Iris

by Greenwood, Leigh

  "Who's traveling with you?" Monty asked.

  "My partner, Joe Reardon," Carlos said. "He's a top hand. He can pull his weight on any crew."

  "I'm sure he can," Iris said. She hoped his friend would be everything Carlos said he was.

  "If you'll take my advice, you'll let them continue up the trail in their own company," Monty said to Iris.

  "I've lost two men. Carlos and his friend can replace them."

  "Talk to Frank," Monty said Carlos. "I have nothing to do with her crew."

  At that Monty turned and walked away from the camp. Iris ran after him. He jumped the creek. She splashed through it.

  "I gave you control of the herd," she said. "I haven't changed my mind. Frank still takes his orders from you."

  Monty left the trees and headed toward his horse. Iris had to run to keep up with him. Her legs hurt, but she had to stop him. She couldn't let him leave.

  "You can't give me control one minute, then hire two men against my advice the next," Monty said over his shoulder. "Leadership isn't something to hand out and take back whenever you like."

  "But Carlos is my brother. I can't turn him away."

  Monty stopped and turned around so abruptly Iris ran into him. "You didn't have to hire Reardon as well. What if Carlos shows up with another friend tomorrow. You going to hire him, too?"

  "I'm sorry," Iris apologized, backing away from Monty like she'd been burned. "I was just so glad to see Carlos. You can't understand -- you've got so many brothers -- what it's like to be alone. I don't have anybody but Carlos."

  "Surely your parents had family."

  "Maybe, but I never saw any of them, so they might as well not be there."

  Monty didn't move. He just stared at Iris, his jaw clamped so tight the muscles bulged.

  "I promise I won't do it again. I'll consult you on everything. Please?"

  Monty could feel himself giving in and hated it. He had put a lot of time and thought into planning this drive. He had studied grass conditions to determine the ideal size herd. He had talked with a dozen drovers to find the best trail, the optimum size crew, and how many horses he needed in the remuda. He had also paid very careful attention to details so he could remember rough crossings and where water was plentiful, scarce, or too alkaline to drink. He had done all this because success was imperative.

  Then he found Iris on the trail ahead of him, and he started to make one decision after another that went against his judgment and his instincts, decisions he knew endangered his chances of success. Even Hen and Salty had started to question him.

  Now he was about to do it again. He didn't dislike Carlos, but he had no desire to have him on his crew. He was unsteady, lazy, weak of character. He had spent most of the last five years away from Texas, drifting, getting into minor scrapes. Maybe he was tired of roaming and wanted to settle down, but Monty didn't want to have to pick up the pieces if he was mistaken.

  But one look told him Iris felt like she had found a long-lost friend. If eyes could plead, hers were begging this very moment. Even in the dim moonlight, they glistened with moisture, their deep green seemingly bottomless. He couldn't say no to her now anymore than he could five years ago.

  Monty had never thought about how lonely she might feel -- he'd had too much on his mind to go looking for extra things to worry about -- but it must feel pretty awful to be alone. He'd often wished he didn't have so many brothers all sticking their noses into his business, but he took their support for granted.

  Iris had nobody except Carlos.

  "Okay," Monty agreed, ignoring the feeling of impending disaster, "but as soon as we get to the river, we cut the herd and we go our separate ways."

  "You don't have to be so anxious to get rid of me."

  "Since I came up on your herd, you've had two stampedes and at least one rustling attempt. You think your foremen and half your crew are crooked, and you hire two men straight off the prairie. We aren't even out of Texas."

  "You think I'm a fool, don't you?"

  He used to, but he couldn't tell her that. "Look, this has nothing to do with you. My job is the herd. Nothing else. I can't explain it, but this is the most important thing I've ever done. I've already lost two days, and I'll lose another when we cut the herd."

  "In other words, I'm too much trouble."

  Monty looked as though he wished he could bite his tongue. "This herd belongs to the family," he finally said. "I can't be thinking of what I'd like to do."

  "But it is your success," Iris said, "and that's what's so important, isn't it?"

  "Yes." The admission came reluctantly, pulled from him unwillingly.

  "Why?"

  "You wouldn't understand."

  "Try me."

  For a second he was tempted. He wanted her to understand. He didn't like her thinking he was cold and unreasonable. But it wouldn't work. Besides, they would separate in a few days and he might never see her again. What was the point?

  "You'd have to understand George and the family and a lot of other things."

  "I could try."

  "And I could try to understand why you're so determined to have Carlos, but it wouldn't change anything. Look, I've got to inspect the strays and check out Reardon. I'll be back in half an hour. You ought to be safe for that long."

  That was a joke. She'd be more safe with Carlos than with him.

  But she was puzzled on another score. She hadn't realized success was so important to Monty. She'd always thought he was successful. Everybody else did, too. Yet there was something inside him driving him away from Texas, away from his family, some need so powerful he was reluctant to take on anything that might get in the way.

  She had always thought of Monty as a tall, handsome, cheerful, uncomplicated man, secure in his wealth and success. Yet he had just given her a glimpse of a very different man, one for whom the sweetness of success was still to come.

  * * * * *

  "That seems to be all the missing cows," Monty said when he returned. "We can head back first thing in the morning."

  Iris and Carlos were sitting near the fire. She had been trying to rekindle a feeling of family closeness. She hadn't been successful, but she felt sure she would be soon. Things felt a little odd just now, but she knew she was going to like having a brother around.

  Carlos had made more coffee. Iris handed Monty a fresh cup.

  "Did you meet Mr. Reardon?" Iris asked.

  "Yes. I don't like your friend," Monty said to Carlos. "I don't trust him."

  "There's nothing wrong with Joe," Carlos said, firing up in defense of his companion.

  "That depends on how you look at it. The way I see it, he's trouble. You'd better be getting back to your campfire before he decides to take that two hundred head for himself."

  For a moment Carlos looked like he was going to argue with Monty. But he subsided when Iris cast him an imploring glance.

  "Why don't you move over to our camp," Carlos suggested. "We've got a better location. Besides, it'll be easier with three of us watching the herd."

  "Four," Monty said. "You forgot Iris."

  "I never learned how to--"

  "No time like the present." Monty gave Carlos a hard look. "I already told Reardon we'd be over as soon as we could collect our stuff."

  Iris didn't know what was going on in Monty's mind. She had expected him to refuse to move to Carlos's camp or to allow Carlos and Reardon to spend the night with them. Yet he was packing up without a moment's objection. He must not mind Reardon so much after all

  When they arrived, Iris wondered if Monty hadn't agreed to move because of his distrust for Reardon. The two men obviously disliked each other.

  Monty dumped his saddle and bedroll on the ground. "Iris will take the first watch. That way she won't have to wake up once she gets to sleep. I'll follow her, then Carlos. Reardon can take the last shift."

  "I don't think Iris ought to take a shift," Carlos said.

  "I'm giving the orders, and I say
she does."

  "Who the hell says so?"

  "I'm ramrodding this outfit," Monty said, walking right into Carlos's face, "Iris's herd and mine. You work for her, you take orders from me. If that doesn't sit well, I can't say I'll be sorry to see the back of you."

  Carlos turned to Iris. "Is that so?"

  "Yes," Iris said. She wanted to explain, but she decided this wasn't the best time.

  Carlos looked from Iris to Monty and back to Iris. "It's a damned strange arrangement."

  "I'm sure Iris will explain everything to you tomorrow," Monty said. "In the meantime, I suggest you get some sleep. I like my crew to be alert when they're in the saddle."

  Monty spread his bedroll on the ground. He positioned his saddle about six feet to the right.

  "Where's Iris going to sleep?" Carlos asked.

  "There," Monty said, pointing to the bedroll.

  "But that's your bedroll."

  "I know, but it's the only one we've got."

  "Where are you going to sleep?"

  "There," Monty said pointing to the same bedroll.

  Carlos looked about ready to explode. Monty looked madder than a wet hornet, but he could be doing this just to make Carlos angry enough to leave. If he was, Iris was going to be furious with him. It was her reputation and her brother’s feelings he was treating with so little concern.

  "I'm going to sleep in it while your sister's on duty. She can have it during my shift."

  "And afterwards?"

  "I'll use my saddle," Monty said.

  Carlos untied his bedroll and spread it out on the opposite side of the campfire from Monty's bedroll.

  "She can have mine," he said. "I have a blanket." Carlos untied his blanket and spread it on the ground next to his bedroll.

  Monty stared at Carlos for a moment. Then he picked up his bedroll and repositioned it next to Carlos's bedroll. Iris's intended bed was now flanked by two bodyguards, each eyeing the other suspiciously and making no attempt to hide their distrust.

  Iris felt a bubble of laughter working its way upward. These two men were fighting over her like she was a little child unable to take care of herself. It made her heart feel good to see Monty acting like a jealous beau. He wasn't her beau, but he was clearly jealous of Carlos, and that was good enough for the moment.

  "It seems like a sensible arrangement," Iris said, stepping between the two men. "Now you'd better show me what I'm supposed to do while I'm on guard duty. Then everybody can get to sleep."

  "I'll show you," Carlos offered.

  "I'm the boss. I'll show her," Monty stated in a manner that suffered no argument. "Tomorrow you can teach her how to ride herd. Frank didn't."

  Iris kept her indignant reply trembling on her lips until she didn't feel like uttering it any more. As sure as she opened her mouth, she'd say something wrong and look like a silly female complaining because her feelings had been hurt.

  She was ignorant. She had to accept that, even though the thought burned in her throat. She would learn. And when she did . . . well, Monty Randolph had just better watch out.

  * * * * *

  "What the hell did you mean by hiring those two?" Hen demanded of Monty the next evening when they reached camp. He positively bristled at the sight of Reardon. Salty didn't look any better pleased. "I don't think much of Carlos, but that other one will be trouble."

  The three of them sat their horses on the crest of a ridge where they had a good view of most of the herd. There weren't many places where they could observe more than six thousand longhorns stretched over nearly two miles along the trail. Monty watched as Iris introduced Carlos and Joe to Frank. The big man didn't seem to like the new recruits any more then Hen and Salty.

  "Then he'd better wait until he gets somewhere else," Salty said. "The boys and I don't like trouble."

  "Neither do I," Monty said. He trusted Hen's judgment. Hen could recognize trouble on its way in. Monty wished now he'd held out against Reardon, but he didn't know how he could have. Iris was so glad to see Carlos, and Monty had known right away Carlos wouldn't stay without Reardon.

  "At least now we can get started cutting the herds," Hen said. "I don't like having Frank around."

  Monty had been waiting for this. He knew it was coming and he was prepared. "I think we'll keep the herds together for a little while longer."

  Hen and Salty stared at him.

  "I don't like leaving Iris alone with that bunch," Monty explained. "Frank's up to something. And I don't trust Carlos not to try to take her for everything she's got. He's the one who's been following her. I don't think it's all for brotherly love."

  "Let her go off on her own. You'll find out soon enough," Hen said.

  "I can't do that. Who knows what might happen to her."

  "Then she should have stayed home."

  "She should, but it's too late now."

  "She could go sit in some hotel until the drive's over."

  "She won't do that either."

  "Then forget her," Hen snapped. "We don't owe her anything."

  "I don't like it, either," Salty said, "but Monty's right. We can't go off and leave her if there's any chance something might happen to her."

  Hen glared at Monty and Salty. "You're both getting soft," he said. "You mark my words. That woman's nothing but trouble, her brother showing up is only going to make things worse."

  "He'll calm down," Salty said as Hen rode away. "He always does."

  "I'm not worried about Hen," Monty said. "He's not as mean he likes to sound. But he's right. There will be trouble. And that does bother me."

  * * * * *

  Monty stayed away from Iris all the next day. It was easy to do without arousing suspicion. Keeping track of more than six thousand longhorns and a crew of thirty, several of whom he didn't trust, took all the time he had. He spent the entire day working out assignments and coordinating the two crews. In a herd this large, he had to repeatedly check to make sure all the grass and water wasn't gone by the time the stragglers got to it.

  Still, he kept her within his sights most of the time. He was certain Carlos was using her, just hanging around looking for what he could take. He may have gotten a bum deal from Helena -- everybody got a bum deal from Helena -- but he'd had plenty of opportunity to make something of himself. Instead he'd preferred to float about the country, picking up work when he could, blaming his lack of success on anything but his own lack of motivation and willingness to work.

  Monty knew Iris wouldn't believe that. He couldn't explain why she'd taken to Carlos like he was her salvation come to rescue her at last. Surely she knew a man with nothing didn't attach himself to a rich woman from purely chivalrous notions.

  He kept telling himself Iris's lack of family made her blind to Carlos's faults, but even that didn't explain her eager acceptance of a brother she hardly knew. But maybe her present situation did. He reminded himself she was caught between a man she didn't trust -- her foreman -- and one who had done everything in his power to make her think he didn't like her -- himself. What could be more natural than for her to reach out to anyone who was even only part family.

  But recognizing her feelings did very little to help him control his temper when he rode into camp and saw them with their heads together. He felt anger and irritation, and an irrational desire to kick Carlos out into the night.

  "You two had better be thinking about getting to sleep," Monty said, coming to the campfire for a cup of coffee.

  "We've still got a lot to catch up on," Iris said, but she looked bone tired.

  "You've got the rest of your lives to catch up. You've had a full day in the saddle and another one coming up tomorrow. Being tired can be dangerous."

  "You don't think I can do it?"

  Monty recognized a challenge when he heard one, but surprisingly, he didn't feel like responding to it. "I'm sure you can. It's just that you're not used to it. Now I hate to hurry your brother off, but it's time for him to go on watch." He pointed to the stars.
"In fact, you're late."

  Carlos jumped up. "I can't be late. It'll make a very poor impression on the boss," he said, trying to sound casual.

  "I'm the boss," Iris said. Hearing herself say that surprised her almost as much as the men. "You don't have to work if I say so."

  Monty's temper had always had a low flash point, but that remark made him smolder. "Everybody on a drive works," he said. "There's no room for dead weight. My brothers and I expect to work harder than any of our men. All they've got to lose is a hundred dollars in wages. We stand to lose more than fifty thousand dollars in cattle."

  He hadn't said it to embarrass her or criticize her. He'd said it because of the favoritism she showed Carlos. If she was to have any success at all in running her own ranch, she had to learn that business decisions were a matter of economics, not emotion. She would never succeed if she let her personal feelings for people determine all her decisions.

  And then again maybe he wasn't just trying to give her good advice. Why did it make him so mad to see the way she accepted Carlos without question? Maybe he was jealous. He didn't think so, but he sure sounded like it.

  "I mean to work as hard as any man on Iris's crew," Carlos said.

  "I didn't mean that the way it sounded," Monty said after Carlos had gone. He didn't like the way Iris looked at him, accusing, angry, even hurt. "I was only trying to tell Carlos he would have to carry his weight."

  "Carlos is working for me. It's my place to tell him anything he needs to know."

  "As long as you're running your herd with mine, I'll have a say in it," Monty replied. Iris's defending Carlos, a slacker and a parasite, made his temper rise faster then the blooming stalk of a century plant. He could see Iris trying to control her temper, and he reluctantly did the same. It wouldn't do either of them any good to start fighting over something new.