Promises Kept (13 page)

Standing with his hands on his hips, Colt ground his molars together, trying to control his temper. He was sorely tempted to reach across the desk separating them and grab the thick-necked weasel and beat the tar out of him. Parker was Wallace’s handpicked man, and to Colt’s way of thinking, he couldn’t have chosen a better accomplice. Parker was as crooked as they came, and not a soul in town would argue that he wasn’t worth the bullet it’d take to blow him to Hades. “Tom and Helen could have been killed, but I reckon that wouldn’t get much of a rise out of you either.”

Removing his booted feet from the desk, Parker straightened. “They weren’t, so I don’t see what all the fuss is about. You said yourself that you didn’t lose but a couple of steers.”

Colt braced his hands on the desk and leaned across it until he was nose to nose with Parker. “One dead steer is one too many. You tell Wallace if I find any more of my cattle harmed, I’ll be coming to see him.”

Leaning back to put some distance between them, Parker’s head hit the back wall. He didn’t like the look in McBride’s cold eyes, but he bluffed his way through his next question, even though his voice cracked with fear. “Are you threatening Wallace?”

Colt straightened and casually rested his palm on the butt of his .45. “I’m stating a fact.” He stalked out of the sheriff’s office and slammed the door behind him so hard it rattled on its hinges.

Reaching the buckboard, Colt saw Lucy, a gal from the saloon, standing nearby like she was waiting for someone. He tipped his hat and said, “Lucy,” before he climbed onto the seat. He couldn’t help but notice the bright red dress she was wearing, but at least she had a shawl covering the low-cut bodice.

Lucy moved to stand closer to the wagon. “Colt, are you coming to play poker? We haven’t seen you in a long time.” Just like every woman in Promise, she thought he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. All the gals at L. B.’s waited around every Saturday night to see if he was going to come in to play poker. The gals wanted to serve his table because he was polite and tipped generously, but it was always Maddie who had that honor. Lucy figured the best thing about Colt was the fact that she’d never seen him drunk. He’d buy the whiskey for the table, but he never drank much himself.

“It’s a work day, Lucy. I’ve got to get back to the ranch,” Colt said politely. He released the brake and looked down at her to make sure she wasn’t standing too close to the buckboard. That’s when he saw her black eye and swollen cheek. “What happened to you?”

Her fingers moved to the sizable lump under her eye. “One of Wallace’s men got a little rough last night.”

Colt thought she responded as if it was a usual occurrence. Maybe in her trade it was. “Did you tell the sheriff?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “What for? He won’t do nothin’. Everybody knows that he’s as thick as thieves with Wallace. Even if he wasn’t, nobody does anything about one of us gals getting beat up.”

Colt couldn’t fault her reasoning. The sheriff wouldn’t put himself out since it was one of Wallace’s men that beat her, and even the good folks in Promise wouldn’t get too riled about the troubles of one of L. B.’s girls. “Who did it?”

“Hoyt Nelson.”

“Son of a—” Colt ground out. This little gal, even though she had a hard-as-nails look about her, was no match for a man like Nelson. He leveled his eyes on her. “Why don’t you stay away from men like Nelson? You know he’s nothing but trouble. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Lucy gave him a look like he had sprouted two heads. “’Cause that’s my job. That’s how I make my livin’, in case you forgot.”

“What did L. B. say about it?”

“She saw me this mornin’ and was askin’ plenty of questions. I’m sure she’ll have something to say to him when he comes back. She’s one person around here that’s not beholdin’ to Wallace, or afraid of him.”

“Lucy, you’re too young to be in this line of work,” he told her bluntly.

“I’ll be nineteen my next birthday, and Maddie is just six years older. You don’t have any problem with her working in a saloon,” she snapped.

Colt’s eyes moved to the garish red paint on her lips and cheeks, and he realized she didn’t look all that young in the light of day. The alcohol, along with her lifestyle, was already taking its toll. He thought of Victoria and how easily she could have succumbed to the same profession as Lucy, and probably with more reason with two boys to feed. When comparing the two women, he respected Victoria all the more for the choices she’d made. Even though she was willing to marry a man sight unseen, it was a better life than the one Lucy had chosen.

“If you ever want out of this business, let me know. I’ll give you a stake so you can go to a new town and make a fresh start.”

To his surprise, Lucy laughed. “Well, if that don’t beat all. You never let anyone but Maddie serve your table, and she’s the only one you want to be with, but you’ll give me money to leave.”

“There’s got to be a better way to earn a living, not to mention one that’s a whole lot safer,” he said, pointing to her eye.

“I like what I do.”

Colt considered her admission, wondering if it was bluster or fact. “As I said, if you ever want to leave . . .”

Colt didn’t finish because Lucy turned to walk away, her hips swishing to and fro. After a couple of steps she whirled back around. “I’ll be leaving here when I make enough to get me to San Francisco. There’s a gentlemen’s club there where I can make a lot more money.”

On the way to the ranch, Colt thought about the gals at the saloon, and the bruises on Lucy’s face. Since that was the way those gals chose to make their way in the world, like as not they had to suffer the drunks and abusers on occasion. He’d been taken aback when Lucy admitted she enjoyed working in a saloon. Lucy had given him another surprise when she told him Maddie was only twenty-five. He’d never really asked, but he would have sworn that she was well into her thirties. Maddie was a pretty woman with long blond hair, bright green eyes, more lush curves than any woman had a right to have, and she had a good head on her shoulders. He remembered asking her one time why she worked in a saloon, because he thought she had options for how she chose to make a living. She’d told him it was all she knew, and rebuffed his suggestion that she could work in the general store, or at the hotel restaurant. He’d made her the same offer he made Lucy—a stake so she could find another way to earn a living, even if it wasn’t in Promise—but she’d turned him down flat. L. B. told him most of the gals waited for some cowboy to come along who was willing to marry them. Even though he knew Maddie was partial to him, he’d made it clear he had no claim on her, and it wasn’t because of her profession. He wouldn’t have married her if she owned a dress shop. He just wasn’t a marrying man.

Colt was sure L. B. would have plenty to say about Hoyt Nelson abusing one of her girls. L. B. wasn’t one to stand idly by when some cowboy overstepped his bounds. Aside from barring him from the saloon, there really wasn’t much she could do if the sheriff wouldn’t do his job. Words wouldn’t solve the problem with the likes of Hoyt Nelson. He’d come up against men like him before, and he knew it wasn’t a question of if, but when he would have it out with the gunslinger.

Chapter Thirteen

Colt stuck his head in the kitchen door and saw Victoria sitting at the table, her valise by the door. “I’ll get the buckboard if you’re ready,” he said.

“Yes, I am.” Victoria didn’t look forward to the long journey home, but she was anxious to see the boys. “I thought Bartholomew would be here by now.” She wanted to say good-bye and thank him for his kindness.

“I’m sure he will meet us in town,” Colt assured her. Truthfully, he was surprised Bartholomew hadn’t arrived earlier, considering how he’d taken to Victoria.

Reaching the stable, Colt found T. J. harnessing the horses to the buckboard. “What are you up to, T. J.?”

T. J. responded without looking up from his task, “I thought I would save you a trip into town and drive Miss Victoria to catch the noon stage.”

“Thanks, but I have other business to attend to in town.” At first, Colt didn’t suspect T. J. had another motive, other than doing him a favor, until he looked at him. T. J. was wearing one of his best shirts, and his hair was neatly combed. He looked like he was going courting on a Saturday night. It hadn’t escaped his notice that T. J. had been hanging around after dinner lately instead of heading to the bunkhouse to play poker, like he normally did. He’d even offered to help wash the dishes last night. How could he have missed the reason for T. J.’s change in behavior?
Victoria!
T. J. was smitten. He grinned at his foreman. “You didn’t have another reason for going to town, did you?”

T. J. finished with the horses and looked at Colt. Seeing that grin on his face, he threw his hands in the air. “All right! I just thought I might get to know her a little better! There ain’t no crime in that, is there? Maybe she would stay in Promise if she had a reason.” His voice sounded like a frog had hopped in his throat and was beginning to croak, but to his credit, he soldiered on. “It’s not like we have any women who look like her in this part of the country. It’d be a real shame if some cowboy around here didn’t try to herd her into his fences.”

Colt gave him a steady look. “I get your meaning, but she doesn’t come without some baggage. You aren’t forgetting she has those two boys, are you?”

T. J. shook his head at Colt. “Baggage? Now that’s one interesting way to put it. What kind of dang-fool man would let that get in the way of settling down with a woman like her? She’s the prettiest little thing I ever laid eyes on, and I ain’t never tasted anything like her cookin’. The way I look at it, having two boys could be a fine thing.”

Colt couldn’t believe his ears. He was as surprised by T. J.’s confession as he had been that day Bartholomew announced Chet was going to get married. Now that he thought about it, he should have seen it coming. Usually T. J. wouldn’t utter a word during dinner until he’d finished eating. At least, that was the way it had been before Victoria arrived. The last few nights, it was like T. J. had forgotten his love of food because he spent all of his time talking to Victoria, and Colt couldn’t get a word in edgewise. The man was a born flirt, and it didn’t matter if the women were just a step up from downright homely. T. J. fancied himself to be an expert on the subject of women, and grudgingly Colt had to admit, they flocked to him like flies to an apple pie. Colt understood his appeal to the ladies. He was all cowboy: tall and trim, every muscle honed to rock hardness, and as strong as an ox with charm to match. No one worked harder than T. J., and he was never one to complain about any task. The other men teased that he was as comfortable sleeping out in the harsh elements as he was in the bunkhouse. But he was also the one cowboy who vowed he’d never settle down. “I thought you were against settling down with one woman?”

T. J. gave a loud sigh, as though Colt was trying his patience. “I’ve never exactly said I was against settling down. I reckon when a man sees something he thinks is worth havin’, he gives up on fool notions like raisin’ a ruckus until he’s Bartholomew’s age. Any man in his right mind would want to be puttin’ a ring on Miss Victoria’s finger, real quick like.”

“A ring?” Colt shouted the word.

“You’re dang right! A smart man would stake his claim, if for no other reason than to tell other hombres they shouldn’t be sniffin’ around. You can bet I would sure put my brand on her the minute she showed just a little bit of interest. I’m thirty-six years old, that’s only seven years older than you, but I sure ain’t as old as Chet was, and she was considerin’ marryin’ up with him. I’ve got a few more good years left in me than he did.” Now he was warming up to the subject, and he gave Colt that grin that the ladies were so crazy about. “Plus, I’m a whole lot better lookin’, and I know for dang sure I could show her a better time.”

Colt laughed the whole time he was pulling the buckboard in front of the house. Then he suddenly stopped. He didn’t know what he found so darn funny. It wasn’t enough that Victoria had Bandit looking at her like he thought she was better than a meaty morsel; she had Tate following her around like a love-starved puppy, and now his foreman was talking about putting a ring on her finger. If she stayed in Wyoming much longer, every man on the ranch would be fighting over her. It was hard for him to believe T. J. would consider putting a ring on any woman’s finger, much less a woman he’d met just a couple of days before. But T. J. was right about one thing: The odds of another woman coming along anytime soon who was as beautiful as Victoria was next to nil. He couldn’t deny it had been a pleasure having her at his dinner table. Over the years, he’d had dinner with women at the hotel, but he’d never invited any woman to his home. He’d never given it much thought, but now he realized what he had missed. Several times he’d found himself just watching Victoria converse with his men, enjoying the sound of her soft voice and her laughter. It reminded him of dinners with his family when his mother was alive. He’d missed the female graces over the years. The various topics at dinner were a welcome respite from the usual subjects. Even he grew weary of ranch talk at the dinner table, particularly discussing the finer points of castrating bulls.

No matter how much he enjoyed Victoria’s company, the plain truth was he didn’t want her staying in Promise. He wanted her to get back to St. Louis, where she belonged. The sooner the better. He told himself that if she stayed in Promise, he’d be beholdin’ to look after her. It was because of his friendship with Chet, he reasoned, certainly not because he might start to care about her. He wasn’t about to make that mistake. He’d had a hard enough time getting over the loss of his mother, and he wasn’t willing to let his feelings run that deep for anyone ever again. He liked his life just like it was, no strings attached. He didn’t want more responsibilities. Running the ranch and being responsible for the livelihood of the men who worked for him was enough on his plate. No sir, he wasn’t in the market for a wife, and yet he didn’t want any man in Promise having notions like T. J. was having. He was taking her to town to board that stagecoach and send her back to her boys, where she belonged. End of story.