Promises Kept (20 page)

Detrick was lying on the ground drenched in punch and broken glass. Colt stood over Detrick, wanting him to stand so he could beat the tar out of him. “Get up!” When Detrick didn’t move, Colt leaned over and jabbed him in the chest. “Your daughter would never find a better young man than Tate. Don’t ever let me hear you say another disparaging word about him, or call him a liar.” With that said, he stalked off through the throng of onlookers. One man slapped him on the back and commented, “Way to go, he had it coming.” Colt was heartened that the people of Promise knew what a fine boy Tate was. He couldn’t have been more proud of him. He hoped one day he had a son as fine as Tate. He’d never met anyone who didn’t speak highly of him. Until tonight. It had been a long time since he’d allowed anyone to make him so angry, but Detrick had managed to do so. He told himself that he hadn’t exactly set a good example for Tate on how to handle a dispute, but it sure did his heart good to see Detrick dripping with punch.

T. J. put his arm around Tate’s shoulders and followed Colt through the crowd.

“I’ve never seen Mr. McBride so mad,” Tate said. “He didn’t have to do that. I don’t care what her pa says.”

“Colt cares about you, and he takes care of his own. Detrick insulted you and Colt wasn’t about to let that go,” T. J. explained.

“But won’t that just cause more trouble between them?”

“That won’t matter to Colt, and Detrick had it coming.”

Chapter Nineteen

“We took care of some more cattle today,” Hoyt Nelson informed Wallace when he sat down at the poker table.

There was only one man at the table who didn’t work for Wallace, but Wallace was not pleased with Hoyt’s careless comment. “Let’s not discuss ranch business in here.”

“I was just commenting on our cattle,” Hoyt snapped. He didn’t like Wallace censuring him in front of the other men.

Picking up the cards in front of him, Wallace gave Hoyt a look that said he didn’t appreciate any comments when he gave an order. “That may be, but I learned a long time ago it’s wise to keep business private.” He threw more bills to the table, making his bet. “And when I give an order, I will not tolerate anyone ignoring it.”

The men around the table looked from Wallace to Hoyt. They didn’t think it mattered much to Hoyt what Wallace was paying him; he wasn’t a man to make angry. What they didn’t know was that Hoyt had been promised a large bonus when he completed his job, so he’d put up with Wallace to a point. Hoyt stared at Wallace, debating on how much more he would take from him.

Ignoring Hoyt, Wallace looked at the stranger across the table. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

The man glanced at Wallace and figured he was the rich boss man the cowboys had been talking about. “Gage Hardy. I’m new in town.”

Wallace nodded. “Euan Wallace. Where are you from?”

“I’ve been seeing the country,” Hardy answered noncommittally.

Wallace’s eyes didn’t leave his cards. “Planning on staying around?”

Hardy looked at him over his cards. “Why are you interested?”

Wallace raised his bet. “Thought you might want a job.”

“You hiring?” Hardy called his bet.

“Are you any good with that gun?” Wallace threw his three aces to the table.

Hardy laid down four eights. “You need to be a gunslinger to work cattle now?”

Wallace cursed at losing the hand and threw his cards facedown. “We’re having some trouble around here. I need men capable of handling a gun if necessary.”

Hardy pulled his winnings to him. “How’s the pay?”

“More than you’ll make with any other rancher.”

Hardy had listened to the conversation around the table before Wallace showed up, and he had a good idea who was behind the trouble. Since he’d found Delilah he wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon, and he wasn’t one to turn down a job that fell in his lap. “I’m good enough with a gun, I reckon, and I’ve worked cattle all my life.”

“We’ll discuss the details when you show up at the ranch in the morning. Right now, let’s play poker.”

Hardy reached for Lucy’s arm as she passed the table. “Darlin’, would you bring us another bottle?”

“When you get back, Lucy, come over here and talk to me,” Hoyt said.

Lucy stared at Hoyt. She didn’t want him using his fist on her again. “You drunk?”

“Now, why would that make a difference?”

“You get mean when you’re drunk,” Lucy replied.

Face flushed, Hoyt jumped to his feet and snaked out an arm and pulled her to him. “Look here—”

“Careful, Hoyt,” L. B. warned, moving up behind him.

Wallace looked at Hoyt, silently indicating he should take a seat. “No problems here, we just ordered another bottle.”

Hoyt’s grip tightened on Lucy’s arm. “Let’s go to the bar, honey.”

“Not now, Hoyt.” Wallace pointed to the bills stacked where Hoyt had been sitting. “Looks like you’ve been lucky and the boys want to win some of their money back.” He didn’t want Hoyt talking too much to Lucy when he was drunk.

The men at the table chorused their agreement. “Yeah, we do.”

Hoyt smiled at them. “Later.”

Wallace put his hand in his vest pocket, his fingers resting on his derringer. “I think the boys want to keep playing now.”

“Lucy, get them that bottle. It’s on the house.” L. B. pulled Lucy’s arm from Hoyt’s grip. “Mind if I sit in a few hands with you boys?”

Wallace nodded his approval. “I hope you aren’t as lucky as normal.”

L. B. chuckled, her red curls bobbing up and down. “Well now, I can’t promise that.”

Grudgingly, Hoyt took his seat, but his eyes followed Lucy as she made her way to the bar. He wondered if Wallace was intentionally trying to get under his skin. “I guess I’ll just have to show Mr. Wallace that my luck is gonna hold all night,” he boasted.

“Hoyt, I won’t have anyone beatin’ on my girls,” L. B. told him sternly. She put her hands under the table and discreetly pulled her derringer from her sleeve and aimed it directly at Hoyt’s gut.

“I was drunk, but I pay for my time. Why do you care?” That was the second time L. B. had come down on him. When his business with Wallace was finished and he got his money for doing his dirty work, he’d take care of her and Wallace. No one talked to him that way.

Lucy returned and handed the whiskey bottle to L. B. “Go on back to the bar and help Sam,” L. B. instructed. As Lucy hurried to the bar, L. B. started pouring a round for the men. She held the bottle over Hoyt’s glass, but she didn’t pour until he looked at her. “I care what happens to my gals. No one is gonna hit on them, drunk or not.” She clanked the bottle to the rim of the glass, muffling the sound as she cocked the hammer on her derringer. She wasn’t taking any chances with a man like Hoyt. She knew he was just as likely to kill a woman as a man.

Wallace had told him to stop causing trouble in the saloon, so when Hoyt glanced in his direction he wasn’t surprised to find him scowling. “I didn’t really hurt her,” he said.

L. B. filled his glass and then her own. “If you can’t handle your liquor better than that, you better give it up.” She pointed to the swinging doors and said, “Out there, you answer to God.” She then gave the table a tap. “In here, you answer to me. I’ll shoot you myself if I find out you are beating on one of my gals again.”

Leaning forward, Hoyt narrowed his eyes at her. “That sure is brave talk for a woman who doesn’t have a gun.”

“Who says I don’t have a gun,” L. B. retorted.

“That little derringer you carry in your garter doesn’t count as a real gun.”

“I guess that depends on where it’s pointed. Granted it might not kill a man, but it’ll get his attention all the same.”

Every man at the table wanted to laugh, but seeing the glower on Hoyt’s face, they thought better of it. Gage knew that Hoyt was trying to decide if L. B. was bluffing, and understandably wasn’t willing to find out. He also realized Wallace was displeased with his hired hand, and if looks could kill, Hoyt would be carrion about now. Hoyt seemed oblivious to the look on Wallace’s face, or he didn’t care. Gage figured that meant Wallace had hired him for his fast gun, and whatever job he was to perform had yet to be fulfilled.

Wanting to put an end to the tension at the table before bullets started flying, Gage threw some bills down. “Are we going to play poker or just talk about it?”

“The man’s right. Put your money on the table,” Wallace said. The men followed Wallace’s lead and started throwing bills to the center of the table. Wallace directed his gaze at Hoyt. “Hoyt, you in?”

Leaning back in his chair, Hoyt grabbed some money and added it to the pile, and glared at L. B. “This ain’t over.”

Releasing the hammer on her derringer, L. B. tucked her fingers in her bodice and pulled out a wad of money. “Look at it this way, Hoyt. You get to keep your . . . dignity, and play poker.” She waited a beat before she added, “Today.”

Two hours later, Hoyt had managed to lose all his winnings and more. His mood hadn’t improved with liquor. “I don’t have much left, so I guess I’ll go find Lucy.”

Seeing how much whiskey he had consumed, L. B. was about to tell him to leave, but Wallace beat her to it.

“Not tonight, Hoyt. You’ve had too much.” Wallace pocketed his money and stood. “Time to go to the ranch.”

Staggering to his feet, Hoyt pushed his chair back. “I ain’t that drunk.” He rubbed his bleary eyes, trying to focus on Wallace. He blinked, but he kept seeing three men that looked like Wallace. “I ain’t ready to leave.”

“That’s the advantage of being the man who pays the wages. It doesn’t matter what you want.” Wallace glanced at the other men at the table. “Take him to the ranch where he can sleep it off.”

The men rose and gave each other a look that said this was one order they didn’t relish carrying out. They’d seen Hoyt draw and he was fast, real fast. He could easily outdraw them.

“Get him out of here,” Wallace commanded again.

The two cowboys rushed Hoyt, pinning his arms to his sides, and carried him from the saloon.

“Do they always do what you tell them?” Hardy cut in.

Wallace gave Hardy a firm look. “They’d better. Now you come see me in the morning.” He grabbed the bottle from the table and headed toward the bar.

Chapter Twenty

“I’d say there’s near fifty head missing.” T. J. had met Colt at the house to give him the tally on the cattle lost. “Rustlers.”

Colt strapped on his gun belt and grabbed his rifle resting by the front door. “Round up a couple more men. We’re going to pay a visit to those squatters on the west side. They might not be responsible, but I bet they know who is behind this. Bring what we need to burn down that cabin.”

T. J. had seen that look on Colt’s face before, and it didn’t bode well for the people on the receiving end of his anger. “If they hadn’t had that woman and those two kids with them, I would have burned them out yesterday,” T. J. replied.

“If they’re not gone by the time we get there, it won’t matter to me who’s there. I’ve had enough.” Colt stalked toward the barn to saddle his horse. It had been over two weeks since he last saw Wallace at the picnic, and every day since he’d been met with more problems. His losses were mounting, and he wasn’t any closer to a solution. His men were exhausted from pulling extra duty patrolling the ranch all night for months. He needed to hire on more men, but he couldn’t find anyone who wasn’t already working for Wallace. Hearing the count of his losses this morning was the last straw. He was determined to put a stop to this, one way or the other. He’d danced around the situation long enough, trying to avoid a range war. But if a range war was imminent, then so be it. He was going to do everything in his power to protect what was his. If Wallace thought he was the only one who could play rough, Colt was going to show him, the hard way, how wrong he was.

Walking from the cabin, T. J. mounted his horse. “Looks like they’ve pulled up stakes.”

Colt studied the fresh hoofprints around the cabin. “Burn the place down.”

“I doubt they will be back,” T. J. said.

“We don’t have enough men to watch every acre, and I don’t want anyone else coming along behind them. Burn it down.” He watched as the men threw kerosene around the cabin and set the fire. “T. J., the men can handle this. Let’s follow these tracks to make sure they’re off McBride land.”

While following the trail of the squatters, Colt’s mind wandered in several directions. There was no question Wallace was behind all the trouble, even if some people might disagree with him. Like Victoria. It puzzled him why she trusted the man.
So much for female intuition.
He’d even considered that she might be developing feelings for Wallace since she had attended the dance with him. He hadn’t seen her since that night, but he’d sent Tate over to her house several times to see if there was anything she needed, and he still had two men watching the place at night. Bartholomew made a point of stopping by the ranch to let him know Wallace had been visiting Victoria frequently, hinting that he was still courting her. Colt felt he was also indirectly suggesting he needed to do something about that. The way he saw it, Victoria was old enough to make her own decisions, and she was making them. The last time Bartholomew was over, he mentioned that Mrs. Wellington and the boys were due to arrive any day.

He told himself he hadn’t intentionally avoided Victoria; his schedule at the ranch was demanding. There were barely enough hours in the day for him to sleep, so he certainly didn’t have time for social calls. He hadn’t even had time to go to town to see Maddie, and that was where he needed to go if he had free time. He wasn’t inclined to waste time with a woman he had no intention of marrying. Sure as shootin’, Victoria was the kind of woman a man would have to marry. If he got involved with her he’d be saddled with even more responsibility in the form of two growing boys. He’d been so busy he didn’t even know what day it was. He looked over at T. J. “What day is it?”

Laughing, T. J. said, “Saturday.”

“Huh.”
Saturday
. What was it about Saturday? Seems like he remembered something was going to happen on Saturday.
Oh yeah
. Bartholomew mentioned Victoria was having dinner at Wallace’s ranch tonight. Did Bartholomew say he was having dinner with them? He tried to recall the conversation, but he’d been so preoccupied at the time he was only half listening to him.