a terrier and some kind of hound. Pepper dropped his stick and crawled over to Will, his tail wagging feverishly.

“You need to teach him to stay out of the way of horses,” Will said to Lonnie.

“I shouldn't have let him play in the road.” His mother still looked stunned.

“The young man shouldn't have been riding so fast in town.”

“Van does what he wants. Nobody can stop him.”

“Who is this Van, and why doesn't anyone stop him?”

“His father, Frank Sonnenberg, owns the second largest ranch in this area. Van thinks he can do anything he wants, and we don't have a sheriff to tell him different.”

The little boy looked up at Will. “Who are you?”

“Lonnie, that's rude!” his mother said.

Will smiled as he mussed the boy's hair. Who
was
he? Hell, he didn't know. “My name is Will Haskins. I guess you could say I'm a cowboy.”

“Mama says cowboys are mean.”

His mother blushed, and Will couldn't repress a smile. “If Van is the only example you have, I can see why she thinks so.”

“You're nice. You didn't let Van hurt Pepper.”

“Just make sure he stays out of the road. Now, ma'am,” he said turning to the woman, “where can I find a place to get out of the sun and have a drink?”

“We only have one respectable saloon,” she said, frowning in disapproval. “The Swinging Door is just past the Gaiety Theater on the right. Come on, Lonnie. We ought to be getting home.”

“Sorry, but I didn't catch your name,” Will said.

She blushed again. “I don't know what happened to my manners. My name is Dorabelle Severns. My husband, Lloyd, is president of the bank.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Severns,” Will said. “I
hope every lady in Dunmore is as nice and pretty as you are.”

Dorabelle turned pink with pleasure. She turned crimson when Lonnie announced, “My daddy says Mama is beautiful.”

“Your daddy is right,” Will said as he mounted up. “And you're a handsome young man. I hope to see you again.”

He tipped his hat and headed toward the center of town. He was less than pleased when he saw Van's bay gelding hitched in front of the Swinging Door. He'd had more than enough of that young man. He wanted to relax a bit before heading out to Idalou Ellsworth's ranch to buy the bull she had for sale.

He pulled up in front of the saloon, dismounted, hitched his horse, and walked through the swinging doors.

After squinting against the blazing sun for the last two hours, he felt as if he were entering a cave. By the time his eyes had adjusted, everybody in the saloon was staring at him. He guessed they didn't get many strangers in Dunmore. The saloon was large, roomy, and busy for so early in the afternoon. At least a dozen men had bellied up to the polished walnut bar, each with one foot resting on the brass foot rail. Three large mirrors set in a heavily carved walnut frame backed the bar and reflected the dim light from six kerosene lamps hanging from the ceiling. Will stepped up to the bar. “I'll have a beer if you don't mind,” he told the bartender.

“You're new in town,” the bartender said as he drew a beer from a keg behind the bar.

“Just rode in,” Will said. “Glad to get out of the sun.”

“Been hotter than hell all week,” the bartender said.

Will slapped his money down, picked up his beer,
and was about to take a sip when a hand clamped down on his shoulder and spun him around.

His beer went sailing off between two tables to splash against the pant legs of the men sitting there. Will's right arm blocked the punch aimed at his jaw, while his left connected solidly with Van Sonnenberg's angry face. Before the young man could recover, Will landed a punch in his midriff and an uppercut to the jaw that lifted Van off the floor. Staggering back, Van fell into the table behind him.

Will straightened his vest and readjusted his coat. “Never try to sneak up on a man who's looking in a mirror.” He turned back to the bartender. “I guess I need another beer. I'll pay for the first.”

“Forget it,” the bartender said, grinning at Van, who was having trouble finding his feet. “It was worth it to see somebody stand up to that brat.”

“I guess his mama didn't teach him manners.”

“His mama died when he was a little kid, and his daddy thinks he can do no wrong.”

“I never met his daddy, but running down little dogs is wrong in my book.”

“He kill somebody's dog?” One of the men at the table asked as he pushed Van away and got to his feet.

“He would have if I hadn't gotten in his way. Didn't apologize to Lonnie or his mother, either.”

“You tried to run over Pepper?” the man demanded, turning to Van.

“How am I supposed to see anything that small?” Losing a fight he'd started hadn't improved Van's mood. “I'd be ashamed to have a dog that looked like that.” He directed a hate-filled glare at Will. “I'm not done with you.”

Will looked him straight in the eye. “Didn't I hit you hard enough?”

The laughter and grins all around made Van so mad
Will thought for a moment he might go for his gun. Instead, he turned and stormed out of the saloon.

“Watch your back,” the bartender said to Will as he handed him his second beer. One of the customers handed him the unbroken glass. The spilled beer had already begun to soak into the soft wood of the floor.

“I'm Andy Davis,” the man said to Will. “I own the mercantile here in Dunmore.”

“Will Haskins. Glad to meet you.”

“You passing through or planning to settle?” Andy asked.

“Just here to do a little business.” Will took a swallow of beer. It wasn't too bad, but he'd certainly had better.

“Do you mind if I ask you what business that is?”

Just about anybody else in the Maxwell clan would have minded a lot, but Will figured everybody would soon know what he was doing here.

“I'm on my way to the Double-L ranch to talk to Miss Idalou Ellsworth about buying her bull.”

Andy grinned broadly. “You better give him straight whiskey,” he said turning to the bartender. “He's going to need something stronger than beer if he means to tangle with Idalou.”

“What do you mean, you can't find the bull?” Idalou demanded of her brother. “Mr. Haskins is coming to look at him today.”

“I mean I can't find him,” Carl Ellsworth said. “We should have penned him up.”

“He can't impregnate cows locked in a pen.”

“Well, we can't sell a bull we don't have.”

“We own him no matter where he is. We just have to locate him before Mr. Haskins gets here.”

Idalou was six inches shorter than her brother's
even six feet, but that in no way affected her position as the older of the two and the one responsible for him as well as the ranch. Having the body of a man hadn't given Carl the emotions or reasoning ability of a man. If it had, he wouldn't have fallen in love with the only daughter of the man who was determined to destroy them.

“Do you have any suggestions?” Carl demanded angrily.

“Ride over to Jordan McGloughlin's place and tell him to show you where he hid our bull.”

Carl's exasperation nearly got the best of him. “I know you don't like me having anything to do with Mara, but that's no reason to think her father has our bull.”

“My thinking Jordan McGloughlin has the bull has nothing to do with you liking Mara, though I've got plenty to say on that score.”

“I've already heard it,” Carl snapped.

“It has to do with Jordan doing everything he can to force us to sell this ranch,” Idalou said, ignoring her brother's comment. “He knows the money from the bull will tide us over for the next two or three years.”

She had tried to talk her father out of mortgaging everything he owned to buy an expensive bull to upgrade his stock, but her father had decided it was the only way he could compete with the larger ranchers on either side of him, McGloughlin to the east and north and Sonnenberg to the west and south. His plan might have worked if Idalou's father and mother hadn't died three years ago.

“I want to keep the ranch as much as you do,” Carl said, “but it doesn't help to have you accusing Mara's dad of everything bad that happens.”

“I wouldn't blame him for trying to buy our ranch
if he weren't so underhanded about it,” Idalou snapped. “I don't know how you can have anything to do with Mara. She's likely to turn out just like her father.”

Carl grabbed his hat and jammed it on his head. “If you weren't blind when it comes to anybody named McGloughlin, you'd know Mara is the sweetest girl on the face of the earth,” he shouted. “I can't help it if you were in love with Webb before he went and got himself killed.”

Idalou bit her tongue to keep from saying something she'd have to apologize for later. “I've told you a hundred times I wasn't in love with Webb.”

“You sure as hell acted like it until he took up with Junie Mae Winslow.”

Webb had taken pride in being able to ride the toughest horses anyone could find. A fall from a rogue horse had ended up being fatal when his head hit a rock and he was knocked unconscious. He died a week later without ever waking up. His father hadn't been the same since.

“Try sweetening that temper of yours so you won't run Mr. Haskins off before I can get back,” Carl said. “You don't have to tell me again how hard things have been since Mom and Dad died. I know all that. I also know you took it real hard when Webb turned his back on you. I know you're worried about the ranch, and you're worried about me falling in love with a girl who may never marry me. But,” he added after taking a big breath, “you're never going to get a man to look at you twice if you don't stop treating them all like they're out to steal our last nickel.” His frown eased and he smiled. “You're a great gal, Idalou. You'd make some man a wonderful wife if you'd give yourself a chance.”

Carl took advantage of Idalou's momentary silence
to leave the house before she could launch her rebuttal. Jordan McGloughlin's cows had been straying onto their land, eating their grass, mating with their bull, drinking their water. Everybody knew longhorns were wild creatures that didn't understand the concept of ranch boundaries. However, Idalou was certain Jordan had instructed his hands to
encourage
his cows to wander onto Double-L land. It was all part of his campaign to force her to sell.

Idalou walked to the doorway of their small house and watched as her brother mounted up and rode off on his favorite pinto mare. He had the height and strength of a man, but she supposed she'd never stop thinking of him as a younger brother she needed to take care of. She didn't want to do anything to discourage him from growing into a confident adult, but he was too emotional, too willing to see good in others without noticing the bad as well. He worked as hard as she did to hold things together, but they both knew it would be a tough fight even with the money they'd get for the bull.

Their father had been a dreamer, and having his own ranch had always been his ambition. He'd gambled with the future of the family when he'd mortgaged the ranch to buy that bull. Idalou had thought it was too much of a gamble and had tried to talk him out of it, but her mother had sided with her husband.

“It's been his dream since before we got married,” she'd told her daughter. “How could I possibly ask him to set it aside?”

Now Carl was gambling with his own future by falling in love with Mara McGloughlin. Everybody knew her father would never allow them to marry. Jordan McGloughlin had made it plain he wanted Mara to marry Van Sonnenberg. Combining the two
spreads would create one of the biggest ranches in Texas. The Double-L ranch stood in the way of that ambition, just as Carl stood in the way of Mara's marriage to Van.

Idalou turned back inside, the enforced idleness irritating her. If she hadn't had to wait for Will Haskins, she would have been out searching for the bull herself. She'd already straightened up their small sitting room and made her preparations for supper. Her bedroom was always neat, and she didn't bother with Carl's room regardless of the chaos. The washing was done, the chickens fed, and the eggs gathered. She'd have to milk the cow and pen the chickens before nightfall, but she would do that after Mr. Haskins left.

She couldn't help wondering what he was like. It was rumored the Maxwell family owned half the Hill Country. She hoped it was true. She wanted them to be rich enough to pay a lot for the bull. The decision to sell had been agonizing. The calves the animal fathered had been intended to be the future of the ranch. But there wouldn't be any future for the ranch if they didn't sell him. Ironic.

Unable to stand the inactivity any longer, Idalou took the slop bucket from the kitchen, left the house through the back door, and headed toward the hog pen where a sow nursed half a dozen piglets. At least they'd have meat for the winter. If either she or Carl had the time to gather berries and wild grapes, she'd make jam. Their father had planned to plant fruit trees, but had never gotten around to it.

She had just emptied the slop bucket into the feed trough and turned back toward the house when she saw a rider approaching the house. It was impossible to tell anything about him with the sun in her eyes, but it had to be Mr. Haskins. Just her luck. She'd
waited inside like a proper lady for the last hour only to have him arrive when she was slopping the hogs. Why didn't men get anything right? She couldn't decide whether to stay where she was, go to meet him, or return to the house and wait until he knocked on the door.

Deciding to meet him in the house, she hurried inside, washed her hands, checked to make sure she hadn't dirtied her dress, then made last-minute adjustments to her hair in a small mirror on her bedside table. By then she heard his boots on the front porch. She opened the door and completely lost her ability to move or speak.