One Texas Night (14 page)

Feeling brave, she stepped out of the shadows and walked into the hotel lobby before Jeffery Filmore had time to notice her. The banker had a habit of looking at her the way he looked at his meal when he came to dinner with her father. She was something he planned to have, maybe even enjoy. He hadn’t even asked her yet, but Jeffery Filmore was already talking to her father about setting a date for their wedding. He wanted his ring on her finger and her working in his bank before fall.

Her father’s only hesitation seemed to be that he needed her to do his bookkeeping until after roundup. Neither of the men had ever considered what she wanted. With no funds of her own, her father knew she wasn’t going anywhere and Jeffery knew no other man in town bothered to speak to her. So, to their way of thinking, she was just something to pass from one to the other when the time was right.

Laurel almost laughed as she crossed the empty hotel lobby and entered the small parlor where ladies could have lunch or tea without being exposed to the noisy bar area near the back.

She wasn’t surprised the room was empty. Her sisters would love the thrill and the audience in the back room. It was more a café than a saloon, but Laurel knew her father wouldn’t approve of his darlings sitting among the cowhands. She also knew she’d never tell him because if she did, he’d either laugh or tease her little sisters about how bold they were, or blame Laurel for allowing them to go into such a place.

Sitting by the window, Laurel folded her hands in her lap and waited. The room smelled of pipe smoke. Dust reflected off the furniture as thick as fur in places. The innkeeper obviously saw the room as a bother, but probably kept it to promote the appearance of respectability. He made far more money off the drinks and food in the back.

“Sorry, miss”—a young maid, with hair the color of rust, leaned in the door—“I didn’t know you was there. Would you like something?”

Laurel swallowed hard. “No, thank you. I’d like to just wait here if I may.”

The girl disappeared without a word.

Laurel closed her eyes. She was the daughter of Captain Hayes and his first wife. Her father was very likely the richest man in the county. She could walk into any store in town and buy whatever she liked on account.

But, Laurel almost said aloud, she didn’t have enough cash to buy a cup of tea.

The ten dollar gold piece had been a gift from the headmaster when she’d graduated. Laurel had kept it with her for two years, hoping one day she’d be brave enough to buy a train ticket for as far as ten dollars would take her. Once she’d asked if she could have the salary her father paid the last bookkeeper. Her father had laughed and told her she was lucky to have a roof over her head and food to eat.

“Miss?” The young maid stood at the doorway with a wicker tray the size of a plate. “A lady upstairs ordered this tea, then said she didn’t want it. You’d be doing me a favor if you’d take it.”

“But I haven’t—”

“There ain’t no charge for it.” She set the tray on the table next to Laurel.

“Thank you.” Laurel smiled. “You’re very kind.”

Rusty curls tossed about her shoulders. “We all do what we can, miss, to help each other.”

Laurel felt humbled by the maid. She offered her hand.

“I’m Laurel Hayes.”

“I’m Bonnie Lynn.” The maid laughed nervously. “Pleased to meet you, I am.” Now it was the maid’s turn to be uncomfortable. “I got to go.”

“I hope to see you again,” Laurel said. “Thanks for the tea.”

Bonnie Lynn nodded and hurried out of the room.

Laurel leaned back and sipped her tea. She’d let go of her ten dollars on a hope. A hope that if it paid off would allow her to go all the way to Kansas City, or Houston, or maybe even Santa Fe. She’d have enough money for the train and then a few months at a boardinghouse. She’d look for a job at a bank or as a bookkeeper. She was good at what she did. Her father’s books had never been off a penny since she’d started managing them.

Lost in her daydreams and plans, Laurel didn’t hear Jeffery Filmore come into the hotel until he was at the door to the parlor. He always reminded her of a bear someone had dressed up and trained to act proper. When he removed his hat, his hair wiggled across his balding head like thin, wrinkled wool and his complexion always appeared sunburned.

“There you are,” he bellowed. “I saw your sisters come in and guessed you’d be about.”

Laurel didn’t answer. She never answered his ramblings for Jeffery talked only to hear himself.

She expected him to storm off, but he barged into the room and stuck out a piece of paper. “Your father wanted a list of the names of those who entered for best all-around in the rodeo. You can take it out and save me a trip. I know it’s not as many as he’d hoped would enter, but after seeing some of the rough stock a few of the men backed out. They say one of the steers turned on a roper and killed him in El Paso last month. Some of the bucking horses look like they’re too mean to be worth the bullet it’d take to kill them.”

“Isn’t that the kind of stock a rodeo needs?” she asked.

“Yeah, it makes for wild rides and a man who puts much value on his life would be wise to stay in the stands and watch.”

She lowered her head, hoping he’d leave.

Like a nervous elephant, he shifted from foot to foot.

Finally, she looked up.

He didn’t wait for her to ask any questions. “I’ve come to terms with your father, Laurel. We’ll marry the end of August. No frills, just a small ceremony after Sunday services so I can teach you what you don’t know that afternoon. My bank records require a higher standard than your father’s ranch accounts.”

“But . . .”

He rushed on as if he already knew what she might ask. “You’re to have a new dress, of course, for the wedding, but nothing too fancy. I see no need for parties, or a honeymoon. I’ve already had that with my first wife, and your father agrees with me that such things are just a waste of money.”

Laurel stared openmouthed at his ramblings. She wanted to shout that she’d never been asked to marry him and, if she had been, she would have said no.

Jeffery didn’t stop. “You’ll work with me at the bank Monday through Thursday, then I’ll drive you out and you can do your father’s books Friday and Saturday. Your father said you could ride out alone. You’ve been making the trip between there and town for years, but I see no need to have to board a horse in town. I’ll take you and pick you up.”

He paused as if allowing questions in his lecture.

A hundred screams log-piled in her mind, but all she managed to say was, “I’ll have Sundays off?”

He huffed again. “Of course. A banker and his family are expected to be in church every week. It adds stability to his name. After church, we’ll want to invite your father and sisters to dinner. It’s only proper if they make the drive into town. He assures me you’re a passable cook. Once they’re gone, you’ll need time to do the laundry.”

Her head felt like mice were eating away inside it. All rational thought left her. “Family. What family?” she started before he interrupted her.

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re far too old for it to be cute to play dumb.” He frowned at her as if he found her only mildly tolerable. “I’m not a young man, Laurel. We’ll have a baby before we’re married a year. I prefer a son, but if it doesn’t happen, we’ll try again until I have an heir who can eventually take over the bank.”

He stared at her. “You are a virgin? I told your father I’d have nothing less.”

As she reddened, he laughed. “Of course you are. You know little of these things, but I know my seed is strong. My first wife was pregnant within a month of our marriage, but she wasn’t healthy enough to stay alive to deliver full term.” He stared at her. “Don’t worry, your father says you ride every day. Such exercise makes you strong and hardy.” He grinned to himself. “My seed will grow in you. You’re like rich dirt, from strong stock and ready to be made use of. Lots of children will round that thin frame out nicely in time.”

Laurel was too horrified to answer. She lowered her head and focused on the piece of paper Jeffery had given her. Rowdy Darnell’s name stood out.

He had to win, her mind whispered. He had to.

The banker heard her sisters and hurried to pay his respects without another word to her. He was all smiles and pats with them. Like her father, Jeffery seemed to think every senseless thing they said was funny. She could imagine what his Sunday dinners would be like.

She almost laughed aloud. They’d be pretty much like they were now. Sunday was the housekeeper’s day off. So Laurel cooked and cleaned up while everyone else complained that none of the food was good enough, hot enough or served fast enough.

Laurel closed her eyes and blocked out all the noise coming from the others. She focused on the way Rowdy had touched her waist so gently when he’d helped her down from the surrey and again in the shadows when he’d bumped into her.

She smiled. He’d touched her as if she mattered.

Chapter 3

The sun bore down on Rowdy as he rode toward his father’s farm. He’d always hated the place and July was the worst month, hot and dry. But he looked forward to being alone. When he’d first gone to prison at fifteen, he thought he’d go mad with the loneliness, but finally he grew to prefer it. There were so many people in town for the rodeo that he felt like the air had thinned just so it would last. He rode hard until town was well out of sight and land, more prairie than farm, stretched before him.

His father had sold their farm in East Texas and moved here after Rowdy’s mom died. He could get almost ten times the acreage for the same money. The old man had planned to get away from the memories of her death, but West Texas hadn’t been far enough. He’d continued the journey into a bottle.

Rowdy remembered his father being drunk when they’d pulled up to the place and as far as he knew the old man had never sobered up enough to care where he was. They’d brought fifty head of cattle with them. His dad sold them off one by one. After three years he didn’t have enough cows left to sell to pay for a lawyer for his son. The horses he’d bred with pride a few years ago had withered into nags.

Reaching the gate, Rowdy was surprised it had been closed. Sheriff Barnett had written twice over the last five years. Once to tell Rowdy that his father had died, and once to tell him the place was still his. Rowdy guessed the sheriff wanted him to know that he had a home; he couldn’t have known how little the place meant to Rowdy. It was just something to sell so he could make a fresh start where no one knew him.

As he saw the shack of a house and the barn, he thought of burning the place down, but he knew memories would sift through even the ashes. His father hadn’t been a bad man, only a weak one. He’d loved one woman and when she’d died he couldn’t seem to find his footing, not even to finish raising his only son.

When the sheriff and some men came to get Rowdy before dawn five years ago, his father’s only words had been, “I’m sorry.” Not, “I’ll help.” Or “I don’t believe you could shoot anyone.” Just, “I’m sorry.”

The night before there had been a gang of boys drinking and firing off guns down by the creek bordering Darnell land. One was shot. With no one to stand beside Rowdy, the drunk’s son was an easy target. Everyone wanted to lay the blame somewhere.

Rowdy shoved the memory aside as he rode up to the house. He wasn’t surprised to find the sheriff waiting on the porch. Barnett had put on a few pounds in five years and his hair looked whiter, but he still had the same sad eyes that seemed to say he’d seen too much in this world.

“Darnell.” He nodded in greeting.

Rowdy swung down. He owed the lawman. If it hadn’t been for Barnett, the judge wouldn’t have considered his age at the sentencing and Rowdy would have drawn far more than five years. The sheriff had also rounded up a few strays his father hadn’t taken the trouble to chase and sold them, along with the corral stock, to pay the taxes on this place for five years.

“I figured you’d be looking me up,” Rowdy said as he offered his hand.

Barnett gripped his hand. “Just stopped by to say hello, son.”

Rowdy waited. Barnett had been the only man in town who hadn’t wanted to string him up five years ago. “I want to thank you for—”

“You don’t owe me nothing, but I would like to give you one last piece of advice. If I were you, I’d keep low and just stay long enough to sell the place and move on. No sense looking for trouble.”

Rowdy nodded. “I agree. This place has never been home. If I could make a few bucks, I plan to head south. There’s a man down near the border who said he’d give me a job breaking horses when I got out. I figured I’d look him up. Maybe buy a little spread down there in time.”

The sheriff moved toward his horse. “I’ll get the word out that you’re looking for a buyer. With the rodeo in town, it should get around fast. I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t have an offer within a week. Captain Hayes to the north will probably make you a fair one. He’s gobbling up land as fast as he can lately. You’d think he had sons and not daughters.”

“That would be fine with me. I don’t much care who takes it off my hands.”

Barnett shoved his hat back and seemed to pick his words carefully. “You know, son, you were mighty angry when you left.”

Rowdy almost said he’d had a right to be, but he knew nothing would change the past. “I still fire up now and then before I think,” he admitted, remembering the fights he’d had in prison. “But all I want to do is sell this place and move on now. I’m not looking for any trouble.”