by Pam Crooks
Zurina’s gaze lingered over him as he shuffled toward the herd, calling out to his faithful companion, Gorri, the Australian shepherd he’d raised from a pup.
And I will take care of you, Papa.
She kept the vow to herself. He was accustomed to living a solitary existence for weeks on end while he tended the flock. Except for those occasions when Mama and Zurina rode out to see him, he took care of himself. He wouldn’t think he needed her.
But he did. Zurina refused to let him forget they were a family, and they needed each other.
She dismounted, and the feel of the lush grass beneath her feet told her she’d made the right decision in convincing him to leave Sun River Valley. Striding to the back of the wagon, she tugged open the door and climbed inside, just like she had so often before.
Except now she paused, not from the stuffy heat that assailed her, but from the sheer smallness of the area her father called home for too many months out of the year.
It was as if she was seeing his quarters for the first time. The sheep wagon was a marvel of efficiency, with its bunk built neatly beneath the window, and cabinets below that. In between, a pull-out table, and along the sides of the wagon, a pair of wooden benches, with drawers for added storage. A couple of lanterns hung from the hickory ribs which held the layers of canvas strapped tight over them. A stove near the back door aided cooking and provided warmth.
Efficiency. For Papa, it was enough.
But not for Zurina. She wanted more for him. For both of them. A house with rooms and furniture and pretty curtains. A house with enough space to raise children. A house in which to love a husband and grow old with him—
She stiffened.
What were these thoughts about a husband? Since her mother’s death, and Mikolas’s leaving, Zurina had squelched her need for one. Her innermost desire for a man to call her own, too. She had Papa to think of. She had to take care of him and keep him from being lonely. She had to fight the hurt and rage from what Sutton Wells had done.
They must heal together.
In a few resolved steps, Zurina strode to the window and yanked it wide. A breeze blew, sucked inward by the open back door and carrying the thick air right out through it. She plopped a can of corn on the bench, then added one of tomatoes with actions brisk and snappish and driven by the sour mood which had suddenly gripped her.
The husband thoughts. She hadn’t had them of late, not so much since Mama died, anyway, and why did she have to have them rush back now?
She pulled an iron skillet from the drawer and set it on the stove with a noisy thump. Her thinking freshened her determination not to live the life her mother had. A paltry existence with a sheepherder who left her alone, night after night after night.
Zurina refused to be lonely.
Except… she already was.
Lonely for a husband.
Hating her weakness, she set her teeth and dropped a slab of salt pork into the pan, then reached for a box of matches. Before she could strike one, Gorri’s persistent barking reached through the open window and clawed for her attention.
The barking wasn’t his usual, like when he herded the sheep, and her distracted glance shifted to the window, lighting onto her father first as he walked amongst the flock. He halted at the dog’s yapping and turned; his dark head swiveled toward the wagon.
Someone, or something, was outside.
For one wild moment, Zurina thought of her brother. Mikolas. That he’d come back, after all these tortuous weeks, repentant and no longer angry.
A horse snuffled, and the hope surged through her. She dropped the matches and leaped toward the back door.
Then froze.
It wasn’t her brother riding in. Zurina didn’t recognize the horse, but she knew the breed. A quarter horse. Thoroughbred. Finer than any Basque would own.
And in the saddle, looking elegant in mourning black, the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.
Chapter Two
She didn’t notice Zurina at first, but instead channeled her stare at Gorri, as if his swift approach intimidated her. Her dark skirts draped the horse’s sides, and the toes of her patent leather shoes peeked out from the stirrups. A feathered hat perched on her head, and she carried herself in the saddle with a regal grace that held Zurina fascinated.
The quarter horse pranced, but the woman held him in line with ease, revealing she was an accomplished equestrian, too. Yet her quick inhalation indicated a surge of alarm the closer Gorri drew.
Zurina jerked her glance toward the dog and spoke sharply in Basque. Gorri immediately halted a few yards away, but his stiff-legged stance remained watchful, warning their visitor he’d allow no trouble.
Zurina turned back to the woman. Something kept Zurina in the wagon’s doorway, an inner reluctance, perhaps, to have the woman look down at her while seated on the horse.
“He won’t hurt you,” she said.
“Oh, my.” The woman pressed a hand to her bosom. “He looks vicious. He gave me a fright.”
Her fingers appeared pale and smooth against her black dress. On one finger, a ruby ring sat beneath the knuckle.
“He isn’t vicious.” Zurina dragged her gaze off the jewel and tried not to think what a stone like that would cost. “It’s just that we don’t often see strangers out here.”
“Yes, well, I’m lost, I’m afraid.” Her chin trembled, and she glanced away.
Clearly she was on the brink of tears, and sympathy welled in Zurina.
“I’m sorry you’re lost,” she said gently. “Where were you going?”
“Great Falls.”
“Oh. I see.”
Zurina didn’t have the heart to tell the poor woman how far she’d drifted off course. That the main road leading into the city was several miles in the opposite direction.
“You cannot go there tonight.”
Papa’s gruff voice startled their visitor, and her black-hatted head whipped toward him. “Excuse me?”
He halted near Gorri and set his thick hands on his hips. “The sun will set soon. You must stop for the night.”
“But—”
“You cannot ride in the dark, a woman alone.”
Her glance jumped to Zurina, then back to Papa. “But it’s not dark yet. If you merely show me the way back to the main road—”
Papa shook his head. “We are too far from the road. The sun will be gone before I can take you there.”
Her chin quivered again. “Then what am I to do?”
“You will stay here.” Though kindly, Papa’s tone sounded firm. “You can sleep in the wagon with ’Rina. I will stay outside.”
“What?” She gaped at him. “Stay here? With you? Why, I don’t even know you!”
She sounded so horrified, Zurina couldn’t help a tiny flare of resentment.
“We don’t know you, either,” she said coolly. “But still we extend the kindness.”
“I am Gabirel Vasco.” Papa held out a grubby hand. “This is my daughter, Zurina.”
Again, the woman’s gaze bounced between them. “You’re sheepherders, aren’t you?”
Zurina stiffened. The implication of what she meant but didn’t say stung as sharply as if the woman had swung outward and slapped their cheeks.
But Papa merely nodded. “Yes. The sheep are ours.”
She lifted a trembling hand to her lips. “I can’t do it.”
“What?”
Her spine flattened, and her chin kicked upward. “My name is Allethaire Gibson. I’m engaged to be married to Trey Wells. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”
Papa instantly blanched.
Zurina’s world tilted.
Of all the men this woman, this Allethaire, might’ve named… but of course Trey would marry a woman like her. Beautiful, wealthy—and bred with a cattleman’s thinking.
“We’ve heard of him,” Zurina gritted.
“Well, he simply wouldn’t want me staying here with—with—well—”
“Mu
tton-punchers?” Zurina’s brow arched in sarcasm.
The other’s lips curled downward. “Yes. Or whatever else you call yourselves.”
Zurina drew herself up and was suddenly very glad she hadn’t left the wagon after all. “Then perhaps if you ride very fast away from here, you could make it to—”
“Zurina!” Her father’s black eyes sparked with censure for her rudeness.
Her nostrils flared, but she said nothing more.
Looking miserable, Papa took hold of the horse’s bridle. “Come down from the saddle, miss. Zurina has just begun our supper. You will feel better when you eat.”
For a moment, Allethaire didn’t move, as if she had to drudge up the will to comply. Finally she dismounted. Swayed. And only steadied herself with the hasty assistance of Papa’s hand upon her elbow.
She pulled from his grasp, as if she disliked the feel of it. “I won’t be here long, you know.”
“No. Not long.”
His veiled glance met Zurina’s, and she shot him a look that revealed her annoyance at being forced to give the ungrateful Allethaire Gibson their hospitality, Trey Wells be damned. Papa’s glance in turn responded they had no choice, because now Trey was sure to learn of their illicit presence on his range, that they weren’t in the valley where they belonged, and what was going to happen now?
Papa led the quarter horse toward the river, where he would hobble him with their own for the night. He walked with shoulders hunched, as if the world weighed heavy upon them, and her heart ached at the sight.
Her rebellion withered.
Because of the sheep, they could do nothing to upset the fragile Allethaire further, and Zurina vowed to be more hospitable to the woman.
A cattleman’s woman
She shifted her glance, just as Allethaire capped a small leather flask and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She stood with her back half-twisted from view, as if she tried to hide what she was doing but couldn’t help herself.
Liquid courage.
She stuffed the flask into her handbag, turned to face Zurina with eyes glazed and cheeks flushed… and hiccupped.
Zurina refrained from groaning out loud. Allethaire Gibson was in no shape to go anywhere drunk, and with a growing, sinking feeling, Zurina began to realize that all along, Papa had been right.
They never should have left Sun River Valley.
“How could anyone live in here?” Allethaire asked. She stood in the doorway and peered into the wagon as if it were some mysterious black hole that would swallow her up if she drew any closer. “It’s ungodly small.”
Zurina stabbed a piece of salt pork sizzling in the skillet. She shouldn’t have been annoyed by the comment; she’d thought the same thing herself only a short time ago. But a wave of defensiveness for her father’s home, his very manner of living, swept through her, and she schooled her features to keep the irritation from showing.
She even managed a smile. “Small, yes, but it’s quite comfortable.”
“If one was a mouse, I suppose.”
Zurina’s smile disappeared, and she dropped the meat onto the plate, added a sloppy spoonful of corn, another of tomatoes then thrust the whole thing toward Allethaire.
“That would be a matter of opinion, I think,” she said, offended.
But Allethaire didn’t seem to hear. Her glance lowered toward the plate. “What’s this?”
“Your supper.”
Her glance lifted again, this time with her jaw jutted at an impertinent angle. “I’m not hungry.”
“No?” Zurina withdrew the meal. “Fine.”
She set the plate on the table with a clatter and drew in a calming breath. She reminded herself Allethaire was engaged to Trey Wells, and anything she and Papa did tonight would surely find its way back to him. If Allethaire felt they treated her poorly and told him so, what would he do?
Ban them forever from Sun River Valley?
Allethaire was accustomed to the best in life. Beef instead of salt pork. China instead of a dented tin plate. Pristine tablecloths, glistening silver, formal dining rooms.
Well, she’d get none of those things now.
“I’m not staying here,” Allethaire muttered.
Despite her words, however, she took an unsteady step into the wagon and dropped onto the bench, a half-moment after Zurina scooped up a bundle of month-old newspapers to make room. She’d brought them for her father to help fill his time, knowing he’d read each one from front page to last, then read them all over again until she brought him more.
Zurina lit the lantern to ward off the deepening dusk and reached for another plate.
“It’s too late to ride into Great Falls,” she said slowly, as if she were speaking to a child who refused to comprehend the obvious.
But Allethaire impatiently waved a hand. “No, no. You don’t understand. I’m not staying in Montana.”
“Oh?”
“I’m going home.”
“Great Falls is not your home?”
“My home is in Minnesota.”
“I see.”
Except Zurina didn’t see. Not really. And what business was it of hers where the woman lived?
“He’ll know I meant what I said when he learns I’m gone.” Again, that chin quivered, and the faint scent of brandy hovered in the air. “It’ll serve him right to face the scandal of my leaving him.”
Sympathy pulled at Zurina. It seemed the spirits had loosened Allethaire’s tongue. Whatever the reasoning for her petulance, she felt it deeply.
“You mean Trey Wells?” Zurina dared to ask.
“He’s so damned stubborn. Pardon my language.” Her head swung, and she glared at the window, as if she envisioned him in the glass. “I told him he must choose. His stupid ranch—or me.”
Well. Clearly the man had some serious problems with his intended. Zurina found herself at a loss for words. Perhaps Allethaire was being difficult in her demands and expectations. Or maybe Trey was.
Allethaire’s glance swiveled back toward her. “His father is dead now.”
“Dead?” The news rocked through Zurina. “Sutton Wells?”
“He was murdered three days ago.”
Zurina pressed her fingers to her lips in horror.
“There’s not a better time than now for Trey to leave Montana and start over with me in Minnesota.” Allethaire’s chin jutted stubbornly.
Sutton Wells was dead. Murdered. Zurina could hardly fathom the implications. For Papa and herself. For Trey Wells. But mostly for Mikolas…
Her father appeared in the narrow doorway, and she swung toward him on a jumble of distracted thoughts. Papa dipped his head, stepped inward, and the wagon turned smaller than ever.
As if she only now took the time to study him more thoroughly, Allethaire’s glance lowered. And lowered. Until her scrutiny could go no further than his worn leather shoes.
Which only made Zurina keenly aware of the patches on his trousers. Of his thin shirt with the sleeves torn short above the elbows. Of his tattered cap and his dire need of a haircut.
Allethaire wouldn’t understand why the sheepherder placed little importance on his appearance. Who would he impress but the sheep?
“A couple of riders are coming,” he said. “Make sure you have enough food to feed them, Zurina.”
“Who is coming?” she demanded in surprise, hearing Gorri’s barking. She couldn’t remember having had so many visitors before.
She fixed her gaze on the window and found the silhouetted shapes of a pair of cowboys riding off a low ridge. In light of Gorri’s agitated warnings, they skirted the sheep but kept their attention on them.
“Is it Trey?” Allethaire asked, jumping to her feet and peering out the window, too.
“Maybe,” Papa said, clearly uneasy. “Or maybe they are his men, out looking for you.”
She swung around. “Don’t tell them I’m here, do you understand?”
Her father appeared taken aback. “How can I not?”
“There’s no place for you to hide, Allethaire,” Zurina said firmly. She refused to play the woman’s selfish game. “They would only need to look into the wagon to see you.”
The cowboys had moved out of the window’s range. Hoofbeats sounded louder. So did Gorri’s barking. Papa pivoted toward the door.
“We cannot have trouble tonight,” he said, his voice firm, yet Zurina detected a vein of pleading, too. “It is important that we do not.”
“I should never have let you talk me into staying with you.” Allethaire glowered at him in the lantern light. “I could be halfway to Great Falls by now.”
Resentment flared within Zurina. The woman had only to look outside to see how dark it was getting. Had she imbibed so much brandy that she couldn’t understand staying in their camp was for her own safety?
“Oh?” Zurina couldn’t veil her exasperation. “Perhaps those cowboys out there could—”
A gunshot exploded.
She jerked.
Allethaire gasped.
And for a moment… the world stood still.
In the next, chaos erupted. The realization that Gorri’s bark had turned into a single shrill yelp. That his furry body rolled past. That her father let out an enraged yell and jumped to the outside. That a man on horseback suddenly loomed, reached out with a snarl and yanked him forward.
Zurina couldn’t move. Couldn’t comprehend what was happening.
Then, a sudden fear for her father raced through her chest. She threw aside the plate she’d been filling and leaped toward the door. She couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to hurt Gabirel Vasco, or Gorri, and oh, God—
She landed on the ground without benefit of steps. Seeing her father struggling against the cowboy’s grasp, that the man had his hand upraised, a revolver in his gloved fist, a new round of horror slammed into her.
“Leave him alone!” she shouted. “Stop!”
But the butt of the revolver whipped across her father’s jaw, and he hurtled into the dirt. Moaned. And went still.
Anguish tore through Zurina. She fell to her knees beside him with a sob.
“I ain’t kin to lamb-lickers,” the cowboy spat.
