Wicked Wyoming Nights (5 page)

“Doesn’t anyone stand to up these ranchers?”

“There’re other ways to hurt Stedman if you’re really interested,” Croley said deliberately.

“I want to see his pride in the dust.”

“I don’t know about that, but it’s possible to do him a serious hurt.”

“How?”

“There’re people about who don’t like him any more than you do, but it’s not safe to let it be known in some quarters. His crew is a rough lot.”

“I’m not backing away from anybody,” Ira declared pugnaciously.

“Save your boasting for the saloon,” Croley said, rising. “Some of the boys get right frisky when they get a little liquor under their belts.”

“I’m not forgetting Stedman.”

“Didn’t think you would. But the first thing you have to do is turn your niece into the kind of looker that’ll fill the house every night. Arnett’s got himself a dancer and Lavinia’s girls get their share of the trade, so that doesn’t leave much for us. You sure she won’t quit on us?”

“No Smallwood backs down. She’ll look smart enough to pop the eyes right out of their heads. She can sing right pretty too, but she can’t dance.”

“If she can pull in a dozen extra cowboys a night, there’ll be time enough to worry about that. Now I’ll say good night. I don’t trust Luke not to put his hand in the till when I’m not looking over his shoulder.

The two men parted, each pleased with the agreement. Croley’s cold eyes glittered with avarice when he thought of what Eliza’s success could mean, but he didn’t like the frightened look in her eyes. Maybe she would get used to it, but he had never known a girl to be good with men who didn’t come by it naturally. Drinking cowboys didn’t come down easy on anybody. If a girl started scared, she stayed scared, but it was worth a try. With Eliza’s looks she’d attract attention just sitting in the corner. Besides, if things didn’t work out, he could always get rid of Smallwood. The man was a fool to let hate cloud his judgment, but maybe Croley could find a use for that too.

Ira went to bed with even more sanguine hopes. He never doubted Eliza would do anything he wanted. She might be as shy as a hummingbird, but her mother had plenty of backbone and there was no reason to think once Eliza got used to the job she couldn’t give as good as she got. The costume did worry him, though. Eliza was tiresomely modest, and likely to balk at anything she considered improper. He hoped Lavinia could talk her into the right kind of clothes. He could force her out on stage, but it wouldn’t be any use if she was too hysterical to perform. And cringing and pulling at her dress wouldn’t help either.

He’d worry about that tomorrow, but anything was better than trying to make a living from the soil. He had grown to hate the dry, powdery earth almost as much as he hated ranchers. Years of struggling against drought, sun, and grasshoppers to eke out a living had left him bitter and disillusioned. Eliza could grow a few vegetables and keep a cow and some chickens if she wanted, but soon there’d be enough money to buy anything he wanted without ever having to wonder whether the frost would kill his crop before it grew, or the rain ruin it before he could gather it.

Involuntarily Ira’s mind reached back to the years when his wife and son were alive. In vain he tried to drive away memories that still had the power to splinter his self-control, but he couldn’t break their grip, and the angry, belligerent man he had become dissolved into the memories of a younger self in whom laughter and happiness had, for one brief span, dwelt companionably. Blighted crops had had no power to depress him when Sarah’s gaiety was there to lighten his spirits and her hopefulness to keep fear at bay. The unquestioning love of an adored son had been all the more reason to dwell beyond the crippling reach of failure. Those had been golden years, when tomorrow could always be depended upon to erase the misfortunes of today.

Then suddenly both wife and son were dead, and it was as if every light in the world had gone out. He felt cast loose, his anchor lost, but whenever he might think to embrace the comforting blackness with welcoming arms, Eliza would not let him die. Her existence tied him to an older brother who was everything he wasn’t, to a time before those brief years when Sarah brought the warmth of love and happiness into his bleak life. It was hard not to hate Eliza, to blame her for still being alive, for forcing him to go on living a life that every day became a more onerous burden. She was all he had in the world, but she was a bitter exchange for what he had lost.

Chapter 4

A heavy thunderstorm struck during the night. Awakened by an ear-splitting crash of thunder, Eliza found the roof leaking and puddles of water forming on the dirt floor. Repressing a strong desire to pull the covers over her head and ignore the whole thing until morning, she stepped gingerly across the cold ground and peeped into the main room. The fire had gone out and the room was in pitch-black darkness, but she could hear the unmistakable plop of dripping water. She moved in the direction of her uncle’s muted snores and bumped into the table. The snoring ended with a guttural snort, but they resumed their even rhythm as she massaged her throbbing side; her uncle had gone to sleep on the table and was completely dry. She stumbled back to her room and climbed between the damp sheets. For one who could remember nights in the rain with only the wagon for cover, she was comfortable enough, but unfortunately wide awake.

Her mind wandered, browsing through her past. She recalled the warm comfort of her Aunt Sarah’s presence and the laughter of the little boy her uncle worshipped. She would never forget that bright summer day when they were both laid under the Kansas sod. Overnight she had been catapulted from irresponsible childhood into the assumption of her aunt’s duties. With wrenching suddenness life had become difficult and unhappy. She was not a selfish girl or one given to expecting special attention, but she found it more and more difficult to accept her uncle’s harsh treatment and disregard for all that she did. There was something stirring within her, a restlessness that made her peevish and impatient, suddenly unhappy with things she’d previously accepted without question. On several occasions recently she’d had to bite her tongue to keep from talking back, but she had never stood up to her uncle and she doubted she ever would.

The image of Cord Stedman rose up unbidden to tempt her mind from the blighting hopelessness of her life. She tried to push it aside, but it wouldn’t go. No man had ever disturbed her virginal thoughts, and to discover one had taken up abode there, not to be dislodged, was bewildering. She ought to be afraid of him, but even as she had snatched her hand away from him that morning at the creek, she’d realized she was drawn to him instead of fearing him, and that had made her feel guilty.

She thought of his powerful chest and arms, only partly hidden by the sheepskin jacket, and a tremor of excitement coursed through her. How could anyone so big and powerful not be dangerous? Even now those sultry eyes, screened under craggy brows that acted like a protective barrier against intrusion, agitated her peace. The outline of his heavy beard on smooth-shaven, tanned, and weathered skin only served to heighten the impression he was outside the limitations that fettered and confined more ordinary mortals.

Yet she sensed that behind his cold, efficient exterior there burned a fire of unfathomed magnitude. She could feel its heat escaping through those hypnotic eyes. She stirred in bed, pulling the sheet over her breasts as a shield against the intense, compressed energy of that man. She wondered if he was always so untouched by ordinary human emotions, or if his feelings were merely buried out of sight of others. He was so much bigger than life, the kind of man she read about in her mother’s books, it was difficult to imagine him doing the ordinary things other men did. Still, it was this unapproach-ability that made his kindness all the more unexpected and inexplicable. She wondered if he really would pay that awful bill, but immediately felt ashamed of herself. She knew he would. Cord Stedman would never go back on his word.

She tried to imagine what he was really like, but her experience of men was so limited she was forced to fall back on the fictional heroes in her books. Bit by bit she began to weave a fantastic and exotic past centered around his hooded eyes and hard mouth. She fabricated tales of daring adventure and improbable peril—to her astonishment she found herself the heroine of each episode—and imagined him vanquishing opposition and scattering foes with the ease of a giant among pygmies. Enmeshed in these pleasurable fantasies she drifted off to sleep, a tiny smile on her lips and her dimpled cheek resting on clasped hands.

Ira left for town next morning after breakfast. He promised to fix the roof if he got the chance, but Eliza was to see to the floor before he got back. She cleared away the breakfast things, fed the stock and turned them out, and then directed her full attention to making the cabin fit to live in; she didn’t hear the bellows of her milk cow until they became a cry of distress.

Following the mournful sound to a hollow that ran behind the cabin, Eliza found the cow mired up to her shoulders in a small lake of muddy water. A shallow basin, lying directly in the path of the runoff from last night’s downpour, had filled up during the night and turned the sand-mud mixture into a sticky bog. The poor creature was exhausted by her struggles and could only bellow helplessly.

Eliza had no idea how to free such a large animal from a quagmire, but she knew the cow would drown if something were not done soon. She kicked off her shoes, hitched up her skirt, and waded into the icy water, but she was speedily persuaded the ooze would imprison
her
just as firmly as it had her cow if she dared go any farther. She fetched her uncle’s extra length of rope from the wagon, but fifteen minutes later she still hadn’t succeeded in tossing the lasso over the creature’s head.

“You deserve to drown, you stupid beast,” she scolded in angry frustration. “Why did you have to go in so far?”

The sound of horses hooves caused Eliza to turn around in alarm, but her flight was arrested by the sight of a tall, proud man astride a black gelding. Without knowing where she got the courage, Eliza ran toward the road calling and waving her arms to attract the attention of the owner of the Matador.

Cord had no way of knowing Eliza’s uncle had settled into the abandoned cabin along his route into town—he would have dismissed it as immaterial if he did know—but there was an element of youthful impulsiveness in his response to her call. Sturgis and Royce were left behind when he kicked his steed into a gallop, and with a Surry of lashing reins and raking spurs, they rushed to catch up, realizing only when it was too late to draw back that they were being summoned by the same female they’d tried to run off Bear Creek. Royce nearly swallowed his tongue; Sturgis wished he’d thought to complain of a bellyache after breakfast.

“My cow will drown if you don’t get her out,” Eliza called, too excited to realize her words didn’t make sense.

“Where is she?” Cord asked, dismounting with unhurried movements.

“Behind the house. The rain must have flooded it during the night. It wasn’t there yesterday.” Cord never once asked what it was.

“How long has she been stuck?”

“I don’t know. I was inside and didn’t hear her. I tried to get her out, but it’s too soft to wade in, and I couldn’t get a rope over her head.”

“I expect the boys will have to dig her out.”

“But the water’s freezing.”

“I know. We have to dig our cows out all the time. They’re never satisfied unless they’re up to their knees in water.”

If the boys had had any attention to spare they would have been surprised at Cord’s talkativeness, but they were too numb to notice anything more subtle than a thunderclap. Each had put on his best clothes—Sturgis had astonished his friends by washing his neck and face—only to be told they had to wade chest-high into an outsized mud hole. After yesterday’s misadventure, this was a nearly mortal blow to their youthful vanity.

“Don’t be so slow getting started,” Cord said quietly, and the boys started taking off boots, spurs, chaps, vests, anything they could remove in Eliza’s presence and remain decent. Sturgis refused to remove his hat, which he had painstakingly decorated with a red bandanna, and he waded into the water with it still pulled down over his eyes. When he started to swim, Eliza was put in mind of a large turtle, and she had to fight to hold back a gurgle of mirth.

The exhausting work of diving under the water to dig out each hoof fell to Royce. The frigid water quickly depleted his strength, and as he had nowhere to rest and replenish his oxygen, Sturgis would hold his gasping and sputtering friend atop the cow until he had recovered enough to dive once again. Suddenly the wretched bovine set up a pathetic mooing, a signal she had given herself up for lost. She refused to make any effort to free herself, and even after her feet were released from the mud and she began to float, she merely lay there rolling her eyes, flopped over on her side like a hot-air balloon. Sturgis tried to stir her interest by twisting her tail.

“Pull, for God’s sake,” yelled Royce, holding the cow’s head out of the water, but the uncooperative beast spun completely around, and the boys had to push instead. A tiny choke escaped Eliza.

“I’ll put a rope on her,” Cord called. He measured out a couple of lengths and after a few practiced twirls, sent it sailing through the air to settle easily over the unresisting animal’s head. Sturgis tightened the noose around her horns, and at Cord’s signal, his gelding began to pull the waterlogged animal to shore. She lay perfectly still, resigned to a fate that no longer awaited her, until she felt herself scrape bottom; then she recovered her will to live with a vengeance. As Sturgis and Royce approached the shore in her wake, she gauged the distance to an inch and chased them both back into the water as far as the rope would allow.