Wild Is My Heart (8 page)

A knock on the door at first brought no answer from Sam, so enmeshed was she in the agonizing thought of endless years in prison stretching before her. It was the voice that finally raised a response from her.

“Samantha! Are you in there? It’s Vern, Vern Logan.”

Calvin Logan approached his bank at the ungodly hour of seven a.m. The bank didn’t open until nine, but he liked to spend an undisturbed time on private business before opening the doors himself each morning. Vern knew some of what was going on, but Klaus Spindler was entirely in the dark about the railroad and the inordinate number of foreclosures Calvin had acquired. Sickness had confined Calvin to his bed the past two days and he had more business than usual to catch up on. He hoped Vern hadn’t messed up things too badly in his absence.

Though Vern was his only son, he was not overly bright where business was concerned. He also had a propensity for hard liquor, gambling, and whores. It was all right to indulge, Calvin allowed, but one had to keep a clear head if one wanted to succeed. That’s why Calvin relentlessly goaded Vern into choosing a wife. He’d even helped Vern along by foreclosing on the Howard ranch, hoping to force the willful but extremely desirable Samantha Howard into marriage.

Of course, Calvin had an ulterior motive. The railroad people would soon arrive to buy the right-of-way for land on which to build their railroad. As of five o’clock last night he had added the Howard property to his list of holdings, all of which were located along the right-of-way. Calvin’s goal was to be the richest man in the state of Texas. There were still a few holdouts who refused to sell their land, but the Crowder gang was slowly changing their minds. Striking a deal with those lawless outcasts had been the smartest move he’d ever made. Costly, but smart.

When Calvin sat down at his desk, the first thing he saw was the sale papers completed the night before by Klaus Spindler assigning the Howard land to a Mr. Steven Colter, and he prompdy flew into a rage. He cursed Klaus, cursed the illness that kept him confined to bed, but most of all he cursed Vern for not being here to prevent Klaus from making such a muddle of tilings. Who in the hell was Steven Colter? He asked his poor, unsuspecting clerk that very question when he arrived an hour later.

“I…I never saw the man before,” replied Klaus, cowering beneath his employer’s scathing rage. “But he’s a friend of your son’s. Or at least he said he was. He was looking for property, and since the Circle H became available at five o’clock last night I saw no reason not to mention it. Mr. Colter expressed interest and decided it would be perfect for his needs. He wanted the papers drawn up immediately and I…I complied,” Klaus said, carefully excluding any mention of the bonus he received. “I had the bank’s best interest at heart.”

“You addlepated idiot!” Logan raged. “How could you do this without consultin’ me? Where was Vern?”

“Herr Vern…er…stepped out for a time,” Klaus flushed. “He told me to handle things in his absence and close up if he wasn’t back in time. I was only following orders. The bank forecloses and sells property all the time.”

“Not this property!” Calvin thundered, a vein in his temple throbbing dangerously as his face turned a mottled purple. “Where can I find Mr. Colter? Perhaps all isn’t lost yet.”

“I…I don’t know,” stuttered Klaus. “I got the impression he was leaving town immediately because he left instructions allowing Miss Howard and her brother to remain on the ranch until he appeared to take possession.”

“Dammit, you’re fired, Spindler! Gather up your things and clear out of here.”

“That’s fine with me, Herr Logan. I only came back this morning to tell you I quit. I’m leaving for New Orleans on the ten o’clock stage.”

Without a backward glance he spun on his heel and marched out the door, grateful to Herr Colter for giving him the opportunity to strike out on his own.

Vern Logan fared no better in his father’s treatment. Standing meekly before the raging man, he was alternately cursed, condemned, and disinherited. His only chance to atone for his irresponsible behavior, according to the elder Logan, was to settle down with a good wife and give him a grandchild. Until that child rested in Calvin’s arms his money would go to a cousin in Chicago. Calvin expressed his intention to alter his will immediately to include those conditions.

Vern knew his father meant to follow through with his threat. Many times in the past Calvin had threatened to cut Vern off without a cent if he didn’t mend his ways, give up gambling and whoring, take a greater interest in his job, and get married. Vern suffered his father’s rampage in silence. When the older man finally exhausted himself, he suggested Vern might partially redeem himself by persuading Samantha Howard to become his wife. With her property gone she might be more amenable to Vern’s suit.

Vern was thoroughly puzzled as to the identity of the new owner of the Circle H Ranch. To the best of his knowledge, he knew no one named Steven Colter. Obviously the man was a charlatan and wanted the property for the same reason his father did, else why would he lie about their being acquainted? If it weren’t for Steven Colter, he would still be in his father’s good graces. He hated the man without knowing him.

Samantha knew the reason for Vern Logan’s early morning visit without being told. No doubt he wanted to inform her that she had to leave the ranch. She already knew that. Colt had irrevocably altered her life the moment he interfered with her plans to rob the stage.

“Can you hear me, Samantha? I know you’re in there.”

“I’m coming,” Sam replied with a small sigh of resignation as she levered herself out of her chair.

“What kept you?” Vern asked after Sam let him inside. He eyed her unfeminine garb with obvious distaste.

“It’s early,” Sam replied with a hint of reproval.

“I know, and I apologize. But I had to see you. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen you and I’ve been hankerin’ to talk to you.”

“Just two weeks.” Sam knew exactly when she had seen Vern last. He was the one who had told her about the gold shipment.

“Seems longer.” He moved closer, and automatically Sam retreated. “You know why I’m here, don’t you?”

“I reckon,” Sam said shortly. “You’ve come to tell me the ranch no longer belongs to me and Will. I know the date and that your father foreclosed last night.”

“Daddy is a businessman, Samantha, you can’t fault him for callin’ in the note. You know there was absolutely no hope of your repayin’ your father’s loan.”

“I’ll leave tomorrow,” Sam said.

“Where will you go?”

“I…have a place to stay,” Sam hedged. No need to elaborate, he’d find out soon enough that she had lodging in the town jail.

“Marry me, Samantha. I’ll provide everythin’ you’ll ever need, and your brother will always have a home with us.”

“Can you give me back my property?”

“You know that’s impossible.”

“Why? Surely it’s within your power.” Sam knew that marriage between them was out of the question, with a jail sentence hanging over her, but she couldn’t resist the urge to test him.

“The ranch was sold shortly after five o’clock last night.”

Sam paled, groping for a chair. The shock of learning that someone else owned the land her father had fought the Indians for, combined with a lingering weakness from her wound, left her thoroughly shaken.

Instantly contrite, Vern dropped to his knees before her. “I’m sorry, Samantha, I didn’t mean to tell you this way, or even for this to happen. It was Daddy’s intent to keep the property and present it to us as a weddin’ gift. A quirk of fate took it out of our hands. Both Daddy and I were out of the bank when a Mr. Steven Colter came in near closin’ time and expressed an interest in the ranch. That idiot of a clerk sold it to him without consultin’ eitther of us. Mr. Colter is now the new owner of the Circle H.”

“Steven Colter,” repeated Sam woodenly. The name sounded strangely familiar.

“Do you know him?” Vern asked sharply.

“N…no, I’m sure I don’t. It’s just…” She faltered, choking on a sob.

“Samantha, are you ill?” Vern asked with mock concern. “You’re so pale.”

“I…need time to digest all this, Vern,” Sam replied, feeling weaker by the minute.

“Where is Will?” Vern asked, suddenly aware that they were alone. “Come to think on it, I didn’t see that Mex Sanchez around when I rode in.”

“They…went hunting,” Sam improvised, “but I expect them back soon.”

Realizing they were alone, Vern rose and pulled Sam from the chair into the circle of his arms. “You didn’t answer me, Samantha. Will you marry me? It’s time you gave up your hoydenish ways, dressed like a woman, and thought about motherhood. You want children, don’t you?” he asked slyly.

“I…of course, but…”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll make the arrangements and we’ll marry one week from today. Daddy will be ecstatic.”

“Sam isn’t free to marry.”

Vern whirled. A dark, powerfully built stranger lounged in the doorway, a sardonic smile curving the corners of his full lips. “Who in the hell are you, mister?”

Suddenly he spotted the distinctive badge that Colt had pinned on his chest when he recognized Vern Logan’s voice coming from inside the house.

“Ranger Colt Andrews,” Colt volunteered, uncoiling his lanky length and ambling into the room with the sleek aggressiveness of a cougar.

“Do I know you?” Vern asked, his light blue eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Seems like I recollect you from somewhere. The name’s Vern Logan.”

“We’ve not met formally, but you might have seen me in town yesterday,” Colt informed him. Then he turned tawny eyes on Sam, his next words bringing a gasp of dismay bubbling from her lips. “You were sleepin’ so soundly when I got out of bed this mornin’, darlin’, I didn’t want to disturb you.” Deliberately he made it sound as if they had occupied the same bed “What’s this man to you, Samantha?” Vern demanded angrily. “I can’t believe you’d sink so low when I offered you respectability and marriage. Are you lovers? I thought we had an understandin’.”

“Vern, it’s not what you think,” Sam tried to explain, slanting a venomous glance in Colt’s direction. “Colt is—”

“Is what? He made it perfectly clear what he’s doin’ here.”

“Colt is here to take me to j—”

“Explainin’ won’t help, Sam,” Colt warned.

“Forget Ranger Andrews, Samantha,” Vern snapped, his voice ripe with disgust. “Because I love you I’m willin’ to swallow my pride and forgive your … er … indiscretion. Maybe I’m loco but I still want to marry you.”

Vern was so anxious to be reinstated in his father’s good graces that he was willing to take damaged goods. Besides, no other woman excited him like Samantha Howard. Not even Molly whose body gave him so much pleasure.

“‘Pears like you didn’t hear me the first time, Mr. Logan,” Colt repeated with calm deliberation. “Miss Howard isn’t free to marry. I’ve already staked my claim.”

“How can that be? Two weeks ago Samantha didn’t even know you existed.”

“She does now.” Colt grinned with wicked delight.

“I’d like to hear what Samantha has to say about this,” Vern insisted. He wasn’t about to give up so easily. A lot rode on Samantha’s answer. There wasn’t another woman in Karlsburg to compare with her, and he desperately needed a wife to please his daddy and earn back his inheritance. His eyes settled disconcertedly on Sam’s pale face.

“I…I’m sorry, Vern, but I can’t marry you,” she repeated. “I’ve refused your offer before and must do so again.”

“Because of this man?” He nodded toward Colt.

“You could say that,” flushed Sam, hating the knowing smirk on Colt’s rugged face.

“Is he offerin’ marriage?”

“I… no. It’s not…”

“You got your answer, Mr. Logan, I suggest you hightail it out of here,” Colt prodded.

“Is there nothin’ I can do or say to change your mind, Samantha?” Vern asked tightly. “I know I can offer you more than a man whose gun is his fortune.”

“You’re wastin’ your breath, Logan,” Colt sneered, well aware of the banker’s scurrilous character. He would make Sam a lousy husband. He was shallow, deceitful, selfish, and a liar to boot. Sam deserved better.

“You’ll be sorry, Samantha,” Vern bit out nastily. “If you should change your mind you know where to find me.” Turning on his heel, he slammed out of the house.

“Are you all right?” Colt asked, concern coloring his words. Sam was deathly pale and looked on the verge of collapse.

“Why did you make it sound as if… as if we were…intimate?” Sam accused, stifling a sob. “You’re a shiftless, no good, worthless no-account, Colt Andrews!”

“I figured I was doin’ you a favor,” Colt said sourly. “You could do better than Vern Logan. And didn’t I warn you about your nasty mouth? Cussin’ is not ladylike.”

“I’m no lady, as you pointed out before,” Sam ground out defiantly. “Why didn’t you come right out and tell him you’re taking me to jail?”

“’Cause I’m not.”

“What! What did you say?” His shocking words sent Sam reeling.

“Sam, I know why you held up the stage. You needed the money to keep the bank from fbreclosin’. Why didn’t you tell me that in the beginnin’?”

“Would it have made a difference?”