by Merry Farmer
“Just like you were doing it for me last time.” She shook her head. Then she did something worse than shouting or stomping her feet and making a fuss. She walked away.
“Bebe, wait.”
He strode after her, but she raised hand to hold him off, not looking at him. She headed straight toward the large punch bowl on the table next to the one where the other women sat.
“Erin, pour me a glass,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Erin mumbled and jumped to do as she was told.
“Bebe.” Hubert appealed to her, but she ignored him completely.
“You should probably just leave,” Julia told him in a low, sad voice, wedging herself between him and Bebe. With an earnest look in her eyes, she said, “I’ll make sure she gets home safe. You go and do what you need to do.”
Hubert took a few steps back, watching as Bebe raised her punch glass, clinked it with Erin’s, then swallowed the whole thing in a few wild gulps. He felt like a complete heel, but there didn’t seem to be a damn thing he could do about it. At least Julia was there. That was the only thing that made Hubert feel like he could leave Bebe in her current state.
But once he left the saloon, instead of heading down to the train station to buy a ticket to Denver or to Vernon’s house to pack his things, he marched straight up Main Street and around the corner, heading to his father’s house.
Just like it had been a decade ago when Hubert lived there, the Strong house was filled with noise and activity when he stepped through the front door. Only, instead of children shouting and running, the noise came from a piano in one room competing with a trumpet in another room, two of his sisters squealing and giggling about something in a room upstairs, and his father talking loudly to Elspeth in the kitchen over all of it.
As he had every time something had weighed on his mind when he was younger, Hubert headed straight past the family room, with its brightly-festooned Christmas tree and presents waiting to be unwrapped in a few days, into the kitchen.
“Hubert. What a pleasant surprise,” Elspeth greeted him from the sink where she was washing dishes after what looked like a large and satisfying meal.
“Fancy seeing you here, son,” Athos said from Elspeth’s side, where he was drying a pile of dishes.
“Hey Pops, Elspeth.” Hubert nodded to them both, trying to greet them as warmly as they’d greeted him. He failed, and both his father and step-mother appeared to go instantly on the alert.
“Is something wrong?” Elspeth asked, her refined British accent as strong as ever, though she’d lived in Haskell for almost a decade.
“You look like you’ve had a tussle with a skunk and the skunk won,” Athos said. He finished the plate he was drying, then gestured for Hubert to take a seat at the kitchen table.
“It’s Bebe,” Hubert sighed, slumping into his old chair. Athos sat next to him.
“Hmm. Women trouble.” Athos nodded sagely.
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Elspeth said, switching from the sink to the stove.
“Thanks.” Hubert nodded to her, then sighed and rubbed his face. “Although it’s not just Bebe.”
“That doesn’t sound good.” Athos reached for the remaining third of an apple pie in the center of the table, cutting a piece with the knife that rested in the empty half of the pie plate. He served half of it to Hubert and took the rest for himself.
The offer of food was as good as a demand to spill the entire story. Hubert took a fork from the basket in the middle of the table, cut into his pie, and began. “Bebe’s madder than a hornet at me because I told her just now that I have to go to Denver.”
Both Athos and Elspeth hummed and groaned as though he’d made a serious error.
“I’m not abandoning her again,” Hubert said, a little too forcefully.
“She’s not going to see it that way,” Elspeth said as she put the kettle on the stove and checked the fire.
“She didn’t see it that way,” Hubert sighed. “She got upset and said she didn’t trust me.”
Athos didn’t seem surprised. He shifted in his seat, studying Hubert, then asked, “So why do you have to go do Denver, and does it have to be right now?”
At last, someone asked a question in a way that he could answer.
“It’s that Price Penworthy,” he said, leaning toward his dad and taking another bite of pie. “He threatened me yesterday, told me to stay away from Bebe. He said that his family in Denver was powerful and influential, and he implied that he could convince them to hurt me if he wanted to.”
“The nerve of the man,” Elspeth scoffed from the stove.
Athos frowned. “Price Penworthy may be capable of many things, but I never would have thought physical violence was one of them.”
“What do you know about his family?” Hubert asked.
“Not much.” Athos shrugged. “None of them have come to visit him since he moved here two years ago. If they’d come by train—and these days, almost everyone does—I’d’ve met them and remembered them.”
That was a good point. One Hubert hadn’t considered. It begged another question as well. What kind of man relied so heavily on family members that never visited?
“Something isn’t right about the man,” Hubert went on. “That’s why I want to go to Denver to investigate.”
“And you explained that to Bebe?” Athos asked.
Hubert sighed. “She didn’t give me a chance to explain. And granted, I shouldn’t have started the conversation with ‘I’m leaving for Denver’, but she was all over me like a tornado before I had a chance to spell out my reasons why.”
“Of course she was,” Elspeth said as she fetched her tin of special tea imported from England from the highest shelf in the pantry. “That poor woman has had nothing but misery and heartache for years, and just when she thinks things might finally get better, you’ve gone and pulled the rug out from under her.”
Hearing it put like that, and from a woman he admired and respected for her level head and intelligence, made Hubert feel like the lowest worm. “I can’t go to Denver, can I,” he said.
Athos grinned. “No, son. You can’t.”
The two of them took bites of their pie as Elspeth brought her tea over to the stove and added a few spoons of leaves to the kettle. Deeper in the house, whoever was playing the piano began a Christmas carol. His sisters joined in, their angelic voices wafting into the kitchen. It almost made Hubert smile.
“The thing is,” he started up again when they’d had a few seconds to think, “I know Price is up to something. The man is as shifty as a fox in a henhouse.”
“That’s a good way to describe it,” Athos said.
Hubert frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’ve suspected, everyone has suspected, that Price has spent the last couple of years wheedling his way into the Bonneville family so that he can take over.”
Hubert nearly bit his tongue. “Then why is everyone just standing by and letting it happen?”
Athos gave him a sympathetic look. “Son, if you will recall, not everyone has the soft spot in their hearts for the Bonnevilles that you do. If Price wants to marry into the family—and their problems—then that’s his business.”
Hubert shook his head. “There has to be more to it than that.”
Athos and Elspeth exchanged a look. “Price Penworthy wouldn’t be the first man to marry a woman for her property,” Elspeth said. “In fact, it’s rather a common practice in England.”
“But why would he want to marry a woman who he doesn’t love and who doesn’t love him for a ranch that’s about to be foreclosed on?”
“It’s my understanding that the money from Price’s family will get the ranch out of foreclosure,” Athos said.
Hubert blew out a breath and threw his fork down, leaning back in his chair. “I’m starting to get really sick of people telling me that.”
“Everyone knows about it,” Elspeth said softly.
“But why wou
ld a man like Price want to sink all of his wedding money into buying out a ranch that’s been failing for years?”
His question was met with silence. Athos raised his eyebrows, and Elspeth’s look turned thoughtful. Hubert was certain he was on to something.
“Okay, let’s assume that Price wants the Bonneville ranch,” he said, leaning forward again. “Let’s assume that he’s motivated by greed and power instead of love when it comes to marrying Bebe.”
“All right.” Athos nodded.
“People who are motivated by greed and power don’t sink their capital into a money pit,” Hubert went on. “Which means that, somehow, the Bonneville ranch is worth more than anyone but Price knows.”
“I don’t see how,” Elspeth said. “The land itself is the same as any other land in this area.”
“There’s no oil,” Athos agreed. “No gold or silver or any other kind of ore. The only thing it’s good for is cattle ranching.”
“And the Bonneville herd has been failing for years,” Hubert said.
“Yes,” Athos and Elspeth answered at the same time.
“Even before Price came to work for Rex?”
Athos narrowed his eyes, looking as though he were reviewing years’ worth of memories. “Rex had the second biggest operation in the area, next to Howard Haskell, when I moved to town.”
“When I came here too,” Elspeth said. The tea was ready, so she brought it to the table, along with mugs.
“It was still going strong when I left,” Hubert said. “So as of seven years ago, everything was fine.”
“Everyone had a hard year in ’79,” Athos went on, rubbing his chin. “I remember that Rance Bonneville wasn’t much help.”
“Wasn’t that also around the time Rex’s health began to fail?” Elspeth asked.
“That was more like ’81,” Athos said.
“And the year after that, Rex’s foreman quit.” Elspeth poured tea for everyone.
“In some of the last letters I got from Bebe, she mentioned Rex talking about taking out a mortgage so that he could increase the numbers of his herd and bring the ranch back up to the level it’d been at,” Hubert said. “Which would mean that as of three years ago, the ranch was still in the black. When did they take out the loan from Solomon’s bank?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Athos said, stirring sugar into his tea with a frown. “Maybe two years ago?”
“Two years.” Hubert slapped his hand on the table, startling his dad and Elspeth. “Right about the time Price started working for the family.”
“Are you saying Price is responsible for the mortgage?” Elspeth asked.
“The timing would be right,” Athos agreed.
“So why would the ranch begin to fail after a loan was taken out against the property?” Hubert asked, raising his voice. “People take out a loan to make improvements on their property, to increase its worth. So why has the ranch done nothing but gone downhill for the last two years?”
“They’ve had trouble with their herd,” Elspeth said, her voice distant and her eyes unfocused. “They haven’t brought in as much money at market in Cheyenne as in previous years.”
“Have beef prices gone down?” Hubert asked.
“No, I don’t think so.” Athos scratched his head, looking more alarmed by the second. “I’m not a rancher, but listening to conversations here and there, I think the market’s been all right.”
Hubert’s heart raced as though he’d discovered buried treasure…or discovered something valuable that had gone missing. “That’s it,” he said. “That has to be it.”
“That’s what?” Elspeth asked, sitting at last.
Everything came so clear in Hubert’s mind all at once. “The Bonneville ranch couldn’t have been in any more trouble after ’79 than anyone else’s ranches, but word must have gotten around through the WSGA that Rex’s foreman left and Rex’s health was ailing.” His pulse felt like electricity zipping through his veins as he unfolded his theory. “Everyone knows Rex doesn’t have a son, only girls. Everyone must have known the ranch would be in a vulnerable position when it became clear Rex wouldn’t recover.”
“And you think Price swooped in and took advantage of that?” Athos asked.
“I’d bet a mint,” Hubert said. “What’s more, I bet that from the moment Price stepped foot on the ranch, he started cooking the books.”
“How awful.” Elspeth pressed a hand to her chest.
“I bet he took out that mortgage loan for himself somehow instead of spending it on the ranch. I bet he sold the Bonneville cattle for the market price, then told the ladies he had to sell at a loss.”
“The bastard,” Athos growled.
“I bet he’s been squirreling away the Bonneville’s money for years.” It all seemed so obvious to Hubert now.
“What about Bebe?” Elspeth asked. “Why would he marry her?”
The energy in Hubert’s blood turned to fury. “She’s young, she’s pretty, and he inherits a bunch of money from his family when he marries. I bet he was hoping to have his way with her until he got bored or until he couldn’t wring a profit out of the ranch anymore, then pack up and take every cent of his ill-gotten gains and skip town.”
Elspeth gasped in disgust. Athos’s brow furrowed into a scowl. “You can’t let him do that, son.”
“You’d better believe I won’t,” Hubert said. He wanted to jump up right then, run to the Bonneville ranch, and pummel Price into a pulp. “Only, right now, it’s just a theory. I’ve got to have proof if I’m going to act on it.”
“Where are you going to find that proof?” Athos asked.
Hubert sighed, slumping back in his chair. “I don’t know. And tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I doubt most of the businesses Price interacted with will be open. I can talk to Solomon Templesmith, but—”
“Yes, start with Solomon,” Elspeth urged him. “He’s a good man, and he’ll know what’s going on.”
“I just wish I could do something right now,” Hubert said, frustration making him itchy.
“What you can do,” Athos said with a pointed look, “is get your ducks in a row to make a safe place for Bebe to land when this whole thing—if you’re right—comes out.”
“You’re right, Pops.” Hubert knocked the table and moved to stand.
“But finish your tea first.” Elspeth stopped him. “Everything is better with tea.”
Hubert grinned and sat back in his chair. “I sure did miss you, Elspeth.”
Elspeth blushed. “Well, if everything is as you say it is, and if you’re able to prove it and win Bebe over to your side, you’ll set up house here, and you won’t ever have to miss me again.”
Chapter 10
Julia’s punch had been a bad idea. In fact, as Bebe struggled and failed to get out of bed on Christmas Eve morning, she was fairly certain it was the worst idea in the history of humanity.
“Are you coming into town?” Vivian’s question felt a thousand times louder and more grating than usual when she popped her head into Bebe’s room.
“Urgh,” Bebe replied, pulling the blankets up over her head.
“Hmph,” Melinda snorted. Perfect. Vivian had brought reinforcements. “It serves her right for drinking liquor.” Melinda marched into the room, throwing the curtains wide.
Even with her head under the covers, that blast of light was too much. Bebe groaned and wriggled deeper into her bed.
“Oh, leave her alone, Melinda.” Vivian’s uncharacteristic moment of mercy took Bebe by surprise. “Just let her sleep. We can break our backs decorating for her wedding reception on our own. And if we fall off a ladder while hanging that awful bunting or pierce our fingers while sewing rosettes, it’ll be on her head.”
That was more like Vivian. Footsteps retreated, and a moment later, the door slammed.
Bebe moaned and swallowed the bile that rose up her throat. She’d barely touched liquor in her life, and as far as she was concerned, she’d never touch it again. H
ow anyone could make a habit of drinking and end up feeling so bad all the time was beyond her.
She drifted back into a miserable half-sleep. Time passed, although she wasn’t sure how much. When she woke again, her mind seemed to be working better. What had she always heard her father’s ranch hands saying when they’d indulged too much? Coffee. Coffee would help. And food. She was certain she’d heard someone say how important it was to eat the morning after a bender.
With great effort, her stomach roiling, she pulled herself out of bed and managed to wash and dress. Somehow, she made it downstairs, giving thanks that the stove still had a fire in it, and that a few more logs in the firebox had it hot enough to boil water for coffee. Along with that, she managed to scramble a few eggs and make some toast, and after what seemed like a painful eternity, she sat at the kitchen table and forced down her meager feast.
Everything came back to her. Everything about the confessions she’d made to her friends. Everything about Hubert’s arrival at the party. Everything Hubert said to her. Everything. He was leaving. She slumped on the table, burying her face in her hands. He was abandoning her again, going to Denver to—
She blinked and sat straighter. He was going to Denver to investigate Price. Price had threatened him, telling him to stay away from her. Bebe blinked again and reached for what was left of her coffee. Whether it was the hot liquid and nourishment or her brain finally thinking things through, she felt better. Price had promised her that if she still had cold feet, as he called it, by Christmas Day, they would call off the wedding. He’d sounded so kind and sincere when he was talking to her.
Kind and sincere or manipulative?
She set her coffee mug down a little harder than she intended to. Why would Price make nice to her, then go into town and threaten Hubert? Unless he was trying to sew just enough doubt in her heart to convince her to make the decision to marry him on her own.
She let out a breath and stood. Of course that was what he’d been doing. She wouldn’t have fallen for it except that she and Vivian had just reached a rare moment of understanding. But if Price had gone immediately into town to confront Hubert, that must have meant that he desperately wanted to marry her. Even though he didn’t love her.
