A rider trotted into the clearing, saw him, and pulled his brown thoroughbred to a halt so suddenly it reared. Even in the dimness of the evening, it was the work of seconds to take the newcomer’s measure. No doubt this was the man in charge. Though Aaron had never seen him before, he’d been in Aspen Ridge about ten minutes before he’d heard of him.
Gage Coulter, owner of the C Bar Ranch.
Riding the shining stallion he’d brought with him from Texas. It was said he was a man who’d moved here because Texas wasn’t big enough for both him and his pa. He owned five thousand acres and controlled fifty thousand more, and from the coldly stunned look on Coulter’s face, it was more than clear that he thought he controlled this pond, too.
Coulter dragged his broad-brimmed hat off his head. His overly long brown hair matched his horse so perfectly they seemed to be a pair. Coulter rode straight for the porch while longhorns spread out along the edge of the pond. The first cattle to the water were shoved in with a loud splash that sounded beneath the hooves that near shook the ground.
Others waded in on their own. The bawling eased as the drinking began. The blue water turned to mud.
Coulter’s eyes jumped from Aaron to the cabin to the barn and back to Aaron. “What’s going on here?” he asked.
The words cracked like a whip, but somehow Aaron was tempted to smile. He had a feeling it was a rare thing for Coulter, one of the biggest cattle barons in the state, to be taken by surprise.
Aaron didn’t know the land all that well yet—he was new to the area still—but he’d bet that pond was a mighty dependable watering hole, and one Coulter used regularly. Especially at the height of summer.
As the cattle trampled all the things that had made this tidy homestead so pretty, Aaron lost the urge to smile.
It was clear the man had no idea that someone had homesteaded this little corner of his territory. Aaron holstered his Colt and switched the Sharps to his right hand. Coulter might be a powerful man, even a tyrant, but he was no killer. There was trouble here, yet it wouldn’t come to shooting.
The door behind him slammed open, and he already knew Kylie well enough to grab her as she charged around him.
“You get your cattle off my land!” Grabbing her didn’t stop her from talking.
Glancing down, he saw the real Kylie for the first time. Not soaking wet. Not dressed like a man. He had no time to enjoy the sight, though it was a fine one.
“Your land?” Coulter’s light gray eyes—cold as ice—looked at her, then at Aaron, clearly dismissing Kylie’s claim of the land being hers. Coulter would want to deal with the man of the family. “No nester is going to come in here and squat right on top of one of my best water holes.”
“No cowboy is going to come here and insult me on my own property,” Kylie sassed back.
Coulter gave Kylie a look of disgust, then hesitated and looked closer. Coulter shook his head fast, and his eyes went to Aaron. “You and your wife have ten minutes to clear out. Eleven minutes from now I’m burning every building on this place.”
“I don’t own this land, Coulter, she does. I’m not her husband. I’m Aaron Masterson, the new land agent in these parts.” It occurred to Aaron that it might have been wise to claim he was married to Kylie. It might make a difference in the treatment she could expect from Coulter. Now Coulter knew Kylie lived here alone. But Aaron was no liar. “I came out to check if Miss Wilde was following the law.”
Coulter didn’t react to Aaron’s knowing his name. His arrogance was such that he expected to be known . . . and feared.
“Miss Kylie Wilde homesteaded this property all right and legal.” Well, mostly legal. “You won’t be driving her off or burning her out. I operate under the authority of the United States government, and we won’t turn a blind eye to any crimes committed against homesteaders. Now, you’ve got ten minutes to get your cattle out of here. You also owe Miss Wilde for damage done to her property.”
A gasp of outrage told Aaron that Kylie was just now noticing what all the thirsty cattle had done. “My flowers! My rock garden! I hiked these mountains for days, digging flowers and transplanting them.”
With an unexpectedly agile move, Kylie tore loose from Aaron’s grip, rushed past him, and stormed down the steps. She wore a dress now. A real pretty pink one. But her feet were bare, and there was still a little dirt on her face. That didn’t stop her from being beautiful to behold. And it made Aaron like her all the more that she hadn’t taken time to fuss with her appearance before she came out to defend her home.
“Your cattle broke my porch railing. Do you know how long it took Shannon to make that?” The little spitfire marched right up to Gage Coulter’s tall stallion. “Get out, Coulter. You’re trespassing.”
Her hand balled up, and if her head hadn’t come about to Coulter’s knee, she might’ve punched him.
Coulter’s eyes flashed with annoyed amusement as he swung down off his horse. “Are you planning to use that fist, miss?”
Aaron jogged down the steps to stand beside Kylie. The strength of the urge to step between Kylie and Coulter shocked him. He wasn’t a man to stand by while any injustice was done, and for certain he couldn’t let a woman be mistreated, but this need to take care of Kylie went deeper. It went to an instinctive, almost animal depth. Fighting back the desire to step between the two, Aaron tried to let Kylie handle this. Could she do it? It took toughness out West, and she seemed more inclined to blushes and weeping. Of course, in a standoff with Coulter, a pretty dimpled cheek and a few well-placed tears might be just the thing.
Coulter’s eyes left Kylie, and he had to look up a couple of inches to meet Aaron’s eyes, which gave Aaron smug pleasure. Coulter was a tall man, but Aaron was taller. Coulter’s gaze went to the Sharps rifle in Aaron’s hand, then his eyes flicked back to Aaron’s. “How about you? Are you planning to use that gun, Masterson?”
“This only turns into shooting trouble if you make it such.”
The men riding with Coulter were busy tending the herd, but they were listening. They looked like tough western types, who rode for the brand. Aaron figured any shooting trouble that started here would end badly for him. Worse yet, Kylie would be right in the middle of flying lead.
“Mr. Coulter, I own this land. Get your cattle and leave.” Kylie plunked her little fists on her hips. She stood there barefoot, her hair flying free.
Coulter studied her far too long before he said in a voice far too friendly, aimed only at Kylie, “Call me Gage.”
Aaron didn’t like the sound of that. “Coulter, you’ve got the reputation of a law-abiding man, and right now you’re breaking it.”
Coulter’s icy eyes went back to the cabin and the barn. “My cattle are thirsty, and they won’t be driven away from that watering hole until they’ve had their fill.”
“Your cattle aren’t my problem.” Kylie wasn’t returning Coulter’s friendliness, which Aaron appreciated.
“I didn’t know anyone’d moved in here. I’ve used this watering hole ever since I came out here in sixty-one.”
“The year the war started.” Kylie’s tone went from unfriendly to downright cold. “I hear Texas in your voice, Mr. Coulter. What were you doing running for the West while the rest of the South, including your home state, was fighting?”
“That wasn’t my war,” Coulter growled. “War is for fools, and I had no interest in fighting side by side with fools.”
Aaron glanced at Kylie, who looked at him. They stood side by side.
Kylie looked away from him to the milling herd, which was starting to spread out from the water and graze around the edges of the clearing. One of the longhorns chose that moment to swing its ten-foot spread of horns too close to the south porch. The steer snapped off another length of railing, as if it were a twig.
“Your cattle seem to be past their thirst. Get out of here, and if you come here again—unless you’re as much a coward about your ranching as you were about the war and you turn to back
-shooting—you can expect me to meet you with my rifle blazing. And unlike a coward, I promise I’ll look you right in the eye when I shoot you out of the saddle.” Kylie had just said words that would make a man go for his gun if another man had said them.
Coulter’s gray eyes flashed with fury. Aaron’s hand tightened on the Sharps.
That expression passed, which said a lot about Coulter’s control. He was a man with a temper, but he didn’t let it run him. Instead of rage, Coulter gave Kylie an admiring look. “Doubt it’ll come to a gunfight between us, pretty lady. I’ve got other ways of ruling my range.” He gave her a smile. “In fact, maybe it’s time I took a wife.”
Without waiting for a response, which was just as well because Kylie’s mouth gaped open in shock, Coulter grabbed his pommel and leapt into his saddle with a movement so smooth, Aaron felt a spark of envy.
“Head ’em out, men. We’ll drive ’em to the stream on east of here.”
As if they saw their chance to do damage slipping away, two calves butted heads and staggered into the porch and smashed what was left of Kylie’s railing.
He looked back at Kylie and tugged the brim of his hat in farewell. “This ain’t over, Miss Kylie.”
The cattle bawled and churned up the dirt as Coulter and his men wrangled them into motion. Soon they were gone—men, horses, and cows pushed out of Kylie’s yard.
Nothing left but a cloud of dust and utter destruction.
5
Kylie stood frozen, grim-faced as she watched Coulter’s men wrangle the unwilling cows out of her yard. If her Sharps had been full of birdshot instead of bullets, she might’ve filled Coulter’s backside.
They were a while getting the animals to clear. When the last rider’s horse vanished into the forest, Kylie’s knees gave out.
Aaron caught her or she’d’ve slid straight to the ground. He swung her up in his arms—the man had touched her more than any other man in her life—and toted her like so much baggage to the rocking chair. One was knocked over; the other had managed not to get hit by a cranky cow and stood ready for her. Expecting him to put her on the chair, Kylie was surprised when Aaron sat himself down and held her in his lap.
“Well, this is as improper as can be.” She said it, but her hands were trembling, and her insides were twisted up. She made no move to put an end to the situation.
“Just rest a minute.” Aaron held her tight as if to restrain her, though she wasn’t trying to escape. “We can go back to being proper when your heart stops slamming.”
A dry chuckle drew her attention away from her upset.
“What about any of this mess is funny?” She didn’t have the strength or even the desire to push herself to her feet. Instead, she rested her head on his chest.
“I’m thinking of you in trousers. You’re a fine one to speak of what’s proper.”
“How did my life go so terribly wrong?”
“You speakin’ of the trousers or Coulter or the homestead fraud or a woman going to war or being in my lap?”
Speaking into his shirtfront, she waved one hand in a hopeless gesture. “It’s all of a piece.”
He didn’t respond to that, and she went on staying right where she was. Finally she gathered enough strength to think. Which led her to ask, “When Coulter said ‘this ain’t over,’ what do you suppose he meant? Of course it’s over if he’s a law-abiding man.”
“All kinds of ways to bring pressure to bear on a situation, a lot of them mostly legal.”
“Mostly?” Kylie’s voice was as weak as her knees. “And here you are with the power to tear my homestead away from me.”
And her sisters’ land too, since they were all homesteading under the service exemption. Masterson could probably even take Pa’s land if he knew Pa had supported his daughters in their lies. Kylie almost snorted at the word supported. It’d been his idea from the start. He’d manipulated and loaded on guilt and, in a roundabout way, promised—if they minded him perfectly—he might even love them someday. They’d all fallen in line with this homesteading scheme, just as they had all marched off to war.
“Yep, and for all the trouble I can bring, still you’re sitting in my lap.”
Which gave her the gumption to stir. Masterson relaxed his hold and didn’t try and keep her in place, which pinched her feelings for no good reason.
She stood.
Aaron moved so she could have the rocker to herself. He flipped the other rocker onto its runners and sat beside her. The dusk had turned to dark, and the moon had risen enough to see the grit that hung in the air and the destruction done by Coulter’s cattle.
“What a mess.” She sank into the seat, throwing her arms wide, feeling helpless to face the damage. “Those cattle even messed up the pond. Mud’s all stirred up.”
“It’ll settle. And the railing’s knocked apart, but the boards aren’t broken. I can repair it without much trouble. Then you’ll move your rocks back in place and plant more flowers. Some of them are still there, just uprooted. The cow chips”—and there were a lot of them—“even make good fertilizer.”
“Ugh. My whole life is turning into fertilizer.”
“It can all be fixed.”
Neither of them sprang into action. They sat rocking, looking over the stretch of land surrounding the pond. In the gathering darkness they could no longer see the water, but the sound of it cascading still sent up its soothing music. The dust thinned until it wasn’t a chore to breathe the mountain air. Even all trampled up, it was a pretty spot.
“So what am I going to do?” Kylie finally felt steady enough to think of the trouble she faced.
“First I rework your homesteading claim and drop the exemption.”
“No! I don’t want to spend five years out here. I’ll be too old to find a husband.”
Aaron laughed, and she wanted to punch him. “If it’s a husband you’re looking for, you can probably round one up without much trouble. And out here, he’ll have his own land, and you can just let this go.”
“But I don’t want to stay out here!” she nearly shouted. She covered her mouth and fought down her panic. Speaking more quietly, she said, “I don’t want to live where the nearest city is a lifetime away and there’s no such thing as a bonnet shop or ladies who gather for tea parties. I want to go back East. I want civilization.”
A small, humorless laugh escaped from Aaron as he rocked and took in the view.
“What’s funny about that?”
“Just that I had that. I had a nice farm with a city a short train ride away. My ma even had a tea party now and again. I had civilization.”
“How could you stand to give it up?”
“When I went home after the war . . .” Aaron shook his head and turned silent.
A breeze cleared the rest of the dust as they rocked, the only sound the creaking of their runners. Aaron was silent for so long, Kylie decided he wasn’t going to say more.
Finally, when she was fighting the temptation to nag him, his rocker stilled. “When I went home . . . I ran headlong into so much hate.”
He crossed his chest with one arm and propped his opposite elbow on it, then rested his fist on his mouth as if to stop the words. Again Kylie waited.
“I fought for the Union. Everyone around me split their loyalties. Half the neighbors went with the North, half with the South. Even our land was split between Virginia and West Virginia. The South used the area I lived in to launch attacks on the North. The Union Army finally got tired of it and razed every house within a hundred miles of the border.”
“Including yours?”
“Yep.” He rocked again for a time. “I still don’t know who killed my family. But they were sure as certain all dead. Ma and Pa and two little brothers, who were too young to fight, and two older sisters who were near marrying age before the war ripped away every marriage-aged man in the state. They all stayed home. I thought they were all safe. The boys too young. Pa too old. My ma and sisters too female.”
/> Kylie snorted.
“They all stayed safe at home and died. I went to war and survived. And when I came home, half the neighbors wanted to spit on me for being part of what the Union did, while the other half hated me for not fighting harder for the Union and ending the war before the area was destroyed. The farm was completely leveled, not a building left standing. The thought of rebuilding, alone, was overwhelming. Old friends turned on me. There was one who—”
The abrupt way Aaron quit talking made what he wasn’t saying seem like the most important part of the story.
“There was one who what?” Kylie asked quietly.
Instead of answering, he said, “I left. I’m doing this job for an old commanding officer, and when it’s done I’m going to move farther up into the mountains. Find a nice stretch of land and gather a herd of cattle and live where no one hates me . . . leastwise not for something I didn’t do.”
“Farther into the mountains?” Kylie felt sick at the thought of a place more remote than this. “You mean you could find a place lonelier and less civilized than here?”
“You use the word civilized a lot, Miss Wilde. But I lived a short train ride from Baltimore, Washington, D.C., New York City, and Philadelphia.”
Kylie gasped. It was her dream come true. “You did?”
“I sure enough did. Some might call them the most civilized cities in America. But what I saw when I got home was a whole lot less than civilized. I want no part of it.”
“New York City, a short train ride away . . .” Kylie felt light-headed.
Aaron didn’t respond to that. “There are places farther out than this, and I’m going to find them. As soon as I fulfill my promise to get this land rush settled, I’m going west. I’ve heard there are some beautiful high valleys no white man has ever seen. I’ll set up a ranch in some pretty mountain valley with just me and my cattle and the eagles and the mountain goats. Maybe I’ll build next to a pond so full of fish they’ll jump right on my line. I’ll build a tight cabin against the winter wind, add a porch just like this one, and get myself a rocking chair.”
Tried and True (Wild at Heart Book #1) Page 4
