Deborah Camp (3 page)

He blew on the steaming coffee. “Oleta… what?” He raised a brow, waiting for the girl to answer.

Oleta blushed. “Rodriquez.”

“You gonna eat or flirt?” Cassie demanded of him.

“Both,” he rejoined, smiling. “This place looks better on the inside. It’s clean. I’ve never seen it clean before.”

“Now that A.J. is gone, I’m going to paint the outside. I planted a flower and vegetable garden out back already. He wouldn’t let me while he was living.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “Because he was down deep mean and he wouldn’t let me do anything I had my heart set on.”

“That’s my old man.” Drew saluted with his mug and took a sip. The coffee was strong and sweet, sort of like the two women flanking him, one strong and one sweet. “How long were you married to him?” he asked the strong one.

“Two years.”

“Did he find you in Abilene?”

“No, he found me through a mail-order advertisement.”

“A
what
?” He swallowed the half-chewed mouthful of savory stew, best he’d tasted in years. “He placed one of those ads?”

“Yep.”

“And you answered it?”

“I did.” She stared hard at him. “Something wrong with that?”

He examined her features—lushly lipped mouth, milk chocolate eyes, flawless skin, pert nose, streams of pale blond hair that she’d plaited into a long braid down her back. Her breasts were small, but round and inviting, and her hips were heart-shaped, like her face. He’d noticed that right off. All in all, she was fetching.

“Looks to me like you wouldn’t have much trouble catching you a man.”

Her brown eyes melted a little. “Oh, I don’t have trouble with that a’tall,” she assured him, her voice going whispery and seductive. “Never had much trouble striking up a man’s notice.”

Something in her voice and in the gentle glitter in her eyes shot fire to his loins and fogged his brain. He
gulped at the coffee and tried to stop his blood from pooling between his legs.

“Catching a husband with something to offer,” she went on, “now that’s another story. I wasn’t about to settle down with some hard-luck cowboy and ride from handout to handout on a broken-down pony with nothing to show for my life but a passel of starving children. That’s how I was raised up, and I want better for my offspring.”

“So you lassoed my old man and thought you’d earned yourself a ranch for your baby son.”

She pushed away the empty bowl and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, ladylike. “A.J. got as good as he gave. I’ll tell you this, Junior. I didn’t put up with A.J. Dalton’s stinking hide and his nasty mouth for two years to end up with nothing for my son but a bad name.”

Oleta placed a gunnysack on the table. “Food for T-Bone and Gabe,” she said, then backed into the bedroom and sat on the bed. Her eyes were huge and fearful.

“She’s a fidgety thing, isn’t she?” Drew observed.

“Her pappy beat her regular. He’s a drunk.” Cassie grabbed the neck of the sack. “You can ride out with me if you want.”

“Tell you what…” He stood and stretched from side to side to work out the kinks in his muscles. It had been a long ride from the federal prison. “I’m going to pay a call on Monroe Hendrix and I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Fine by me.” She pulled on work gloves and her wide-brimmed brown hat with a red feather stuck in its band. “See if Monroe sent those men out here to bother me.” Taking the gunnysack with her, she marched out
of the house without bothering to say good-bye.

He watched the single braid swing across her back, perfectly timed with the swish of her hips. Gussied up in satin and lace, she’d probably put a man’s eyes out, she’d be so bright and pretty. Shaking his head, he tried to imagine her with his old man but couldn’t. That coupling must have been as unnatural as a fox taking a shine to an opossum.

The snuffling sounds of a baby drifted from the bedroom. He peered into the shadows and saw Oleta gather the babe into her arms and whisper for him to be quiet.

“How old is he?” Drew asked.

“Ten months.”

Drew moved forward, sensing the girl’s recoiling. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to see the baby. He’s my half brother, I reckon.”

Oleta stood and stepped into the sunlight that poured through the window. The baby flinched and waved tiny fists. Drew touched a fingertip to the button nose.

“Hey, little man. You’re a chubby thing, aren’t you?”

The baby opened his eyes. Blue, just like his. Just like his own mother, God rest her soul. The old man’s eyes were gray and shifty. He never looked anybody square on for more than a few seconds. Not like this little cowboy, who stared hard at Drew, clearly puzzled by the sight of him.

“Looks healthy,” Drew observed.

“Sí, señor
. He’s a big boy. She told me she had a hard time getting him out.”

“I don’t doubt it. She’s a slip of a thing.” He peered intently at the girl. “Where’s she from?”

Oleta shrugged and backed into the bedroom. “Here, I guess.”

Well, he’d get nothing from this Mexican mouse, he surmised, dipping his head and taking his leave. He stepped outside, rocking his hat back onto his head, whistled to Dynamite, and received an answering whinny.

“Hey, there, son,” he murmured, stroking the horse’s neck and shoulder, remembering the night he’d helped this squirming ball of horseflesh pop out into the world. “Do you recall this place? You were born here. Right over there in that dilapidated barn. Your mama was one of the finest mares I ever rode, and I paid two months’ wages for the privilege of having your sire mount her.”

That investment had been the beginning of his reputation as a noted horse breeder. With Dynamite, he knew he’d have a golden opportunity to breed some of the finest horses in Kansas and the surrounding territory. That was also the hour his old man had turned on him for good. Theirs had always been a competitive relationship, but for the first time, Drew had accomplished something A.J. couldn’t equal. The old man knew cattle, but he didn’t know spit about breeding and training cutting horses.

Cinching up the saddle and whispering in Dynamite’s ear, Drew pondered his own magic touch with the equine. He’d always been able to cajole horses, coax them, sweet-talk them, get the most out of them. He could remember his mother sitting him up in the saddle—way, way up—and telling him to hold on and trust the animal. She’d loved horses, too. He couldn’t have been more than three when she’d placed him on his first saddle pad. She’d let him ride an old pinto she called Dumplin. Those had been his happiest days, and they had ended with her death when he was seven.

Settling into the saddle, he rode Dynamite west, past the barn and graveyard and toward Monroe Hendrix’s Star H Ranch. He owed it to Monroe to let him know that he’d been acquitted and was home again. Roe had been the only person to speak in his defense at his trial for cattle rustling nearly three years ago.

He looked back over his shoulder at the white cross marking his father’s last resting place. Backstabbing old coot. He’d heard that A.J. Dalton was ailing and near death, but he’d expected to find him alive. He certainly hadn’t dreamed that his old man would have taken himself a young wife. Must have gotten lonely without his son around to browbeat and bad-mouth, Drew thought with a twist of malice.

The black-hearted lout hadn’t offered one word of support during Drew’s trial. He’d wanted to see Drew thrown in prison because he couldn’t stand it that Drew had won respect among the cowboys and ranchers around Abilene. Jealous old fool. God, how he hated the bastard!

But he respected him, too, and had spent most of his life trying to win the old man’s respect in return. That’s what had knotted his gut and bruised his heart. Striving for the favor of a sworn enemy ate at a man’s confidence and sanity.

Two and a half years in prison had been hell but had afforded him plenty of time to think and sort through his life and separate the chaff from the grain.

For the first time in years he saw things clearly, knew what he was about and where he wanted to go. The only wrinkle in his plans was Cassie Dalton and her baby. But he could iron that out. He’d make her see reason, give her some seed money and escort her to town. Might
even buy her a fetching dress and bonnet to entice her. Once she saw the advantages of living in town, she’d be eager to leave the ranch to him.

Pleased with the scheme, he decided to ride into Abilene after his talk with Roe. He’d get one of the shop girls to help him pick out a dress and stylish bonnet. Hell, he’d throw in a bottle of perfume, too. That would do the trick. One whiff of French perfume and his pa’s widow would be dreaming of dances and dandies instead of longhorns and lassos.

Approaching the ranch house of the Star H, Drew lifted a hand in greeting when the front door popped open and Monroe Hendrix strode out onto the wraparound porch.

A man of medium height and build, Monroe was dressed in buff-colored pants, mustard-yellow shirt, and brown boots. A green and red bandanna was tied at his throat. His brown hair was streaked with white, and his eyes were black and glittery, narrowly spaced and heavy-lidded. Some would find him handsome, but most would agree he fell short of that mark. He’d gained some weight since Drew had last seen him. His midsection was thicker, his face fuller.

Hanging his thumbs in his belt loops, he peered through the dust at Drew, and his mouth fell open.

“Is that Drew Dalton?” he called.

“Sure is.”

“Did you escape from prison?”

“Nope. I was sprung, thanks to a right smart lawyer I hired. He got me a new trial, and I was set free.”

“Isn’t that something,” Monroe said, holding out a hand to Drew. “Put ‘er there, son. Good to see you again.”

Drew dropped from the saddle and shook Monroe’s hand. As he remembered, the grip was too strong and too energetic. Monroe Hendrix had a way of overstepping.

“I thought you were my new man. I hired a fella and he’s supposed to be here any day.”

“Another wrangler?”

“More like an overseer. You just get back?”

“Yeah, but I stopped by the old homestead.” Drew slanted Monroe a sardonic look. “Pa took himself a wife, huh?”

“Yes, that’s right. You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t know anything while I was in prison. My lawyer said he’d heard that Pa was sick, but I figured he was too mean to die.”

“He had something wrong with his innards,” Monroe said. “Couldn’t keep anything in his stomach there after a while, and stuff was running out of him at both ends. He wasted away. It was hard on Cassie.”

“She thought her baby had inherited my ranch. I set her straight, but she’s dug in and won’t budge.”

“You’re aiming on staying here?” Monroe was clearly surprised. “I thought you’d be glad to see the last of this place, seeing as how it brought you nothing but trouble.”

Removing his hat, Drew walked his fingers along the brim. “I’ve had my share of troubles, that’s true, but the land is my heritage. It’s all I’ve got.”

“It would bring a nice price. Hell, I’d even buy it from you to help out. You could go anywhere in the country and live the good life.” He winked. “Buy yourself a little cantina in Mexico and a pretty whore to warm your bed.”

“Have you made an offer on the land to Pa’s widow?”

“I might have mentioned that I’d buy it. I feel sorry for her, strapped with that baby and all. A.J. was mean to her like he was to you.” He stared in the direction of the Square D, and a sour expression came over his face. “She can’t run that place by herself, not even with T-Bone and Gabe helping her.”

“That’s what I told her, but she doesn’t listen too good.”

Monroe waved him onto the porch and into one of the big, white rockers. Sitting in one beside Drew, Monroe gave him a big smile.

“Drew Dalton, damn if it ain’t good to see you again. What are your plans, besides sticking around here for the time being?”

“I’m thinking of raising horses, picking up where I left off.”

“That lawyer you hired must be a firecracker.”

“He is,” Drew agreed. “He believed in me—like you did—and he wouldn’t rest until he sprung me.”

“I should have kept in touch with you…” Monroe shook his head and his face seemed to sag into wrinkles. “Lord knows I thought about you, rotting in prison and all. Guess you’re anxious to kick up your heels.” His expression brightened. “Or have you already been in town and picked yourself out a pretty gal?”

“I’m more interested in getting settled on the ranch again.”

Monroe glanced toward Dynamite. “I see you kept that stallion. Where’d you stash him while you were in prison?”

Drew grinned. “A fella named Ice took care of him
for me. I met Ice shortly before I was arrested, and my gut told me I could trust him. He could see that Dynamite was one of a kind and offered to take him to his family’s spread in Texas and keep him fit while I was locked up.”

“And he did, huh?”

“He sure did. When I got out of prison, I went straight to Texas, and Ice was right where he said he’d be. So was my horse. Ice will be here in a couple of weeks.”

Monroe sat back, his black eyes shielded by his droopy eyelids. “Sounds like you’ve got some big plans.”

“I do. That’s what kept me going while I was in prison.”

“You getting rid of your cattle?”

“No, I need the cattle to train the horses on.”

“So, you’re going into the horse business.”

“That’s right.”

“Yep, I should have visited you in that prison, but I couldn’t get away from these cows. A.J. was close-mouthed and never even mentioned your name after you were gone. When he called that baby Junior, we all thought it was strange, but nobody said anything. We figured it was his way of telling folks that you were dead to him.”

Drew nodded. “He told his widow he was leaving the place to A.J. Junior.” He schooled his features against the burning hatred in his heart. “His plan backfired, I reckon. He didn’t count on me ever getting out of prison.”

“Where’d you find the money for your lawyer?”

“Stud fees paid for Dynamite,” Drew said. “Ice handled
all of that for me and wired me the funds. I asked around in prison and heard about a slick lawyer, so I hired him. Before I knew it, I was standing before a new judge and I was a free man.” He shook his head, still a little shocked to be walking around without leg irons weighing him down. “Now I can do what I want with the Square D and nobody can stop me.”