by Kaki Warner
Lottie grinned after him. He was so adorable when he acted bossy.
“Have you thought any more about selling your grandfather’s land?” Mr. Sims asked, turning Lottie’s attention from the way muscles rippled up Ty’s back when he pushed open the courtroom door.
“You have a buyer?” She hadn’t thought about it lately, but if there was an interested buyer, she would definitely consider selling. Grandpa’s land was a small tract—less than three thousand dusty acres—and on its own, would never be profitable as a working cattle ranch. After receiving the solicitor’s earlier letters about possible buyers, she had gone over Carill’s surveys more carefully. There was a possibility of oil in the area, but since she’d seen the Buck place, she’d been leaning more toward selling the Concho Valley land and investing near Greenbroke. Now she was rethinking that, too. If Ty wouldn’t let her buy a ranch for them, perhaps he would allow her to make improvements on the land his uncle had left him. It would be her gift—no strings attached—a way of showing faith in him without bruising that fragile male pride.
“Mr. Krispin, your neighbor, has expressed interest,” Sims went on. “I believe he’s been running cattle on your land during your absence, and has strung several miles of barbed wire to enclose it. Since he’s made those improvements and increased the size of his herd, he would like to continue to use the land.”
“Has he made an offer?”
“Not yet. But he’s thinking about it.”
Lottie weighed her options like Mr. Griffin had taught her. She had always thought of the ranch as her safety net. But if she sold, she and Ty could use the money to get started somewhere else. On the other hand, holding on to the land wasn’t costing her anything but the annual taxes, which would be covered and then some if she leased, rather than sold. She wasn’t sure what to do. Best she talk to Ty before making up her mind.
“I don’t know if I want to give up the ranch altogether,” she told Sims. “But I might consider a lease that would grant Krispin first rights of purchase if I do sell.”
“He didn’t seem interested in a lease. He spoke only of buying outright.”
“Well . . .” She did some quick calculations. “As long as it’s a good offer. Four years free use of the land should balance what he spent on fencing, so that’s a wash. But I’d need to retain the mineral rights. A hundred percent, if possible. Seventy-five if he balks. That needs to be written into the purchase agreement, along with his assurance that our family cemetery won’t be disturbed.”
“I will tell him of your wishes.”
If Sims thought it odd to be discussing leases and rights of purchase with a woman, he showed no sign of it. Which made her like him all the more.
Behind them, the courtroom began to fill. Lottie dared a glance and was gratified to be met with more smiles than glares, and several people nodded encouragingly.
“If it pleases you,” Sims said, regaining her attention, “I will handle all the paperwork pursuant to Mr. Lofton’s passing, as well as the transfer of ownership of the land to you. That way, should Mr. Krispin make an acceptable offer, the documents will be in order.”
Lottie gave an appreciative smile. “Thank you, Mr. Sims. You’ve been a lifesaver throughout this mess. I don’t know what I would have done without you. Be sure to send me an accounting of your expenses. Although I feel I owe you so much more than money.”
“That won’t be necessary, Miss Weyland. It’s being taken care of.”
Lottie blinked at him in surprise. “By my grandfather?”
“An anonymous party.” When she started to ask who, he held up his hand. “I’m not at liberty to say. But you should know, Miss Weyland, that despite the unfortunate circumstances that have led to your incarceration and this difficult court hearing, you have many friends who care about you.”
Lottie was stunned. Her mind raced through possibilities. Friends here? She hardly remembered anyone. It must have been her friends in Greenbroke. Juno? Jane? The Bracketts? All of them?
Ty. In his determination to protect her, it was exactly what he would do. But where had he gotten the money?
Sims must have seen her worry. “It won’t be much,” he assured her. “Two days, no witnesses, no exhibits. What I did hardly even warrants a retainer.”
“What you did was save me,” she corrected.
“And it was my pleasure, my dear.”
“All rise,” Chester called.
The door behind the judge’s bench swung open and Judge Yarborough swept in. He seemed in a hurry. The remaining dozen hairs on top of his head stuck out in wild disarray, his robe was half-buttoned, and his mustache showed only a dash of lacquer. Plus, he was wearing rubberized boots. He seemed in exceptionally high spirits.
Turning to Mr. Sims, she whispered, “Going fishing again?”
He gave a sheepish smile. “There’s been an early hatch and the fish are hitting anything that moves. How could we not?”
The judge plopped down in his chair, impatiently waved the spectators back into their seats, and cracked the gavel against the sound block. “Court is now in session. Charlotte Weyland, please step forward.”
As Lottie and Mr. Sims moved around the defense table, she heard the courtroom door behind her open and glanced back to see Ty taking his place against the back wall. He was grinning like a cat with a mouthful of feathers. Bolstered by his presence and the capable solicitor beside her, she faced the judge.
“After careful consideration of the evidence put before me, I find insufficient cause to pursue the charges against you, Miss Weyland.” He said it so fast it sounded like one long word. “Have you anything to add, Ramsey?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Then charges are dismissed. You’re free to go. All of you. Now.”
There was scattered applause from the pews.
Lottie grinned, hardly daring to believe she was really free.
Sims beamed back. “Congratulations, my dear.”
“All rise,” Chester called.
Before exiting the courtroom, Yarborough motioned Lottie and Mr. Sims closer. “I’ll see you in my chambers,” he whispered. “You, too,” he added as Ty came up. Then he swept out the door, unbuttoning as he went.
The whole thing had taken less than three minutes.
“Why does he want to see us?” Lottie asked. “I thought it was over.”
“Mr. Benton, perhaps you should explain. I’ll await you in Judge Yarborough’s office. Try not to be too long. He’s not known for his patience.” Picking up his satchel, he hurried after the judge.
Ty still wore that grin, although it was starting to fray at the corners.
“What was all that about?” she asked him.
He looked back to see that most of the spectators had left, gave Chester a look that made the timid bailiff get busy with his paperwork, then faced Lottie. “I realize this is short notice and you might want more time to think about it—which is okay. But since we’ll be traveling together, and knowing what a stickler you are for the rules—”
“What are you talking about?” she cut in.
He took a deep breath, then taking her hand in his, got down on one knee. “Lottie Weyland, will you marry me?”
She stared at their clasped hands, not knowing whether to burst into laughter or tears. “You’re serious?”
“I’m on my knee, aren’t I?”
“But we’ve only been courting a day.”
“Leave it to you to count. A day’s plenty. What do you say?”
Elation made her giddy. Plans swirled through her head. “I need to make a dress, pick out the—”
“We don’t have time for that. Sims and the judge are waiting.”
“What? Now?” She gaped at the door behind the bench as if the two men might burst through at any moment. “You mean get married now?”
> He gave a disheartened sigh. “This isn’t going like I expected.”
“But Becky will be furious if I marry without her.”
“We can have another wedding with all the trimmings in Greenbroke.” He was sounding less enthusiastic with every word.
“Two weddings? But wouldn’t that be—”
“So your answer is no.” He started to rise.
She shoved him back down. “Of course, I’ll marry you. I’m dying to marry you! You really mean it, don’t you?”
“Now who’s being silly?” He was halfway up when she flung herself against him, almost pulling them both off balance.
“Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes!” Throwing her arms around his neck, she planted kisses all over his face.
He gently pushed her away. “You better stop that, or we’ll both be embarrassed when we stand before the judge. If he’s still there.” Taking her hand again, he pulled her past the wide-eyed bailiff and through the rear door of the courtroom.
Lottie made it to the door marked Office of the Circuit Judge before reason asserted itself. “Wait!”
He stopped. “What? Regrets already?”
“You said since we’ll be traveling together and I’m a stickler for the rules. That’s why you want to marry me now?”
“That, and you need a caretaker, and I’m in love with you.”
“But it’s so quick. We hardly know each other.”
Dropping her hand, he stepped back, hands planted low on his gun belt. “How can you say that?” he challenged, eyes snapping, chin jutting. “Do you have other secrets I don’t know about?”
“No, of course not!”
“Then what?”
Her mind raced, trying to come up with a way to put her fears into words that wouldn’t hurt him more than she already had. “It’s so soon,” she said lamely. “Grandpa always told me I should never make a decision when I was upset. And after what I’ve just been through I’m definitely upset.”
He let some of his anger go on a weary sigh. “But you said yes. You said you wanted to marry me. A thousand times over, in fact. Now you don’t?”
“No! I want to marry you, Ty. I want it so much it’s like a fire inside of me. But there are things . . . obstacles we need to deal with.”
“Such as?”
“Where are we going to live? Do you want a big family or a small one? Can I continue to bookkeep or do you expect me to stay home and cook and wash and chase children all day?”
“But that’s what wives do.”
Was he joking? Would he do it? “To a point,” she hedged. “But I also want to continue doing accounts, manage my investments, travel, learn more about business and stocks and . . . well, everything. I need to do something that challenges my brain, or it’ll eat me from the inside out.”
“Oh.”
Oh? That’s it? Fearing she might have pushed him too far, she softened her tone. “I love you, Ty. And I do want to marry you. I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone but you. But let’s work through some of these issues first so we can start with a cleared slate. Let’s give ourselves a little more time.”
His disappointment was painful for her to see. But Lottie knew she was right. If they married in haste, they might end up resenting each other because of misdirected purposes. “I know we can work this out, Ty. We love each other too much not to. But it may take time.”
“So your answer is no,” he said again.
“For now.”
“And you’ll let me know when I’m supposed to ask you again?”
He said it with a nasty edge, but she let it pass. “How about I ask you next time?”
“That’ll be the day,” he muttered, apparently needing to have the last word.
Which she couldn’t allow. “I look forward to it.”
“You’re the one telling the judge.”
She had no comeback to that.
The judge took it better than Ty had. No man liked being turned down, especially after maneuvering so hard to get the deed done without the hoopla of a fancy wedding so he could get straight to the loving part. Seems he’d been standing at the ready for months. Now he’d have to wait God knows how long before he could get her under him where she belonged.
Yet she did have a point. Living with Lottie would definitely require some adjustments. Like breaking her of that troubling habit of trying to manage everybody. And needing to have the last word all the time. And being so bossy.
But if he was honest with himself, he’d have to admit that the main reason he’d tried to rush the wedding was because the idea of spending the night loving Lottie under the stars tonight had a strong appeal, especially to a man who had thought of little else for a long time.
“You’re still fretting,” she observed about an hour into the ride to her grandfather’s ranch.
“More like reconciling.” Seeing that worried frown, he reached over and twined his fingers through hers. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.”
She gave a grateful smile. “I know.” Putting her other hand over his as if she expected him to bolt, she silently studied the country rolling slowly by. He sensed her sliding into old memories. Rather than disturb her, he used the silence to look around at land not too different from what his uncle had left him.
It wasn’t a particularly pretty place. Cactus, mesquite, buffalo grass, sage, and a few shinnery oaks dotting the gently rolling ground, with greener areas around the occasional sinks and water tanks. A land of extremes, molded by freezing winters, blistering summers, wind, drought, and wildfire. The main thing it had going for it was there was plenty of sky. Ty admired the openness of it, that unfettered feeling of being able to see to the distant horizon with only a few puffy clouds overhead, and maybe ten thousand jackrabbit ears and two skinny cows blocking the view.
No wonder her grandfather’s ranch had failed. Charlie Goodnight had the right of it—gobble up as much land as you could, populate it with feral cattle, then drive them north at the end of the season. That’s the only way to make ranching pay off in hard country like this.
An hour later, Lottie pointed to a string of stunted mesquite marking the banks of a creek. “There it is.”
It was a dark, squat structure, which Ty identified as the charred remains of a house as they drew closer.
Lottie wore a sad expression when the wagon rolled to a stop between the barn and what was left of the house. “I can’t believe anything is still standing.”
A generous assessment. Ty doubted either structure had been sturdy, even in its prime. “You want to stop here or over by the creek?” He hoped by the creek. If they were lucky they might find water in it and graze for the horses nearby.
“The creek. You can cross there.” She indicated a small gap in the brush. “There’s a little fenced cemetery on the other side. We’ll put Grandpa there.” As she spoke, she stepped down from the wagon. “You go on. I want to look around.”
“We’re in no rush to get back. We can even stay the night if need be.” Although if they did, Ty doubted Lottie would go for what he had in mind.
After Ty drove off, Lottie stood for a moment in the middle of what had once been the yard and tried to gather her courage. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see: she only knew she had to look.
Stepping around cow pies left by Krispin’s cattle, she approached the tilting barn. It was a wind gust away from collapsing, so she stopped at a safe distance. There wasn’t much to see. The only things she recognized were a few harness parts, the buckboard springs, and the metal rims of its spoked wheels, all showing a coating of rust over the blackened metal.
Disheartened, she moved on to the shed.
It was a scorched skeleton, but seemed stable enough. Stopping short of going inside, she surveyed what was left.
Most of the roof was gone. Rub
ble littered the floor and the center pole was burned through. Yet despite the destruction, there were signs of rebirth. Weeds grew through the twisted metal springs of Grandpa’s cot. A morning glory that had survived the flames now twined around one of the exterior posts. A tiny wren busily shoved twigs into a rusty can that had once held horse liniment, and a dirt dauber’s nest clung to one of the few overhead rafters.
Life finds a way.
She should have felt something. But there was nothing left here that meant anything to her.
The house was no better.
The rainstorm Curly Joe Adkins had testified to at the hearing must have slowed the flames, judging by the lack of charring on those walls still standing. But what the fire had missed, vandals had stolen. Grandpa’s old boots, dishes and utensils, the horseshoe hat rack beside the back door. Even the heavy black pot that had hung on the hook in the big rock fireplace had been taken.
Gone. Everything. Whatever might have bound her to this place had been burned away or stolen three years ago. Not even the smell of scorched wood hung in the air.
Feeling sad and weary—yet oddly free—she walked toward the creek to help Ty lay her grandfather in his resting place beside Mama and Grandma. Once that task was complete, she could leave without looking back.
Grandpa’s “someday” dream of a ranch was no more. From now on, what remained of her childhood home she would carry within her heart, for there was nothing left of it here.
Chapter 21
Resting his forearm across the top of the shovel, Ty watched Lottie pick her way across the shallow part of the slow-moving creek. He felt a stirring of long suppressed memories of the day he’d come home to find his home smoldering and his parents dead. He still awoke sometimes, his nostrils filled with the stink of death and smoke, the image of their lifeless bodies clinging to his mind. He hoped she would remember the happier times here, and not this charred ruin of her childhood.
Dropping the shovel beside the hole he’d dug, he walked toward her, studying her face as he drew closer, trying to read her mood. He saw no tears, but her dragging steps and the weary slump of her shoulders told him she had reached her limit. It saddened him to see this strong, courageous woman brought so low. He wanted to grab ahold of her and kiss her sorrow away. His, too.
