Capture the Sun (Cheyenne Series) (54 page)

      
Carrie had a lot to do before he left to close the deal. Her first move entailed a visit to Jebediah Cooper. Despite her aversion to the self-righteous old man, she was forced to do business with him since he was the only lawyer in town.

      
“Mr. Cooper, what would happen to Circle S if I were to die tomorrow?” She sat calmly in the cluttered, stuffy little second-story office, ignoring his thinly veiled rudeness and patronizing airs.

      
“Why on earth ask such a thing? You're not in poor health, I trust?” His thin, sallow face bore the marks of a born hypochondriac.

      
“No. I just want to take precautions in case of an accident,” she said impatiently.

      
“Well, a guardian would have to be appointed to run the ranch for your son.” He stopped uncertainly.

      
Her calm green eyes looked at him steadily.

      
He shuffled papers on his cluttered desk. “Mr. Sinclair had relatives back east, also related to you. Your aunt and uncle, I believe.”

      
“Noah also had a son and Perry has a father. Let's quit beating around the bush, Mr. Cooper. I know Hawk has no legal rights in this matter, but he does have moral ones. I will never let Hiram and Patience Patterson get their greedy claws into my child or steal his inheritance!”

      
The gaping look of outrage on his face told Carrie what he thought of Hawk Sinclair's moral rights and morals—hers, too, for that matter. “What do you propose, Mrs. Sinclair?” His voice was grave and laced with sarcasm.

      
She told him in precise detail. Then, just as she was preparing to leave, a knock sounded and Mr. Cooper opened the door to admit an elegantly dressed man with blond hair and brooding dark-blue eyes. He was of medium height, solidly built, and rather young, sporting a neatly trimmed goatee, doubtless grown to make him look older. Carrie guessed him to be no more than twenty-two or twenty-three and was certain of his nationality the minute he began to speak. He was German.

      
“Ah, Herr Cooper. I am so glad to find you here, and this must be the beautiful Frau Sinclair.” His eyes lit with obvious appreciation as he swept them over her flaming hair, then down her tailored tan wool suit to her gleaming brown slippers. He did not miss a curve in his lightning perusal, but the youthful admiration he exhibited made it most inoffensive. “Please, allow me to present myself. Baron Wolfgang von Krueger, at your service.” He bowed formally and kissed her hand in a grand Continental gesture.

      
Carrie would have found the posturing amusing if she were not so taken aback by the name. “Another Baron von Krueger,” she almost squeaked.

      
He flashed a dazzling boyish smile. “I am afraid so, although so recently have I acquired the title that I am not yet used to being addressed by it.”

      
“Baron Wolfgang von Krueger is the heir to K Bar Ranch and has just arrived in Miles City to see about its disposition,” Cooper put in pompously.

      
“Then you are related to Karl and Ernst Krueger?” Carrie could see no resemblance at all and was pleased by that.

      
“Distantly. I am the grandson of their uncle Heinrich.” He smiled.

      
“Second cousins, once removed,” Mr. Cooper said in his precise, irritating manner.

      
Ignoring the attorney, Carrie asked, “Just what are your plans for the ranch? You scarcely look the part of a cattle baron, Baron.” She dimpled, and his response to her smile reminded her of how long it had been since she felt young and truly happy.

      
“I think I shall sell if I can get my price. Or I may hire an overseer—a ramrod I believe you call him, to run the place in my absence. Now that I meet my competitor, I favor the latter course. Then I might have an excuse for return visits, ya?”

      
“An idea was forming in Carrie's mind. Taking the young baron by the arm, she ushered him adroitly out the door with her, nodding a curt farewell to Mr. Cooper. “Would you be so kind as to have dinner at Circle S with me tomorrow night, Baron? My foreman is recovering from a grave injury and cannot ride to town yet. He and my business manager and I want to discuss your plans for K Bar. I promise our cook Feliz will outdo herself.”

      
There was no doubt he would accept. Barely acknowledging Cooper's good day, the baron strolled down the rickety side steps of the law office to the street. “Then it is seven tomorrow night!
Ach
, I look forward!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

      
“What the hell is this? Why leave it in my cabin?” Hawk slammed the paper down on the big desk in the study, where Carrie sat working on ledgers.

      
“I couldn't very well leave it for you on this desk, since you refuse to work in the office. I had Juan put it where you'd find it first thing when you came in this evening.” She looked defensive at his anger and also somewhat hurt.

      
“And why do I need a power of attorney for Circle S?”

      
“In case you forgot, you're going to Chicago Monday to sell cattle. This will certainly expedite matters,” she said angrily now as he was leaning his tall body over the desk, glaring at her in a most unsettling way.

      
“I don't need a general power of attorney for that. The ranch is yours, Carrie. I'm only making a business arrangement on your behalf,” he said with that cold, shuttered pride she had come to recognize. “I know my place, and it's at my mother's cabin, not here at the big house. What other little legal surprises did you arrange while you were in town this morning?”

      
With a sigh she realized just how difficult this was going to be. Damn all men and their idiotic pride! Thank heaven she had not told him about the will she had Mr. Cooper draw up, which made him Perry's guardian and trustee of Circle S.

      
“As a matter of fact, I invited the new owner of K Bar to dinner tonight. Just wait until you meet him,” she added with a wicked glint in her eyes. If she couldn't reason with him, maybe she could make him jealous!

      
As he dressed for dinner that night, Hawk's thoughts were not exactly ones of jealousy, but of hurt and anger. She needed him to run the ranch, at least until Kyle was recovered, even then to negotiate in places like Chicago where Hunnicut would never venture. All that power of attorney meant was an indirect sort of bribe, feeling him out to see if he would assume the responsibilities of a business partner.

      
However, his pride held him aloof. Noah never intended that he have Circle S. So be it. But another voice niggled,
Noah never intended that your son inherit either, but he will.
Ignoring that and all the guilt and confusion that roiled in his soul, he dressed for their first formal dinner in the dining room since Noah had died. Quite an occasion. He didn't think he wanted to meet the new baron.

      
In honor of reopening the dining room and having a guest, Carrie took particular pains with her appearance. If the young baron was shocked or disgusted with her past history, he did not show it, even though she knew Attorney Cooper and the townspeople had given him an earful before he had ever met her. He was young and attractive, not at all like his ruthless cousin Karl. She would flirt discreetly and enjoy herself. If Hawk was upset, let him do something about it!

      
When she went downstairs, her choice of costume was obviously appreciated. Kyle was shuffling nervously from foot to foot, uncomfortable in a suit and tie, when he looked up and saw her.

      
“Lordy, yew are a sight,” he breathed in awe.

      
She was dressed in black peau de soie, a dark contrast of inky gown and her flame-bright hair. The gown had a severe straight skirt and fitted long sleeves. The neckline was a sharply narrowed mandarin style, slit deeply with just a hint of creamy flesh revealed in the opening. A mass of luminous pearls lay over the high neckline, seeming to hold it barely closed over her breasts. Except for her deep-green eyes and fiery red hair, the severity of black and white was unrelieved.

      
“What are you doing standing here, Kyle Hunnicut? You've only been allowed downstairs for meals for a week. You are going to sit down right now.” With that stern scolding, she took his arm and ushered him into the parlor. In her high-heeled black slippers she was several inches taller than he, indeed a Val Kyrie as Karl had said.

      
Wolfgang von Krueger was quite punctual. Estrella ushered him into the parlor precisely at seven. Carrie made introductions to Kyle and they shared a drink. If Kyle had any awareness of her plan to make Hawk jealous, he did not indicate it, but seemed genuinely fascinated by the friendly, ingenuous charm of their young guest, who regaled them with colorful sketches about growing up in a German castle.

      
Hawk arrived late, dressed in a deep cordovan leather jacket and pants with contrasting snowy-white shirt and gleaming cordovan boots. He wore a number of silver and gemstone rings, and the silver medallion nestled snugly against his chest, revealed by the open shirtfront. All in all, he presented a picture of barbaric elegance, exotic yet strangely in tune with the land, unlike the young blond baron in his traditional black evening attire.

      
As she made introductions, Carrie knew sparks would fly. Wolfgang must know this was her Cheyenne lover, the father of her son. Hawk could see this was a young, wealthy, and attractive man of obvious charm and culture.

      
“Wolfgang is considering selling K Bar, Hawk. Do you think we might be able to muster the capital to buy it?” Her untutored innocence was disarming to the German, maddening to Hawk.

      
“We'd have to talk to Asa Fordham at the bank, Carrie. I'm not sure,” he said in a noncommittal tone of voice, his eyes never leaving the glistening blond head, which was turned attentively to the flaming red one.

      
Kyle coughed and said, “I'd fìgger it'd take another fifty hands ta even consider runnin' th' two spreads together.” He scratched his chin as if interested.

      
Hawk glared at him while Carrie and Wolfgang exchanged smiles.

      
Why, thet crafty li’l cat.
Kyle chuckled to himself, taking in the tableau before him with evident relish.
She jist might git us all o' eastern Montana an’ thet boy's pa back in th' bargain!

      
Feliz presented a marvelous dinner of roasted pheasant and apple dressing, crisp dry white wine, and freshly turned walnut ice cream for dessert. As they ate, they talked about the cattle business, Montana's prospects for statehood, even Karl's shocking death.

      
Throughout the meal, the undercurrents were not lost on the clever young baron whose youthfulness and blond good looks belied his native shrewdness. He watched the byplay between the tall, handsome half-breed and the beautiful redhead, reluctantly concluding that any suit he might press was probably lost at the onset.

      
After Carrie rose and excused herself to tuck her son in bed, Wolfgang turned to Hawk. “You do not go with her? Forgive me, but I know he is your son, too.”

      
Hawk looked levelly at the young man, measuring him carefully. “I'll see Perry in the morning,” was all he said, indicating the subject was to be dropped.
 

      
The German drew his own conclusions.

      
By the time the evening was over, Wolfgang had agreed to meet with Carrie and Attorney Cooper the following week to discuss a possible sale of K Bar. Failing that, Circle S might lease the operation and run it for the baron for a percentage of the profits. Either way, it was a coup to Carrie. No more threat of range war, no more rustling. She was inordinately pleased when she walked the young baron to the front door.

      
He kissed her hand with ardent abandon. “I shall look forward to next week. Will you have luncheon with me at the hotel—without the dried-up Herr Cooper, of course?” His eyes twinkled.

      
Her laughing acceptance carried across to the corral, where Hawk was mounting Redskin. He kneed the big bay and took off with a noisy flourish, kicking .up pebbles and dirt in his anger and haste.

      
“He does not sleep in the big house?” Wolfgang's eyes watched Hawk disappear into the night.

      
“No. Nor in my bed, contrary to what you have doubtless heard in town,” she said quietly.

      
“Then he is a fool.” Wolfgang grinned and reached one finger to tilt her chin for a light, brushing kiss on her lips. “Yes, a very great fool, for you obviously love him.”

      
She shook her head ruefully. “Your cousin Karl told me not to wear my heart on my sleeve. I believe those were his words.”

      
“And now your Indian is angry, jealous, ya? I do not think, beautiful lady, that I would much like to have him for an enemy.” Despite his words, his look was more amused and wistful than fearful.

      
“You will return to your enchanted castles and forests, leaving me to deal with my Indian. I am sorry to have involved you in our troubles, even briefly,” she said in solemn apology.

      
He took her hands and kissed each one in turn, “I am not sorry, not sorry at all, Carrie. And I will one day return. If you are not attached by then, I shall do more than kiss your lovely hands!”

      
Hawk did not come to the kitchen for breakfast the next morning. At dinner that evening he was quiet and uncommunicative, only answering the questions directed at him.