The Lover

by Genell Dellin

  He wanted to just walk with her, with her hand on his arm, up and down the main street, called Texas Street, and see her be surprised, as most cowboys were on their first visit, that the establishments on one side of it were more Texan than some Texas towns, with everything named the Lone Star or the Alamo or the Bull’s Head and everybody talking about cattle and everybody dressed in a way that showed they were from Texas. He could introduce her to some people in the cattle business that she should know.

  No, she shouldn’t. She was too beautiful and they were all men. A woman who had the looks that Susanna did shouldn’t be in business at all. It was dangerous.

  But instead of doing anything that he wanted to do, here they were, out on the edge of town riding in to race Miss Molly and win Susanna some money. Rare was the day he didn’t care to see a horse race and even rarer was the day he didn’t care to run Miss Molly, but this day was one.

  She’d been right when she said he’d known from the start that they couldn’t stay together forever. He agreed with her on that, one hundred percent. But it was making him crazy just the same.

  He didn’t know what was wrong with him.

  Susanna stood under one of the few trees in Kansas, near the impromptu racetrack, holding the reins of her mount and Eagle Jack’s. She was listening to Eagle Jack talking to one of the young boys who were hiring out as jockeys for the series of races that were springing up, and smiling to herself about how closely he was predicting Molly’s behavior and her speed. She could only pray that Molly would come through as she usually did, and win as she usually did, because she, Susanna, had borrowed a hundred dollars from Eagle Jack—a hundred dollars!—to bet on this race.

  But she couldn’t afford to fool around with lesser amounts when she must either replace her losses on her cattle or give up on paying off her mortgage. The cattle buyer would meet with her and Eagle Jack tomorrow. As soon as that business was settled and she’d paid everybody off, she had to go home.

  The very thought made her heart ache, but she pushed the hurt aside.

  The arrangements had already been made. She would go on ahead as soon as possible to take care of paying off the banker’s mortgage and to see how Brushy Creek had fared. As soon as the cattle were physically in the hands of the buyer, Maynell, Jimbo, and the men would spend some time in Abilene and then come on the next train or the next, shipping the wagon and the remuda back south with them. The men would do whatever they wanted. Most would come south on the train.

  Eagle Jack had made an offhand mention of making a lone, leisurely ride back to Texas, racing Molly whenever he wanted along the way. Visualizing that made her heart ache, too, because she wanted to be riding beside him.

  But Eagle Jack was a big boy who had made this trip before. He could find his way home without her.

  Where was his home? All he’d ever said was that he was from up east of Waco, even when she’d hinted to know more.

  That was another completely remarkable thing she’d never realized until that moment: she was normally so closemouthed about herself and her past and her present business that she confided nothing. With Eagle Jack, she had been as garrulous as a pathetic, lonely old woman, blurting out things she thought she’d forgotten, things that were much better off unsaid.

  What was it about him that wreaked such havoc on her?

  Maybe his looks. There he was, the muscles of his shoulders and arms rippling beneath the thin fabric of his shirt as he ran his hands over Molly’s legs.

  “All you have to do is stay on her back,” he was saying to his small jockey. “Make sure you’ve got a good seat and tight legs because when she stretches out, she’ll run a hole in the wind.”

  The boy looked dubious, but he nodded that he understood. Eagle Jack bent over and cupped his hand to give the boy a leg up.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said to Susanna.

  Then he led Molly toward the starting line while she got used to the jockey being on her back. Once the short, scruffy mare was standing beside the long-legged Thoroughbred that was her opponent in this match race, several more people began signaling to Eagle Jack that they wanted to make a bet.

  Susanna watched him dealing with them all and talking to the two men appointed to hold the money. Her gaze stayed glued to him as he returned to Molly, then, and stroked her shaggy mane. He put his arm around her neck and hugged her while he appeared to whisper something to her.

  Molly pricked up her ears and turned her head to nudge him with her nose. It made Susanna smile.

  “Eagle Jack knows how to treat a woman, doesn’t he, Molly?” she murmured, under her breath.

  Then he was walking toward her again, finding his way through the crowd, and her fingers tightened on the two sets of reins she was holding. Her breath caught in her chest.

  All she wanted, right now at this minute, was for him to be beside her again. She wasn’t even thinking about winning money. She was losing her mind. What was she going to do when they parted for good?

  Eagle Jack reached her just before the starting gun fired.

  The race went like lightning. The horses were running full out almost before Susanna could transfer her gaze from Eagle Jack to the track. They raced close together for less than halfway down the track, with Molly a neck ahead of the much taller horse, then Molly started pulling ahead. She simply floated—she absolutely looked as if she were moving effortlessly—farther and farther and farther ahead of the other horse, and she kept on going.

  “She’s just a blur,” Susanna said, in wonder. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “You’ve saved your ranch, Susanna,” Eagle Jack said, “the odds were ten to one.”

  Her ranch! Brushy Creek was saved!

  “Molly saved it, you mean,” she cried, and turned to throw her arms around his neck after the mare crossed the finish line four lengths ahead.

  But as he hugged her in that one quick moment of victory, she still couldn’t feel a thing about the race or her ranch. All she was thinking was soon it would be the last time he’d ever hold her.

  Eagle Jack leaned back in his rocking chair, exhaled a cloud of smoke from his new cheroot, and propped his feet up on the railing that ran along the veranda of the Drovers Cottage. With the breeze from the east, it was actually cool enough for life to be enjoyable here in the shade.

  It was more than enjoyable to be bathed and shaved and cologned and wearing freshly pressed new clothes. It was a pleasure to get dressed up once in a while.

  It was more than a pleasure to be waiting for Susanna to go to dinner with him.

  She had refused to let him buy her a dress, or even to help her choose one, but he had achieved the thing he wanted most today, which was her company for a leisurely dinner. There would be some musicians playing there in the restaurant tonight, the desk clerk had assured him. There would be dancing.

  “Sixkiller! They told me that I’d find you here.”

  The sound of his name broke his mood as sharply as a rock thrown through a window glass.

  He turned to see Joe Patterson, the cattle buyer he’d sold to for the last three years, coming out of the door of the hotel.

  Eagle Jack had no choice but to give up his reverie, stand up, and hold out his hand in welcome.

  “Patterson,” he said, “I wasn’t expecting you to be looking for me today.”

  “I know our appointment was for tomorrow,” Patterson said, “but I’ve been called back East and I’m leaving on the six o’clock train. We’ll have to deal tonight.”

  Eagle Jack bit back a rude exclamation.

  “And the lady with the Slanted S cattle,” Patterson said. “I’ll need to see her this evening, too.”

  “She’ll be here momentarily,” Eagle Jack said. “We’re going to dinner.”

  “Ah! Dinner will be perfect,” Patterson said. “If that’s agreeable to the two of you. Then I’ll have time to see my one other client and I can finish my business and still catch my train.”


  The screen door opened and both men turned in time to see Susanna step out onto the porch.

  Eagle Jack’s breath caught.

  The dress she wore, of a thin, blue cloth that swirled around her ankles, made her, for a moment, seem a stranger. An elegant, gorgeous lady of a stranger. He had never seen her in a dress before.

  He smiled. It did match her eyes—she must’ve read his mind because he hadn’t ever suggested that she should always wear blue. She should, though.

  She smiled back at him.

  “Susanna,” he said, “this is Joe Patterson, the cattle buyer I mentioned to you. Joe, this is Susanna Copeland of the Slanted S.”

  Joe bowed over her hand.

  “I’ve come to dinner to buy your cattle, my dear lady,” he said. “I’m sorry to intrude but I must be on my way at dawn.”

  “Then, by all means, it’s dinner,” she said, laughing a little.

  Eagle Jack silently marveled at her. She sounded as if she were a pampered lady who never saw the dawn and didn’t want to, a soft lady who never rose from her bed until noon, and she looked the part. Yet she had been in the saddle many a morning as the sun came up or even before, on the mornings when she wasn’t making sourdough biscuits or slicing bacon from the slab and frying it over an open fire.

  Patterson insisted that they both escort Susanna into the restaurant, and Eagle Jack felt a stab of resentment once again. He would get rid of the man as soon as humanly possible.

  He needed to dance with Susanna. He needed to hold her in his arms.

  He would take control of the conversation, because sometimes Patterson could be as talkative as an old man reminiscing. Eagle Jack would turn the talk to the cattle during the meal and they could settle on the price before dessert. He would remind Patterson of his one last client to see, and then he’d be alone with Susanna.

  They would dance. He would go to her room with her. They would make love and talk and he would mention going to see her during the year to come and they would make plans to drive their herds north together next year. It would be an evening both of them would always remember.

  A few minutes later, after Eagle Jack had insisted on the best table by a window and they were seated there, Susanna glanced around at the white-clothed tables, the sparkling china and well-starched waiters. This was the nicest restaurant she’d ever been in.

  Yet all she could think of was that if she sold her cattle at this meal, it would be the last one she ever shared with Eagle Jack. After all these weeks, they would have nothing connecting them once the cattle were gone.

  But there was nothing connecting them now. Nothing of a permanent nature. She either had to remember that or stop thinking about him.

  The clientele of the restaurant was made up of what appeared to be prosperous-looking cattlemen and buyers and agents, most of whom had exchanged pleasantries with her two companions as the three of them were shown to their table. Also, there were a few townspeople and Easterners who were not dressed in boots and big hats like the Texans. She’d been amazed to find that Abilene had several stores that catered to the cattle people by selling everything Texas-style, and their newspaper published articles about how the Texans dressed.

  They should print a story about Eagle Jack, because he was the most striking-looking Texan there. He was the handsomest she’d ever seen him, in a starched white shirt and creased khaki pants that looked good with his tooled belt and freshly polished boots. Too bad Maynell was out at the cow camp instead of drooling over him this minute. She would swoon.

  The waitress soon came and recited the menu choices, assuring them that there were farm-fresh vegetables and fruits and plenty of cream in the kitchen, for everyone knew that those foods were scarce on the trail. They ordered, and then made pleasant conversation while they waited for their food.

  Word of Molly’s speed and deceptive appearance had spread all over town since the afternoon race, so Susanna and Eagle Jack recounted the whole story to Mr. Patterson. Then, when the girl brought their dishes of sizzling wilted lettuce with bacon, Eagle Jack turned the talk to the sale of their cattle.

  “So am I to understand that you want to make an offer for our herds?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Patterson said, “I always know that Sixkiller cattle are healthy and they stand the shipping well. People in the North and East can’t seem to get enough beef. I’m prepared to take every head you’ve got, Eagle Jack.”

  He turned to Susanna with a smile.

  “And yours, too, Mrs. Copeland. I rode through them and looked them over this afternoon while you two were out racing the ponies.”

  Susanna smiled and tried to be happy at the news. It had to be. She had to have the money from the cattle or be homeless and debt-ridden, to boot. She had paid Eagle Jack back from the money she’d made with Molly and she had enough to pay the hands but not enough to pay the whole mortgage. She had no choice. She had to sell the cattle. Saving her ranch was the reason she’d gone through all that hard work and danger.

  So why wasn’t she feeling a huge rush of relief and excitement about all the money she’d soon have in her hand? Why wasn’t she yearning to go home to Brushy Creek?

  Because Eagle Jack wouldn’t be there.

  “Not to be rude,” Eagle Jack said, “but I know you have someone else to meet after dinner, so I’ll ask this now, Joe. What are you offering us per head?”

  “The going rate of twenty dollars,” he said. “I’ll start out with my top price because I know better than to bargain with a Sixkiller, anyhow.”

  Susanna listened even more intently. Eagle Jack hadn’t mentioned any relatives to her, but this sounded as if he had some who were in the cattle business.

  Joe Patterson turned to her.

  “Have you ever visited the Sixkiller ranch, Mrs. Copeland? The Sixes and Sevens? I went there and stayed a week one time and it did me no good at all. Eagle Jack and his brothers and his father are some tough customers, I’ll tell you. They hammered at my price until they drove it sky-high.”

  “Nothing but right,” Eagle Jack said, with a grin. “You didn’t have to chase ’em out of the brush. We’d already done that for you.”

  His brothers? His father? The Sixes and Sevens? The Sixkiller ranch?

  A sick, sharp betrayal shot through Susanna. All of this was news to her, and she had spent many weeks with Eagle Jack.

  Chapter 17

  Susanna felt, suddenly, totally left out. Out in the cold of loneliness, the coldest cold there is. She felt not connected to anyone, the way she had felt for most of her life.

  And then, when she was old enough to know better, she had let herself become connected to Eagle Jack during those many weeks on the trail. The fierce heartbreak, the physical wrench to her stomach, and the shivering chill she was feeling right now proved that. Yes, they really were connected.

  Joe Patterson was looking at her, waiting for an answer to his question.

  “No,” she said, and she marveled at how calm she sounded, “I’ve never been to the Sixes and Sevens.”

  She picked up her cup and took a sip of coffee. She didn’t spill a drop.

  “Why don’t you tell me about it, Mr. Patterson?” she said.

  She didn’t look at Eagle Jack.

  “It’s a good distance east of Waco,” Joe Patterson began, “a big spread with a beautiful old headquarters built of logs. It’s in a partly wooded country on the Sabine River.” He turned to Eagle Jack. “That’s been Sixkiller land for a long time, hasn’t it?”

  Eagle Jack leaned back as the waitress appeared and started serving their steaks. “Yes,” he said, “ever since a band of Cherokee followed Duwali into Spanish territory. Fifty years ago.”

  So he had two groups to be part of—the Cherokee and his family. She had misjudged him completely, thinking he was a rootless trail boss who hired out to other people.

  And he had never said one word to correct her assumption.

  “You mentioned some other Sixkillers, Mr. Patters
on,” she said. “Are they anything like Eagle Jack?”

  “Every one of the Sixkiller brothers is a man who covers the ground he stands on,” Patterson said. “They’re all men to be reckoned with.”

  The food looked delicious. Susanna picked up her knife and fork. Tender steak, new potatoes, and fresh green beans with real butter melting on them. Fresh cantaloupe slices. Yeast bread. All wonderful treats after life on the trail. But her appetite had left her.

  So Eagle Jack had brothers.

  “Are they all as full of fun and pranks as Eagle Jack?” she said.

  Then, resolutely, she sliced a bite of steak. She would need her strength. She had business, important business, to conduct.

  Are they as reserved and closemouthed about their private lives?

  But she would not ask any more questions about Eagle Jack. She would put him out of her mind and get down to this cattle sale.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Patterson said. “As I’m sure you know, Eagle Jack’s hard to keep up with in the fun department.”

  “Yes, he is,” she said, as she passed the bread basket. “I’ve learned that for myself.”

  Then she looked at Joe Patterson, holding her breath that he wouldn’t call the bluff she was about to make.

  “I’m thinking perhaps I should hold out for…something above the going rate, Mr. Patterson. We’ve driven slowly the last couple of weeks and our cattle have quite a lot of flesh on them.”

  She would’ve named a dollar amount but she had no idea how much she could say without embarrassing herself as a novice at this game. And she certainly didn’t want to make Joe Patterson throw down his napkin and leave in disgust.

  Because her cattle had to be sold tonight so she could get away from Eagle Jack.

  That feeling did not stem from the fact that she was in love with him, which she already knew she had no choice but to live with for the rest of her life. He had hurt her as a friend.