A Rancher's Vow

by Patricia Rosemoor

  With that, the café owner marched off and approached a small knot of people standing near the parked cars.

  Alcina wasn’t aware of Hugh Ruskin until he said, “That was a real brave thing you did, ma’am, putting yourself in the thick of the fire to save that horse.”

  Alcina knew the bartender only by sight and reputation since she didn’t frequent the Silver Slipper. And after the altercation between him and Bart over Josie, Alcina had to admit that she was surprised to see him on the Curly-Q at all.

  “Nice that someone appreciated my effort,” she muttered, wondering if he’d been eavesdropping on her and Reba.

  Then, thinking of the way Reed had lit into her, Alcina glanced around until she spotted the aggravating man over by the corral, deep in conversation with Moon-Eye. The grizzled ranch hand was shaking his head as if in denial. Undoubtedly, Reed was questioning Moon-Eye about being in the barn prior to the fire, as he’d intended.

  Not feeling very warm toward Reed at the moment—he could have said something positive about what she’d done—Alcina turned back to the bartender, whose clothing appeared to be ruined.

  “It looks as if you went all out, putting yourself on the line,” she said, surprised by the fact. Maybe he was trying to make up for that altercation with Bart over Josie, though that had been quite a while ago when he’d been brand-new in town. “And my name is Alcina, by the way, not ma’am. That’s my mother.”

  Ruskin laughed. “Alcina, then.” Strong white, predatory teeth flashed from a soot-streaked face that was rugged and interesting, if not handsome. “I didn’t get nearly as close as you did to that fire,” he admitted. “I simply pitched in like everyone else to stop it from spreading.”

  Not everyone, Alcina thought, remembering Cardona’s spotless appearance. Not quite.

  “I admire a woman with spirit,” Ruskin was saying.

  “Pardon?”

  “I admire you,” he clarified, stepping closer, leaving her with too little room. “And I’d like to get to know you better. Maybe I could interest you in sharing supper with me some night this week.”

  She was not a small woman, but he was the kind of man who filled a doorway. He made her feel delicate, and the comparison didn’t leave her comfortable. Or maybe it was the way he was staring at her expectantly. The strange glitter in his nearly colorless eyes suddenly reminded her of a reptile setting sights on its prey.

  She took another step back to set a definite boundary. But having been raised with a certain standard of manners, Alcina thought to turn him down politely.

  “I’m very flattered, Mr. Ruskin—”

  “Hugh. Mr. Ruskin is my stepdaddy,” he said, echoing her.

  Alcina forced a smile and started to say, “I just am not—” when she was interrupted yet again.

  “Ready to go home?”

  This time it was Reed, who inserted himself between her and the other man. Truth be told, she was relieved that she didn’t have to turn Ruskin down directly.

  “Ah,” the bartender said, his visage darkening. “I see how the wind blows.”

  As far as she knew, Alcina thought, the wind wasn’t blowing anywhere. And she wasn’t even sure she wanted it to. She wasn’t about to argue the point when all she felt was relief. But Reed didn’t have to be aware of that.

  “I’ll let you know, Hugh,” Alcina said in a purposely sweet tone meant to aggravate Reed.

  Though she thought the bartender was going to say more, he merely gave the other man an even darker look and backed off.

  Before Reed could say anything, Alcina challenged him. “What was that all about?”

  “I didn’t mean to get in the middle of anything,” he muttered, suddenly appearing uncertain. “I thought I would take you home.”

  “Well, you thought wrong. I have my own vehicle.”

  “Which you shouldn’t drive…just in case.”

  “In case what?” she asked. “In case we have a blue moon? That’s not until next week.”

  He frowned at her. “Are you always so prickly when someone is trying to be nice to you?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t get the nice part. Thank you, then, but I can see myself home.”

  He gave her a look that told Alcina he probably wanted to strangle her. Then he tipped his hat and backed off, leaving her staring after him.

  “Things not going so good with Reed?”

  The whisper in her ear startled Alcina. At least that’s the excuse she gave herself for her pulse threading so unevenly as she gave Josie a weak smile.

  “As best as can be expected, I suppose.”

  “Don’t give up yet,” Josie insisted.

  “There’s nothing to give up on.”

  “Okay-y-y. Then let me put it another way. Don’t use Hugh Ruskin as a way to get over Reed.”

  “There’s nothing to get over!” Alcina insisted, annoyance growing. And though instinct had told her to keep her distance from the bartender, she asked, “You haven’t made peace with Ruskin, I expect.”

  “That creep?” Josie shivered visibly and wrapped her arms around her middle. “I’ll never make peace with a womanizer and bully, and he’ll never change.”

  Glad she had listened to her own intuition, Alcina said, “I thought it was weird when I saw him here in the first place.”

  “Chance hired him. He didn’t know anything about what happened between Ruskin and me and Bart because he wasn’t around at the time. Bart didn’t find out about Ruskin being on the spread until this morning, and he didn’t want to spoil the day by objecting. Besides, he figured Ruskin wouldn’t get out of line with him around.” Josie eyed Alcina closely. “He didn’t get out of line, did he?”

  “No. He started by saying that he admired me for saving the horse—”

  “About that—”

  “Don’t, Josie,” Alcina said with a groan. “I’ve heard enough about my foolishness from Reed.”

  “I was merely going to thank you. Skitter’s one of the new mounts I brought over from my own stock. Actually, all three in the corral were. Anyhow, Skitter is young and silly and would probably have hurt himself. I’m just sorry you got hurt.”

  That it was Josie’s horse—one of many the Curly-Q wrangler and her late mother had bred and trained on their own small ranch—was gratifying. Josie had been through too much already in the past months.

  “I’ll live,” Alcina said. “A stiff shoulder and bruised bottom never killed anyone.”

  Josie grinned. “I can testify to that, considering the number of spills I’ve taken working with horses.”

  Every muscle protesting when she moved, Alcina sighed and said, “I wasn’t going to leave this early, but I need my Jacuzzi. I hate to intrude on the newlyweds, though.”

  “I sure hope Pru and Chance are having a better time than we’ve been having around here,” Josie said, “though I doubt that whatever they’re doing is as exciting.”

  “Don’t be too sure. I gave them permission to swing from the chandeliers if they wanted.” Almost able to picture it, Alcina laughed. “Are you ready to go put a crimp in their honeymoon aerobics?”

  Josie grinned. “Nah, you go without me. And don’t wait up.”

  Alcina gave her friend a quick hug, then headed for her car. No doubt Josie wanted to spend more time with Bart, even if it wasn’t a particularly pleasant time.

  That’s what a relationship was all about. Sharing good times and bad. Not that it always worked that way, as she well remembered.

  Alcina wondered if she would ever have that kind of special relationship, one where you knew what the other person would think before he thought it. Where you didn’t necessarily have to say anything, where being together was enough.

  Pulling away from the buildings, she pinned Reed in her headlights, but quickly swerved her car in a different direction to avoid him.

  Reed wasn’t the one.

  She’d settled that in her mind more than a decade ago.

  NEARLY AN HOUR after his thir
d altercation of the day with Alcina, Reed stood staring at the burned shell of a barn, whose corrugated metal roof tilted to the ground on one side. If only it could talk.

  Reed was still wondering about the unidentified man whom Alcina had seen in the building not even an hour before the fire. He’d already talked to Moon-Eye, who’d said he’d been looking for dance partners at the time, not more work. Reed planned to talk to Bart and Pa about it.

  The last guests, dirty and scorched, were pulling their vehicles out of the yard as Reed crossed to the house, where he suspected he’d find Pa. The day had been stressful enough on the old man’s heart. At least a wedding was good stress. Reed hoped the barn burning hadn’t overburdened him.

  Reed detoured to check on Temporary, who once more had resorted to the floor of the pickup—scared, no doubt, by all the commotion. And once again he marveled at how the dog had taken to Alcina.

  He tried not to obsess over her not letting him drive her home.

  She was independent, he’d give her that. Most women would be grateful for a helping hand, but not Alcina. She had even been hard-pressed to thank him for saving her pretty hide. Nope, she certainly wasn’t like other women, as she was so fond of telling him.

  Entering the house, Reed went straight for the noise in the kitchen.

  “Where’s Bart and Pa?” he asked Felice.

  The housekeeper was alone, fussing with platters and serving utensils rather than leaving cleanup for the morning and getting some rest. Her way of coping, he guessed.

  “Mr. Bart drove Miss Josie home,” she said. “Your father is in his quarters.”

  “He okay?”

  She avoided his gaze. “Tonight has been hard on everyone. Perhaps you should check on Mr. Emmett for yourself.”

  Reed’s gut tightened and the back of his throat went thick. He nodded to Felice and headed for Pa’s quarters—adjoining office and bedroom.

  Life with his father had been hell, but losing him was unthinkable. Reed kept hoping for some compromise. Like maybe Pa would rally and surprise everyone and live to be a kindly old codger who got a kick out of watching his sons take over the reins for him.

  Yeah, fat chance.

  The old-codger part Reed could see, but he wasn’t certain his father knew the meaning of kind. As for turning over the reins…he knew he and his brothers would have to wait to wrest them from Pa’s lifeless hands. Somehow, the old man always got his way.

  Directly outside his father’s quarters, Reed heard the telephone ring. He stopped short, then figured it couldn’t be anything important. He knocked but got no invitation to enter. Had Pa even heard?

  Hesitating, not certain if he should wait or let the discussion keep until morning, Reed was startled when he heard Pa shout through the thick wooden door.

  “Who the hell told you the Curly-Q is up for sale?”

  THIS TIME the vultures hadn’t even waited a day before picking at his bones.

  Emmett Quarrels gripped the receiver and shook with rage as the honey-sweet voice of some real estate agent named Marla Beth Brown drawled from the other end.

  “I want to assure you, Mr. Quarrels, that Desert Sun Realty can guarantee you top dollar on your property, and—”

  “I didn’t ask you to guarantee nothing. But I will repeat my question in case you didn’t get it the first time. Who told you the Curly-Q was for sale?”

  “Why, uh…”

  He’d managed to fluster her. Good.

  “Someone told you to call me.” Emmett leaned a hand on his desk. “I want to know who.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t reveal the name of my client.”

  “What do you think you are? Some damn lawyer with an oath of confidentiality? Or a priest? Oh, no, you’re a woman…and, honey, I never knew any woman who wouldn’t talk for the right incentive. So what’s yours?”

  The line on the other end immediately went dead. And on his end, Emmett slammed the receiver into its cradle.

  He cursed a blue streak, too, and only when he had a head of steam going did he realize he wasn’t alone. Reed was standing just inside the office, his back to the door.

  “What’s going on, Pa?”

  The breath caught in Emmett’s throat and he plunked down into his desk chair. “What did you hear?” he choked out.

  “Enough. You okay?” Coming closer, Reed gave him a worried look. “Your color’s not too good.”

  “Maybe I oughta go lay down,” Emmett said, thinking of a way to escape an interrogation. “Help me to my bed, Son.”

  “I think you ought to settle right there for a while until your blood pressure evens out. If you want, I can call Doc Baxter.”

  “No, no…I—I’ll be fine. I’m mad is all.”

  “Because someone thinks the Curly-Q is for sale?”

  Emmett squirmed in his seat. Reed wasn’t going to let it go, he knew it. Next thing, he’d have his brothers in on the act and all three of them would be hammering at their poor old pa for the truth.

  Unless…

  “Son, did I tell you how glad I was to see you?”

  “No, Pa,” Reed said dryly. “You managed to skip that part.”

  “It was circumstance, you being late and all. But of my three boys, you’re the one I counted on coming home.”

  “I would have thought that would be Bart.”

  Barton always had been a leader, true, but Reed would be the heart of the spread, Emmett thought. His middle son was the one who loved the land and ranching more than anything. Reed had some issues with his older brother, though…issues that Emmett could use to his advantage.

  “Like I said, Son, I was counting on you to fix things,” Emmett said as Reed took the seat across from him. “Make the spread pay for itself again. We’ve been plagued by bad-luck incidents.”

  “You mean like the fire tonight?” Reed asked. “Alcina Dale saw someone in the barn not an hour before. And I don’t know about you, but I heard what sounded like a blast, and dollars to doughnuts, that was no accident, even if it was made to look like one.”

  Emmett cursed under his breath, but he still didn’t volunteer more.

  So Reed went on. “How many of these calls to sell the Curly-Q have you been getting, Pa?”

  Too many, and Emmett couldn’t handle the situation alone anymore. He couldn’t lose the Curly-Q. He needed help from someone who would hang on to it as desperately as he. That’s why he decided to confide in Reed.

  “All right, Son, I confess I’ve had one of them calls every time something happens to make the financial situation around here worse.”

  Reed appeared thoughtful, then asked, “Have you told Bart?”

  Emmett shook his head. “You’re the only one.”

  He’d gone this far. He’d have to expose it all.

  He opened the fancy box on his desk and lifted the wrinkled ecru paper from under the fine cigars he’d been forbidden to smoke both by Doc Baxter and Felice. He held the written warning as carefully as he would a snake ready to strike, when he offered it to Reed.

  His son read silently, but Emmett knew every word by heart.

  Quarrels—

  Take a friendly warning.

  You’ve had more years than you deserve being king of the Curly-Q. Put the place up for sale or suffer the consequences.

  Your livestock, your property, your life—all are in jeopardy unless you abdicate.

  A Confidant

  He remembered the fury that had filled him when he’d read the damn missive the first time. He’d crumpled it and had thrown it away. But something had made him retrieve the paper from the wastebasket. Something had made him smooth out the wrinkles and save the battered warning, setting it at the bottom of his cigar box, which was sacrosanct.

  “Why have you been keeping this to yourself?” Reed asked as he set the letter on the desk between them.

  “I didn’t believe the warning, of course, not right away,” Emmett admitted. “But whoever wrote that finally managed to convince
me. No proof, though. Nothing for the authorities to go on. Someone is out to destroy the Curly-Q if I don’t sell what I worked a lifetime to build.”

  “But you can’t sell, not anymore…” Reed narrowed his gaze. “Is that why you did it, Pa? Is that why you turned the Curly-Q into a family corporation…so no one could force you to sell? Did you think that would scare off whoever has been doing this—”

  “I had Howard Siles draw up them papers because I wanted my boys around me before I die!”

  Reed turned ashen and clenched his jaw. Father and son stared at each other for a moment. Then Reed recovered too quickly for Emmett to be certain the boy was convinced.

  “Pa, Bart is a lawman, for God’s sake. So why haven’t you showed this to him, or Chance?”

  “And play right into the villain’s hands?”

  “How do you figure?”

  “You think Barton wants more trouble in his life? He lost a wife to violence and he fears for his kids. And Chance, he just needs an excuse to roll on to the next town.”

  “Chance is a married man now. And a father.”

  “So he won’t want Pru or Hope in danger, neither. He’ll take them with him. The way the corporation is set up, majority rules. Your brothers don’t love this land and this way of life the way we do. We’re alike in that, Son. Barton and Chance…I’m afraid they could outvote you…”

  He’d hated that part of the deal most, but Barton had only agreed to come back if the power to say what happened on the Curly-Q was left to him and his brothers.

  “You can’t tell Barton or Chance, Reed. I’m warning you, that could mean the end of everything. Promise me you’ll keep what I told you between us.”

  Emmett’s heartbeat fluttered when Reed didn’t promise any such thing. He gripped the chair arms and took a deep breath.

  “You expect me to fix things alone?” Reed finally asked. “I wouldn’t know where to start.”

  Air whooshed down Emmett’s lungs in one long draft. “We start by making sure the bank doesn’t foreclose.”

  “Tucker would really do that to you?”

  Emmett thought about the glee his former partner and owner of the bank would have in evening an old score. “He will unless you stop him.”