Iris

by Greenwood, Leigh

  Besides, he didn't want to fight. He liked talking to Iris, and he couldn't very well do that when they were shouting at each other.

  "Come on, let's decide where you're going to sleep."

  "Maybe I should sleep with my own men."

  She looked to where her crew had laid out their bedrolls on the south side of the chuck wagon. The Circle-7 boys were bedded down to the north, closer to the herd. Monty could tell Iris wasn't anxious to go.

  "I think you should sleep next to the chuck wagon. That way Zac and Tyler can keep an eye on you."

  "I'm not sure. Won't Frank wonder . . . "

  "Nobody will wonder anything. Besides, we keep the fire going all night. Some of the men like coffee when they're riding herd."

  Monty took a couple of blankets out of the chuck wagon and spread them on the ground. Then he opened her bedroll. "You can use your saddle or saddlebags for a pillow."

  "The saddlebags," Iris said, clinging to them like they were her last worldly possessions. He still wanted to know what she had in them that was so important, but he'd been so busy he'd forgotten to ask.

  Tyler stomped about, cleaning up from dinner and getting things ready for breakfast in the morning. Twice he almost bumped into Iris. He didn't even look at her.

  "You have to ignore Tyler," Monty said. "He has no use for women, especially if he thinks they're going to interfere with his cooking."

  "I wouldn't have the nerve after that wonderful dinner," Iris said, but all she got for her compliment was a good view of Tyler's back. And silence.

  "He doesn't talk much either," Monty said. "Stutters."

  "Tell her any more lies about me, and you'll cook your own breakfast," Tyler growled without the slightest trace of a stammer. He neither turned around nor paused in his work.

  "Look out," Zac shouted from the direction of the corral. "Horses coming through."

  Iris moved just in time to keep from being stepped on by a prancing paint.

  "Maybe I'd better sleep with my men after all," she said.

  Monty picked up her bedding and carried it to the other side of the chuck wagon. "That's just Zac," he told Iris. "Rose is the only female he cares about."

  "And you expect these two to watch out for me? They're more likely to run over me when they pull out in the morning."

  "They're just as rude as the rest of us," Monty said, "but you can trust them with your life."

  Iris looked at the two brothers going about their business as though she wasn't even there. "I think I'd rather trust my own brother."

  "You mean you'd rather trust a--"

  "A what?" Iris asked, her green eyes hard and glittering.

  "A virtual stranger," Monty said. "You may not know Zac and Tyler very well, but then we don't know Carlos very well either."

  Monty couldn't believe his own ears. He had returned a diplomatic answer. Rose would swear he had a fever.

  "You'll soon see Carlos is everything he says he is."

  "Yeah," Monty agreed, wondering how much prolonged contact with Iris would affect his personality. He was already in danger of not recognizing himself. "If you have any washing up to do, you'd better do it tonight. The creek will be cold in the morning, and there'll be men moving about everywhere."

  Iris looked around.

  "It's just beyond the remuda."

  "Would you go with me? I don't feel comfortable in the dark."

  He didn't suppose it would do any good to tell Iris he didn't feel comfortable around her at any time, dark or light. It wouldn't solve anything, and it would let her know she could get to him.

  She might not know it yet, but he did. She had been getting at him more and more each day. He ought to be thankful Carlos found them last night instead of wishing every five minutes the man had found cows in Arizona or Nevada instead. Monty hadn't allowed himself to think about it too much, but no telling what he might have done if Carlos hadn't shown up.

  He had clearly lost control. Not that he ever had much, but he had kept women and work strictly separate. It had been a matter of convenience as well as necessity. Now Iris had forced him to break that rule. But to consider breaking a more profound rule against getting involved with a woman on the trail was madness. It went against common sense.

  He had to get some more distance between them.

  Yet he found himself thinking more and more about Iris and less and less about Wyoming. It didn't do any good to keep telling himself it would blow over, that he wouldn't remember her two weeks after she vanished from his life. It mattered now, when he was in the middle of an important drive, when he needed all his effort and concentration to make sure they got to Wyoming safely.

  If he let his weakness for a beautiful woman ruin his big chance, he would hate himself for the rest of his life. He'd never forgive Iris either.

  Yet he couldn't put her out of his mind. He'd already failed at that. He would have to come up with another solution. But what?

  Chapter Thirteen

  The moonlight bleached the color out of everything. The bedrolls looked especially white against the dark of the ground. A pair of boots, each with a hat perched atop them, stood next to each bedroll. The heat had caused half the men to toss aside their covers. Two young hands snored like bullfrogs in concert, first one in a medium baritone followed by the other in a tremulous tenor.

  Monty carried his bedroll over to where his men were sleeping. But just as he was about to spread it out next to his sleeping twin, he hesitated.

  What about Iris?

  Tyler and Zac weren't as watchful as he would like, but between the two of them they would see nothing happened to her. Not that he expected anything would happen. There were more than a dozen men within the sound of her voice who would rush to her aid at the first sign of danger.

  At least she was away from Frank.

  Monty opened his bedroll, folded his blanket for a pillow, and lay down, but it was some time before he could get comfortable. He really didn't like Iris sleeping out. He had poo-poohed her wagon at first. But now she was in his camp, he didn't feel the same way. It wasn't a good idea to have a woman on a trail drive, but if you had to have one anyway, it wasn't proper for her to be sleeping on the ground with the men.

  Monty twisted around, trying to get comfortable. Usually he dropped off as soon as his head hit the pillow. Tonight he could feel every blade of grass underneath him. The ground felt rock hard.

  Nothing was going to happen to her. No matter how hungry they might get, no wolf or panther would enter the camp. If it came to a stampede, she was as safe next to the chuck wagon as she could be anywhere except back home in her own bed. But she didn't have a bed anymore. It, along with the bed sheets and blankets, and expensive cakes of scented soap for all he knew, belonged to the bank now.

  A particular clump of grass wouldn't smash down, and Monty slid his whole bed over about a foot.

  He wouldn't mind if they didn't get the Double-D chuck wagon fixed right away. He rather liked having her crew eat at his camp fire. It gave him a chance to study her men, make up his mind which ones he trusted and which ones he didn't. But he hoped Lovell would have Iris's wagon fixed by the time they reached Fort Worth. He wouldn't be comfortable until she could bed down in private.

  Monty turned over again.

  "Take that bedroll and put it where you can keep an eye on her," Hen growled.

  "I'm fine just where I am."

  "Turning over like a flapjack isn't fine. Either get still or move. The rest of us have to get some sleep."

  Monty felt a flush of embarrassment rise from under his collar. He was tempted to argue. He was even more tempted to belt Hen in the mouth, but starting a fight would achieve nothing but further embarrassment. Thankful that the dark hid the flush he was certain now reached his cheeks, Monty stood and grabbed up his bedroll.

  "I'm only doing this so I won't bother you."

  "Yeah, and Christmas comes in July."

  Monty managed to step on his brother a
s he stalked off. Hen's chuckle made him want to go back and step on him harder.

  Iris slept undisturbed. Monty noticed the saddlebags. They were no longer under her head. They had been tossed to the side. They were obviously empty.

  He paused, thoughtful. He wondered what could have been in them and where Iris could have hidden it. It was obviously important.

  He just hoped it wasn't dangerous.

  Now that he'd decided to move his bed, he couldn't decide where to put it. Tyler slept under the chuckwagon, silent as death. Zac slept next to him, a bad spring cold making him wheeze like a fat man. The night horses, some saddled, all staked out and ready, grazed nearby. There really wasn't any place for him to sleep except next to Iris.

  His jaw set, Monty spread his bedroll six feet away. He was the boss. He could sleep anywhere he wanted. Besides, it was his job to protect Iris, or any other female who happened to show up, so if anybody was to sleep close by, he was the one.

  But once he had laid out his bedroll and crawled in, he was more restless than before. Deciding to sleep next to Iris was one thing. Going to sleep next to her was another.

  He had never seen Iris asleep. Hell, he couldn't recall watching any woman asleep. He would have snorted in disgust if anybody had suggested he would be sitting on his bedroll watching Iris just lie there. He felt like a fool, but he couldn't turn away. She seemed nothing like the Iris who flirted with every man she saw or the Iris who flew into a temper when she didn't get what she wanted. She was somebody entirely different, and he felt very drawn to her.

  Looking at her now made him think of the year Rose had invited the Richmonds over for Christmas. Helena never did know how to celebrate anything but her own birthday. The idea of giving was foreign to her.

  When Rose decided to celebrate, she pulled out all the stops. She decorated virtually every part of the house with crocheted snowflakes, angels, bells, mistletoe Zac gathered from mesquite trees, moss Tyler gathered from live oaks, and branches of leaves which stayed green all year. Ten Christmas stockings filled with apples from Missouri, oranges from Mexico, nuts and chocolate all the way from Europe nearly obliterated the fireplace.

  The centerpiece was a cedar tree decorated in a manner Rose had learned from the German immigrants who settled in the vicinity of Austin. It was always the twins' job to find the biggest cedar on the ranch. George strung the popcorn and tied on the candles, after which Rose put on the finishing touch with a porcelain angel she inherited from her mother.

  From the moment Iris entered the house, her eyes had grown large with wonder. She had gone from one room to the other staring at the decorations, the piles of presents, the food. She became totally caught up in the magic of Christmas. She forgot she was beautiful, spoiled, that everybody adored her. She was like any other thirteen-year-old who unexpectedly discovers something wonderful and new.

  Monty had never forgotten the sweet innocence of that day. Not even Helena could spoil the magic of that afternoon. Maybe that's why he hadn't been able to put Iris out of his mind. Maybe he was still looking for that childlike naivete in the woman Iris had become.

  He had found it at his campfire.

  This was not the temperamental redhead with the flashing green eyes, stunning smile, and a body that could cause him to break into a sweat in a snow storm. She seemed more an angel of peace and serenity, of quiet and repose.

  Everything Iris was not.

  Yet Monty felt she could be. At least she was now.

  He wanted her to be!

  Good lord, he must have lost his mind to be mooning over Iris in her sleep because she looked like the kind of female that would cause a man to get down on his knees in thanks. Everybody looked innocent and sweet in their sleep. The twins, Aurelia and Juliette, were a perfect example. Monty had never seen two miscreants who could look so innocent and angelic after a day of terrifying the ranch hands and giving Rose another grey hair.

  Maybe only pretty females could manage it. It was a dead cinch if Iris could look this innocent awake, no man could stand against her. No man would want to.

  Damn, he had no business being attracted to a female, certainly not now. He lay down and turned his back to Iris. He would keep an eye on her, but as soon as she got her wagons back he would separate the herds and send her on her way. He might even let a herd or two pass him so there'd be a buffer between them. Let somebody else catch her cows the next time they stampeded. He didn't want nervous, jumpy, wild-eyed longhorns, gaunt from running every night, by the time he got to Wyoming. He wanted fat, complacent cows willing to drop a calf every spring and work hard to find enough grass so they could feed their babies and have them grow into fine, strong steers for market or heifers ready to give him still more caves.

  He wanted the most thriving ranch in Wyoming. He wanted to show George and everybody else he could do it on his own.

  * * * * *

  "I don't like having anything to do with him," Carlos told Iris a week later. "I especially don't like having to take orders from him."

  "Monty and I talk things over every day," Iris said, trying to soothe Carlos's irritation. "It's like I'm giving the orders, too."

  They talked as they rode alongside to the herd. The cows walked about twelve abreast down a trail which varied from forty to seventy-five feet wide. The noise of hooves on hard ground, the clack of horns, and grunts and bellows made it hard to hear. The weather continued unseasonably hot and dry. It wasn't yet noon, but Iris's shirt was damp with perspiration.

  "Well it feels like he's giving all of them. I don't like being surrounded by Randolphs. They may fight like dogs among themselves, but they stick together against the rest of the world."

  "Tyler doesn't leave that chuck wagon long enough to know if we're in Texas or Mexico," Iris said, responding at her brother with a little less patience than before, "and Zac's nothing but an overgrown boy."

  "Baby rattlesnakes are dangerous, and so are baby Randolphs. Don't ever forget that."

  "I haven't forgotten a thing about the Randolphs," Iris said, losing patience. "Monty has saved my life twice. Twice he's found cows I lost."

  "Joe and I found those last ones."

  "Monty would have found them if you hadn't," Iris said, refusing to be sidetracked. "I've caused him nothing but trouble, but he's pulled me out every time. And he gave you a job."

  "You gave it to me."

  "No. Monty could have refused to let me hire you. He didn't mean to hire you at first, but he changed his mind."

  "Why?"

  "It doesn't really matter. If you mean to stay, you're going to have to work with him. I want you to stay," Iris said when Carlos began to look mulish. "I want us to become family, too."

  "You mean like the Randolphs?" Carlos jerked his thumb in the direction of Tyler, the tone of his voice indicating that he didn't consider the Randolphs a good example.

  "Yes, I do. They may be tough on outsiders, but it must be wonderful to know you've got so many people who'd do anything for you no matter how much it cost them."

  "That's the Randolphs for sure," Carlos said, though he didn't seem to regard their willingness to stand up for each other in such a positive light. "Any one of them could commit murder and the rest of them would still protect him."

  * * * * *

  Iris climbed down from her wagon, relieved to be out of its stifling closeness. After sleeping on the open for nearly a week, she had looked forward to the privacy of her own bed, but she had lain awake most of the night. She felt isolated, cut off, suffocated.

  She paused and took a deep breath. After the dust, heat, noise, and smell of riding with the herd for sixteen hours, the morning air felt marvelously clean and refreshing. The stillness was especially soothing. Sixty-two hundred cows made an awful lot of noise. After a while it got on her nerves. She stretched. It caused her stiff muscles to ache, but it was a delicious ache, and she took her time.

  Funny, but she was almost getting to like the early morning, rising before daw
n, going to bed after dusk. Just a few months ago she would never have considered getting up before nine o'clock or going to bed before midnight. She looked at her hands and pulled a face. Her skin was rough and chapped, old blisters had turned into callouses, but it was her nails which caused her to wince. She had cut every one down to the quick to keep them from breaking or snagging. The last hint of polished had flaked off days ago.

  Helena would have entered a convent before she'd have been seen with her hands looking like this.

  Iris's clothes looked even worse. A couple of places needed darning really bad. She shrugged. There was no help for it. She didn't know how to sew. She hadn't yet worked up the courage to ask one of the men to teach her, but she probably would. There was no telling what kind of humiliation she would learn to accept before this drive was over.

  The sound of bleating calves caught her attention. She had been unable to ignore that sound since the night the cow chased her.

  "What's going on?" she asked the cook when she reached the chuck wagon.

  "It's just one of the men getting ready to shoot the calves."

  "Shoot the calves!" she exclaimed. "What for?"

  "We always shoot newborn calves or trade them to a farmer for eggs and vegetables. They can't keep up with the herd."

  "Where's he taking them?"

  "I don't know. Probably to the other side of some thicket so the noise won't bother the cows."

  Iris headed in the direction of the bleating. It sounded like two calves.

  "He won't like having you watch," Bob called after her.

  But Iris had no intention of watching. Nobody was going to shoot her calves. He might as well take her money and throw it away.

  She rounded a dense plum thicket in time to see Billy Cuthbert put a pistol to one calf's head. "Stop!" she shouted, and ran forward. "Don't you ever shoot one of my calves."

  "Frank told me to."

  "Well I'm telling you not to. Now take them back to their mothers."

  "They'll just die," Billy said. "Their mamas won't stay with them."