This Calder Range (39 page)

But the turn of events had stimulated her mind. It seemed much less imperative that the party resume its journey. So she returned to her own private tent and dismissed her maid. Merely as a mental exercise, she began imagining what she would do with a ranch in Montana—where and how money could be made. Most of the beef was sold for shipment to Eastern cattle markets, which put the rancher at the mercy of their prices. How could that be controlled? A rancher could sell directly to the U.S. government.

However, Canada was much closer—and they were building a railroad across the Rockies, she recalled, plus the outposts for the Mounted Police, and all those Indians on reservations to be fed. There was the vague memory of a poor relation working for the Canadian government, a second or third cousin of her late husband, the Earl of Crawford. She had met him briefly on that last, ill-fated tour through the West. He had tried to borrow money. Roddy—no, Roger Dunshill, that was his name. He worked as a purchasing agent.

Elaine laughed at herself. If Judd Boston only knew it, his new partner had valuable connections as well, but she had no intention of bringing the information to
the duke's attention. Why should she make him a fortune? Eventually someone would see the market for cattle in Canada. It was a pity she wouldn't share in the killing that could be made.

Trying to fund two operations had stretched Judd Boston's resources thin. With the unlimited letter of credit signed by the Duke of Middleton and bearing his seal, he had all the money he needed. The partnership agreement didn't concern Boston at all. There were too many legal ways to drain away funds to be bothered about splitting profits.

Patience. It was only a matter of patience, and he'd eventually get everything he wanted. Including those three claims Calder had filed on. The man was so busy building his new mansion, he had forgotten to make the necessary improvements to retain his legal right to the claims.

Aromatic smells were coming from the cooking area, prompting Boston to take out his vest watch and check the time. In another twenty minutes it would be proper for him to present himself at the duke's tent, so he continued to wander among the wagons in no particular hurry while the sun went down behind him in a blaze of glory. He heard the sound of a carriage approaching the camp and turned to see Bull Giles driving a team of matched sorrels.

Boston waited until the carriage had stopped and the big man had vaulted to the ground before walking over to meet him. Two of the horse handlers came forward to take care of the team. Bull Giles paused to inspect the carriage wheels.

“You here again?” Bull remarked dryly when Boston came up beside him.

“I told you I'd make it worth your while if you kept the duke and his friends in the area for a couple of weeks.” He lifted a bag of coins from his pocket and dropped it into Giles's hand.

There was a weighing gesture of the hand before he
slipped it into a pocket. “It just worked out that way,” Giles insisted.

“To the mutual benefit of both of us,” Boston murmured, and studied the man for a long second. “I don't understand you.” Usually he could read any man, but Bull Giles didn't follow any accepted pattern.

“Is there any reason why you should?” the man asked with a trace of derision.

“No, I don't suppose there is,” Boston admitted with a narrowed look. “But you were here before most of the others. You knew the potential of this country. You could have done the same thing Calder did. Today you could be building a big house just like he is. You have the knowledge and the ability, but you don't use it. Why?”

Bull shrugged indifferently. “I reckon I don't have your kind of ambition—or greed.”

“Every man wants something.” Boston wouldn't buy that. “What do you want?”

“To be left alone.” Bull cast him an impatient glance.

“What's keeping you here?” Boston answered. “You usually drift on to another place.” His head lifted as he recalled a remark Loman Janes had made. At the time, it hadn't held any interest for him. “It wouldn't happen to be Benteen Calder's wife, would it?”

There was the slightest pause before Giles challenged, “What would I want with another man's wife?”

But Judd Boston just smiled, his black eyes darkening with a knowing light. “I guess range accidents happen. Young wives can turn into young widows quick out here. Maybe that's it,” he mused. “Or are you trying to get up the courage to arrange for Calder to meet with an accident?”

“I never did like you much, Boston,” Bull growled.

“Let somebody else do all the work, and you step into his shoes—and his bed. Not a bad plan, Giles,” Boston conceded.

“I never said nothin' of the sort,” he denied.

“But you're thinking it.” His smile widened. “It could work.”

“You've got an ugly mind.” Bull swung away.

But it gave Judd Boston something to think about. Maybe it could be worked to his advantage, provided Giles did more than just think about it. Women did funny things to men, corrupting some who believed they were honest. It would be interesting to see what happened.

As Bull Giles entered the camp proper, he was seething with rage. He knew Judd Boston looked on the Calder range with envy. There was none better around. But the attempt to use him as a pawn to get Calder out of the picture struck him raw. It was true that he had thought about what would happen to Lorna if Benteen was killed or crippled, but it had only been out of concern for her. It hadn't been a death wish for Benteen.

A woman like her wouldn't look twice at a man like him. His steps began to slow as a painful tightness gripped his chest, twisting him up with the deep emotions the thought of her dragged from him. She was so beautiful with those dark eyes and hair as sleek and shiny as those thoroughbreds grazing out there. She had called him friend. That meant something, didn't it? She must like him. A groan tore from his throat.

He looked around to see if anyone heard that betrayal. Lady Crawford was just stepping out of her tent. With his memory of the meeting with Lorna so vivid in his mind, he immediately recalled that she had said she had met Lady Crawford before. He had promised to mention it to the woman.

Removing his hat, he stepped forward to intercept her. “Excuse me, your ladyship.” He bowed slightly.

“Yes? What is it?” she prompted him to state his reason for stopping her, all regal and haughty.

“By chance, would you have been in Dodge City three years ago?” he asked.

An eyebrow lifted in quizzical surprise. “I was, yes, with my late husband.”

“Perhaps you might recall speaking to a young woman and giving her a bottle of lotion for her skin,” Bull suggested.

Her interest became genuine and sharply curious. “I do remember the incident. May I ask how you learned of it?”

“I spoke to the young woman, Mrs. Calder, this afternoon while I was getting the carriage fixed. She was most grateful for your kindness to her.”

“Mrs. Calder, yes, that was her name.” She nodded, as if his mention of it had prompted her memory. “And she lives around here? What a coincidence!”

“Her husband owns one of the neighboring ranches,” he confirmed.

Lady Crawford was quiet for a thoughtful moment. “Perhaps I could call on her,” she mused aloud, then glanced at Bull. “Do you think she would mind?”

“I think she would be very pleased.” He smiled at how pleased Lorna would be to see the woman again.

“It wouldn't be correct to arrive unannounced. Would you ride over to her ranch tomorrow and ask if I might call on her the day after?” she asked.

“I would be more than happy to do that for you,” Bull assured her.

“And I will require that you escort me to her ranch the following day. I'll arrange it with the duke,” she stated.

“Very good.” He made another slight bow as she moved away.

With all the noise that went on at the building site, Lorna didn't pay any attention when she heard the rumble of a wagon outside their cabin. Webb came racing into the house and charged straight at her. Lorna grabbed the hot iron an instant before he bumped the board.

“Mommy, it's Aunt Mary!” he exclaimed breathlessly. “She's come to see us!”

Lorna forgot all about scolding him as she set the iron back on the stove and walked quickly to the door. Webb wasn't mistaken. Mary and Ely both were both approaching the cabin.

“Webb said you were outside,” Lorna declared in surprise. “Why didn't you let me know you were coming? I could have baked a pie.”

“There just wasn't time,” Mary said, then looked at Ely. Both of them were wearing a smile that went from ear to ear. Lorna had the feeling that they were a young couple falling in love.

“Wasn't time?” she repeated, thoroughly confused by their behavior.

When Mary looked back at her, there was a misting of tears in her eyes. “We're going to have a baby, Lorna,” she announced.

“You are!” Lorna was shocked and happy, both at the same time.

“Yes.” Her chin bobbed up and down excitedly. “Isn't it wonderful? After all this time, we're finally going to have a baby.”

“It's more than wonderful!” The next second she was hugging her friend as they cried and laughed together.

“I just couldn't wait a minute more without telling you,” Mary said when she drew back to catch her breath. “Ely was worried about me riding all this way in the wagon, but I knew I'd bust if I couldn't tell you in person. We've waited so long.”

“I'm so happy for you.” Lorna wiped at the tears on her cheek, then reached over to squeeze Ely's hand. “I'm so happy for both of you.”

She heard the cantering of hooves and looked up to see Benteen riding in. Lifting her arm, she waved excitedly to him. He spied Ely and reined his horse toward the cabin. She barely gave him a chance to dismount before she was telling him the news. When
the congratulations died down a second time, Lorna suggested they all come into the cabin for coffee.

While the men were busy discussing ranch business, Mary leaned over to whisper to Lorna, “Is it true that Bob Vernon is getting married?”

“I hadn't heard anything about it.”

“Ely hinted that he might be, and I thought Benteen might have said something to you,” Mary explained her reason for asking. “It's because of a girl that he's been going to Miles City once a month.”

“I knew he went there a lot,” Lorna admitted. “But a lot of the men do. I hadn't realized he was seeing a girl.”

“Not just any girl,” Mary whispered. “She's a harlot, but I understand they are madly in love with each other.”

Lorna searched herself but couldn't find any shock or moral indignation. Her view of life had changed a great deal. If Bob Vernon wanted to marry the woman, knowing her past, and she wanted to marry him, then it was enough.

“I think I'll suggest to Benteen that we let Bob have this cabin when we move into the house.” She voiced the thought as it occurred to her.

Mary started to speak, but she was interrupted by Webb, who came tearing into the cabin again. He flung himself at Lorna with his usual abandon. “Mommy! That man is here—only he didn't bring the c'raige.”

The last word escaped her. When she glanced to the door Webb had left standing open, Benteen was walking to the opening. There was something about him that reminded her of a dog bristling at the sight of an intruder. It made her move just a little more quickly to see who it was.

When she reached the threshold, Benteen had stopped a foot outside the door, blocking the way. Over his shoulder she could see Bull Giles swinging off his horse, and she realized Webb had been trying to say the word “carriage.” Arthur was trotting out to greet
him, then stopping shyly at the last minute and sticking a finger in his mouth.

Bull paused to smile down at him and rumple his hair. “How ya doin', Artie?”

Arthur turned on his stubby legs and ran to Benteen, but he was smiling, not at all afraid of the big man following him. Lorna glanced at Benteen. His rigid jaw was thrust forward, showing aggression.

“What brings you here, Giles?” Benteen challenged, not bothering with a greeting.

Bull's gaze flicked past him to Lorna, and she was conscious of a nerve twitching in Benteen's cheek. “I have a message for your wife from Lady Crawford.”

Her lips parted in warm surprise and delight, but Benteen spoke before she had a chance. “Who's Lady Crawford?”

“You remember me telling you about her,” she rushed to explain, moving to his side and touching his arm. An eagerness was in her eyes when she tipped her face up to him. “I met her in Dodge City and she gave me that jar of lotion.”

There was a flicker of recognition in his face; then his eyes narrowed. “What's she doing here?”

“She's with a party of English gentry that are touring the area. Mr. Giles is acting as guide for them,” Lorna explained. It seemed to silence Benteen, and she turned her glance to Bull. “You said she gave you a message for me? She remembered me?”

“Yes, she remembered meeting you,” Bull said, answering the last question first. “She'd like to call on you, and asked if it would be inconvenient if she came tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” Unconsciously her hand tightened on the sleeve of Benteen's arm. “Tell her it's not inconvenient at all. She's more than welcome.”

“Around two o'clock,” Bull suggested.

“Yes, that will be fine,” Lorna assured him, still finding it hard to believe that the woman wanted to call on her.

It would be her first opportunity to socially entertain someone other than Mary and Ely. She felt the excitement and anticipation growing and struggled to quell it. Just because she hadn't had any real social contact for several years, she wasn't going to become pathetically eager the way the woman in Kansas had been.