Texas Lucky (23 page)

She let her voice trail off as they reached the stall where Saber pawed the ground in anticipation of another outing.

Stepping up on the bottom railing of the gate, Tess leaned over to give him a pat as she finished by saying, “Saber has his work cut out for him, because he’s going to win the money I need.

“And you, Buck Higgins”—she turned her head to flash a glowing smile—“are the first man I’m hiring—to be my
foreman
.”

Chapter Seventeen

Tess stood at her hotel window and gazed down at the street below. It was not yet noon, but already Dallas was a busy place.

Horses raised clouds of dust. Cowboys swaggered along the wooden sidewalks, boisterously joking among themselves and shouting profane greetings to others they’d not seen since before the trail drive they had just returned from.

On one corner, a black minstrel strummed ballads on his guitar to lure a crowd toward a man hawking bids for an impending horse auction.

Across the way, at another hotel, women leaned out a window to lustily call to the cowboys.

Through the open doors from the saloon directly below them, someone could be heard, raising a boozy scream followed by a triumphant cry of “
Keno!
” in celebration of a winner’s bonanza in the popular game.

But even in the cacophony of the cattle boomtown, there were islands of tranquility. Elegantly dressed meat packers from the North and feeders from the Midwest sat on verandas and sealed deals exchanging thousands of dollars for thousands of head of cattle with a handshake and a drink.

In the few days she and Buck had been there, Tess had found it an exciting place but longed to finish her business and seek a quieter locale.

Like her own ranch…which she would have after today’s race.

Since she and Buck had left the Bar M in the spring, she had entered Saber in many races and placed every time, but the stakes had been meager. A hundred dollars here and there. The most she had won was two hundred. As a result, she had not managed to save much toward her goal. After all, she felt obligated to pay Buck what he would have made as a drover, which was twenty-five dollars a month. Then there were expenses, like hotels and food.

Turning away from the window, she sank to a chair and pressed her fingertips to her temples to massage against the tension that was making her head throb.

She knew Buck was getting restless. Though satisfied with his wages, he complained more and more that it didn’t matter how much money he had if he had no place to settle down with Katie. He and Tess were living like gypsies, he fretted, going from town to town, anywhere there was a race, and four months later they were not much better off than when they had set out.

So Tess feared if her luck did not change soon, if she could not set down roots at her own spread by autumn, Buck would go his own way.

She could not let that happen. She needed a man—a foreman—to help her run things. After all, she was not naive enough to think she had learned all there was to know about ranching from Ben and could now do it all on her own. She needed help.

She needed
Buck
.

So she had come to Dallas in hopes of winning big money. She remembered how her hands had shook with excitement when she had plucked the flyer nailed to the cottonwood tree on the outskirts of Red River Station northwest of Dallas.

They had been on their way to race for a purse of only a hundred and twenty-five dollars. But when Tess read the ad, she told Buck, “We’re going to Dallas. There’s a race paying two thousand dollars.”

If Saber won, her troubles were over. The prize money, plus her savings, would be enough to start her spread.

She and Buck had talked about locations, and he convinced her that the area south of Dallas, near the Shawnee Trail, would be ideal. Not only would the winters be less harsh than in the north, but they would be close to the trail to meet the Atchison, Topeka & Sante Fe Railroad in Missouri.

The race was scheduled for four o’clock, right down Main Street. At supper the night before, she and Buck had heard some men talking at a nearby table about there being a dozen entries, so Tess had sent Buck out early that morning to find out exactly how many there were.

Not that she was worried about competition. She simply preferred the course not be crowded, lest the horses run together and possibly fall and break a leg.

She just wanted it all over with so her new life could begin.

Most of all, she wanted to send for Perry.

One night, when she and Buck had made camp because they were too far from a town and a hotel, he had asked her whether she had given any thought to going back east. Gingerly he had pointed out that it seemed the logical thing to do.

She had admitted that, yes, it had entered her mind in dismal moments when depression was like a thick blanket weighing her down—but not for long. The reality was, even though she’d had one trial and tribulation after another since arriving, she now felt like the Southwest was her home.

“Almost like I was born here,” she had said.

Buck had confided he felt the same. “I came from Missouri ten years ago, but it’s like I’ve been here my whole life. It just gets in your blood, I reckon.”

The first thing she planned to do after finding and buying her land was write to Perry and tell him their dream was ever closer. She wished she could send for him right then and there but knew it was best to wait till she had a home for him to come to.

Tess was watching the prostitutes continue to lure customers when one of the cowboys on the street caught her eye.

There was something familiar about how he swaggered along the boardwalk, the muscles in his back rippling as the front of his collarless cotton shirt stretched across his strong, broad chest.

She could not see his face, for the brim of his hat was pulled low. But she could tell he had a beard, indicating he had probably just come off a drive.

He was walking toward a bathhouse, the sign above the door offering hot water and a tub for a dollar.

He was wearing tight-fitting woolen pants with buckskin sewn over the seat and down the inner thighs to keep them from fraying where they rubbed against the saddle. She chided herself for taking note of his well-shaped buttocks.

What was wrong with her?

She had done a good job of putting men and romance out of her mind since Curt Hammond had made her feel like such a fool. Yet she could not help experiencing a warm rush to watch the stranger. There was just something about him…

Then it struck with the force of a rockslide.

He reminded her of Curt.

The swagger.

The way he wore his hat dipped down over his eyes.

And his buttocks.

She blushed to think how she had loved to brush her fingers over the firm swell when he was on top of her, taking her to the ultimate ecstasy.

But it could not be him. She gave her head a firm shake to banish such thoughts as Buck called through the door.

“It’s me, Tess. I’ve got news.”

And from the tone of his voice, she feared it was not good.

Flinging open the door, she saw by the look on his face she was right.

He did not mince words.

Rushing in and slamming the door behind him, he said, “There’s too many entries. Seems that word spread about the big pot and everybody wants to try for it.”

“So what are you so upset about?” Tess asked, puzzled by his agitation. “I’ll just be careful not to let Saber get crowded. You know I’ll lose before I’ll take a chance on him getting hurt.”

“It’s not that.” He threw himself in a chair next to the window, flopped back, then pushed forward to look down at the street as though already expecting it to be packed with men and horses waiting to race.

“Then what?” Tess prodded impatiently.

“The man putting up the money—Chester Arthur—he’s racing a horse, too.”

“So? Lots of times men put on races just to enter their own horse. It doesn’t matter as long he pays up if he loses.

“Besides,” she added, walking over to give him a playful clip on his jaw with her fist, “You don’t really think Saber can lose, do you? I’ve heard you say many a time he’s the fastest horse you’ve ever seen.”

“True. But the fact is, you haven’t gone up against that many other quarterhorses. They’re the best thing on four legs for a short, swift dash.”

“What are you saying, Buck? That there are going to be other quarterhorses in the race?” She laughed. “That doesn’t matter. Saber will beat them.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

She frowned. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

He looked at her with dismal eyes. “Yeah, I am. The horse Chester is racing is also a quarterhorse. And damn fast, from what I hear. Like Saber, he’s won every race he’s ever been in. Leaves the others way behind. Phenomenal. That’s what folks are saying about him.”

Tess shrugged. “So? We’ve got to try.”

“There’s more. Chester is charging a big entry fee—two hundred dollars.”

She had sat down on the bed but was on her feet like a shot. “That’s crazy. No one is going to pay that much.”

“Oh, yes, they are. I’ve been all over town this morning, Tess, and what I’m hearing is that two hundred dollars isn’t much to gamble against winning two thousand. Cowpokes are pooling their money to enter their favorite horse, and people are going crazy betting.”

She sat back down and pointed a finger of warning. “Don’t you get any ideas about betting on me.” It was a rule she had made from the very start. No bets. Just purses. She was not taking a chance on losing what money she had, no matter how good the odds or how much confidence she had in Saber.

“No, no, it’s not that. What I’m trying to tell you is that things are getting out of hand. Chester has decided too many horses are entered, and—greedy son of a bitch that he is—in order to get the entry free from all of them, he’s ruled there have to be qualifying races.”

“Which means the winning horses will be tired and won’t run as well in the last race. But at least they’ll all be equally tired.”

“Except for his horse. He says his horse doesn’t have to qualify, because it’s his race.”

Tess was on her feet again, flailing at the air with her fists in protest. “That’s not fair. This is getting ridiculous.”

“I agree. And so do a lot of other folks, because some have backed off. But enough are staying in to make the races run.”

“Well, we’re staying in, too.”

“I figured you’d say that, so I went ahead and drew a number for the qualifier, and I’m afraid I didn’t pick so good. You’re in the last one. Saber won’t have time to rest up, because everything has to be finished before dark.”

“Why can’t the big race be run tomorrow?”

“Chester don’t want it that way, and since it’s his show, he gets to set the rules.”

Tess mulled it over. Saber was strong, powerful. There would be a little while between his race and the final. He would get a second wind. She was sure of it.

“He can do it,” she avowed, and reached for Buck’s hand. “Now let’s go have lunch and get in on all the excitement.”

He held back, eyes not meeting hers.

Apprehension began to creep once more.

“Buck, what is it?”

He had taken off his hat and was twisting the rim around in his hands. “This probably isn’t the time to tell you this, but somebody offered me a job this morning. A man I met in the saloon when I was having coffee.”

“What kind of job?” she asked tightly.

“Foreman at a feeder ranch, it’s called. Men like Mr. Meade, who offered me the job, are buying up grassland near the railheads to fatten up trail-worn herds before offering them to buyers. They’re even planning to grow their own corn. Mr. Meade is starting one in Kansas, and when I told him how I used to be foreman at the Bar M, he wanted me to go to work for him.

“The pay is forty dollars a month, Tess.” He glanced at her sheepishly, then dropped his eyes, withered by her glare of reproach. “I can’t say no to that. And I think Katie would like that part of the country.”

Tess’s chin jutted up, and her back went rigid as she reminded him, “You said you’d be
my
foreman, Buck. You said you’d help me get my ranch going. And if you will keep your word, I’ll pay you forty dollars a month.”

He lifted his eyes in disbelief. “You’d do that? You want me to work for you that bad?”

“I do. One of the things Ben told me was that it’s hard to find an honorable man, and you, Buck Higgins, are an honorable man. You told me about your job offer. You didn’t just walk out on me.”

He laughed easily, all tension gone. “Why, Tess, no man in his right mind would just walk out on a woman like you.”

One man did
, she felt like saying but didn’t.

It was her pain to bear…despite how hard she had tried to forget.

“You ain’t trickin’ me, little lady.” Chester Arthur shifted his cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other as his eyes raked Tess from head to toe. “I know your horse can run faster on account of you not weighing as much as a man, and you ain’t racing.”