Over the Barrel (22 page)

"I am
first going to stop by the station and see if I got any telegrams.
 
We have a secret code that will let me
know the status."

"I
remember you mentioned that earlier.
 
Since Grandfather Malcolm is expecting me," Blair looked worried,
"do we still go to his ranch?"

"We
need to act as though everything is normal.
 
Smile, baby.
 
Everything will be fine."

Blair wished
she felt as confident as he did as they plowed through the town and stopped at
the telegraph station.
 
The look on
Sloan's face indicated that he had received no messages.

"Do you
think your wires were intercepted?" she asked quietly.

"They
had to have been, otherwise I would have gotten something acknowledging my
concern.
 
Be on the lookout.
 
We are alone in this right now, kiddo.
 
Talk to no one about anything, hear
me?"

Blair nodded
and followed him in the direction of the Blue Sky Ranch.
 
She worried her lower lip as strange
eyes bore through her, undressing her mentally as she rode by.
 
The stiffness in Sloan's spine also told
her that he, too, was on alert.

"Just
remember, Blair," he pulled his horse next to her.
 
"If anyone causes problems, cut
Skinwalker loose.
 
That horse will
take down a tornado if he feels threatened."

"I
don't want anyone to shoot him," Blair said, worriedly.

Sloan did
not answer and fell back behind the wagon to scout the ditches for uninvited
guests.
 
Within forty minutes, they
passed the entrance of the ranch and pulled to a halt.

Sloan
whistled, "That is one heck of a spread.
 
There must be five hundred head that
way," he gestured to the dark shapes of grazing bovines.
 
"I thought Malcolm focused on
bison."

"There
are no fences.
 
How do they keep
track of the herd?" Blair asked, overwhelmed by the massive size of the
property.

"They
free-range.
 
I am sure there is a
river outlining this land and Malcolm owns the water rights.
 
Cattle here are worth more than down
south.
 
With the miners coming in
and the town growing around this spread, he must make a fortune."

"The
bandits said he was broke because he is a gambler.
 
The house looks as though it is in
decent condition," Blair observed, flicking the reins and directing
Skinwalker towards the immense two-story structure.
 
"It is larger than my aunt's
home."

"There
is even a barn," Sloan pointed to a large building.
 
"We don't see many of those around
here.
 
It also looks like he has
three bunkhouses and a chowhouse."

"Someone
isn't telling the truth about Malcolm," Blair said quietly.
 
"Do you think they lied to get us
off their trail?"

"I
honestly don't think any of them was smart enough to think of that.
 
Blair?"

"Yes?"
she looked up into his eyes as he lifted her from the wagon.

"We are
married.
 
Do not tell anyone, not
even Malcolm, otherwise.
 
I want to
be certain to stay as close to you as I can."

Sloan
knocked on the heavy wooden door.
 
A
large-framed, bald man with a thick moustache answered.

"Grandfather
Malcolm?" Blair asked shyly, peaking out from under Sloan's arm.

"Blair?
 
Blair Lorraine?
 
What a sight you are!" the elderly
man bellowed loudly, catching her in his arms and spinning her around with her
feet off the floor.
 
"You have
grown to be such a beauty!
 
You look
exactly like your mama!
 
And who is
this young man?"

"This
is my husband," Blair said, the lie easy on her lips, "Sloan
Adkins."

"Married?
 
I had no idea!
 
Congratulations and mighty pleased to
meet you, Sloan Adkins.
 
Please, come
into my humble abode.
 
Carlos!
 
Bring my granddaughter and her husband
refreshments!"
 
Malcolm slapped
Sloan heartily on the back.
 
"Sit!
 
You poor child,
you look absolutely worn down.
 
We
will feed you and then I will have Madeline prepare a hot bath for you."

"Madeline?
 
MY Madeline?"

The little
French maid appeared with a smile.
 
"Yes, Miss."

Blair
screeched and flung her arms around the only person in her life who had shown
her friendship.
 
"What are you
doing here?
 
How did you get here so
quickly?"

"I only
just arrived one week ago, Miss.
 
Your aunt, she dismissed me right after you left."

"How
horrid of her!
 
How did you get the
money to come this way?"

"I have
saved my earnings for many years in hopes of buying a home of my own one
day.
 
When I lost Francois to the
carriage accident, I gave up my dream to be independent."

"The
little sprite wired me immediately and told me of the events of the Farbor
household.
 
She said she wished to
come out here and serve you.
 
I, of
course, consented."
 
Malcolm
looked pleased.

"I will
find a way to compensate you for the travel, Madeline," Blair said,
holding the older woman's hands.
 

"No
need!
 
No need!
 
It's already been taken care of.
 
I needed me a housekeeper and a decent
cook, and Miss Madeline was hired on to manage the house.
 
I paid for her travel expenses, bought
her some pretty new frocks, and gave her a room of her own."

"That
was very generous of you, Grandfather."

"You
looked confused, child.
 
Is there
something amiss?"

"She's
just tired from the trail, Mr. Farbor.
 
If you please, I would like to get her fed, washed up, and down for some
shuteye," Sloan intervened.

"Call
me Malcolm, boy.
 
We are family now,
and we don't go by those fancy rules in these parts.
 
Madeline, take Mrs. Adkins up for a
bath.
 
I will have Carlos bring a
meal to her."

"Yes,
Mr. Malcolm," Madeline curtseyed.
 
She put her hand out before Sloan to prevent him from following
them.
 
"Begging your pardon,
sir, but bathing time does not require a man to be present."

"I am
her husband, and …"

"I have
been bathing the child since she was nine years old.
 
I do not need your assistance,"
Madeline said firmly.

"What
you need is a good paddling," Sloan murmured under his breath loud enough
for Madeline and Blair to hear.
 
"I will bring her food up."

Blair
stopped Madeline from arguing.
 
"Do not be concerned about him.
 
He is very protective, that is all.
 
Sloan, darling, Madeline was my nanny
and my only true friend.
 
Please
treat her with kindness."

"Beg
pardon, ma'am," Sloan held his hat to his heart.
 
"I did not mean any offense.
 
I will still bring up her meal."

"Let's
go," Blair smiled, grabbing the woman's hands.
 
"I have so much to share with
you."

"He is
a handsome devil, that one, Miss Blair," Madeline proclaimed as she led
Blair up the polished wood staircase.
 
"How did you meet?"

"It is
a long story, my dear, dear Madeline.
 
What is this?"

"Mr.
Malcolm has a taste for the new and unique," Madeline said, priming a pump
that emptied into a giant copper tub.
 
"There is a water closet behind that divider and see?
 
Hot water!"

"How
does that happen without bringing up buckets?"
 
Blair stared in fascination.

"Mr.
Malcom said that the house is built atop a thermal spring.
 
He said that we will stay warm all winter,
even walking on the floor in our stockings.
 
Isn't that grand?"

"You
really like Grandfather Malcolm, don't you?" Blair asked, narrowing her
eyes slightly in her maid's direction.

Madeline
reddened, "He is a good man.
 
Much kinder than Madam Farbor.
 
Miss Blair, I know she is your aunt, but …"

"That
woman is an evil, selfish and arrogant spinster.
 
I hold no loyalty to her.
 
What happened?"

"I
should not say, Miss," Madeline looked distressed.
 
"Please …"

"Help
me into the tub and then you will talk.
 
I expect to be told everything."

"You
wish that I stay while you bathe?"
 
The woman looked shocked.

"I have
long since lost my modesty," Blair proclaimed, her filthy, worn clothes
falling around her ankles.
 
She
stood naked before the stunned woman and lifted her chin.
 
"The tub?"

"Yes,
Miss," Madeline said, quickly helping her in.
 
She gasped.
 
"Miss!
 
Your bum!"

"Ah,
yes," Blair twisted to glance at the fading bruises left by the
switch.
 
"I got into a small
argument with a hazelnut tree and lost.
 
Twelve times."

"You
permit your husband to beat you?"

"Sloan
does not beat me," Blair said, settling with a sigh into the steaming
water, "he disciplines me for my transgressions.
 
Aunt Imelda used to have me beaten.
 
There was no love behind her motives,
other than to absolve herself of any responsibility for my actions."

Madeline
gasped as Blair picked up the lavender soap and began to scrub her hair.
 
"Miss?
 
That is for decoration.
 
Soap is for laundry!"

"Soap
is for cleaning, and I have three months of trail dirt buried in my pores.
 
Are we able to drain this tub and refill
it?"

"Yes,
Miss Blair."

"Then
after my initial scrubdown, we shall do so.
 
Please, soap my back."

Madeline
uttered several unintelligible phrases in French as she obeyed Blair's instructions.
 
The tub was nearly filled for a second
round when Sloan entered the bathing chambers without knocking.

"Sir!
 
The lady …"

"Is my
wife and I have seen her naked many times.
 
Why the frown, my darling?" he asked, setting the platter of
fragrant stew seasoned with fresh rosemary on a table next to the tub.

"Madeline
is hiding something from me about my aunt."

"Is
this true, Madeline?" Sloan asked, raising his eyebrow at her.

Madeline
paled, nodding her head.
 
Sloan
patted her shoulder.
 
"Let's
hear what you have to say."

"But,
Sir, I … what are you doing?!
 
Mr.
Sloan, this is not decent!"
 
Madeline panicked as Sloan quickly stripped off his clothing and slipped
into the tub with Blair.

"Haven't
you ever seen a man naked before?" Sloan asked mischievously as Blair
began to scrub his back.

"Don't
tease.
 
Madeline, I wish to hear
your words this instant."

Madeline
looked as though she would cry.
 
"Madam Farbor has kept you for nine years because Mr. Malcolm was
sending her money.
 
He did not want
you to live in the West until you had a proper home and education.
 
He asked for you last year, when the
building of this house was completed," Madeline began to cry into her
hands.
 
"Madam Farbor refused,
fearful of losing the money sent to care for you."

"Aunt
Imelda is very wealthy.
 
Why would
she need Grandfather Malcolm's money?"

"Her
wealth was a mere illusion, my dear," Malcolm's voice came from the
doorway.