Larkspur (14 page)

“How long has he been like this?”

“About a year and a half. But not this bad.”

“Then he was sick when Uncle Yarby disappeared?”

“Yes.” Buck’s eyes met hers and held.

“Where is my uncle buried? I’d like to pay my respects.”

“In the Big Timber graveyard. I hear he’s even got a grave marker.”

“Ah . . . I wish I had known when I was there,” Kristin said sorrowfully. “Did he have a decent burial?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”

Her eyes widened with surprise and indignation.

“You’d been with him for many years and yet didn’t attend his burial!”

“It was a good ploy to get me and my men away from Larkspur. If I’d gone, it’s more than likely that I’d not have had anything left when I got back, if I’d gotten back.”

“You have men working here?”

“Of course. They’re taking the herd up to Indian land to keep them out of Forsythe’s hands.”

“Colonel Forsythe said there was no herd.”

Kristin waited for Buck to say more and when he didn’t she gave him an exasperated look.

“Mr. Lenning, I’m not prying into
your
affairs. I’m trying to evaluate my own situation and decide what I should do. I don’t enjoy being an unwelcome guest in your home. Cletus said something about not believing what had happened to Uncle Yarby. You more than anyone should know what happened to him. I think I’m entitled to know.”

Time ticked away as they looked at each other openly from across the table. Neither spoke. Finally he pulled his eyes away from her and swung them slowly around the room. When his eyes returned to hers they held a quiet serious look. Kristin was beginning to think that he had no intention of telling her anything when he began to speak.

“A little more than a year ago a hanging posse rode out here looking for Yarby. He was accused of raping and murdering a woman from a wagon train camped down on the Yellowstone.”

When the meaning of his words sank in, Kristin gasped.

“Oh, my goodness! A
hanging
posse?” She was shocked by the story. She shuddered and turned her eyes away from him.

“A hanging posse,” he repeated. “They would have hung him on the spot if he’d been here.”

“Thank heavens he wasn’t.”

“Why do you say that? How do you know he didn’t do what he was accused of?”

“Of course he didn’t do it! He was my father’s brother. There isn’t a mean streak in any of the Andersons. Well, maybe a little but never mind that now.”

“There wasn’t a mean bone in Yarby’s body. I know that for a fact. The only thing he could do was disappear.”

“The poor man was so frightened he ran away.” She was silent for a long time. Then, in a strange tone of voice, she said, “Shouldn’t he have stayed and tried to clear his name?”

“Forsythe had people ready to swear he was there and saw him leave shortly before the woman was found. He didn’t stand a chance against paid accusers. If Yarby had hung, you would have been notified a year ago of your inheritance. As long as the will had been recorded they would have had to recognize it.”

“They had found the will and thought they’d stand a better chance getting me to sell if they got rid of my uncle?”

“That’s the size of it.”

“Why . . . the . . . cussed creatures!”

“They cared not a whit if Yarby was guilty or not.”

“My uncle had been gone a year when he was found dead in the woods?”

“By Forsythe’s men. Then they produced the will making you heir to all Yarby’s possessions. I doubt they ever thought you’d show up here.”

“I almost didn’t. My brother wanted to take Mr. Forsythe’s offer.” She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Poor Uncle Yarby. He must have suffered terribly being falsely accused of such a terrible thing and not being able to defend himself.”

Buck continued to study her. She was a tall, slim, capable woman. Gutsy, too, or she’d not have come out here alone. Her eyes were not quite blue and not quite gray. Loose tendrils of silvery blond hair framed delicate cheekbones flushed with uneasiness.

She was pretty.

She was about the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. She had called herself an old maid. He wanted to laugh at that. Men here in the West would kill for a woman like her. He admired her calm voice; it was low and soothing. In fact he liked quite a few things about her.

He wondered why she smiled with her mouth closed, when she had such good white teeth.

While Buck was building his house, he’d had in the back of his mind the plan to find a strong, calm woman to bear his children. He didn’t want to live in this house alone, grow old alone. What good was it to work to build something without someone to share it with or leave it to?

He and Yarby were so busy during Yarby’s good years that he’d not had time to go looking for a woman. He wondered if Kristin would be outraged by the suggestion that they team up, travel in double harness.

A tightness crept into his throat, and he thought how foolish he was to think that she’d even consider such a thing. She would be sure that he was an ignorant, ill-mannered, saddle tramp hoping to get her share of the Larkspur.

She was looking him over with the same degree of interest as he was looking at her. The straightforwardness of her stare convinced him that there was nothing pretentious about her and that her expression of compassion for Moss was real.

Kristin’s fingers were stroking the smooth surface of the table.

“This is a lovely table. Did my uncle make it? Cousin Gustaf said he liked working with wood.”

“I made it a couple winters ago.” Buck looked critically at the top wishing he’d done a better job rubbing down the surface and applying oil.

“It’s a lovely piece. Did you build the workbench and the washstands in the other rooms?”

“Yarby helped some. He taught me all I know about carpentry.” Buck smiled as if remembering pleasant times. The smile rearranged his features in a fascinating way. “He made the chest. Said it was like one—” He cut off his words. His eyes followed hers to the flattopped chest beneath the window.

“I wish I’d known him. He must have been a lot like my papa.” The words came off not-quite-steady lips.

“He never talked about his family.” The smile vanished as quickly as it came. He looked over his shoulder at Moss, who was sleeping in the chair.

“He never mentioned me?”

“Not one time.”

Chapter Nine

H
e was silent for so long that a queer little shock of something almost like panic went through her.
Had he been irritated by her questions?

Resentment edged its way into her thoughts. Well, what if he had? She moved her hands to her lap and clasped them tightly together. It was her life, her future they were discussing.

“Mr. Lenning, I’ve gleaned a little information from you about my uncle, but I still know nothing about what I may, or may not, have received from him.”

“It seems clear to me. You’ll get Yarby’s land and half a herd of about two thousand head of steers.”

“Two . . . thousand?”

“More or less. By the time we get the herd to the buyer there will be considerably less. Rustlers know I’m shorthanded. If not for the Sioux they would already have them.”

“Forsythe told me that Uncle Yarby’s cattle had been stolen and that you were in with the thieves and would get part of the money.”

“Steal my own cattle? I’m not surprised he’d say that. He’s got a mouth that spouts what he thinks folks will swallow. He can make some believe black is white.”

Hearing that made Kristin smile, and dimples appeared in her cheeks. Buck felt a jolt of something warm and exciting deep in his belly.

“He’s smooth as silk. If not for Cletus and the Gateses warning me, it would have taken me longer to catch on to his palavering. My brother has business friends with blathering tongues, but none of them can hold a candle to Colonel Forsythe.”

“Were you not tempted to take his money and go back home?”

“Not for a single second.” She looked away from him, hoping he would not see the hurt of Ferd’s rejection.

“Why not?”

“Personal reasons.”

“Do you have someone back there that . . . you care about?”

“Only my cousin Gustaf.” Kristin took a deep shuddering breath. “My brother would be happy to know of the predicament I’m in. He said this was a wild-goose chase and I’d end up in a . . .” She caught herself before she revealed her bitterness toward her brother.

“He didn’t want you to come out here?”

“He forbade it.”

“Then why did you? Couldn’t another member of your family take care of things for you? This Gustaf for instance?”

“Gustaf encouraged me to come. It was my chance to be independent, to have something of my own. You couldn’t possibly understand unless you had lived on someone else’s charity all your adult life.”

His dark brows drew together in a frown. “I guess not.”

“I’m sorry to bring my troubles down on you, Mr. Lenning. I just don’t know what to do. But it’s not your problem, is it?”

“It’s a problem for both of us. You’re here, and I’ve got to decide what to do with you.”

“I’m truly sorry to be a bother to you. But, please understand that I’d planned to make my home here, walk on my own land, sit on the porch and look at the sunset, watch the moon come up, plant a garden, prepare food for winter knowing that I could stay here until I died. I could let my hair hang, go without shoes if I wanted”—she smiled at that and Buck couldn’t take his eyes off her face—“I would have no one to tell me to leave or that I must do this or that for the sake of what folks would think.”

“Life isn’t that simple.”

“It should be. If you put all your hopes, dreams and toil into a place, you should be able to enjoy the fruits of your labor. Of course, I’ve not put any toil into a home yet, but I’m willing. I need to find a place for myself.”

“Yarby had toiled for this place. Someone was willing to kill him for it.”

“You helped him, didn’t you?”

“Everybody needs somebody.”

“It’s strange that you’d say that. You seem to be the most self-assured person I ever met. I can’t imagine you
needing
anyone.”

She waited and was rewarded. He smiled again.

“I’ve had a lot of practice looking after myself.”

“Didn’t your father look after you when you were young?”

“I guess so.”

Buck had never sat over breakfast and visited with a pretty woman before. As pleasant as it was, he knew that they had to get a few things settled between them.

“I just don’t know what to do,” she said for the second time, giving him the opening to say what had been on his mind, what he’d mulled over for most of the night.

“You can stay here and . . . help me with Moss. It will give me time to deal with Forsythe. After that we can decide what to do about Larkspur.”

He saw the narrowing of her eyes. She opened her mouth and closed it without saying anything. When she spoke it was with stiff lips.

“Stay here in the house . . . with you?”

“You can’t stay in Yarby’s house.”

“Without another woman present it wouldn’t be decent!”

“Who’s to say what’s decent and what isn’t? You said you wanted to be someplace where you didn’t have to worry about what folks think.” His voice was set; his eyes on hers were unwavering. A look of angry frustration ran rampantly across his face. “Do you consider yourself a decent woman?”

“Of course!”

“If folk thought otherwise would it change that?”

“Of course not! I know what I am.”

“Then why care what they think? If you’re afraid I’m going to force myself on you, rest at ease. Getting you in bed is the last thing on my mind.” Watching her to see if she believed the lie, Buck held his breath until his chest hurt, then breathed deeply to ease it.

His tone of voice as much as his words had brought a deep flush to Kristin’s face.

“You needn’t be crude.” She voiced the rebuke because she could think of nothing else to say.

“It’s just an offer. Gilly will be back in a few days. If you don’t want to stay here on the Larkspur, he’ll take you to wherever you want to go. I doubt that there’ll be anyone along before he gets back.” A strange unaccustomed loneliness possessed him at the thought of her leaving.

“I’m not ungrateful, Mr. Lenning. It’s just that this . . . ah arrangement would be . . . scandalous back in River Falls. An unmarried woman would not live in a house with a man even if his aged father did live there.”

“Do you think the ladies in Big Timber will look down on you for living out here with me and Moss?” Her lips tightened, and she refused to answer. “If you’re here in the West long enough, you’ll learn that out here folks are not so quick to jump to judgment. I’ve known whores who play the piano in church and sing in the choir. On Sunday you can’t tell them from the virgins.”

The thought came to Kristin that a man as roughly handsome as Buck Lenning would have known many whores. Horrified that he might be able to read her thoughts, she suddenly rose to her feet, went to the cookstove and stood with her back to him.

“If you stay, I’ll sleep in the bunkhouse if it’ll make you feel . . . safer. Moss and I would have slept there last night, but I wasn’t sure if you’d been followed and didn’t want to leave you in here alone.” He spoke quietly, but his voice roared in her ears.

“You think the colonel will send men out here to . . . try to kill us?”

“What do you think? Without you and me, the Larkspur is his.” He laughed without humor. “I’m hoping my Sioux drovers will bring back a few relatives who’ll help stand guard. If so, we’ll not be completely surprised when the colonel’s men come. I’ve a place up in the hills behind the ranch where I can hide you and Moss.”

She went back to the table and sat down.

“You’ve done it before?”

“Several times. I’ve had to tie Moss to a tree and gag him.”

“How . . . awful.”

“It saved his life,” he said quietly, his eyes so narrowed she could hardly see the green glint between the thick lashes.