The Independent Bride (11 page)

”Tell her we’re not open.”

“I did, but she wants to see you.”

Abby was reluctant to invite anyone into their living quarters, even though the room was now clean, but she told herself she had to get over expecting things would be as they had been in St. Louis. She’d probably never again live in a house as nice as Aunt Emma’s. “Tell her to come on back.”

A moment later a very pretty young woman came through the door. “I’m Dorrie Spaugh,” she said. “My husband is Captain Ronald Spaugh. I heard two women had taken over the trading post and had to come over right away.”

“We’ve been here three days now.”

“Everybody expected you to turn around and leave. When my husband told me Colonel McGregor had lent you the fort carpenters, I knew you were here to stay.”

Abby waited for her to say why she’d come, but Dorrie was more interested in looking around. “I can’t believe what you’ve done to this room,” she said. “It was never like this when your father was alive.”

“Forgive me if my question seems rude, but what were you doing in this room?”

Dorrie laughed. It was a high-pitched, giggly laugh.

“I helped your father in the store occasionally,” Dorrie said. “There’s nothing to do here if you aren’t a laundry woman and don’t have children. My husband didn’t like for me to work here, but I was so bored, I’d have mucked out the stables.”

“Maybe you can tell me where my father kept his business records,” Abby said. “I haven’t been able to find them.”

“He kept them in the top drawer of the chest against that wall,” Dorrie said, pointing to an old, badly scarred chest with five deep drawers.

“I’ve emptied everything out of that chest,” Abby said. “I didn’t find any records.”

“Then Bill Spicer must have moved them. Of course, he might have thrown them out with the rest of the mess.”

“What mess?”

“Somebody broke in after your father died, threw everything all over the room. I offered to help Spicer put things back in order, but he was too drunk to care.”

“Did anybody have any idea what the thief was looking for?”

“What would anybody want with old records? Now, if stuff from the store was missing, I would have understood. Abner wouldn’t let anybody in the store unless he was here, too. Locked this place tight as a drum at night. Even had a dog at one time, but somebody poisoned it. Mean thing to do.”

“My father’s letters never mentioned anything about that,” Abby said.

“It wasn’t always that way. Things went really smoothly until he decided he wanted to bid for that beef contract. I told him he was asking for trouble, but he said he could handle it. Maybe he could, but he got killed before he had a chance to prove it.”

“Killed?” Moriah said. “We were told our father died.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you. It was an accident, though it didn’t make sense. Nobody could remember Abner ever losing control of his horses.”

“What happened?”

“Nobody knows. He was found with the wagon smashed. He must have hit his head on a rock when he got thrown out.”

Her father loved horses. He used to ride all across the county when they lived in South Carolina, jumping anything in his path. He never once fell that Abby could remember.

“When do you plan to open the store again?” Dorrie asked.

“I’m not sure. We want to get the shelves finished, the merchandise organized, and reorder what’s missing.”

“That sounds like a long time. People here have nowhere to buy things unless they ride fifteen miles to Boulder Gap. My husband won’t let me go without him. It’s a rough town.”

“We’re working as fast as we can,” Moriah said.

“Maybe I can help,” Dorrie said. “I know what your father charged for things. I know the suppliers he ordered from.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Abby said. “Can you start right now? I can’t pay you until we make some sales because Spicer drank up whatever profits were made since my father’s death.”

“I don’t know why your father put up with him. I wouldn’t have let him in the store.”

Abby felt the same way.

“I can do the pricing,” Dorrie said. “Your father marked everything, but Spicer was too lazy to keep it up.”

“That would be perfect. I don’t see a great deal here for women. Don’t they buy from this store?”

“Your father never carried much for us. He said there weren’t enough women at the fort to make it worthwhile.”

“Well, there are two more women here now,” Abby said, “and we definitely consider it worthwhile.”

“You really don’t have to keep cooking for me. It’s no trouble to have you here. The room would be empty if you weren’t using it.” Bryce tried to sound sincere, but he hoped they wouldn’t listen. Aside from the fact that he now looked forward to meals, he enjoyed Abby’s company. She was a little prickly, but it made her more interesting than the other women he met. Most of them were anxious to agree with everything he said or defer to his opinion. Though that was a desirable trait in a wife, it made for boring company. Abby Pierce was anything but boring.

Pamela had taken Moriah off to discuss making new clothes for her favorite doll. It probably wasn’t a good idea for him to be alone with Abby, but his mother had hammered into his head that a gentleman never left a lady to entertain herself.

“Moriah and I have to eat, too,” Abby said. “If we’re going to cook for ourselves, it’s no trouble to cook for two more.”

“Three,” he said. “Zeb said he’s never going to eat in the mess hall as long as you cook.”

“As long as he cleans up, we’ll cook enough for him, too.”

“You realize you’re making it nearly impossible for us to go back to Zeb’s cooking when you leave,” Bryce said.

It startled him to realize he didn’t want Abby to leave. He found himself thinking of her during the day, wondering what she was doing, if she was thinking about going back to St. Louis, how she was doing in the store, if the men were respectful, if she liked the work they did. He also wondered if she smiled at them the way she occasionally smiled at him. In short, he was jealous. He wanted to be the one she talked to, the one she thanked, the one she thought about when she needed help.

Of course, this unexpected preoccupation with Abby was foolish. She didn’t want to get married, and he had no time or taste for flirtation, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. It played havoc with his concentration. He should send her to stay with one of his married officers, but he was worried about the beef contract. As long as she stayed in his house, he had the excuse he needed to monitor the situation. He had to make certain nothing happened to jeopardize his transfer back East.

Pamela was delighted to have Abby and her sister staying with them. She behaved much better during the day, even applied herself to her lessons so she could be free to spend time with them. Bryce was grateful they seemed happy to include Pamela in everything they did. He knew she suffered from not having a woman she could feel close to, but he couldn’t send her back East to his mother. Pamela didn’t like the restrictions her grandmother placed on her. His daughter would probably be perfectly happy to live at the fort for the rest of her life.

“Dorrie Spaugh came by today,” Abby said. “She said she worked for my father. She’s offered to help us get organized and tell us the things we need to order first.”

“Her husband doesn’t like her working in the trading post, but I’m glad she’s helping you.”

Bryce stood to refresh his brandy. “Can I bring you something?” he asked. Abby hadn’t touched her coffee, but she said she didn’t want anything.

“Dorrie said my father was killed in an accident,” Abby said when Bryce returned. “Why didn’t someone tell me? When I was told he’d died, I thought he’d been sick.”

“It’s less upsetting to say he died than that he was killed.”

“She said Father lost control of his horses, that his wagon crashed and he was killed when his head hit some rocks. I’m not saying it didn’t happen, but my father was an excellent horseman. He could drive a buggy in his sleep.”

Abby’s questions revived Bryce’s own feeling that something wasn’t right about the accident. Abner had been known for his skill with horses. Bryce had often had him teach new recruits how to ride, how to control every kind of buggy and wagon, how to handle teams of two, four, even six mules. It was odd that Abner would have been killed by failing to do something he did better than anyone else.

There wasn’t a shred of evidence it had been anything other than an accident, but Bryce had never seen the body or been asked to view the scene. He hadn’t even known about it until the next day.

“You’ll have to talk to the people in Boulder Gap,” Bryce said. “Your father wasn’t a soldier, so I wasn’t called on to investigate the accident.”

“Was he alone at the time?”

“I don’t know, but Abner always handled the reins. He didn’t trust anyone else. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, but I wasn’t involved. The accident happened outside of Boulder Gap.”

Zeb entered the room. “Can I bring you some fresh coffee, ma’am?” he asked Abby.

“No, thank you. I’ve had enough.”

“Anything I can do for you, Colonel?”

“No. I think that’ll be all for the night.”

Bryce didn’t like the people in Boulder Gap. They were a rough lot of merchants, saloonkeepers, gamblers, and prostitutes whose sole objective seemed to be to separate people from their money as quickly as possible.

“It seems I’ll have to travel to Boulder Gap,” Abby said.

“You can’t go alone,” Bryce said.

“Why not?”

“It’s a rough town. I recommend that my officers not take their wives there. It leads to trouble.”

“Moriah and I will have to go,” Abby said. “It’s time we knew where our father was buried.”

“You’re not going to listen to any of my advice, are you?” Bryce asked.

“Not in this instance, but I would like your advice on the beef contract. I found the papers today.”

“What do you want to know?”

“First, how the transaction works. The agent owes me money and I owe the rancher money. He will turn the beeves over to the agent before I give him the money, won’t he?”

“I’m sure he understands you can’t pay him until you get paid.”

“Will the agent pay me right then?”

“You’ll have to talk to the agent.”

“What do I do if the rancher doesn’t deliver all the cows I’ve contracted for?”

“You don’t pay for what you don’t get.”

“Suppose Father paid him already?”

“Did he?”

“I don’t know. Dorrie told me someone broke into the store a while back, and that Spicer probably threw the records away when he straightened up.”

“It’s more likely he shoved them somewhere and forgot them.”

“What do I do if the herd is stolen?”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“What will
you
do?”

Chapter Seven

“That depends. If you ask me, I’ll send a patrol out to investigate. If the agent asks me, I’ll send a patrol out. If the Indians ask me, I’ll send a patrol.”

“What if you don’t find anything?”

“The Indians will have been cheated of what the treaty guarantees them, and they will be hungry and angry. It’s my job to make sure they stay on the reservation. If they had killed even one white man, rustler or not, when they went after that herd before, we’d have had trouble.”

“Why would my father want such a troublesome contract?”

“Because of the money he could make. Once again, if you take my advice, you’ll give it up.”

“I don’t trust Luther Hinson not to cheat the Indians.”

“I expect you’re right.” Bryce didn’t like having to stand aside while Hinson had a free hand to do whatever he wished.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing. As I told you before, that’s outside my authority. If I interfere, I could end up court-martialed. You said you worked in St. Louis. What did you do?”

“I worked in a bank.”

“If the bank had been cheating the customers and you’d tried to warn them, wouldn’t you have lost your job?”

“Yes, but—”

“I have to do what the army tells me or I’ll lose my job. If that happens, I’ll be in no position to help the Indians at all.”

“Do you try to help them?”

“Whenever I can. They’ve been treated badly.”

Abby seemed to jerk her thoughts away from the Indians. She smiled in a way that struck terror into his heart. She had to stop doing that. With a little effort and that smile, she could probably talk him into anything. He’d been a widower too long.

“I have a favor to ask,” she said.

With a sinking feeling, Bryce asked, “What is it?”

“I want you to teach me how to ride sidesaddle.”

“You don’t need me to teach you,” Bryce said the following morning. “You ride like you were born on a horse.”

“I used to ride all the time when we lived in South Carolina, but I stopped after we moved to St. Louis. Aunt Emma said it was unladylike.”