Wicked Wyoming Nights (18 page)

The decision hung in the balance; Eliza wondered if her courage would hold out, but she remembered Cord’s arms around her, and the flutter in her stomach disappeared. She was fighting for more than just a bruise; she was fighting her own fears and her habit of running away. She was fighting to be worthy of a man who could stand up to a town, an entire county, the whole
state
without fear.

Ira couldn’t read Eliza’s thoughts, but he knew she meant what she said, and there was nothing he could do about it. If it ever got out he had struck her, even accidentally, Ella Baylis would see to it everybody heard of it in a matter of hours and that could ruin him. Ira ground his teeth in anger, determined not to give in to any further demands, but he remembered what Cord had done in the saloon and was uneasy. Croley wouldn’t protect him, and the customers would enjoy a fight, if you could call murder a fight.

“Be there by Wednesday.”

“If the bruises disappear.”

“I’ll tell everyone you’re sick. Until then, you’re not to leave this cabin.”

“I won’t see Mr. Stedman if that’s what you mean, but I will go to school. And to the store.”

“You can’t be seen looking like this.”

“But I need supplies.”

“I’ll get them. One look at you and Ella will have it all over town.”

“Okay, you go to the store, but I have to go to school. The children won’t care. I can tell them I ran into the bedpost. It’ll be a great joke.”

“You’re not to leave the place for anything or anybody,” Ira exploded.

Eliza’s knees started to knock, but she found her resolution had stiffened. “You can’t keep me locked up like a prisoner and then expect me to sing for you,” she argued. “I’ve got to be able to come and go like any other grown woman”

“Not so you can sneak off with that scum.”

Cord doesn’t need you to defend him, Eliza told herself. Just keep your mind on your own self for now. “I’m not running off to meet anyone.”

“What about this afternoon?”

“I told you, I went walking and lost track of the time.”

Ira didn’t believe her, but she had clung to her story so tenaciously he was beginning to wonder if she might not be telling the truth after all. “Only to school,” he said, giving in reluctantly. “Mind you, I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”

“Of course.” Eliza lowered her eyes, afraid Ira might see her look of triumph. She busied herself with cleaning up.

“Women are ignorant fools,” he muttered as he stalked angrily out into the night, but if he could have seen Eliza after he closed the door he might have had second thoughts.

She stood perfectly still until the sound of his horse’s hooves died away, then she let out a whoop and danced wildly around the room until her head was spinning so madly she couldn’t keep her balance and she collapsed into a chair.

“Life is so beautiful,” she said, laughing with happiness. “I’ll never be afraid of it again.”

Chapter 13

A week later Eliza drew the buckboard the town had provided for her use to a stop before a cabin nearly as rundown as the one she and her uncle occupied. She was about to make her first call on the parents of a student, and she wasn’t at all sure what she was going to Bay, but she had insisted on having this school, and it was up to her to make it work.

Bear Creek ran close by the cabin and the crops near its banks flourished, but the ground that rose from the creek level was very rocky, and the hills behind the cabin looked to be full of blind canyons and hidden draws. Not the sort of land for a homestead.

Susan Haughton was very surprised to open her door and find the new schoolteacher on the steps, but she invited Eliza in, offered her coffee, and made her comfortable.

“Though no lady can be comfortable in a place like this,” she said bitterly, gesturing at the poor but spotlessly maintained cabin. “It’s worse than a cow barn.”

“I wanted to talk with you about Billy,” Eliza began, so disconcerted by Mrs. Haughton’s apologizing for her home she plunged straight to the object of her visit.

“Has he been late to school? I make sure he is dressed and out of here early every morning.”

“He hasn’t come to school at all the last three days.”

“What?” his mother asked, suddenly still and tense.

“Billy is a nice boy, very quiet and obedient, but he got into a fight last week and I haven’t seen him since.”

Susan twisted the corners of her apron, and then abruptly sank into the chair opposite Eliza. “It’s Sam and me.” She encountered Eliza’s blank look. “We fight all the time. Sometimes it goes on for days.”

“Why?” It was impertinent, but she didn’t know what else to say.

“Because I hate Wyoming and I hate cows, but most of all I hate the unending grind to eke out a miserable living here.” In her agitation, Susan started resetting all her hairpins. “I know it’s my fault we’re here without anything to go back to, but I can’t stop blaming Sam. No man could bear it, but he puts up with it as long as he can and then he explodes. Now I’m pregnant again.” Eliza’s rush of joy was rudely dashed down. “I don’t want my baby to be born in this place,” Susan said fiercely.

“We had a small farm in Missouri,” she went on, “not much, but enough to make a living. Sam liked to go to the saloons. He got drunk occasionally, but mainly he told stories and sang songs a female would be ashamed to hear. The men loved it so much the saloon owners started to pay him a little something whenever he would come in, but I was afraid the company would ruin him and I kept after him to stay home. Well, you might as well ask Sam to give up and die as pass a saloon and not go in, so I talked him into coming out here. I made sure we were a long way from town. I also made him promise he wouldn’t go into town without me. He’s stuck to his promise, but it’s taken the life out of him.”

“Maybe you should go back to Missouri.”

“It took most of the money we had to set up here. It took the rest to keep going. Now, with the baby coming, I don’t know what to do.”

“What does Billy think about Wyoming?”

“He really doesn’t care where he is, but he’s a sensitive child, and I hate to see him bullied by other children.”

“Doesn’t he know how to fight?”

“No, but his Pa insists he stand up and defend himself. I supposed he’s in the right of it, but I don’t like it. They pick at him because we’re farmers, especially the boys whose pa’s run a few head of cattle or steal even more.”

“You know who rustles cattle?” Eliza asked, astonished.

“Everybody knows. They don’t keep it a secret. The way they see it, if you don’t steal, something must be wrong with you. That’s what the fight was about. Didn’t you know that?”

“No,” Eliza said, faltering, her face drained of color.

The other boys taunted him, said his pa was a fool to starve with Matador steers around for the taking.”

“But the Matador belongs to Mr. Stedman,” Eliza exclaimed involuntarily.

“And he never lets us forget it,” Susan said bitterly. “I suppose the only reason he hasn’t forced us out is because he knows we’ll have to leave on our own before long. Though God knows where we’ll go, or how we’ll find the money to get there.”

“But Mr. Stedman’s not like that.”

“Maybe not, but he’s made it abundantly plain he doesn’t want us here.”

“Won’t he pay you for the land?”

“Yes, but Sam refuses to sell to him. And of course nobody else is fool enough to buy this place, so we’re caught between Sam’s pride and my foolishness.” The cabin door opened and Billy Haughton entered with his father.

“Sam, what happened?” shrieked Susan. Billy was wet and muddy, tears stained his cheeks, and his right hand massaged his tender buttocks.

“Go on,” his father commanded, “tell your mother what you did.”

“I tried to run away from Pa and fell into the creek. He gave me a licking.”

“Sam Haughton, how could you, after all that boy’s been through?”

“Being soft and dreamy is one thing. Running from me is another.”

Eliza’s inclination was to escape as quickly as she could, but she had to stay. It was her duty as a teacher; it was her desire because of Cord.

“He’s no coward,” Susan declared in angry defense of her child. “You know he got into that fight because of you.” It was obvious how much it pained Sam Haughton to know his failure to provide for his family was the reason for his son’s trouble.

“Billy doesn’t like the rough games the other boys favor, but he’s not cowardly,” Eliza said, surprised to find the words coming, unbidden, out of her mouth. They don’t understand him, but he has earned a grudging respect.” All three Haughtons stared at her. “He’s very proud of both of you, but he doesn’t understand what’s happening. Why not sit down and explain everything to him. It won’t change things, but it will help him understand the problems you face. You may also learn something of the difficulties he encounters every day.

“Now I must be getting back,” Eliza said, getting to her feet. “My uncle will think I’ve forgotten his dinner.” She hurried out to her buckboard despite Susan’s offers to join them for supper. Sam Haughton followed.

“Thanks for taking an interest in Billy,” he said a little awkwardly. “His ma and I don’t see eye to eye on how to raise him, but he’s a good boy.” Eliza allowed Sam to help her into her seat. “Would you come again?”

“I’m sure Billy will be all right once you’ve talked things over with him.”

“Not for Billy. For Susan.”

“Your wife?”

“She doesn’t get much company. We live too far from town for the ladies to visit, and we’re too poor for them to want to. It would mean the world to her if she could have someone to talk to now and then.”

“Surely one of the farmers’ wives …”

“I could tell she took a liking to you.”

“All right,” Eliza agreed with a smile. “I can’t get away often, but I’ll do the best I can. I know what it’s like to be so lonely you make up people to talk to.”

“Susan does that!” exclaimed Sam, surprised to find anyone else indulged in the habit he found so peculiar. “I thought it meant she was going crazy.”

Eliza peered in at the window of the land office and was relieved to find it empty. She had come by three times that morning only to discover someone talking with the agent each time. She plucked up her courage and went in. The room was quite small, and under the stress of the unrelenting heat the agent appeared to be cross and out of temper.

“What can I do for you?” he asked disagreeably without raising his eyes from his work.

“I would like to claim some land.”

The agent looked up at the sound of a female voice and his eyes nearly started from his head. “Where’s your husband?” he managed to ask, swallowing hard.

“I don’t have one.”

“Ought to if you want to claim land.”

“Can’t I claim it myself?”

“I suppose so, but you ought to have a husband,” he repeated idiotically.

“Well, I don’t.”

“Say, aren’t you that singer at the saloon?”

“Yes, I am,” Eliza replied, glad he didn’t connect her with the school.

“What’s someone like you wanting with a homestead?”

“You can’t expect me to go on singing in saloons for the rest of my life, can you?” she said, thinking fast. “I need a piece of land to settle on some day.”

“Ought to have a husband.”

“I don’t intend to get a husband just to claim some land,” she snapped, her temper beginning to rise.

“I guess not,” the agent replied, deciding her objection seemed reasonable enough. “Where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“The land.”

“On Bear Creek, at that big willow thicket.” The agent’s eyes flew open.

“Do you realize where that is?”

“Yes. It’s right next to Mr. Stedman’s land.”

“It’s in the
middle
of Matador land.”

“What’s wrong with that? Mr. Stedman seems to be quite a nice gentleman.” The agent suddenly remembered something he had heard about Stedman taking a interest in the singer. Well, that might explain it, but he couldn’t believe Cord Stedman would allow anyone to homestead that land. Still, it was none of his business, and he had no intention of getting in the middle of anything like that. He pulled out his maps.

“What are the boundaries of your piece?”

“What?” Eliza tried hard to keep her dismay out of her voice.

“Where does your claim stop and start?”

She had no idea what to say. “Do I have to tell you that?”

“Of course. I have to know the exact limits so no one else can claim the same land.” He waited for Eliza’s reply with patient resignation.

“I want as much land next to the creek as I can get,” she said remembering what Cord had said about control of the water.

“There isn’t all that much left.”

“Can I get all the Matador doesn’t have?”

“That’ll put your claim on both sides of the creek.”

“I know.”