Mail Order Tangle, page 26
“Are you being a bad boy?”
“Dang,” Matt said as he walked up. “He has good taste in women but he’s not a bit interested in cows.”
The bull whirled around to face Matt, lowered his head and blew snot.
“Now, stop that right now!” Laura said, not having any idea what else to do. “If you aren’t nice to Matt, I won’t scratch your ears anymore.”
He backed up beside Laura and she patted him. When he settled down, she gave his back a good scratching.
“I never saw anything like it,” Matt said. “Think you can get him out to the cow pasture? I have several cows that ought to interest him, if he has any cojones at all.”
“You best not insult him if you want him to perform,” she chided. “Where’s the cow pasture?”
“Over yonder.” Matt pointed past a corral on the other side of the barn.
“You have at least a dozen cows there.”
“And another dozen that want to be next.”
“Bring one cow over here to his own pen. And you need to name him.”
“One cow?”
“One. He’s shy.” She waved toward the pasture. “Go now, and I’ll take him to where he feels comfortable.”
She walked toward the bullpen, hoping the bull would follow her because she didn’t have the slightest idea what to do if he didn’t, and sort of afraid he would—his size quite intimidated her. “We’ll name you Casanova, because you like a little romance along with your job.”
After she closed the gate, she climbed up the wooden rails, not easy to do in a corset and long skirts, and sat on the corral fence while Casanova headed straight for the hay.
“Think about it—you might be hungry for something other than hay. Matt’s fetching you a right pretty cow who’s lonesome for some handsome bull attention and I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”
The puppy yipped and Laura knew if she didn’t get in the house soon, she’d have another puddle to clean up. Matt herded the cow toward the bullpen. Laura hopped off the fence and opened the gate.
“You be ready, Casanova. Your lady’s here now. I’ll even make Matt stay away if that’s what’s bothering you.”
The cow dashed into the pen, a whole lot more eager than the bull, who didn’t even raise his head from the manger. Laura shut the gate and wished them well.
“I don’t think your little talk did much good.” Matt pushed his hat back and leaned on the fence rail.
“Come into the house where he can’t see you. Maybe that will help.”
“He’s a bull. He doesn’t care if I’m here or not.”
“And he cost a lot of money. So it wouldn’t hurt you to leave him alone for ten minutes. After all, how’d you feel when Janet came in on us yesterday?”
Her face flushed the second the words came out of her mouth and she sure wished she could take them back.
“Lucky for us that she did.”
Laura puffed out her cheeks and blew an exasperated sigh. “Land sakes, you’re as bad off as Casanova here.” She whirled away from him and strode to the house. What a stubborn, pigheaded man! And handsome as sin.
“Wait, Laura! I’ll explain.”
“I have puppy pee to clean up.”
* * *
Matt followed Laura, admiring her backside as she strode toward the house. He didn’t say another word nor did he stop by the horse trough to wash up. It wasn’t too hard even for a Johanssen to figure out that he’d said the wrong thing. Only it wasn’t the wrong thing on account of she deserved better than what he could give her, and that pained him sorely.
And he didn’t have the bull’s problem. His pecker had been hard as an anvil all blasted night. But damn, he had to honor the woman he loved, and he couldn’t do that by making love to her and then not proposing, which he couldn’t honorably do, either. Hell’s fire and tarnation!
Once in the house, he sat at the table—Joe’s table—as the puppy ran up to him. Matt picked him up by the scruff of his neck and held him while Laura cleaned up the puddle, casting them both a glare that would scare the dickens out of any man. Best he keep his mouth shut for a while, as he’d done enough damage already.
After a few minutes she said, “Sandra went with your aunt and uncle to pick up some supplies since you have hardly anything in this house to cook.” She tossed the rag in the laundry and washed her hands.
“Joe generally takes care of such things.”
“Well he’s not here now and I don’t suppose your crew’s bellies care who buys the groceries.”
“I expect not.”
She handed him the egg bucket. “Go collect the eggs. Take Killer with you.”
Yep, she was mad all right. The chicken house wasn’t the best place for him to take the pup considering he’d already pounced on Helga’s hens, but Matt wasn’t about to argue. “Be right back.”
“Take your time.”
He turned, still holding Killer, and left her, hoping she would calm down and not cut her hand off while she peeled the potatoes. Or stabbed at them, more like it. When he stepped onto the porch, he saw that the bull had finally seen fit to do his job. Maybe Laura was right about him—and maybe a few other things, too.
No other woman had ever affected him the way Laura did. He liked having her around and he got this funny feeling in his chest every time he looked at her. It wasn’t the same sort of feeling as he had for the ladies at Virgin Alley, either, although he definitely had those stirrings for her as well, only stronger.
How he felt for her, and he admitted he truly did care, still didn’t much matter in light of the fact that he didn’t have the means to support a wife and wouldn’t for another two years. He wondered if she could tolerate such hardship. She’d come from a wealthy Virginia family. If he married her, would she become exasperated with the entire situation, pinching pennies at every turn, and leave him? He couldn’t stand that. He’d rather not have her at all than lose her.
Killer yipped happily at the chickens as they squawked and scattered, flapping their wings and stirring up the dust.
“Settle down, boy.” Matt managed to collect over a dozen eggs, only breaking a few, while the puppy squirmed in his arm trying to get at the hens. “When you grow up, you can herd the cattle, but you can’t ever chase the chickens, you hear?”
By the time he got back to the house, Laura had calmed down considerably. He put the bucket of eggs on the table. “What can I do to help you?”
“You can keep the puppy busy.”
“The bull is happy. You were right about him.”
“I know.” She hacked off a hunk of side pork and threw it into the skillet. She might have calmed down but she still wasn’t too happy with him.
“When will Miss Straight be back?”
“In an hour, I expect.”
“Are you staying here? I can sleep in the barn and you two ladies can have the bedroom.”
“Hadn’t thought about it.”
“There’s no bed.”
She stilled, then turned toward him, her cheeks an enticing shade of pink. “I know.”
“I see you brought blankets.”
“A plank floor gets hard after an hour or two.”
Not as hard as he was. “That mean you’re making breakfast? I haven’t had a hotcake that didn’t crunch in my mouth since I left Texas.”
“Depends on what supplies Helga brings. I expect so, though.”
First, he had to get through the night.
An hour later, Gus came back with a sack of flour, a tin of sugar, and a box of Arbuckles, along with a crate of odds and ends that Helga thought Laura might need.
“Sandra took sick. Looks like you two have the place to yourselves.”
“But—”
“Gotta go.” Gus drove off before Matt could send Laura with him.
Chapter Eighteen
Basil Fogarty pissed Vincent off almost as much as his crazy mother did.
Vincent had come to the Iversons’ ranch to visit with Ruth, but instead, Fogarty had her cornered on the settee, haranguing at her, while the other brides pretended not to notice. Vincent clenched his fists, but knew that punching the marriage broker in the snoot was not the way to Ruth’s heart.
“Miss Nash, you must come to Silver with me,” Fogarty insisted. “There are still a dozen fine gents who want to get acquainted with you.”
She stood and looked him square in the eye. “I’m not interested.”
“But you must! It’s Thursday and you have to pick your groom by tomorrow night.”
Ruth took a nip of fortification. “The man I’m interested in knows it.” She glared at Vincent and he felt contrite for not doing the right thing, rather than kowtowing to his barmy mother.
He wanted Ruth, and had wanted her since he’d seen her on the Idaho Hotel balcony. Shouldn’t a man choose his own wife? He’d let his mother rule the roost because he wanted to make up for his father’s shortcomings—but those weren’t his own shortcomings. And how much making up would be enough?
The Hamilton ranch couldn’t support his mother’s eclectic taste. Actually, she had flat-out bad taste. All that armor and such had cost a fortune, yet the barn could use a new roof and even the house needed repairs.
Fogarty huffed up his chest and hooked his thumbs around his suspenders. “May I remind you of your contractual obligations, Miss Nash?”
“No, you may not.”
“Are you breaking the contract, then? If so, let me know and you can settle up. You’ll owe expenses plus the groom’s fee, payable Saturday morning.”
Vincent had about all he could take of Fogarty’s browbeating—about as much as he was fed up with his mother. He stepped to Ruth’s side and put his arm around her waist. “She’s marrying me. I’ll be paying the groom’s fee.”
“Well done, my man.” Fogarty clapped Vincent on the shoulder. “Congratulations to both of you!”
Beth, Greta, and Janet gathered around Ruth hugging and congratulating her. She looked a bit stunned, but Vincent could hardly blame her since they’d never once discussed marriage.
Fogarty shrugged. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“We have until tomorrow night. What’s your rush?” Vincent knelt and took Ruth’s hand. “Besides, I haven’t asked her yet.”
Ruth looked down on him and smiled, her eyes a bit teary. No doubt, the answer would be yes, but he wanted to honor her with a formal proposal.
“Miss Ruth Nash, would you do the honor of joining with me as husband and wife?”
By the time he got the question out, tears streamed down her cheeks but she still smiled, so that was a good sign. She nodded and sniffed. Beth dabbed at Ruth’s tears with a hanky.
Finally, Ruth could talk. “Yes, Vincent, the honor is mine.”
He stood and hugged her. “We need to talk.” As he guided her to the settee, he turned to the others. “We’ll need a bit of privacy, please.” After he seated her, he shut the door.
“Ruth, I’m not the wealthy rancher you think I am. My mother has something wrong in her head and between her and my father, they’ve lost nearly everything they built. So given that, and given that my mother is a bit daft, do you still want to marry me?”
“We can make it work, Vincent. I’ve lost everything before so that doesn’t scare me. What does scare me is spending the rest of my life without you. I thought you wanted Miss Dickerson and not me, and that pained me something awful.” She blew her nose. “You’ve made me very happy. I hope you’re not going to run into trouble with your mother, though.”
“It’s a sure bet. She’s very manipulative and not right in the head. I have no idea what she’ll do, but if necessary, I’ll leave the ranch and take you away from here, even if I have to hire on as a cowhand somewhere.”
“But Vincent, if your mother’s sick, you’re responsible for her.”
“I realize that, but neither can I let her ruin our lives. I’ve put up with her and coddled her for ten years—she’s only getting worse. Do you know she even wanted me to hire a gunman?”
“Did you?”
“No. I hired two actors. They understand she’s barmy and go along with her schemes, but they won’t hurt anyone.”
“What does she want?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know, other than driving Johanssen and Iverson off their ranches.”
“But why would she want to do that?”
“Because those ranches used to be part of ours until Pa lost them in a poker game. I think that’s what drove my mother over the edge. She had hopes for high society—since there isn’t one here, don’t ask me how she thought it would come about.”
“Will she be mad at me?”
“Yes, and me, too.”
Ruth raised her chin. “Vincent, we can deal with this together.”
“Even if we have to live in the bunkhouse?”
“Even if we have to live in a tent.”
After a little revelry with a bottle of Gus’s finest rotgut whiskey and more congratulations from the brides and the Iversons, he set out for home, wondering how the hell he’d break the news to his mother. He’d never had the nerve to go against her will before. He wasn’t sure he did now, either, but he couldn’t allow her to come between him and Ruth.
At home, he said with extreme trepidation, “Mother, I’m marrying Miss Ruth Nash. I proposed to her today and she accepted. We’ll be married Saturday at the ceremony with the other couples.”
“Absolutely not! I forbid it.” She slammed down her crotcheting. “You have your orders. Act like a man and carry them through.”
“A man would never have followed your orders in the first place, Mother. I’m marrying the woman of my choice, not yours, and that’s final.”
She threw a screaming conniption fit, throwing vases, and kicking at him, which he dodged as best he could. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d started foaming at the mouth. There was no way he’d take his sweet bride to this house, but he had nowhere else to go.
He escaped to his room, packed his clothes, and left—headed for the cave on the Johanssen ranch where the two men he’d hired for his mother had taken the other grooms. In fact, he’d turn them loose. Come to think of it, he had no idea why she wanted the grooms held captive in the first place. He was danged tired of all this nasty business.
* * *
With Waylon and Joe gone, Laura only had to cook for four cowhands plus Matt and herself. For the noon meal, she prepared mashed potatoes with beef gravy and fried up some steaks to go along with the biscuits she’d baked and the peas Helga had picked that morning. For a hurry-up job, it was a passable dinner. No dessert, though, since she didn’t get the flour on time, and what little she’d found in the canister earlier barely served to thicken the gravy.
The four cowhands each scarfed down two steaks and about a quart of mashed potatoes and gravy. Where they put the biscuits, she had no idea, but she’d made two dozen good-sized biscuits and there were only a few left over. Matt hadn’t come in yet so she saved a sizable meal for him, expecting he’d eat about the same amount.
Now for the plan—bake dried apple pies, gussy up the place with curtains from material Helga had sent, and make an inviting bed with the quilts and pillows. She had to get Matt to propose before the next evening or she’d be contractually bound to accept the proposal of one of the men on the roster.
Or could she wait two years? No, she couldn’t. Now was the time to start her family, and she sure didn’t want to go back to the Rocking J with her tail between her legs—owing money besides. She simply had to bring Matt around.
He didn’t show up until suppertime. She’d fixed a pot roast with a hunk of chuck, along with potatoes, onions, carrots, and some spices. Plus, she’d baked bread and of course the pies.
Matt walked in and sniffed. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
“You’ll have to wait a while for heaven, but I hope you like your supper.”
“I’ll go wash up and call the men—only two of them are eating. Lefty and Jed already went home.”
“We’ll have lots of leftovers, then.” She picked up a stack of plates. “Everything’s ready and by the time you get back in, the table will be set.”
After the men ate and left, Matt leaned back on the kitchen chair and patted his belly. “Good grits. Delicious. I do love your pie, but the bread was excellent and I couldn’t get enough of that pot roast. Believe me, Joe never made a pot roast like that.”
“What were you doing all afternoon? None of them knew where you were.”
“Tracking. I picked up sign of Joe’s horse—he has a chip in his right rear hoof.”
“That’s good news.”
“Good and bad. I followed the tracks to the boulders near where a gunman shot a cow the other day, but lost the trail. Then I decided to go to Joe’s house and check around one more time. His horse was there, so obviously something happened to Joe and his horse eventually left the scene and came home.”
“So Joe wasn’t home?”
“Nope, not a sign of him and nothing in the house had been touched.”
“But at least the horse is all right.”
“He’ll heal up in a day or two. His mouth was sore from the bridle, not too bad though, and the saddle had slipped off to the side to where the pommel hit his leg every time he took a step. I took care of him as best I could—fed him, gave him a good brushing, and rubbed him down with liniment before I brought him back here. But now we know something happened to Joe and it wasn’t good.”
“And Septimus?”
“I checked his place—nothing’s changed. He’s flat-out gone.”
“What now?”
“I have a hunch. There’s a cave up there near where the tracks ended. It’s too late tonight but in the morning I’m gonna head up there and take a look. I need a couple torches, though, and I didn’t have those with me.”
“Where’s the cave?”
“Not too far from Gus’s place. You know the rocky hill the road goes around?”
