"Maybe he didn't understand his feelings very well then."
"Maybe not, but I did. I had caused him no end of trouble and he wanted me out of his life."
"Why do you think I came here today?"
"I've been wondering that."
"Because Monty asked me to come. He wanted to know how you were getting along."
"Why didn't he come himself?"
"The letter you left discouraged him just as effectively as his words discouraged you. Now he's trying to do the same thing you're doing."
"What?"
"Turn himself into the kind of husband he thinks you want."
"I've been here for two months, and he hasn't been here even once. He can't have thought of me very much."
Fern smiled. "Let me show you something."
They had neared the ranch house. Fern led Iris to a dip sheltered from view by a ring of huge boulders. On the other side Iris discovered a wagon. Inside she found a coal-and-wood burning cast-iron stove, two beds with thick mattresses, several quilts, a table and she couldn't tell how many chairs, a chest, a wardrobe, a pantry, a coffee grinder and sacks of flour, sugar, coffee, bacon. Just about everything she had been planning to buy with the money she got from selling the remuda.
"Monty wanted to make sure you were well provided for winter. He said you were worried about money."
Iris's vision misted over. Monty had been thinking of her. He still loved her. He had to, or he would never have sent all this. But did he love her enough to marry her?
"Monty didn't pick out all this. He--"
"I bought it, but he gave me a list of what you would need."
Fern paused, waiting for Iris to respond. Iris didn't say a word. She couldn't. She didn't know where to begin.
"It would be nice if you thanked him," Fern said.
"I'll write him a letter. You can take it to him."
"In person."
"I can't go to the Circle-7. Hen hates me. I don't think Tyler or Zac like me very much either."
Iris knew her objections were irrational, but she couldn't think clearly. For two months she had waited for this moment, worked toward it, prayed for it. Now it was here, she was petrified. Her whole life hung in the balance. If Monty rejected her now, it would be final. Forever. She didn't know if she was ready to take that chance.
"Hen's gone," Fern told her. "No one seems to know quite where. Tyler left for New York to learn more about cooking. And Zac is on his way back to school after spending a couple of weeks with us in Denver. However, Madison is there."
"I couldn't . . . Monty wouldn't want . . . You just don't understand," Iris finished lamely.
"Monty won't be there either."
Monty had left Wyoming! Iris didn't understand why he had sent the wagon. He couldn't still love her.
"When did he go back to Texas?"
"He didn't. After you left him in Dodge, he bought a herd and started looking for a ranch of his own."
"But you said he wasn't at the ranch. I don't understand."
"According to Hen, who has never learned to express himself in a manner that takes into account other people's feelings, bringing you to Wyoming put Monty through such hell he figured handling two ranches would be a snap. So he bought a herd and established his own ranch to the north of the Circle-7. According to Hen, he was determined to show you he wasn't living under George's thumb anymore."
Hen's remarks left Iris unscathed. Nothing anybody said could matter now. Suddenly all her hopes were fully alive again.
"I've got to see Monty."
"I was hoping you'd say that. Be at the Circle-7 tomorrow morning as early as you can. I'll take you to see him."
Iris's heart beat wildly. She felt so light-headed she couldn't think. Monty wanted to marry her. He must. There could be no other explanation for the wagon and the ranch. She wanted to go right now, even though she knew it was impossible. She didn't know how she could wait until tomorrow.
"I'll be there by nine o'clock," she said.
"Good. Now I'd better be getting back. There is one disadvantage in marrying into the Randolph clan. Everyone one of them thinks they have the right to worry about you."
Iris couldn't see that as a disadvantage. After having no one worry about her for weeks, she thought it would be absolutely wonderful.
* * * * *
"I don't like it," Carlos said. "We've been getting along fine without those Randolphs. I can't see any reason to start up with them again."
"I can't accept all those things without at least thanking him," Iris said.
"Send it all back. Now that you got the money from selling the horses, we don't need it." Joe had sold the remuda to one of the big ranches owned by rich men from back East. He had gotten more than a thousand dollars for it.
"You'll never take the wagon back to Mr. Randolph, go to Cheyenne and buy all the things he already bought, and get back here before the snow sets in," Betty said. "You may think it's all right to sleep on a pile of skins or cook over a hole in the ground, but you won't come winter when you get nothing but soup cooked on that pot-bellied stove."
"I don't mind soup."
"Well I do," Joe said. "I don't see no reason why she shouldn't be civil to her neighbors."
Carlos knew what prompted Joe to want Iris to see Monty. He hadn't made any progress on his plan to marry Iris. She not only made it clear she wasn't interested in him, she kept her distance. Carlos knew she didn't trust Joe. He wondered if he could. Clearly Joe hadn't forgotten his plan to ransom Iris for some of the Randolph gold.
It was hard to forget about twenty or thirty thousand dollars, but if the Randolphs did have all the gold, they wouldn't be diddled out of it so easily. They had never had a reputation for being fools. Neither had they had a reputation for being suckers.
The Randolphs defended their own. If Joe hadn't understood that before, he certainly should have after they hunted down those rustlers. Staring into the ice-cold blue eyes of those twins would be enough to put the fear of God into anybody. Murder flared from Hen's eyes as clearly as cold-blooded purpose rode in Monty's. He didn't wonder when Tyler so readily exchanged his cooking spoon for a gun. Neither did it surprise him when that crazy kid, Zac, suddenly turned into a man with a grim purpose. One look at the four of them and you knew the rustlers didn't have a chance.
"Okay, go if you must, but I'm coming with you."
"I'm going alone. This has nothing to do with you."
Carlos opened his mouth to object.
"Leave her to go by herself," Joe said as he gripped Carlos by the arm and spun him around. "We can't afford to waste a whole day if we're going to get our work done before winter."
There had been snow flurries at the higher elevations already. The first winter snow could come at any time. They had to cut as much hay as possible. The cows hadn't yet learned how to forage through a Wyoming winter.
Carlos jerked his arms out of Joe's grasp. "You be home tonight, or I'm coming after you," he said to Iris before turning and stomping out the door.
"He'll settle down," Joe assured her. "He's just jealous. He thinks you don't have as much faith in him as you do that Monty fella."
"I think Carlos is doing a fine job," Iris said, "and I've told him several times."
"I know, but he still needs time to build up his confidence."
"He'll have it," Iris said dryly. "Years and years of it."
* * * * *
The same thought coursed through Carlos's mind as he walked to the bunkhouse. He looked forward to those years. He liked having a ranch of his own, even if he didn't yet legally own a single cow. He liked working for himself. He looked forward to the chance to become a solid, respectable citizen. But the look in Joe's eye told him Joe hadn't given up his plan to ransom Iris. In fact, the anger told him he would fight Carlos to keep that chance alive.
Carlos looked around him. The ranch was barely worth the name. The house was barely a cabin. The cracks in the bunkhouse still had to be
filled with mud, and they had just one corral. But he was surrounded by endless grass watered by run off from mountains rising in the west. It would be a fine ranch in five or ten years, something a man, and his sister, could be proud of.
Carlos decided then and there he wasn't going to let Joe kidnap Iris. He didn't want her to marry Monty, but if that's what she wanted, well, it was her business. After all she had done for him, he couldn't repay her kindness by getting in the way of her happiness. Neither could he let Joe extort money from the Randolphs even if they were rich enough to pay. Iris had given him the best chance he was ever going to have to make something of himself. He wasn't going to ruin it by a stupid stunt like this.
Only he didn't know what to do. Now that he stopped to think of it, he realized Joe was a hard, cruel man. He didn't know if Joe had any real loyalty to anybody but himself. As far as he could remember, Joe had always looked at everything as a chance to get something for himself. There was no gratitude for what he got. He figured the other guy was a sucker to give it up. He would be more likely to plan to take the rest.
Joe would not be easy to stop.
Chapter Twenty-four
Iris felt a pang of jealousy when she saw the Circle-7 ranch buildings. The bunkhouse had been put together with logs and mortar, but the house had been constructed of wooden planks probably brought in from Laramie. The shingle roof wouldn't spread a layer of dust over everything in the house, and the several windows were real glass. A trail of smoke from a metal flue told Iris the cook prepared the meals on a stove just like the one Monty sent her.
A man stepped out on the porch as Iris rode up. "Good morning," he said. "You must be Iris Richmond."
Iris was speechless with shock. Fern hadn't told her George Randolph would be at the ranch. She wasn't prepared to face the man who was the cause of so many of Monty's problems; neither was she prepared for the wave of anger she felt toward George. He must have come to check up on Monty. She would have a few things to say to him before she left.
She was also surprised he didn't remember her. She guessed it showed that without pretty dresses and someone to fix her hair, she wasn't anything special to look at. Not exactly what she wanted to hear when she was going to see Monty for the first time in two months.
"I'm surprised to see you here," she said. "Did you bring Rose?"
The man laughed easily. "I've always known I looked a lot like George, but I still can't get used to being mistaken for him. I'm Madison Randolph. My wife called on you yesterday. Come on in. Would you like some coffee? It's damned cold out this morning."
Iris was greatly relieved. The thought of facing George and his perfect wife scared her to death.
"Is Fern ready?" Iris asked, trying to conceal her impatience. "I promised my brother I'd be back before nightfall."
"I think we can do that, but unfortunately Fern won't be able to go with you."
"Why?" Iris held back the rising panic. After waiting so long, after working up her courage and building up her hopes, she had to go today. She didn't think she could stand to wait any longer.
"I'll let her tell you."
Iris found Fern reclining on a real bed in a real bedroom. "I'm pregnant again," Fern confessed, looking at her husband rather than Iris. "I was trying to keep it from Madison as long as I could, but I had an attack of morning sickness over breakfast."
"And I ordered her to bed."
"I was hoping to have a few more days of freedom, but as long as this monster of selfishness is determined to keep me producing sons, I have to spend my time resting and pretending I like it."
"If I would let her, my wife would ride until the Women's League for Decency forcibly removed her from the saddle."
"Unfortunately he's an old-fashioned brute who believes in tyrannizing women, especially his wife."
From the way Fern gazed adoringly at her husband, Iris could tell she had no real objection to his tyranny. Iris thought she wouldn't mind it either. It certainly beat riding out on a cold morning searching for cows that didn't want to be found and that would object to whatever she wanted them to do as a matter of principle.
"Enough about me," Fern said. "Can't you see Iris is anxious to see Monty?"
Iris hoped her anxiety didn't show that clearly, but she was afraid it did.
"I'll be fine," Fern assured her husband. "Salty has promised to check on me. I've been through this before, remember."
"I know, but--"
Fern turned to Iris. "This man thinks leaving me for the afternoon when we're on a ranch is worse than leaving me for weeks when he goes East on business."
Madison's grin was perfectly free of self-blame. It seemed unshakable self-confidence was a Randolph family trait.
"Promise you'll stay in bed."
"I'll stay inside. I'll go crazy if I stay in bed."
It made Iris jealous to see the way Madison pampered his wife. If Monty would just do what with her.
"So you had to go and fall in love with Monty," Madison said when they were in the saddle.
"Y-yes," Iris replied, not prepared for such a direct question.
"I don't know whatever possessed you to fall for such a pig-headed loud-mouth, but at least he's got good taste. You're a lovely young woman."
Iris appreciated Madison's compliment, but she was angry at his criticism of Monty. "He's none of those things. I nearly drove him crazy, and he never lost his temper. Well, not too many times."
Madison laughed. "I'm his brother, remember, and I know his vile temper. Defend him by all means, but do it to someone else."
Iris felt sorry for Monty. "Doesn't anybody in your family like him?"
Madison looked a little surprised by the question. "We admire his good qualities. He's a hard worker, dependable, unquestionably the best cowman in the family."
"But don't you like him? George doesn't, and Hen got so mad at him he hardly spoke to him most of the way."
"There's something you'd better understand if you're thinking about marrying Monty," Madison said, his expression a bit paternal. "We're a difficult family. I suppose we love each other, but we fight each other almost as hard as we fight outsiders."
"I don't understand that."
"Fern says we're all crazy -- I think that about sums up Rose's opinion, too -- but that's the way things work. Anyway, Monty's just as cold-blooded as the rest of us."
Now Iris understood part of why Monty had such a difficult time giving of himself. It must be awful if the act of loving your own family also made you vulnerable to attack. She supposed it was better to be loved like that than in the self-indulgent way her parents had loved her, but Iris was glad she hadn't been raised a Randolph. Her parents' love had made her feel warm and secure. Loving in Monty's family was like trying to love a rattlesnake. No matter how much you loved it, you didn't dare get too close for fear of its deadly embrace.
She didn't know if Fern was right about Monty loving her -- she must be, mustn't she, or he wouldn't have sent all that stuff? Iris would show him love didn't have to hurt. She would show him she knew how to give, not just take. There was so much she wanted to show him -- if he would just give her the chance.
* * * * *
Monty kept telling himself it wasn't yet time to see Iris.
He had promised himself he would own his own ranch before he asked her to marry him. He had land and a herd now, but nothing else. He had set his hands to work building a bunkhouse, but he slept in a tent because his ranch house was still a pile of lumber. He didn't even have a corral. He staked his horses out to graze and hobbled them at night. He felt like a squatter in the middle of a vast open plain.
Several times he started to saddle Nightmare for a ride to the Circle-7, but each time he stopped himself. He had promised to set up and manage the ranch, and he meant to keep his promise. But every time he went to the Circle-7, he had to fight this terrible temptation to go see Iris. It would be easier if he stayed where he was. Besides, Salty was more than capable of handling the
ranch by himself.
Monty had made a commitment to George for one year, and he meant to see it through. That meant he wouldn't be able to spend more than a couple of days a week at his own place, but that was okay. He'd get by.
But he didn't mean to wait that long to see Iris. He'd only reached his ranch site three days ago, and already he was so anxious to see her he could hardly keep his mind on his work. But he couldn't ask her to marry him when he had no home to bring her to.
He couldn't decide what kind of house he wanted to build. Everything depended on whether Iris had changed her mind about him. After spending months making her believe he wanted nothing to do with her kind of woman, he figured it would take more than a wagon load of furniture to make her believe he wanted to marry her.
Monty had a tough hide, but he balked at the thought of conducting such a campaign under Betty and Carlos's scrutiny. Probably Joe as well. That man seemed to be Carlos's shadow.
But he couldn't wait too long. Once that wagon rolled up to Iris's door, she would know he was in Wyoming. If he didn't go see her soon, she'd believe he didn't love her.
But was it too soon?
He could kick himself for spilling his guts to Fern when he saw her in Cheyenne. He guessed he'd just kept it locked up too long. Fern had come around when he wasn't expecting her, asking questions, knowing too much. Next thing he knew he was saying everything he had been unable to say since the day he rode into Dodge and found Iris gone.
But if he had to tell someone, he was glad it was Fern. He would hate having one of his brothers know he was acting so simpleminded over a woman. He still had her letter. He tortured himself by rereading it at least once a day.
No matter what he tried to do, his thoughts kept coming back to Iris. Talking to Fern had let down his resistance. Now he couldn't shore it up again.
He had to see Iris or go crazy.
Monty gave up the battle. He snatched up his saddle and headed for Nightmare. He was going to see Iris. Come hell or high water, Betty or Carlos, he was going to find out of there was a chance she could ever love him.
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