“The maids. They’ll bring them back in a few hours, all cleaned and polished. I’ll order you new boots by mail tomorrow.”
“So, dressing me is part of the bargain.” He didn’t like the idea, but he did like the clothes.
She shrugged. “I guess so. It seems only fair. After all, I’m the one asking you to play a role.”
He almost said, “Any chance undressing you is part of my bargain?” but he feared any boldness might frighten her. Showing affection downstairs was one thing; being bold here in the silence of her room would be quite another.
She took her seat on one side of a small table set with tea and smiled up at him as if they were old friends.
He gambled and brushed the top of her head with his hand.
As before, she stiffened at his touch, but made no comment. He had a feeling they were both thinking of the bargain they’d made. He’d play the part and she’d let him touch her from time to time.
He took his seat, swearing to himself that before he left her she’d at least not jump when he touched her.
She poured him tea, which he didn’t drink as she filled him in on the workings of the ranch. She showed him maps and explained her family history.
He was quiet and polite until she pulled out the monthly expense records. The figures, so carefully kept, interested him. “Mind if I study these?” he finally asked. “If I can follow the income and output, I’ll understand the runnings of the ranch better.”
“I would say you could talk to our bookkeeper. I don’t know his first name. Everyone always calls him Mr. Fiddler.” She frowned. “I haven’t seen him since I came back. In fact, I haven’t even thought to ask about him. He’s probably around somewhere.”
Michael raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as she continued.
“The past three years’ records are on my father’s desk downstairs. I saw my uncle looking at them the morning I found out my father’s terms for the will. While you’re here take as active a part in the running of the ranch as you like.” She hesitated a long moment and added, “But never forget our bargain. As soon as the ranch is safely mine, you and your uncles will leave and for your trouble I promise your wagon will be packed.”
“I’ll hold to my bargain, Cozette, and I’d like to look over the accounts,” he said, almost angry that she felt the need to remind him of their pact. He didn’t add that since she’d probably be by her father’s side the records would give him a reason to stay close.
She opened her mouth as if to question, then reconsidered and nodded in compromise. Last night he’d watched her change from a frightened child to a woman taking control of her life. She’d never be easy to manipulate again and he knew he’d never even try.
He smiled as she fiddled with her tea. He knew he was the only one she had to trust. An outlaw who had threatened to kill her was all that stood beside her now. Michael had seen the look in her uncle’s eyes. He wanted the ranch and might just be willing to do anything, including killing them both to get it.
Michael planned to stay by her side until he knew she was safe. He would do so even without the promise of a wagonload of goods.
Chapter 4
The newlyweds came down for lunch late. Cozette didn’t miss all the smiles and winks at Michael. He remained the gentleman, never letting on that he knew she’d thrown up her breakfast. He hadn’t even raised his head from the book he’d been reading when she forgot to close his connecting door. When she’d visited her father by way of the back stairs, he’d followed and quietly remained at the desk by the window until she’d told him it was time for lunch.
He’d covered his hand over hers a few times during the meal, and when he knew someone was watching, he’d made an effort to brush her cheek with a kiss or lightly circle his arm over her shoulders. Because of her father’s illness and the newlyweds’ need to be alone, the few guests who’d come quickly made excuses to leave. By afternoon, all the ranch hands had returned to work and the house was quiet.
When she’d excused herself to sit with her father, Michael followed without a word. He’d walked her all the way to the chair by her father’s bed, then kissed her hand and said he’d be at the desk across the room.
She’d expected to find her uncle in her father’s room and was relieved to see only the nurse.
Shadows were long when Michael excused himself and left the room. Cozette stood and stretched, then walked around the big desk, noticing that Michael had been studying the records all afternoon. She stopped at the tall windows and stared out at her ranch, loving it so much her heart ached to realize how close she came to losing it.
She brushed her fingers over the slight bulge just above her knee where she’d strapped a gun to her leg. A few months ago she believed everyone to be good and fair. She thought her uncle loved her and only wanted her to be happy when he’d sent a letter introducing the son of a friend.
Fredrick Bates had shown up at her school with flowers and his aunt as chaperone. The nuns had let her go riding with him and to dinner in town as long as the aunt went along. After all, he had the proper family introduction and Cozette was a year older than most girls who left the school. They’d let her stay on another year only because her father had insisted.
Cozette thought she was in love with Fredrick by the fourth outing. He spoke French to her and swore she had angel eyes. When his aunt retired early on the fifth evening, she’d been excited to spend the time alone with a man who pampered her so.
Fredrick had teased her and told her he planned to seduce her as they entered his private quarters. She’d been fool enough to laugh and play along when he kissed her and flirted with her. When the hour grew late, she’d told him she had to go, but he changed. Seduction turned forceful and demanding.
For a moment she thought he was still teasing, and when talk turned to action, she’d been too shocked, too young, too naive to even fight.
It had all been over in a few minutes, and when he pulled away, he’d seemed furious at her. The man who’d spoken his love for her in French stood, straightened his clothes, and said he’d done what he’d been paid to do. He’d left her there, her dress torn, her heart broken as if she were no more than the scraps after a meal.
She’d cried for a while, then walked back to the school and pretended nothing had happened. If she’d said a word she would have been expelled. Her father would have disowned her. Proper young ladies didn’t get themselves into compromising positions.
So, she’d held her tongue and come home as soon as she could find a reason to slip away.
Once on the ranch, she’d realized the truth. The letter introducing Fredrick was in Uncle Raymond’s handwriting. He had paid a man to dishonor her.
When she said nothing, he must have thought the plan hadn’t worked. Then, he’d talked her father into changing his will. He probably figured she’d be too afraid to even talk to another man after her encounter with Fredrick. Uncle Raymond must have thought he’d planned it all out where he would win the ranch without a fight. Half the family wealth had never been enough—he wanted it all.
Her grandfather had fought the Apache for this land, her father had fought outlaws and raiders more than once, and now she knew she’d have to fight her uncle. No one was ever going to stand in her way. The land was hers, paid for with blood and sweat. She would have made a bargain with the devil himself to keep it.
Looking at the chair where Michael had been sitting, she wondered if that hadn’t been exactly what she’d done. After all, he was an outlaw. His only three relatives didn’t look like they’d completely evolved from animals. Moses snorted like a bull and Joseph smacked when he ate. She couldn’t even see Abe clearly for all the dirty hair hanging in his face.
But Michael Hughes looked like he was born to play the role of a rancher. All dressed up, he looked like a perfect gentleman, but he seemed to be holding his cards close to the vest and waiting for her to give him just enough power to take over or run. When the time came, how hard
would it be for him to walk away from a ranch this size with only a wagonload of trinkets? By law all her property now belonged to him. Would he give it back when the time came?
She stood and moved to the gun chest. Lifting the false bottom to the shelf, she retrieved two more small Colts. One for beneath her pillow, the other to hide in this room. She’d not be caught unprepared again. The nuns might not have taught her to fight, but they had taught her to reason. She wanted to believe in Michael, but she’d learned the hard way to be prepared.
From the window, she watched her new husband cross through the garden. He didn’t turn to the cabins where his relatives stayed but opened a side gate. Taking long strides he walked into the untamed pasture beyond the trimmed and groomed walls of the compound.
He was almost to the trees running along a creek behind the house when he stopped. She watched as he leaned his head back and stared up at the cloudy sky like a man trying to find his bearings.
For the first time, she wondered if he felt as trapped by their bargain as she did. If he hadn’t agreed to her crazy scheme he might have been killed last night. Yet, even knowing all she had to do was yell and he’d be trapped, he’d bargained for his uncles’ lives. He’d also handled her setting all the rules with more class than she might have in his place. She’d made it plain that he’d play the part of master over all he saw, but she’d make the final decisions on anything pertaining to the ranch. She’d hold all the power. As her father slipped farther and farther from the world, she’d take her place.
One of the ranch hands fell into step with Michael as he walked back to the house. She saw them talking and wished she could hear what they were saying. The ranch hand tipped his hat in salute when he veered off at the garden gate.
Cozette put one of the guns in the pillows by the alcove and noticed he hadn’t touched his tea again. Next time they talked, she’d have coffee for him even though he hadn’t complained or asked. The least she could do was make him comfortable in his cage.
Chapter 5
Michael walked slowly back onto the house grounds. He was supposed to join her at dinner, but he had no idea when dinner would be. At the prison there were only two meals. One served at dawn, the other an hour before dark. That way men could use daylight to work and everyone would be shackled in by dark and no extra light was needed.
He’d hated those nights. A boy sleeping in among men who yelled and swore and cried. The silence of the classroom was a welcome change. He hadn’t minded that he slept on the floor with a single blanket at night. The warden’s wife gave him clean clothes every Monday and made him bathe once a week. When he’d finished and dressed, she’d always inspect for dirt under his nails or ears that weren’t scrubbed.
If she found nothing, she’d say, “You’ll do” and walk away without another word.
He ate his meals on the back porch of the warden’s house. Their cook gave him scraps at first. No matter what or how little was on the plate, Michael thanked her every morning and night. Eventually, the meals got better. After a few months, she even gave him a tin with leftover biscuits in it. “You ain’t much older than the kids in that school. It ain’t fair you don’t have no lunch.”
Michael thanked her and that night he tasted his first dessert. One scoop of apple cobbler.
When he was growing up with his uncles nothing had an order. Supper or any meal, for that matter, came when the food was done. If nothing was caught and cooked, they ate like chickens scratching around for bits of food.
He passed through the pasture gate and into the courtyard wondering if the San Louise Ranch ever had cobbler.
He saw Abe and Joseph walking out of their small rooms along the row of cabins Cozette had called guesthouses. His uncles were dressed in wool trousers without a single patch and well-made broadcloth shirts.
“Hold up, Mickey!” Abe yelled. “You get a look at our quarters? Real sheets and two blankets each. One of the maids came by to tell us she’d pick up our laundry and sheets every Monday to wash. Imagine that.”
Joseph shook his head and stuttered, “They’ll w-wear them out w-washing them that often.”
Abe took his time chewing his words before he spoke, as he always did when he wasn’t sure of something. “How long do you figure we’re staying?”
Michael wished he could tell them the bargain, but he’d given his word. “Behave yourselves and you can stay as long as I do.”
Abe tried again. “When your pa married our sister, he took her away. The marriage didn’t take, I guess, ’cause she was back before all the seasons changed with you in her belly. When she left us she kept saying it was forever. Mickey, you ain’t never used that word once.”
Michael had heard the story of how his mother left them a hundred times. They did all they could when she went into labor, but she died giving birth to him. Then his uncles stole a goat and somehow kept him alive. He was about seven when he realized his uncles barely had a brain among them.
He tried to make one detail clear to them. “I’ll stay a while but we’ll have to leave eventually. This is Cozette’s ranch, her land, not mine. Never forget that.”
They both nodded and turned toward the bunkhouse.
“Aren’t you coming in to dinner?” Michael asked.
“Nope.” Abe smiled. “We’ve been invited to the bunkhouse kitchen for chili.”
Joseph grinned. “W-wish we could invite you, boy, but it w-wouldn’t be right. You’re going to have to eat in the big house w-with all those people w-watching to snatch your plate before you get a chance to lick it clean and more forks than anybody ought to have to put up w-with.”
Abe frowned. “One of them fell in my pocket this morning. I guess you’d better take it back before they miss it.”
Michael took the fork. “No stealing while you’re here, remember?”
Abe’s head bobbled, but Michael doubted the message would log.
He walked back to the house. Inside the kitchen, he dropped the fork on a work table and moved on. The place had more rooms than he could count. There were sitting rooms and proper parlors. Cozette’s father’s office was bigger than most banks, with closets and doors going off in almost every direction. While they’d looked over the map she’d mentioned her father hadn’t smoked in weeks, the area near the desk still smelled of cigars. Michael decided to ask if the bookkeeper smoked. If he did, he couldn’t have been away long even though Cozette hadn’t seen him.
When Michael finally wandered into the main entry hall, he found Cozette waiting on the third step, her elbows on her knees and her chin in her palms. She still wore her white blouse and riding skirt.
“Am I late?”
“No, you’ve plenty of time to change for dinner. I laid your clothes out myself.”
He frowned. “Why would I change?”
She smiled. “I’ve wondered that same thing most of my life. All I know is my uncle invited guests again. He’s not talking to me directly, but apparently he’s not ready to leave and needed a reason to stay. The charade of a wedding dinner with neighbors is as good a reason as any to delay his departure.”
“How’s your father?”
“The same.” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with sadness. “He doesn’t squeeze my fingers anymore and he won’t open his eyes when I talk to him. I get the feeling he wishes I’d stay away.”
Michael took her hand firmly in his grip. He had no idea what to say. The old man was having a hard time dying just as he’d had a hard time living. Cozette had been as starved for love growing up as Michael had been.
He tugged on her hand and pulled her into his arms as she stood. For a moment all he did was hold her against him guessing that the feel of another standing heart to heart was as foreign to her as to him.
She held on tightly for a moment, then smiled her thanks up at him.
“If I dress for dinner,” he tried to make light of what had just passed between them, “I’m guessing you will have to also.”
She
groaned. “Of course, and wear my hair up. After all, I’m not a child any longer. I’m a proper married lady.” They moved up the stairs, holding hands.
“I like your hair down.” He winked at her. “It brushes your bottom when you walk.”
She slapped at his ribs and laughed. “A gentleman never refers to a woman’s bottom.”
He liked her teasing. This was a side of her he hadn’t seen. “I’m sorry, but you know, dear, I’m not a gentleman and I like looking at your bottom as well as your hair.” He slowed slightly to take in the view before she pulled him along.
They reached her room, where Moses slept outside her door.
“I slipped past him,” she confessed.
“Don’t do it again.” He hadn’t meant his words to roll so hard.
She looked up as if she might argue, then turned and disappeared into her room.
He woke his uncle and told him to go eat chili, that he’d guard his own wife tonight. She didn’t like being ordered—he needed to remember that. She expected him to be a gentleman and he wasn’t sure how. The one compliment he’d given her apparently wasn’t proper. If their marriage lasted beyond dinner tonight, he’d be surprised.
Chapter 6
Cozette jumped at the tap on their connecting door half an hour later.
“Ready?” he said when she shoved the lock free.
She didn’t miss his smile, but he looked nervous and somehow that one fact calmed her. With only a slight hesitance, she motioned him into her room.
She couldn’t help but stare at him from head to toe. He looked striking in his tailored evening jacket and white shirt hugging his tan throat. “Almost,” she whispered. “I can’t get the latch of my necklace to hold. Would you do it for me?”
Handing him the jewelry, she turned her back. Her hair was already swept atop her head, so he should have no trouble. Standing very still, she waited.
“Got it,” he said.
She felt for the necklace even knowing it wasn’t there. “No, you haven’t.”
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