Promises Linger (Promise Series) (49 page)

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Did they think she couldn’t figure such a thing out for herself? “I repeat, gentlemen. I am not deaf and dumb.”

Asa snagged his gun belt off the hook. “Never said you were darlin’. Just can’t see the sense in standing here chatting,” he wiped his sleeve across his cut lip, “bloodying up your nice floors.”

“And I could use a smoke.” Cougar gave his unlit cigarette a disgusted look. “Got this poor thing so soggy, it’s about useless.”

Elizabeth looked at Aaron. “Do you have an excuse?”

He merely smiled and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Yup. I’m with them.”

She sighed. As if there was any doubt.

United in their misplaced need to protect her, they left the house. She watched as they strolled purposefully to the pump. No doubt all sorts of plots were being discussed outside her earshot. She bit her lip and frowned. Asa may have been right, Jimmy might have the knowledge to hurt the ranch, but there was something about the whole set-up that didn’t ring true. Jimmy was a behind-the-back sort of snake, but he’d never struck her as a long-term thinker. He tended to act on impulse and pay the price later. In other words, all brawn and very little brain.

As soon as the thought hit her, so did an image of Brent. He’d been short on brawn, but very, very good at manipulating people. No matter how logical the men’s reasoning, she couldn’t shake her feeling that they’d misplaced their faith, putting too much emphasis on brawn when they should have been looking for brain.

With a sigh, she headed for the kitchen. They’d be back for breakfast, and, when they did, she’d bring up the subject again. As she pulled out the frying pan, she planned her arguments. Her intuition was telling her she was right and she wouldn’t give up until she made them see the possibility.

Chapter Twenty-One

She was going to kill him. Elizabeth tugged on her gloves, adjusted her bonnet, and grimaced as her corset bit into her side. Killing Asa was certainly justified for him forcing her to wear the contraption again, but, today she was going to kill Asa for slipping off the ranch and sneaking into town like a thief with Cougar and Aaron. Theirs was a partnership based on honesty. If he thought she was going to let him sully it with sly protective measures, he had another think coming.

She opened the door. Cold wind nipped her nose. She sighed, unpinned her wrap and grabbed her wool pelisse. Just as she reached to close the door, she paused and reconsidered. A woman had to be prepared. After retrieving and closing her reticule, she marched down the steps and got into the buggy. Willoughby snorted his protest at being out on a day like today.

“Take it up with Asa!” she informed him as she snapped the reins over his back. “Right now, you just get me to town.”

He plodded across the yard. She sighed. At this rate, she’d be too late for dinner, let alone to talking sense into her husband. Clint came out of the barn. He removed his hat and asked, “Heading into town now?”

“Yes, if I can get Willoughby to pick up the pace.”

His grin was a smooth motion of his lips. As free and easy as his personality. He slapped Willoughby on the haunch. “He does hate the cold.”

“He’ll have to get over it.”

“I imagine he’ll see it your way.”

She sighed. “I hope. Thanks for hitching him up.”

“No problem.” His expression became serious. His hat twirled in the lazy rhythm she associated with the man. He watched it spin. It loped through three revolutions before he said, “Boss man was kind of funny this morning. Seemed almost like he was saying his goodbyes instead of good morning. Boys and I were wondering if you planned on bringing him back with you?”

“Kicking or screaming, in one piece or four, I’m bringing him back.”

He looked up. His mouth twitched while his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but Old Sam said I was to ask if you made any promises, whether it was Miss Coyote speaking or Mrs. MacIntyre?”

She straightened her shoulders and tightened her grip on the reins. She looked up at the Guardians and let her gaze sweep across the plains. Wherever she looked, it was Coyote land. Bought with blood and sacrifice. Not the least of which was her own, but there wasn’t going to be any more sacrifice for this land. She was going to keep it, but, through brains, not sacrifice. There’d been enough of that. In her life as well as Asa’s.

As she brought her gaze back to the man before her, she identified the strange feeling she’d been trying to place for weeks. Confidence. As if waiting for her acknowledgment to take its rightful place, it sank into her bones and spread its strength through her body until it reached her voice. She smiled and looked down the road to town. “You tell Old Sam I’m going hunting and I’ll not be coming back empty-handed.”

Clint went absolutely still, another first, as he stared at her intently. “And who’d be doing the hunting, ma’am?”

“Why myself, Mr. Clint.” She snapped the reins and clucked Willoughby into motion. “Who else would you be expecting?”

He resettled his hat on his head. As she passed by, he gave her a slight smile and a nod. “I’ll be happy to pass that message along, ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

* * * * *

Her confidence lasted until she got to town and saw the crowd in front of the saloon. Then it transformed into exasperation. What had those fools done now?

She pulled the buggy up in front of the bank. Everyone was so intent on the confrontation going on, they took no notice of her. Deciding if she waited for someone to lend her a hand, she’d be frozen to the seat until spring, she gathered her skirts and hopped down from the buggy. Her right foot twisted in a frozen rut as she hit the ground. She righted herself, checked the angle of her hat and marched through the crowd in time to hear the sheriff say, “Those are mighty harsh accusations, MacIntyre. You got any proof?”

“You’ve got my word.”

That was Asa’s voice. Hard, rigid, and packed with enough conviction to set tongues wagging. A large set of shoulders in a black coat blocked her view. She jabbed the man in the back with her finger. He shifted but didn’t move.

“I’m sorry you’re not able to pull the ranch out of trouble, but I assure you, I have nothing to do with any of this.” Aaron’s voice was equally easy to recognize. It was also as confident as Asa’s.

“Uh-huh.” The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end in warning. The men had left the range as tight as coons at a garbage pile, and now Asa was tossing out those provoking
Uh-
huhs
like a man with a twelve-prong buck in his sights. What could have happened?

“Tell me, Aaron.” Asa continued. “When are you planning on driving your cattle over to the railroad?”

“You surely can’t blame me for making a profit?” Aaron asked. “The rail crew has to eat. If the Rocking C isn’t going to make the profit, I don’t see why the Bar B shouldn’t.”

“Seems funny that you’re right there ready to fill the hole.”

That low drawl belonged to McKinnely. She knew he had to be here somewhere. Had he and Asa hatched a plot against Aaron between them? She poked the man in front of her again. She might as well be poking a wall for all the attention he paid her.

“I gotta agree, Aaron,” the sheriff muttered uncomfortably. “It’s mighty convenient that MacIntyre’s been having these problems and the one picking up the profit is you.”

Elizabeth took out her hat pin and applied it to the man in front of her. On a howl, he got the point. She broke through to the center of the crowd in time to see Aaron hold his hands up in a helpless gesture.

“The Bar B is the second biggest ranch in these parts. We’ve worked closely with the Rocking C in the past. Who better to step in and fill the hole? Would you rather have an outsider profit?”

He had a point. A very, very good point.

“Elizabeth!” She winced at Asa’s bellow. As one, all eyes fell upon her.

Mustering all the calm she could manage, she re-secured her hat with the pin and gave Asa her best wifely smile. “Hello, Mr. MacIntyre.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I told you I’d be along.” She smiled at the other ladies present. “You know how men are. Always in such a rush, there’s never enough time for a woman to get herself properly together.”

Several of the ladies nodded in sympathy. A couple of the spinsters reserved their opinions. From the frowns on their faces, she suspected they’d seen her apply the hat pin to the undertaker’s posterior. Rats!

“What in the heck are you up to?” Asa asked.

He needn’t sound so suspicious, she thought. “I was just checking out the commotion.”

“Check it out from the ranch.”

She smiled at him patiently. “But then I’d miss it all.”

His response was a growl. Aaron stepped to her side protectively. “I, for one, am glad you’re here, Elizabeth. Your husband is operating under a misunderstanding.”

She looked into Aaron’s handsome face and kept her expression to simple curiosity. “He is?”

Sheriff Mulden stepped forward. He was an aging bear of a man who was shy with every woman except the Widow Foster. With her, he fought like a dog protecting the last bone on Earth. He tipped his hat. “Miss Coyote.”

“Mrs. MacIntyre,” she and Asa corrected in unison.

The poor sheriff flushed to the white of his hairline. “I’m right sorry for the mistake, Mrs. MacIntyre.”

“It’s perfectly natural, Sheriff Mulden. Mr. MacIntyre and I haven’t been married all that long.” She had to think of the scandalous things she’d done to her husband last night to create the proper maidenly blush.

“Yes, well, that’s part of the problem. Mr. Ballard is an upstanding member of the community. Mr. MacIntyre, who casts a mighty long shadow himself, is making accusations against Mr. Ballard, which are, quite frankly, hard to believe.”

“What sort of accusations?”

“Mr. MacIntyre is accusing Mr. Ballard of running the Rocking C into the ground.”

Damn. She turned to Aaron. “How did Asa come to these conclusions?”

“I assure you, I have no idea.”

She stared into his blue eyes and wanted to believe him. For all the years he’d been her only friend, for all the childhood dreams she’d attached to him, she wanted to believe what he said, but there was the twitch in his eyelid as he met her gaze. He was lying.

“I don’t understand.”

Aaron patted her hand while Asa glared daggers. “There’s no reason you should.”

Elizabeth thanked Aaron politely for his concern, then wiggled her way back into the fray with a simple, “But it appears I must if we want to resolve this unfortunate situation.”

“Yeah,” someone said from the crowd. A quick glance told her it was the undertaker, looking to get his own back for her poking him with the pin. She sighed. There were days when it didn’t pay to get out of bed.

“Let’s hear Miss Coyote’s side of this.”

“That’s Mrs. MacIntyre,” Asa corrected over her head, ignoring the undertaker. Sheriff Mulden showed no such inclination.

“Now, John,” the Sheriff counseled, “don’t go taking sides. Right now, we’ve just got us a misunderstanding.”

“There’s no misunderstanding,” Asa said, his low drawl carrying. “For the last couple of years, Aaron Ballard has been doing his level best to drive the Rocking C into the ground so he can pick up the pieces.”

Asa shifted his weight, and Elizabeth saw he had his guns unstrapped. Good God, was this a charade or wasn’t it?

“What are you saying?” she gasped, leaning against Aaron with what she hoped was proper, ladylike distress. She needed to stall until she figured this out, and playing stupid was the one gambit wide open to a lady.

“I’m saying that when a man starts taking advantage of women, rustling cattle, and poisoning wells, someone has to belly up to the bar and call a halt.”

Aaron stopped patting her hand halfway through Asa’s statement. He looked around, and donned the superiority he wore like a cloak. Elizabeth had seen him do it all his life when he wanted to gain the upper hand. It was a very impressive maneuver in a man of his stature. She was so caught up in her admiration that she almost toppled when Aaron took a step to the right.

Aaron caught her, supported her while she found her balance, and then returned to the argument. “And this is what you’re doing?” he questioned Asa. He took another step to the right, motioned to the audience surrounding them and continued, “Out here in the street? In front of the whole town? ‘Bellying up to the bar’?”

Asa showed no sign he shared Aaron’s distaste for such lack of propriety. He merely smiled, leaned back against the doorjamb, hooked one foot over the other and nodded. “Would appear so.”

Aaron turned to Elizabeth. “I’m sorry you have to suffer this public humiliation, Elizabeth.”

“She wouldn’t be suffering anything,” Asa drawled, “if she’d kept her keister where I put it.”

The crowd gasped at his disrespect. Elizabeth frowned. Did the man think to send her flouncing off in a huff? If so, he had another think coming. “Why are you doing this in the middle of town?”