Iris
Leigh Greenwood
Copyright 2011 by Leigh Greenwood
Smashwords Edition
South Texas, Spring of 1875
Chapter One
He's coming.
Iris Richmond smoothed a wrinkle in her dark-blue wool skirt with a nervous hand and pulled the matching jacket more closely around her neck. The chill of the early March afternoon caused her to shiver, but she never once considered wrapping herself in the heavy cloak she had left folded on the buckboard seat. Her mother always said when it came to talking a man into doing anything he didn't want to do, a woman's looks were half the argument. Covering herself up would be like going into a gunfight without a gun.
Iris needed all her weapons today. Never had a decision been so important to her as the one Monty Randolph would make in the next few minutes.
She shifted her seat on the bench next to the corral, decided her first position was better, and shifted back again. She was glad the pecan trees that surrounded the bench hadn't started to bud. Only the heat from the midday sun kept her teeth from chattering.
From where she sat, Iris had an unobstructed view of the nearly one hundred thousand semiarid acres of brush and grass that formed the heart of the Randolph empire. After four years in St. Louis, it seemed an alien land. Despite the inviting coolness of the creek in summertime as it meandered through Randolph country, its banks lined by towering oaks and pecans, or the comfort of the large house on the hill, it was a harsh land. She wondered why she had cried when she was sent to school. What could she have found to miss in the dust, heat, and thorns that ruined her clothes and made her so uncomfortable?
A brisk wind swept up from the south bringing the scent of cattle and whipping Iris's long, thick hair red about her face. She ran her fingers through it, but the wind kept it in a tangle. She wished she had thought to bring a mirror and a brush.
Stop fidgeting. You're acting like he's a perfect stranger instead of someone you've known half your life.
But she didn't know him, not anymore.
Monty Randolph had been the big, handsome, soft-hearted cowboy she had fallen in love with at thirteen. He had endured her gushing adoration, her turning up night or day wherever he was, even dancing with her at a party in Austin. He had fussed, shouted, cajoled, even cursed, but he also made sure nothing ever happened to her.
But last month she had come home for the first time since going to boarding school to find Monty completely changed. He had taken one look at her, turned pale, and had left the room without even a civil response to her smiling greeting. And he hadn't let her get near him since.
She had outgrown her childhood crush, but the shock of his rejection cut more deeply than she would have imagined. Not even Rose could tell her what had caused the change in him.
That's not important as long as he agrees to help you.
Iris didn't know how to beg, the mere thought was abhorrent to her, but she had to do everything she could to convince Monty to help her. It was the only way she could avoid complete ruin. Her mind cast itself back to that grim January morning when she visited the lawyer's office in New Orleans. A shiver that had nothing to do with the March wind caused her teeth to chatter. She had been in shock over her parents' death, but she could remember every word he said.
"The situation is not as hopeful as I had expected."
"How do you mean?" she had asked. Her parents had been killed in a steamboat accident while on their way to visit her in St. Louis. The law firm of Finch, Finch & Warburton had been named executors of the estate.
"There were a great number of debts to be settled. Your mother . . . " His voice trailed off.
"My mother was very extravagant," Iris said for him.
"Unfortunately, she was a good deal more extravagant than your father could afford."
"I don't understand." Her parents had never given her any indication that money wasn't as plentiful as ever.
"A year ago your father borrowed a large sum against the ranch. Unfortunately, he never made any of the payments on the loan. Your mother's jewelry collection, which judging from this inventory would have been extensive enough to pay off the debt, was lost in the accident." His expression turned grave.
"I still own the ranch, don't I?" Iris asked. She felt a hard knot in her stomach. She knew it was nerves, but it wouldn't go away. Instead it seemed to grow with each agonizing minute.
"Unless you can make up the back payments within four months, the bank will repossess the ranch. I don't know if the contents of your home are still in tact, but I have reports that your herd is being ravaged by rustlers. I suggest you go home and do what you can to secure your inheritance while there's still something to salvage."
Any intention Iris might have had of turning to her city friends had died unborn. It was as though an announcement of her situation had appeared in the St. Louis Post Dispatch with the morning coffee. By evening Iris had become persona non grata in at least ten places where she had been welcome the day before. Swearing she would return to St. Louis as their equal or not at all, Iris shook the dust of that city off her feet.
But the dust of Texas had proven even less hospitable. The contents of the house were safe, but the banker proved obdurate. No words would move him. Either she found the money on time or she would lose the ranch.
All the while rustlers continued to eat away at her herd.
Iris grew desperate. Her entire future depended on that herd. If she sold it, the money would soon be gone and she'd be penniless. If she didn't do something soon, rustlers would take every last cow, and she'd be penniless anyway. And even if she managed to keep the herd, in a month she wouldn't have a ranch to put them on.
In her desperation she thought of Monty.
Now he was coming to meet her, but just by looking at the way he rode so stiff in the saddle, the fixed expression his face, the way he slowed his horse to a deliberate walk, she could tell she would have only one chance to convince him to help her.
She also could tell he meant to say no.
* * * * *
She was waiting for him.
Monty Randolph pulled back so hard on Nightmare's mouth the gelding squealed in protest. But in the act of turning away, he changed his mind. This was the third time Iris had attempted to waylay him. If she was anything like her mother, she would only become more determined. He might as well find out what she wanted, tell her no, and get rid of her.
Look at her, wearing a dress that'd be torn to shreds if she walked so much as fifty yards through the brush! Doesn't she know she's back in Texas?
Iris had tied her horse to the hitching post and was resting on a bench George had had built in a grove of young pecan trees transplanted from the creek. At nineteen she was an enchanting sight, one guaranteed to make any man's heart beat a little faster. She was beautiful, perfect, with just enough fullness to her lips, roundness to her cheeks to add a definite touch of sensuality.
Her hair would stop people in their tracks and cause them to stare. There couldn't be another woman in the state of Texas with hair of such an overpowering red. The sunlight bouncing off it was enough to cause a stampede. Equally arresting, her eyes were a deep shade of green. There was nothing immodest about the dress she wore, but it clung to her body in a manner that would have caused the matrons of Austin to click her teeth.
Monty vowed to show her nothing but indifference, but his body, his pounding blood, belied his intentions. At the sight of her full breasts pushing against the cloth of her bodice, he could feel a heavy, tight sensation beginning low in his groin. His hands ached to reach out and touch their firm softness. Willing his body not to betray the tension that stretched his nerves until they ached, Monty slowed his horse to a walk. He might have to talk to Iris, but he'd be d
amned if he'd be in a rush to do it.
He was tempted to close his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at her, but that wouldn't have done any good. Her image might as well have been imprinted on the inside of his eyelids. She had grown up to be the spitting image of her mother. And no man, once he had set eyes on Helena Richmond, could forget even the smallest detail of her appearance.
If only Iris still looked like the fresh-faced little girl with the billowing red hair who followed him all over Guadalupe County. She had been a real nuisance, but she had had an endearing quality about her then. No matter how much her adoration irritated him, he could never stay angry with her. He'd even missed her a little bit when her parents sent her off to school.
He could still remember the slightly gawky thirteen-year-old in a new riding outfit astride that ridiculous saddle horse her mother had bought her. She was a natural charmer, the kind of cute little girl any man would take a shine to.
But the woman who approached him at the dance had nothing in common with that gamin. She was a seductress, and the mere sight of her walking across the room had heated Monty's blood to a boil. He had chosen to escape rather than admit his confusion. He still hadn't sorted out his feelings, and seeing Iris now made him feel like he was putting his head in a noose.
As he rode toward Iris, he comforted himself with the thought that after today he would never be forced to see her again. He was going to Wyoming, and he didn't plan to come back.
* * * * *
"Afternoon, Monty," Iris said with her most brilliant smile.
A smile that could wreak more havoc among cowhands than anything this side of the Rio Grande. And that included rustlers, bandits, and fighting-mad mossy backs. All she would have to do was flash her deep green eyes or flutter her thick, black eyelashes and there'd be a line of fools as long as from here to the Pecos begging to do something stupid like ride all the way to New Orleans just to buy her a garter belt.
Not that she had done anything so disgraceful as display her legs, but Monty wouldn't put anything past a daughter of Helena Richmond. There wasn't much Helena hadn't done at one time or another.
Of course Monty wouldn't be in that line. At twenty-six he was too young to get tangled up with some female. When he got as old as George, maybe he'd look about for a wife. Then again, maybe not. Rose was a fine woman, a perfect wife if a fella was in the market for such a thing, but Monty wasn't interested in getting married.
He dismounted. Keeping Nightmare between him and Iris, he tied him to the hitching rail. "What are you doing over this way?" he said. "You get lost on your way to a party?"
She was Helena all over again, wiggling about in that dress like she had ants in her chemise.
"I've been waiting here for the longest time," Iris said, looking up at him from under half-lowered lashes. "Rose said you were due any minute, but I thought you'd never get back."
"Well, I'm here now. What do you want?"
"You don't have to be in such a rush. Dinner won't be ready for another hour."
"I have work to do," Monty said as he loosened the cinch on Nightmare. "Just because you've got nothing to do all day but get dressed up and ride over here to plague me doesn't mean I'm not busy."
Iris sat bolt upright, her eyes bright with indignation. "Monty Randolph, how dare you say I'm plaguing you, especially after you kept me waiting."
Iris would see it that way. That was Helena all over.
"You've been plaguing me since you were thirteen. And you're going to keep on plaguing me until you tell me what you want. So come on, get it over with."
He looked at her across Nightmare's back. She seemed to be trying to decide what approach to take with him. She ought to know by now she'd have a better chance if she just came right out and said it. But then Helena hadn't taught Iris to be straightforward. She hadn't known how herself.
Iris stood up and moved toward Monty, her body swaying seductively as she walked. "Rose tells me you're taking a herd to Wyoming," she said, being more direct than Monty expected.
"I'm thinking about it." He'd made up his mind to leave the beginning of April, but no sense telling Iris that.
Iris circled Nightmare. "I hear there's a lot of land up there just for the taking."
"The best grazing land I've ever seen," Monty said, unable to remain unenthusiastic about his favorite subject. "There's grass as high as your waist as far as you can see, and more water than Texas ever thought about."
"And Indians?"
"They're well North of Laramie and Cheyenne. I don't plan to worry about them, if I go, that is," Monty hedged, still unwilling to commit himself until he knew what Iris wanted. "Hen and I fought Indians where your father bought his ranch. Beat them, too."
Iris was too close. Monty lifted the saddle from his mount and hoisted it over the corral fence.
"If there's all that land, why hasn't somebody taken it?"
"They will. The minute the government runs the Indians out there'll be a stampede like you've never seen."
"So if a person wanted to get plenty of good grazing land, he ought to go now."
"Yeah. He ought to put a herd together and get up there as fast has he can. Jeff says the army is going after the Indians any time now. They won't last a year."
He moved past her to place the saddle blanket on the fence. He smoothed out the wrinkles.
"It must be a long and expensive trip."
"About four months and four thousand dollars."
Monty couldn't figure out what Iris wanted. The greenest kid on her crew could have told her everything he had. "Anything else you want to know?" Monty asked as he lowered the bars and hazed Nightmare into the corral. "I got work to do." He slipped the bridle over the horse's ears, and the animal cantered away, kicking up its heels.
"When are you leaving?" Iris asked, following him, her eyelashes fluttering like pillowcases in a March wind. She wanted something, and she was just about to ask for it.
"I didn't say I was leaving."
Her eyelashes stopped dead. "I know you are. Your eyes light up like stars on a summer night when you talk about the grass there. You're the only man I know who can get more excited about a cow than about a woman."
Once again Iris was so close he felt hot under the collar. He didn't want to feel any sympathy for her problems, but she was a damned fine-looking woman. He couldn't remain unaffected. But how did he treat a woman who looked hot enough to melt an icicle in January when he could still remember her in pigtails?
Danged if he knew, except to run like hell before he did something he'd regret.
"I know what to expect from cows," Monty said as he lifted his saddle from the rail. "You can never tell about a woman. Half the time they tell you one thing and mean something entirely different."
"Well I'll tell you what I mean, and I mean exactly what I say," Iris snapped, her eyes flashing, her skin colored by pique. There was nothing silly or coquettish about her now.
"I don't want to know what you--"
"I'm going to Wyoming, and I want you to take me."
Monty couldn't have been more shocked if she'd said she wanted to marry him and had the preacher waiting inside the house. He dropped the saddle on his foot.
"Dammit to hell, Iris," he cursed as he kicked his saddle in frustration. "You can't go to Wyoming."
"Why not?"
"You've got nobody to take care of you."
"I'd have you to take care of me while I was getting there. I'd take care of myself after that."
"No, you wouldn't," Monty declared. "You might think Texas is full of rustlers and bad men, but that's nothing compared to Wyoming."
"I can't stay here."
"Why?"
Iris hesitated, then averted her eyes. "I can't tell you why. I just can't."
George was right. Something was bad wrong at the Double-D. Iris's wasn't acting a thing like her mother now. She was young enough and genuine enough that fear had caused her to forget her teasing ways. Monty felt some
of the rigidity leave his body. Maybe Helena's lessons hadn't gone too deep. She was almost like the young girl he used to know, open, guileless, able to slip past his defenses no matter how hard he tried to prevent it.
"If you're short of money, you could sell some steers."
Her gaze met his as pride stiffened every part of her body. "Daddy sold everything he could round up last year. All I have left is breeding stock. If I sell that, I won't have anything at all."
He knew that. Everybody in Guadalupe County did. But she was hiding the real reason. "Maybe you should sell your ranch and head back to St. Louis."
"Never!" Iris flashed her magnificent eyes and moved closer until their bodies were almost touching. "Why won't you take me?" she pleaded.
Just like Helena, Monty thought. If you didn't do what she wanted, she'd wrap you in her spell until you were so crazy you didn't know what you were saying. It took all his willpower, but Monty held his ground. He wasn't going to be used by Iris or any other woman.
"Because I've got too much to do to be playing nursemaid to a female over two thousand miles of wild country. Besides, I can't take two herds. It's too risky. I don't have the horses or men. And after such a long dry spell, there won't be enough grass or water for a herd that size."
"I mean to go to Wyoming."
"Then hire yourself a drover. There are plenty who know the trail."
"I want you."
"Well you can't have me," Monty declared, bending over to pick up his saddle. "I'm going to Wyoming for the family, not anybody else."
"I've already got land. Daddy filed two homesteads on Bear Creek last year."
"Good, but I'm still not taking you. There's no use flattering me or crying and looking hurt or any of those other tricks your mother used on any man who came within range. They won't work."
"Why? Don't you like women?"
Monty flushed. If she knew just how much he did like women! They were an appetite with him, one he appeased as readily and as often as he could. He had a lusty, uncomplicated appreciation of their company and the pleasure to be found in their arms.
Iris Page 1
