Saving Cole Turner (3 page)

Focusing on the sway of Polly’s hips, Cole called for another glass.

The barkeep promptly obliged just as Charlie Pritchard ambled up.

“Cole,” Charlie said as his gaze followed Polly.

“Whiskey?” Cole poured, knowing the answer before the man spoke.

“Ain’t you going to join me?” The old codger wiped his sweaty brow with the sleeve of his faded plaid shirt and reached for the full shot glass. He stared at Cole as if he was trying to guess the answer to some riddle.

Cole smiled. Charlie no doubt remembered his old man. “One’s my limit.”

Charlie downed the liquid refreshment. “Not mine,” he said as he thumped the empty glass on the counter.

Cole refilled Charlie’s glass as the piano player started up another tune.

“So you thinking of taking up ranching?” Charlie wrapped his fingers around the glass but didn’t pick it up.

“Thinking.” Cole scratched the stubble on his own face, wondering how much to trust the old man.

“Matt Tyler’s made me a good offer.”

“So I heard. Also heard you haven’t accepted.”

Charlie shrugged. “Maybe I don’t like selling to a man who tried to cheat me out of my water rights when he staked claim to his land.”

Cole knew Tyler’s reputation for honest dealing wasn’t the best, but someone was rustling the man’s cattle. Someone smart. Cole hadn’t needed much more incentive to pick up some extra money.

“You any closer to finding those rustlers? You know I’ve lost some of my beeves.” Charlie growled, flapping his sagging jowls. “I just wish people would agree to take what’s coming to them and no more. Whole world would run smoother.”

There was a lot of wisdom in what Charlie said.

“I’m closing in.” Cole was more than closing in. He knew where the rustlers were. Tomorrow he expected to catch them with the cattle and then he’d be moving on. What he was doing talking to Charlie Pritchard about buying the man’s ranch was beyond him. But something was pushing him to at least explore the idea, see if his dream was even possible. Something in a pretty blue dress.

“You got a price in mind?” Cole asked.

“Well, I’ve got Tyler’s offer. You come in higher, I’ll sell it to you.”

“And if Tyler matched or upped my bid?” Cole had no desire to get in a bidding war with a rancher who had a bigger bank account than his. That was a good way to overpay and sink in the process.

“I just want a fair price. So I’ll tell you what, you come in at the price I name and I swear on my mother’s grave—God rest her soul—I’ll sell it to you even if Tyler doubles the price.” Charlie finished his whiskey in one gulp.

“Why?” Cole didn’t believe people did the unexpected without a reason.

Charlie’s watery brown eyes peered at him through narrowed slits. “I don’t like Tyler. Or Flanders for that matter. Too big for their britches. Look down their noses at smaller ranchers like me. And I liked your mama. Wished I could have done something.” He stared at his empty glass. “Back then…well, wasn’t easy for another man to interfere between a husband and wife.”

No one had done anything to help his mother. Or him. Cole was surprised at the slow burn of anger that still filled him at the recollection. He’d never forget no matter how hard he tried. “How much?”

Charlie named his price. Cole absorbed the number. He could run cattle, but the first years would surely be lean ones while he built up the herd. And if he wanted to breed horses, it would take everything he had by the time he paid for the land, a good stallion, and a mare or two, and much longer to turn any sort of profit. “When do I have to let you know?”

“Beginning of next week. No later.” Charlie stared. “You serious or just dreaming?”

Cole shrugged. “I don’t know.”

And that was the God’s honest truth.

Chapter 4

Kate felt like she had one leg in a bear trap as she gazed across the table at the dandified Jake Parrish her father had invited for dinner. Jake was the last person she wanted to deal with today, but it seemed her father was throwing him her way any chance he got.

“I wish we could bring back the Donation Land Law,” Jake was saying as he finished his last bite of beef stew. “It’s very hard for a man to make his way now if he wants to run cattle.”

“There is still the Homestead Act,” said her father.

“Yes, but the act’s pitiful number of acres isn’t enough to for a decent herd. I’d have to graze my beeves on federal land without benefit of ownership.”

“You can buy land. I hear Charlie Pritchard is selling out.”

“And Charlie wants a princely sum. But since he’s falling on hard times what with the rustling going on, maybe he’ll come down in his offer.” Jake swiped his mouth with the napkin, almost hiding the smile on his lips.

“Unlikely. I hear Matt Tyler has made an offer.” Her father snagged a potato from the now half-filled platter of stew.

Jakes pupils seemed to darken in the dim light. “You don’t say. Well, Matt’s been losing a lot of cattle lately, too. And I don’t expect that outlaw he’s hired to catch the rustlers has the brains to do the job. So Matt might not be able to afford Pritchard’s land when all is said and done.” He nodded. “It’s just a pity all that federal land is lying fallow while a fellow can only get a hundred and sixty acres of it. ‘Course, a married man can get more. And even then some, depending on who he marries.” His expression as he looked at her reminded her of a panther eyeing its prey. A shiver climbed her back before he returned his attention to her father.

While the two men debated the finer points of federal land use, she took the opportunity to study the man her father had deemed so worthy of her hand. Lizzie and several other women would have said Jake was handsome. He had the right ingredients: wavy black hair, a well-groomed mustache and beard that hid the curl of his lips when he was angry, prominent cheekbones, and a well-formed nose. But it was his eyes, dark and cold, that gave him a calculating look.

Suave
is what Lizzie would have called him.
Slithery
would have been Kate’s description. He was all veneer as far as she was concerned. The big question was what did that veneer cover?

Jake was smart. Kate would give him that, considering he’d risen from nothing to a place where he commanded respect. But to her mind, he used his intelligence as a weapon to manipulate people. He’d call them suckers or fools when he succeeded in getting the best of a deal, and blamed them for having too trusting a nature when they complained. He’d acquired land rights based on other people’s misfortune that had left a sour taste in her mouth. Everyone else, including her father, praised him for having shrewd business skills. That her father wanted her to marry such a moral chameleon had caused more than its share of tension between them. Now that Cole was back, the tension was even stronger.

“I’m afraid we are boring you, Kate.” Jake’s voice was smooth as liquid silver.

“Quite the contrary. I am interested in politics, Mr. Parrish. I’m particularly interested in learning when one of your colleagues will again put forth a bill on the right of women to vote. And why, when you had the opportunity last October, you put saloon interests above basic human rights for half the population.”

Parrish visibly blanched. Clearly not the topic he was expecting. Good.

“As I’ve explained before, Kate,” he said, having recovered his equilibrium with a hard swallow, “we decided to wait until the federal government acts. Then we will comply.”

“And the saloon interests?”

He leaned his body, decked out in a tailored suit with a flowery embroidered vest, against the slats of the dining room chair, rested one hand upon the table, and sighed as if he was tired of explaining something complex to a schoolchild. She wasn’t a schoolchild. And this wasn’t complicated.

“I never said I was worried about the saloon interests. I said that I feared that once women got the right to vote they would try to push through an agenda that would fundamentally change our way of life.”

“Like closing down saloons?”

He drummed the table as he studied her. “That could be one consequence, but hardly the only one.”

“Did you ever think that, instead, women might petition to be allowed into saloons that have tried to bar them?”

“Kate, that’s enough.” Her father frowned in disapproval. “No self-respecting woman would want to go into a saloon and you know it.”

“And self-respecting men?”

“Enough, I said.” Her father’s tone brooked no argument.

Jake eased closer to the table, resting both elbows on it as he stared her down, as if trying to bring her to heel. “I promise that if a bill on women’s rights comes up again, I will consult you on it before I take the vote.” He watched her from under heavy lids, a smile slipping over his lips. “Now, would you like to go for a walk?”

“No thank you, Mr. Parrish. As part of the womenfolk in this house, I must help clean up after our dinner.”

Jake looked at her father as if expecting him to intercede. Though there was a frown of disapproval on his face, Will Flanders did not say a word in response.

“Then I best be taking my leave,” Jake said somewhat reluctantly. “There is always business to attend to when you’re a member of the Territorial Legislature.” She could have sworn he puffed out his chest.

With that, he rose. Kate and her father joined him. She just wanted him gone. Out of her life, out of her way. There was something about him that made her stomach turn.

He plopped his hat onto his head and tipped the brim. “I look forward to hearing your thoughts, Kate.
All
of them.”

She stood still as her father accompanied Jake to the door. Only when she heard the door shut did she allow herself to relax. There was just something about that man that made her blood run cold. But why? That was a question she hadn’t been able to answer.

She was stacking up the dishes to be cleared from the long, linen-clad table when her father walked back into the dining room.

“Let Mary finish up. I want to talk to you,” he said in a gruff voice looking like he’d just been bit by a rattler.

William Flanders had been a good father to her when she was in pig-tails, but once she had grown into womanhood, he’d changed. When she’d been younger, he’d allowed her to run free, ride astride, and hang out with the ranch hands. He’d taught her to shoot, and had encouraged her to learn to take care of herself. He’d been proud of her abilities, whether it was handling a gun, cutting a herd, or taking first in her math exams. But that all changed about five years ago, right after Cole Turner left, and she was sure the timing wasn’t a coincidence.

Suddenly he’d bought her a side-saddle, insisted she wear dresses instead of denims, and demanded she spend her time with Mary learning to cook. With Cole having just left her, her father’s behavior had felt like another kind of abandonment. They’d grown apart, and it seemed as if they couldn’t get along peaceably for more than a few minutes before arguing about something.

She wanted her old father back, but he didn’t seem to want his old daughter and she just couldn’t become the lady he wanted her to be. She certainly didn’t appreciate the men he pushed at her—men who saw her as a road to wealth that would feed their own ambitions. Men like Jake Parrish.

“I don’t have much more to do,” Kate said, not daring to look at her father as she picked up the bowl of half-finished stew.

“Leave it. I want to talk to you.” Her father walked out of the room, apparently expecting her to follow. There was a large part of Kate that wanted to finish her task just to show him he couldn’t order her around. But the plain fact was that he
could
order her around. And if her plan was going to work, she needed this talk. His ordering her around was not the battle to fight right now.

When Kate walked into her father’s study she was surprised to see him by the fireplace instead of behind the desk that took up half the room. He was a big man and his presence filled the small study. Though stocky in build, the result of enjoying too much of Mary’s cooking, he was solid like the side of a mountain. Her father worked the ranch right along with the cowhands. He wasn’t the kind of man to let others work while he sat around. He also wasn’t the kind of man to trust others to do the job the way he wanted it done without being there to ensure it.

His auburn hair had grayed in the ten years since her mother had died, but he was still considered a catch by the widows of Three Bridges. The new owner of the town’s hotel, Adele Jones, was his latest lady friend. He’d had a few over the years, but none that he’d ever brought home to meet his daughter. She had to learn about his “friendships” from the town gossip vine just like everyone else.

“Sit down, Kitten,” he said, motioning toward a chair by the fireplace. Kitten had been his nickname for her when she’d been younger, but he hadn’t used it in a long while.

With her meal roiling in her stomach, Kate sat and focused on her father, expecting the worst.

“I’m not going to say more than this about your rudeness to our guest, a man that has made no secret of his fondness for you. If you don’t care for the man, so be it. But in my house you will respect my guests, Kate.” His tone was terse, his words clipped.

She held herself still, except for the short nod signaling her acceptance. Maybe her father would finally give up on Jake Parrish as a son-in-law. She could only hope.

“There is a more serious matter that has come to my attention.”

If Kate guessed correctly, Mary had already sat in this same chair sometime today. Her father’s next words confirmed her suspicion.

“Mary tells me you’ve been sneaking out to meet Cole Turner.”

Kate lifted up her chin and stared into a pair of furious eyes.

“I haven’t been sneaking out. We’ve been meeting. I see him when I go riding and he takes a break from looking for Tyler’s rustlers.”

Her father’s eyes darkened to the color of black coffee causing her stomach to churn in anticipation of the explosion sure to come.