Scotsman Wore Spurs

by Potter, Patricia;

  “No,” Gabrielle said. “I have to go, too.”

  Both Lisbeth and her husband stared at her. They’d been listening intently for over an hour, distress visibly mounting in Lisbeth as Gabrielle explained that Drew might be on his way to confront a killer, or killers.

  Ben had listened in silence, occasionally punctuating Gabrielle’s tale with a pointed question. His eyes had gone ice cold and an almost feral expression had appeared on his face when she’d mentioned Killian’s name. “I know him,” he’d said tersely. And Gabrielle saw fear invade Lisbeth’s eyes at his comment.

  “Drew’s gotten himself into one hell of a mess this time,” Ben said.

  Gabrielle stiffened at what she perceived as a slight aimed at Drew. “He saved my life. He saved the life of one of the drovers during a stampede, risking his own. He saved Kirby Kingsley’s life. He’s very brave and very competent. It’s just that …” Without warning, emotion overcame her, and her lower lip trembled. “It’s just that he’s not a gunfighter.”

  Lisbeth’s eyes glowed. “You love him, don’t you?”

  Gabrielle could only nod.

  Ben scowled. “Dammit! I should have known the man couldn’t stay out of trouble. Couldn’t do it in Scotland, either. I was a damn fool to suggest he head south.”

  Lisbeth studied Gabrielle for a moment. “I don’t think so,” she said with a smile. “I think he finally found what he’s been looking for.” She turned to Ben. “You can find some marshals to help you, can’t you?”

  He nodded, asking Gabrielle, “And you say Kingsley doesn’t know who’s behind these shootings?”

  When Gabrielle hesitated, Ben pounced on it immediately. “Gabrielle, this is no time to withhold information.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not. Kirby doesn’t actually know. He’s got an idea, but … well, it’s something he’ll have to tell you himself. Even then, he has no evidence. It’s just a guess. The only one who really knows is Killian.”

  Ben nodded. “I’ve heard of Kingsley. Why in the hell would anyone be after him?”

  Gabrielle swallowed hard. It wasn’t her place to tell Ben—a former U.S. marshal, no less—about Kirby’s past sins. So far, she’d said only that her father and Kirby had been friends years ago, that their ranches had been stolen, and that both had been attacked recently. Anything else that Ben learned would have come from Kirby himself. Still, she wasn’t about to lie. Oh, no. She was through with lies forever.

  Ben was waiting.

  “As I said, you’ll have to ask Kirby,” she said.

  Ben gave her a narrow-eyed look, but he didn’t press the point. Instead, he asked, “How long since Drew left for Texas?”

  “Five days,” she said. “He and Kirby are afraid Killian might go after Kirby’s brother Jon.”

  “So it might be too late,” Ben finished grimly.

  Gabrielle shook her head. She wouldn’t let herself believe that. “I don’t think Drew will really go after Killian until Kirby joins him. He only wants to make sure Jon Kingsley is protected.”

  “And you?” Lisbeth inserted gently.

  “And Ha’penny,” Gabrielle said. “He’s very fond of Ha’penny.”

  “I’m sure he is,” Lisbeth said with a small laugh. “He’s very good with children. Sarah Ann adores him, but he’s always been like quicksilver, never staying anyplace long.” She cast a knowing glance at her husband.

  Ben raised one eyebrow and grinned. “She likes to think she tamed me, but it’s more the other way around. She used to go galloping across the countryside, flying over six-foot fences, wrecking carriages, and creating general havoc.”

  Gabrielle suddenly felt very alone, witnessing their obvious love for one another. Would Drew ever be able to love her like that?

  “I want to go,” she said again. “Please, don’t make me stay behind.”

  Ben scowled. “You aren’t going to start crying if I say no, are you?”

  “Well … I might. Will it help?”

  “Hmph,” he grunted noncommittally. “What about the child? You aren’t planning on asking to take him, too, are you?”

  “He’s my responsibility, and I can’t simply leave him.”

  Ben rolled his eyes heavenward.

  “Of course, you can,” Lisbeth interjected. “He’d be fine here. But we won’t talk about it anymore until after supper. Gabrielle needs to wash and get some rest. Serena will take care of the baby. I’ll show you to your room,” she told Gabrielle. “It’s the same one Drew used.”

  Gabrielle didn’t want to waste time. She wanted to head south immediately. But she had to persuade Ben to take her with him, and he wasn’t ready to agree. Having met Drew’s brother-in-law, she already had faith in him. Instinct told her he was a very competent man as well as a compassionate one. He’d said he would go to Texas; that was the first and biggest hurdle. Now she would have to play by his rules—though she still planned to nudge them a bit.

  She followed Lisbeth into a very pleasant room dominated by a large double bed and already graced with a basin of warm water along with towels and soap.

  “I’ll have Pedro bring in water for your bath,” Lisbeth said, hovering at the door. Gabrielle sensed she wanted to ask questions but her good manners prevented it. She was curious, too, and had a hundred questions for Drew’s sister.

  “I miss Drew,” Lisbeth said. “I didn’t even know he was my brother until we reached America seven months ago. He’d told Ben back in Scotland, before we left, but he waited until we arrived here to break the news to me. Now he’s as dear to me as if we’d been raised together. I had hoped he would stay with us longer, but I think family … well, perhaps it made him uncomfortable.”

  It was clear to Gabrielle that Lisbeth was trying to tell her something and didn’t quite know how.

  “Drew says so little about his past,” Gabrielle said. “I know he believes his father despised him—”

  Lisbeth made a sound of disgust. “Enough to bankrupt his estate so that he would leave Drew nothing but an empty title.”

  Gabrielle stared at her. “A title?”

  “Yes. Earl of Kinloch,” Lisbeth said—then shut her mouth abruptly at Gabrielle’s shocked look. “Oh, dear.”

  “He’s an earl?” Gabrielle heard her voice and knew it sounded strangled.

  Hurriedly, Lisbeth explained, “Drew hates the title. It doesn’t mean anything to him.”

  But Gabrielle was still grappling with the astonishing revelation and the fact that Drew hadn’t deemed it important enough to tell her himself. I don’t like lies. Well, all right, he’d never actually lied to her about who he was, but surely a lie of omission was still a lie. He called himself a gambler, a wanderer, a horseman who rode in steeplechases. He’d even, she recalled, labeled himself a “poor prize.” She thought, in all that, he might have mentioned in passing that he also happened to be an earl.

  She didn’t know whether to be angry or hurt or both. He’d made her promise to trust him when he’d trusted her not at all. Not even enough to tell her basic truths about himself.

  “I think I could use some rest after all,” she said to Lisbeth, trying to conceal her despair.

  Lisbeth gazed at her sympathetically, then made another sound of disgust. “Men!” she exclaimed, then started out the door. She stopped and turned back to Gabrielle. “If he told you anything about his family at all, then he’s already told you far more than he’s ever told anyone else,” she said softly. “And he must love you a great deal to have sent you here.”

  “I’m not sure he can love anyone,” Gabrielle said.

  “Of course, he can,” Lisbeth said. “It’ll take time, though. Time and faith. Drew’s been alone all his life.” Then she slipped quietly out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  Gabrielle knew she would never learn exactly what Lisbeth had said to Ben, but after supper he announced that she could go to Texas with him. Actually, Gabrielle thought, the decision must have been made earlier
in the couple’s bedroom, for Ben put up only token resistance.

  “I wish I could go, too,” Lisbeth said as Ben saddled two horses the next morning. “But Serena and I will take good care of Ha’Penny, and I’m sure Sarah Ann will practice sisterhood on him. And we’ll look out for Honor, too.”

  She smiled down at the great lummox of a dog continually trailing Honor, who responded with an occasional wag of his tail as he continued to guard his small charge.

  Gabrielle had donned her shirt and trousers, knowing she would be more comfortable and, therefore, that they would make better time. Much to her relief, neither Ben nor Lisbeth had disapproved.

  Gabrielle held out her hand to the woman who’d become an instant friend. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “You can by being patient with Drew,” Lisbeth said. “Don’t be angry with him for not telling you about his title. He truly does hate it. He told me it’s only been a constant reminder of the man he called father and a mother unfit for the name.”

  Gabrielle nodded. God knew nothing could ever stem the love she felt for her Scotsman. But hurt ran deep, so deep it threatened to undermine any hope she might have for a future with him. Despite his last words to her, he’d continually insisted he was a wanderer with no ties. And now she knew how much he’d kept from her, how much of himself he’d kept private and inviolate. And exactly how far from being a cowhand he truly was.

  After a last tearful goodbye with Ha’Penny, who gurgled happily in Lisbeth’s arms, she swung up into the saddle of one of the Masters’ fine horses. She felt a small surge of pride when Ben eyed her, then gave a nod of approval.

  He leaned down from his saddle to give his wife a kiss that was just long and lingering enough to remain decent for public viewing.

  “Take care of yourself,” she heard Lisbeth whisper.

  “I will, love,” he replied. “And I’ll bring that rogue brother of yours home.”

  Gabrielle prayed that he was right.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Drew missed Gabrielle with every fiber of his being. During the long hours of hard riding, with little else to occupy his thoughts, he often wondered how someone could crawl so completely into his heart in so short a time.

  His journey seemed endless and achingly lonely. He rode throughout the daylight hours, switching horses to relieve them. Killian, he guessed, would travel at his ease, thinking his job was nearly done. While it had taken the herd two-and-a-half months to reach central Kansas, it took him only fifteen days to return to the Circle K.

  He arrived, bone weary and in worse need of a bath and shave than he could ever remember, to discover that Jon had received his telegram and, although deeply puzzled, had taken his advice to heart. When Drew handed him the letter that Kirby had sent, Jon read it quickly and sank into a chair, shocked.

  “Dear God,” he said.

  Drew didn’t know how much Kirby had told Jon, so he waited in silence.

  Jon smothered a groan. “I always knew it would catch up with us someday,” he said finally. He looked up at Drew. “Thanks for being there with Kirby. And for coming back.”

  Drew shrugged and moved on to more important matters. “How many men do you have here?”

  “Right now, we’re shorthanded. Most of our hands went with Kirby. There’s fifteen men here, barely enough to look after the ranch, horses, and cattle.”

  “Add another,” Drew said. “Kirby sent me to stay with you. I don’t think you should ride off the ranch until he returns. If you need anything from town, either I or one of the other hands can fetch it.”

  Jon stared at him. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Your brother is my friend. And I have a bone of my own to pick with Killian. So, don’t worry, I don’t want anything from you. Once this is over, I’m going to Colorado.” Drew replaced the hat he’d taken off to come inside. “I’ll put my things in the bunkhouse.”

  “No,” Jon said. “Stay in the house. I’d welcome the company.”

  Drew didn’t argue. Thoughts of a real bed and a bath were akin to thoughts of heaven.

  Still, over the following days, Drew came to wonder how—or why—he’d ever spent so much of his life indoors. He’d ridden horses, yes, but he’d whiled away so many afternoons and evenings in clubs and saloons and taverns—wherever he could find a card game—arising late the following day. Now that he knew the glory of a sunrise and the wonder of a sunset and the deep pleasure of a clear, moonlit sky, he couldn’t imagine returning to his previous habits. Moreover, he’d gone months without a drink, something he once couldn’t have imagined, and he felt better than he’d ever felt before.

  What made the most difference, though, was that he now knew that he had something to go to, rather than run from. He had Gabrielle.

  He helped out around the ranch, often working with the horses, staying close to the house and Jon Kingsley. Jon liked to talk, asking intelligent questions and giving thoughtful replies. He was, Drew decided, a gentle, considerate man, and he understood why Kirby had felt the need to protect him.

  After two weeks had passed, one of the hands brought in a newspaper. The headline was emblazoned, “Kirby Kingsley Herd Reaches Abilene.” The paper reported that Kingsley had received record prices for the beef.

  “That should give someone a nightmare,” Drew said, passing the paper to Jon.

  “I’m not so sure he should have advertised the fact he’s still alive,” Jon worried. “He wouldn’t have, if it weren’t for me.”

  “No one could have kept it secret forever,” Drew said. “Not with all our drovers getting drunk in Abilene.”

  Jon chuckled. “You’re flat right about that. And Kirby knows the country. No one will find him now he’s aware someone is after him.”

  “I wish we knew for certain who was behind this.”

  “I know,” Jon said quietly.

  Drew started. “What?”

  Jon’s face flushed. “Well, actually, I think I know. But I’ve always been good at faces.”

  “So …” Drew prompted, feeling his impatience rising. “Who?”

  Jon plucked the paper from Drew’s hands, turned a page, then returned it to him, pointing at a brief article. “Philip Thorpe to Run for Governor. Prominent Austin Businessman Declares Candidacy.”

  “Bloody hell!” Drew exclaimed. “A candidate for governor?”

  “I saw a poster with a sketch of Thorpe several weeks ago when I was in San Antonio,” Jon said. “The name didn’t mean anything, but something about the face caught me. I just didn’t figure it out until you told me about Kirby and Jim Davis—the man you call James Parker. This man Thorpe—he’s Cal Thornton. I’m almost sure.”

  Drew let his breath whistle out through clenched teeth. “He must have thought himself safe,” he said. “James Parker was dead, and Killian’s reputation almost guaranteed your brother’s demise.”

  “And maybe he thought I was too young at the time to remember much,” Jon mused. “Or that Kirby’s death would ensure my silence. Of course, he also might have had second thoughts.”

  “Governor,” Drew said again. He didn’t know much about American politics, but he’d learned enough to know that candidates for public office traveled extensively, held rallies, did whatever they could to spread their news and bonhomie, working hard for every vote. “It seems unlikely that Thorpe—or Thornton—would want to leave any loose ends,” he murmured.

  “He’s very wealthy,” Jon observed. “According to the newspaper account, he practically owns Austin.”

  “Gabrielle said she couldn’t get the law to act against Kirby, a powerful cattle rancher, when she thought him guilty of her father’s murder. It will be even more difficult to go after this man.”

  Jon nodded. “Especially since we no longer have the Texas Rangers. The National Police is little more than protectors of the Republican carpetbaggers. Thornton probably already has them in his pocket.”

  A powerful man had ordered the killings of the
father of the woman he loved and a man who was his friend, on the remote chance that they might someday recognize him and somehow expose his past, despite the risk to themselves. No matter how angry he felt, he knew he was helpless to do anything that would leave Jon Kingsley unprotected. He had to wait for Kirby. Together they could do … what?

  He didn’t know. But he bloody well was going to think of something.

  Gabrielle was actually becoming comfortable in the saddle. Or maybe she was too tired to care. She knew only one thing for certain: She wasn’t going to complain.

  She and Ben had become friends during the trip, though he was a reticent man. She’d chattered about her adventures both in the theater and on the cattle drive, drawing a few chuckles as she told him about Pepper’s sourdough starter and the pebbly beans. She tried to extract information about Drew, but Ben’s mouth always seemed to slam shut when she did. Drew’s business, apparently, was his own. Yet she could tell that Ben liked his brother-in-law, even admired him.

  Once, when she’d worried aloud about Drew’s safety, he’d stared her straight in the eye and said, “Don’t ever underestimate Drew Cameron. He’s a survivor.”

  At last, the Kingsley ranch came into view. Gabrielle ached to dig her heels into her mount’s side and race ahead, but fear held her back. What if Drew was furious that she hadn’t stayed in Denver? What if he didn’t want her here? And what was she going to say to him? The news that he was an earl still rankled, filling her with foreboding.

  What would she say to an earl who wanted to be foot-loose and fancy-free, who demanded her secrets but withheld his own?

  She wanted to punch him in the stomach. Right after she made sure he was safe. Right after she kissed him.

  Further evidence she was no lady.

  As she and Ben approached the ranch, they heard a single gunshot. Ben was instantly alert, his rifle out of the scabbard and tucked under his arm. But they saw no one, nor were there more shots forthcoming. They stopped near the corral in time to see Drew come out of a barn with a rifle in his hand. When he saw them, he immediately dropped the rifle to his side and waved an arm at a man perched in the open door of the barn loft. She then realized that the gunshot must have been an alarm, established to warn of approaching riders.