Promises Kept (21 page)

“I thought about going to town tonight,” T. J. said.

Colt eyed T. J.’s dust-covered face. He had dark circles rimming his eyes and at least a week’s worth of beard. He wondered if he looked as bad as his foreman. “You look like you’ve been on the range for a week. How are you going to find the energy?”

“You plain hurt my feelings. You’re not exactly lookin’ your Sunday best,” T. J. teasingly replied. He nudged his horse into a gallop and yelled over his shoulder, “Besides, I always have enough energy for the ladies. I can rest when I’m six feet under. I might even keep Maddie company tonight since you’ve given her up.”

There was a time T. J.’s crack about Maddie would have rankled him. Right now, he was curious why he didn’t give it a second thought. He didn’t even bother to push Razor to catch up to T. J.

“Your home is lovely,” Victoria said to Wallace as she and Bartholomew followed him into the dining room.

It wasn’t high on Bartholomew’s list to join them for dinner, but Victoria didn’t want to go without him. He’d told Colt about the dinner, hoping he might find a way to intervene, or at least put a wrinkle in Wallace’s plans, but no such luck. Colt was too busy with all the mischief going on around his ranch. Wallace was up to something, and he didn’t have to be a genius to know what that was. Not taking anything away from Victoria, but he didn’t doubt Wallace’s interest in her was more about her land than her. Victoria ignored his warnings about Wallace, but he figured he’d just bide his time. Wallace was sure to show his darker side, sooner or later. He was praying for sooner.

Once they were seated at the table, Wallace placed his palm over Victoria’s hand and squeezed. “It’s lovely to have you at my table.”

Sitting across the table from Victoria, Bartholomew rolled his eyes.

Two Mexican women carrying platters of food walked into the dining room. “I hope you like Mexican fare, my dear.” He pointed a finger at the older woman. “That’s the only decent food she can prepare. It’s been my misfortune to have hired two women that can’t seem to learn how to cook true English fare, or become skilled at the English language.”

Victoria’s eyes darted to the women placing the platters on the table. From the look on the older woman’s face, she felt certain she understood Wallace’s cruel words. Taken aback that he would be so unkind, she jerked her hand away. “Actually, I’ve never been particularly fond of English food.” She gave the Mexican woman a smile. “I must say that this dinner looks absolutely delicious.”

Bartholomew chuckled to himself. He couldn’t have been prouder of Victoria if she had been his own daughter. “It sure smells delicious too,” he chimed in.

The younger Mexican girl placed a platter near Wallace’s elbow, and as he lifted his hand to pick up the plate, the girl flinched as if she expected him to hit her. Wallace waved her away and handed the plate to Victoria.

Victoria saw the frightened look on the girl’s face, and glanced Bartholomew’s way to see if he noticed. She could tell by his expression that he did.

Wallace continued talking, unaware of their questioning glances. “I lived in Texas for a few years and had my share of Mexican food there. When I moved to Abilene, I found a woman that could cook anything I desired,” Wallace told them.

“You lived in Abilene?” Victoria almost choked on her food when he mentioned Abilene. She had thought he looked familiar when she first met him, but she couldn’t recall ever seeing him in Abilene.

“I spent a few years there,” Wallace replied. “Have you been to Abilene?”

Keeping her eyes on her plate, Victoria stammered, “Ah . . . no, but I’ve heard about the town.” More lies. Would she ever be able to tell the truth to anyone?

Wallace reached over and patted her hand. “I thought not. It’s no place for a lady like you. It’s a rough, uncivilized cow town.”

“That was wonderful food,” Victoria said to Bartholomew once they were away from Wallace’s ranch.

“Yes, ma’am, it was. Wallace should be grateful he has such a fine cook.”

Victoria thought about Wallace’s comment to the Mexican women. “Do you think those women understood what he said?”

“They surely did. They don’t like him, so they don’t want him to know they understand him.”

It was the first time Victoria had seen a different side to Wallace. Perhaps she was making too much of his unkind words to the women, but it bothered her all the same. What if Mr. McBride was right and Wallace wasn’t all he appeared to be on the surface? Seeing the younger girl flinch when Wallace raised his hand made her question if he was all he professed. She’d seen women at the saloon in Abilene react the same way after years of being smacked around by men. Yet it probably wasn’t fair of her to jump to the conclusion that it was Wallace who hit the girl. It could have been another man.

Preoccupied with her thoughts, Victoria didn’t notice the two men on horseback riding toward them until she saw Bartholomew pull his shotgun onto his lap. When the men drew near, she recognized one of them. Gage Hardy. Slowing his horse to a trot, Hardy tipped his hat to Victoria as he passed the buckboard. Ignoring him, Victoria gazed at the other man, and judging by the insolent grin on his face, she figured Hardy had told him about her.

Snapping the reins, Bartholomew urged the horses to a faster pace. “Do you know that cowboy that tipped his hat?”

Victoria turned and looked over her shoulder to make sure they didn’t turn around and follow the buckboard. “He thinks he knows me, but he has me confused with someone else.”

“I don’t know him, but that other fellow is a gunslinger by the name of Hoyt Nelson. He works for Wallace. You be sure to stay away from them.”

Wanting time to think, not to mention question his own sanity, Colt held Razor to a slow pace. If his life depended on it, he couldn’t figure out why he was out here on the trail at this late hour, going visiting instead of getting some much needed rest. He’d slept out on the range more than he had in his own bed for the last two weeks. But asleep or awake, Victoria continued to plague his thoughts. No matter how busy he was, he couldn’t stop thinking about her . . . and Wallace.

He was so deep in thought that he was scarcely aware of his surroundings and didn’t hear the sound that caught his horse’s attention. It wasn’t until Razor came to a complete stop that Colt realized he was near Victoria’s farm. Razor turned his head toward the trees and when his ears flicked forward, Colt knew something was amiss. Attuned to Razor’s habits, Colt snapped his head around in the same direction as that of his horse. He placed his hand on Razor’s neck and gave him a pat to let him know he had his attention. Both were motionless as they listened. Colt scanned the darkness around them. From the trees a few yards away he heard a horse whinny. Quietly, he slipped from the saddle and led Razor to the brush. When the moon peeked from behind a cloud he caught a glimpse of the horse tied to a tree. Pulling his pistol, he moved slowly in the direction of the animal. Drawing closer, he recognized the horse as one he had seen in front of the saloon the last time he was in town. There weren’t many horses that he couldn’t place with their owners. He thought of the men he’d seen in the saloon that night. Then it clicked. Gage Hardy. After checking the horse and finding him sound, he searched the area for the rider. No one was about, and Colt knew the horse had intentionally been left out of view from Victoria’s house. He couldn’t think of a good reason Hardy would be snooping around Victoria’s house in the dark.

Moving Razor a safe distance away, he tied him out of sight. Pulling his rifle from the boot, he took off at a run toward the house. He stopped in the shadows of the barn and scanned the property for any movement. It was dark and quiet. Too quiet. But he had the feeling he was being watched. What about Bandit? Why wasn’t he barking? The last time he’d ridden over, he’d heard Bandit long before the house came into view. Maybe Victoria and Bartholomew hadn’t arrived back from Wallace’s house and Bandit was with them. It occurred to him that Hardy could be inside in the dark, waiting on Victoria.

Out of habit he checked the load in his pistol before he opened the latch on the barn door. Nosing the door open with the barrel of his rifle, he listened before moving. Hearing nothing except the usual sounds of horses in their stalls, he slipped inside. Spotting the buckboard, he knew Victoria was home. He didn’t like the look of this. It made the hairs on his neck stand up, but he refused to allow his mind to go to the worst possible scenario. He prayed to God that Hardy wasn’t inside the house waiting for her when she arrived.

Exiting the barn, he once again scanned the perimeter of the house. There wasn’t a sound, nor a single light from the house. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he caught a glimpse of something white just a few yards from the front of the house. His eyes remained fixed on the spot, hoping to catch a flash of it again. Nothing.
What was it? The handle of a pistol? Maybe.
The night he played poker with Hardy he’d noticed his pearl-handled pistol. Hoyt Nelson’s pistol also had a pearl handle. That was one of the reasons gunslingers usually ended up six feet under; they allowed vanity to get in the way of good sense.

In a crouch, he quietly ran to the side of the house. Ignoring his desire to rush in, he forced himself to remain patient. Inching his way slowly to the back of the house, he prayed the moon stayed behind the clouds a little longer. He waited and listened. Silence. Stepping quietly onto the back porch, he peered through the corner of the window. Nothing but darkness. He squatted beside the window as he contemplated crashing through the back door. That’s when he heard a low growl. He peeked through the window again, but this time he made out two figures crouched by the stove. Victoria and Bandit. She was holding his muzzle to keep him from barking. He didn’t know if they could see better than he could, but he hoped Bandit would know his voice. He moved to the door and softly called the dog’s name. Within seconds he heard Bandit’s nails scraping the wooden floor as he ran to the door. Suddenly the door swung open and Victoria and Bandit tumbled into his arms. Victoria was clutching the useless derringer in her shaking hand.

“Why did you open the door?” Colt whispered as he half carried the woman and dog back inside.

“I knew it was you from the way Bandit was acting,” she responded softly.

“What happened?” He pulled the derringer from her fingers.

“Not long after we arrived home, Bandit started barking and jumping at the front door. I thought I saw someone at the front window, and I was afraid to open the door. It was his mean bark, so I blew out the lamp and pulled him in here to hide.”

“His
mean
bark?” Colt didn’t know what she was talking about.

“He barks one way at you, but another way when it is a stranger,” she explained. She had first learned the difference in Bandit’s bark when Wallace called on her.

Her words tumbled out of her mouth so rapidly that Colt knew she was scared to death, even if he couldn’t see the fear in her eyes. “I think Gage Hardy is around here. At least, I think it’s his horse tied up in the trees.” He had the feeling she wasn’t at all surprised that it might be Hardy snooping around.

“We passed him and another man on the way back from dinner.”

Seeing her alone with Bartholomew, Colt figured Hardy thought it was an opportune time to follow her home. “You and Bandit stay put. I’ll go have a look around.”

She grabbed his forearm with a grip more forceful than he would have given her credit. “No, please don’t leave. He’s dangerous.”

He stared at her a long minute, wondering if she had just told him more than she intended. He tucked her derringer in his belt and pulled his pistol from his holster. “Take this. If you shoot someone with that pea shooter it will just make them mad. This one makes a bigger hole.” She took the pistol and gripped it with both hands.

“I’ll be back,” he said, slipping out the door. Hoping to calm her fears, he turned to her and whispered in her ear, “Don’t shoot me by mistake.”

As if.
She wasn’t even sure she knew how to use the pistol. If she was forced to shoot, she probably couldn’t hit the broad side of the barn, she was shaking so badly. Shutting the door behind him, she leaned against it and held the pistol with both hands. It was much heavier than the derringer. Did she need to cock it before she pulled the trigger? She clutched it to her chest, hoping she wouldn’t have to figure it out.

Circling back around to the front of the house, Colt stopped at the porch when he heard a noise coming from the direction of Hardy’s horse. He checked the barn one more time before he headed back to where he’d left Razor. Hardy’s horse was gone, so he rode back to Victoria’s house.

Two hours later Colt was riding back to his ranch after fetching Bartholomew. He ignored Victoria’s protests when he told Bartholomew to stay with her. From now on he’d have one man bunk in her barn at night, but Bartholomew was going to be inside the house with her. He hated to leave them alone, but he needed to get back to the ranch to relieve some of his men. He couldn’t expect his men to pull double duty if he wasn’t willing to do the same thing. And he couldn’t afford anymore dead or rustled cattle. Somehow he would make it work until Victoria’s kids arrived with Mrs. Wellington. He hoped once there were more people around the farm, Hardy wouldn’t be tempted to harass her.

Chapter Twenty-One

Victoria spotted two blond heads popping out the side windows of the stagecoach before it came to a halt. Once the boys saw her, four arms were hanging out the window waving. Before the driver set the brake, the boys jumped from the coach and hurled themselves into her outstretched arms. Bartholomew assisted Mrs. Wellington from the coach, and introduced himself to her. When the boys finally released Victoria, she hugged Mrs. Wellington. She expected Mrs. Wellington to be worn out from the journey, but in truth, she had never seen the older woman looking so vibrant.