Wildblossom (7 page)

Folding the large pile of currency, Geoff put it away and consulted his watch. Good God, Manypenny had been sitting on that trunk for nearly an hour! He paid for the drinks, added a generous tip, and left the saloon without a second thought for the cowboys and ranch hands who stared after him.

When Geoff returned to the mountain of baggage he discovered that Manypenny had not changed position or even unbuttoned his overcoat in the warmth of the April afternoon. Like a giant carved sentinel, he guarded his master's belongings, moving only to lift a folded handkerchief from time to time and blot the rivulets of perspiration that rolled down from under his derby.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, old man," Geoff said when he was beside him, "but I've found lodgings for us. I've been playing cards... and it seems I've won a
ranch."

"Have you, my lord?" Manypenny replied mildly. "How very convenient."

"Yes..." He watched the little man who'd been with Coyote Matt drive toward them in a wide, rickety wagon with a seat for passengers raised up in front. "I should advise you that one of the other owners of the ranch, approaching now in that vehicle, is disguised as someone called 'Coyote Matt.' You may observe that
he
is actually a female, but up to this point, that fact has not been acknowledged." His mouth twitched. "The reasons behind this flimsy charade are a mystery to me."

The manservant blinked. "Are you
quite
certain you wouldn't prefer to lodge at a proper inn, my lord?"

As the buckboard rolled to a halt beside them, Geoff's only reply was laughter. It dawned on Manypenny then that he hadn't heard his lordship laugh like that in years... and that meant they wouldn't be going home to London just yet.

Chapter 4

A lovely rose and violet dusk had enfolded the Sunshine Ranch by the time the buckboard turned down the road leading to the log house. A sharp chill had replaced the afternoon's warmth, and Shelby huddled against Titus, trembling with cold and the shock of her own grave mistakes. Next to her, Geoff sat forward for a better view of the house. Smoke spiraled from one of the chimneys, signaling Ben's presence, and the Shoshone River glimmered coral in the distance.

"This is the Sunshine Ranch," Titus said at length. He couldn't help liking Geoffrey Weston, though he could do without the dour servant who sat in back amidst their numerous weighty trunks. Shelby hadn't spoken since he'd led her from the saloon, and Titus felt like a traitor each time he addressed the Englishman who'd won half the ranch... yet there was such a thing as common courtesy. Besides, Weston had hardly put a gun to Shelby's head and forced her to bet her last dime, and the ranch as well. Left to her own devices, she'd have gambled away the whole, not half.

"It's splendid," Geoff murmured, then glanced over at Titus and smiled. "I hope my silence hasn't seemed rude, but I've been taking in the scenery. Each view appears more magnificent than the last." They were drawing up in front of the house, and Geoff looked back at Manypenny. "Aren't you impressed with the fine house these people have built, old fellow?"

The servant put a hand up to secure his derby as they rolled over a last bump. "It appears a trifle...
rustic,
my lord."

"Are you a nobleman, Mr. Weston?" Titus asked, seeking to steer the conversation away from Manypenny's cool remark. Even Shelby had stirred at his critical tone, and Titus was anxious to delay the inevitable scenes of conflict as long as possible. "Folks out here won't take to calling you their lord."

"Don't give that another thought," Geoff insisted, throwing the manservant a dark look. "Manypenny has been with my family for eons. He's from the old school, so to speak, and enjoys using titles even when they don't apply."

Titus didn't pause to ponder this vague response as other concerns pushed to the front of his mind. How could the Coyote Matt/Shelby situation best be handled? What would Benjamin's mood be? Preoccupied, Titus climbed down to tie the horses to the hitching post in front of the house. Geoffrey Weston had gone back to see to Manypenny when Shelby jumped to the ground.

"Titus." She paused before him. Her little gamine's face was shadowed under the Stetson's wide brim, but there were tears in her voice. "I am so ashamed... but I will not be vanquished. I shall change my clothes and confront that foreigner, and—"

"He's not the villain, lass," Titus reminded her. "It makes me worry from the get-go when you're melodramatic. I'd advise you to accept what's happened and—"

"No. I will
fix
this!" she insisted hotly, then disappeared into the house.

Titus said a silent prayer that Ben wouldn't be waiting for them with a rifle, then he assured Weston that their hired hands would unload the baggage. "I think we all could use a proper cup of tea and something to eat, hmm? Let's go inside and I'll see what we have."

"Lead on." Geoff wanted to pat the poor chap on the back and assure him that this crisis would pass. His heart went out to Titus Pym; clearly he cast himself not only as Miss Coyote's guardian, but also as the buffer between her and that Ben fellow, who Geoff guessed really
was
her relative. Although a great deal of the picture was muddied, clarification seemed imminent.

When Titus threw open the front door and they stepped inside, Manypenny let out a short gasp. Titus gave him a challenging stare, forcing him to speak. "No offense, my good man. I simply cannot recall the last time I saw a bearskin displayed on a parlor wall...."

"I rather like it," Geoff offered, brimming with high spirits. "The entire room is so..." He paused, searching for the right word.

"Rustic
, my lord?"

Titus bristled like a little porcupine as the indignities mounted. The added fact that he found himself staring at Manypenny's striped waistcoat when he faced him hardly helped. "Now see here, I thought we'd agreed to dispense with all that 'my lord' folderol!"

"I shall henceforth endeavor to refer to his lordship as 'sir."

"Much better," Geoff approved. He had wandered over to the great stone fireplace, savoring the warmth.

"Ben must've gone out to check on the fences," Titus decided with a sigh of relief. He went into the kitchen and started the tea. Shelby had baked an apple cake only a day ago, and Titus found himself growing calmer as he set out four plates, cut slices of cake, and began to set the table. Perhaps the world wasn't coming to a crashing end after all.

Still, when the door to Shelby's room opened, Titus jumped. Manypenny was sitting on the very edge of the sofa, holding his derby in his lap, and Geoff was standing, reading the tattered poster advertising the Wild West Show. His expression had been almost dreamy, but the creak of the door returned him instantly to the moment.

"Hello." Shelby stepped into the big room and waited. When she saw Geoff's eyes change, her confidence soared. She didn't care about her looks yet certainly was aware of them. After discarding her disguise, Shelby had donned a flattering plum-colored skirt and an ivory, high-necked blouse with a cameo pinned at her throat. Her dark red hair was swirled into the upswept style that emphasized her striking features.

When she sensed that the Englishman had been suitably affected by the sight of her, Shelby walked toward him, one graceful hand outstretched. "I should introduce myself," she began, her tone beguiling.

Returning her smile with an equal measure of charm, Geoff murmured, "Coyote
Mary,
I presume?"

Shelby paled, while across the room the cup and saucer in Titus's hand chattered eloquently.

"A lucky guess!" he blurted.

"On the contrary, I appreciate true art, and I recognized this fine example of female beauty when she tapped me on the shoulder in the saloon," Geoff replied calmly, then looked down into Shelby's stricken eyes. "The men in Cody do not seem to be particularly observant or they would have seen through your disguise as well. It was more amusing than effective, Miss..."

Feeling as if she'd had the wind knocked out of her repeatedly that day, she managed to whisper, "Matthews. Shelby Matthews."

"Miss Matthews, I hope you won't be offended if I tell you that you are even more lovely than I imagined." He took her hand at last, his own fingers strong yet well-shaped. "I've been very curious to see the woman behind Coyote Matt's mustache."

Shelby was momentarily distracted by the warm strength of his hand clasping hers. She hardly knew what to make of the current of pleasure came with his touch, or the way her thoughts seemed to scatter just when she needed them most. What was it she had intended to say to him?

"Mr. Weston... now that you know I am a woman, I'm sure you will realize that our little drama at the saloon was nothing more than a romp for me... an amusement of sorts. How could my appearance in that ridiculous costume be anything else? Did you guess that Titus and I fashioned the mustache from my horse's mane?" She laughed gaily and Titus joined in. Geoff was kind enough to smile but he released her hand.

"It doubtless looked better on your horse," he remarked, aware that she was expecting a response and equally aware of the conversation's destination.

As Shelby laughed, she touched his sleeve as if they were good friends. "My uncle Ben has ever been skeptical of these pranks of mine, but I can see that you are blessed with a sense of humor, Mr. Weston."

"Please, Miss Matthews, call me Geoff," he said on cue.

"Only if you will call me Shelby. May I be frank with you, Geoff?"

"I insist upon it."

She saw the hint of irony mixed with warmth in his eyes, but charged ahead. "I like you. In fact, I have a notion that this escapade we have been through together will end in a firm friendship between us." Shelby saw that Titus was pouring the tea, and she led Geoff to the table. "Mr. Manypenny, do join us! We don't stand on ceremony here in America."

There was an odd tension in the air as Shelby chatted on through tea. Geoff was hungry; he consumed two large pieces of apple cake. He felt stirrings of sympathy for Shelby, even though he found her vastly entertaining and more attractive than he cared to contemplate. If he were inclined to assume the manners he'd been taught since birth, he might pretend the entire poker game had been only an amusing diversion. But he would not, and the value of his winnings was not the reason.

The cake was gone; the teapot was empty. Shelby fell silent for a moment, then gathered her courage and skirted the point. "Well, that was lovely. And I really can't tell you how pleased I am that you understand."

Geoff appeared to be mildly puzzled. "Understand?"

"Why, yes!" Her heart was pounding again. "You are an Englishman, and gallant enough to understand that that silly game at the saloon was a lark; nothing more! We've laughed about it, we've made friends, and now we can forget about it."

"Oh, no, I don't think so, Shelby. I'm not nearly as gallant as you hoped."

Color stained her cheeks. "But—you can't be serious! You aren't going to
keep
half my ranch!?"

Rubbing a tapered finger against his jaw, he considered for a moment before countering, "Would you have kept my money if I had been the loser?"

She nearly choked. "That's—different!"

"Is it? I don't see how. Still, there is a bright side. I'm hardly an ogre—in fact, there are people who believe that I am replete with redeeming qualities—"

"Please!"
she cried, giving up any further pretense of good cheer.

"But Shelby, I thought we had agreed to be frank with one another." He smiled, aware that his continued use of her first name set her teeth on edge. "I can see that you have had a change of heart, but I only meant to reassure you that you could be sharing your ranch with worse people, many of whom were sitting near us in the saloon today. Don't worry, we'll deal together quite well, and I shall finance whatever project you were trying to raise the funds for today—if you can convince me that it is worthwhile."

Shelby had a lot of resistance left in her, but Geoff was so casual about it all that she felt stifled. She protested, "You don't understand. This is a catastrophe! I'm not supposed to even know that I own the ranch, let alone lose half of it! My father... oh, Daddy will be apoplectic if he hears about this!"