by Regina Scott
Hank threaded the team through the wagons and riders thronging the streets, found a nice hotel that catered to cattlemen and their wives and set her up in a room for the night.
“You’re probably tired from the trip,” he said as he set her carpetbag down beside the iron bedstead. “I can talk to the sheriff and come back for you later.”
He was not getting away from her so easily. Nancy linked her arm with his and smiled up at him. “But Mr. Snowden, you promised to show me Burnet.”
He chuckled. “I guess I did. All right. Come along.”
They left the hotel together. She had to admit it was nice strolling the stone pavement under the sweep of the balconies along Main Street. The shop windows were bright with calico and cakes, the air redolent with barber soap and cinnamon. The gentlemen all tipped their hats and smiled at her. A few ladies regarded her growing frame with arch looks, but she ignored them. Her mother had always encouraged expecting ladies to do more than recline on their beds until it was time for the birth. She didn’t intend to hide from the world simply because she was increasing.
But she couldn’t help pausing in front of one of the display windows. Inside was the dearest set of baby bonnets, pinks and blues and yellows with satin ties and silk flowers.
“You’re not fixing to put one of those on Ben?” Hank asked, and she nearly giggled at the look on his face.
“Babies don’t generally wear Stetsons,” she told him.
“Why not?” he asked. “Let’s see if they have one.” He took her hand and pulled her inside.
The clerk was happy to direct them to an area that held a number of ready-made pieces for a baby’s layette. Nancy smiled as she fingered a fine cotton gown edged in lace.
Hank lifted one of the long shirts. “Will he really be this small?”
“Very likely,” Nancy told him. “At least at first. But he’ll grow fast.”
Hank set down the garment. “Never knew a baby would need so much stuff. I make do with a couple shirts and denim.”
“Babies tend to spit and spill,” Nancy explained. “Ben will need at least a dozen gowns and twice that many diapers.”
He shoved back his hat. “Well, what do you know? Why don’t you pick out a few things while I go talk to the sheriff?”
There he went again, trying to leave her out. Nancy straightened, careful to keep her look and tone pleasant. “I’m making most of what Ben needs. I’ll come with you.”
He sighed, but he offered her his arm.
“I didn’t mean to make it sound as if Burnet is such a fearsome place,” he said as he held the door of the mercantile open for her. “You don’t have to be scared to be alone here.”
She couldn’t tell him it wasn’t Burnet that scared her.
* * *
Hank escorted Nancy to the sheriff’s office. In truth, he would have liked to have spared her this. From the walls of the narrow room, men with angry faces glared out of wanted posters, and Hank didn’t like thinking about the source of the dark stain on the plank floor near the barred cells that took up the back half of the office.
The sheriff, a burly fellow with graying hair, listened to Hank’s story, then shrugged.
“Rustling’s become a way of life these days,” he commiserated. “My advice is to look to your herds and round up any mavericks. Branded cattle are harder to sell when it isn’t your brand.”
Nancy frowned at that. Likely she was remembering that the cattle Lucas had stolen had all been branded, by their neighbors. But that just meant whoever was buying the branded cattle was more conniving. Besides, Hank had another reason for talking with the lawman.
He drew out the key he’d found in Bennett’s room and showed it to the sheriff. “You ever seen one of these?”
The sheriff smiled. “Seen one, but never owned one. There’s a hotel on the edge of town, fancy place known for its high-stakes games and fine liquor. The lady who owns the place gives these out to her best customers. It’s a promise they’re welcome anytime.”
Hank felt ill. He shoved it at the sheriff. “Return it. Better yet, melt it down. The man who owned it shouldn’t have had it to begin with.”
Turning, he took Nancy’s arm and escorted her from the place.
She was pale as she walked beside him. “That was Lucas’s, wasn’t it?”
“I found it in his room,” Hank admitted. “But he could have picked it up somewhere or won it in a game.”
“Or he could have lost all our money gambling at that place,” she said, voice sad. “I can see why you didn’t want me to come, Hank. I don’t think much of Burnet right now.”
And less of her former husband.
“You wanted to see Mr. Cramore,” he reminded her. “Why don’t we find the Empire Bank before they close for the day?”
She nodded, and they set off in search.
But the Empire Bank wasn’t located along Main Street, and when they asked at the mercantile, the clerk had no idea where to send them.
“This can’t be right,” Nancy protested as they returned to the pavement. “I had a letter from them. Mr. Cramore came to see us.”
Hank didn’t like the direction of his thoughts, but he knew he couldn’t keep them to himself. For one thing, she had a right to know. For another, he was beginning to realize Nancy didn’t want his protection when it came to Lucas and the rustlers.
“It may not be a bank that caters to businessmen and the like,” he said. “Back in Waco, I heard tell of men who called themselves bankers but held their trade at the back of gaming establishments.”
She shuddered. “Money lenders.”
“For the desperate,” he agreed.
“Oh, poor Lucas,” she murmured. “Greed so latched into him he never shook it free. Why didn’t I see it?”
She was hurting again. How could she not hurt when every bit of evidence Hank uncovered proved that her husband had been no good at the end?
“I knew a cowboy once,” he said, directing her back toward the hotel. “Nicest hand on a rope you ever saw. Willing to ride all day and all night if need be. Oh, he had a habit of chewing on mint, and once in a while he’d get a little silly, but everyone thought it was just him having fun. Turned out he couldn’t stop drinking—had pints stashed all over the ranch. We kept finding them for months after he rode on. We lived with him, worked beside him, and we never figured it out.”
She kept her gaze on the dusty pavement. “You weren’t his wife.”
“And Lucas Bennett wasn’t any kind of husband to leave you like this.” The words came out harsher than he intended, and she stopped and stood still for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Nancy,” he said, hand on her elbow. “I told you we should speak good about the man, but when I think about the way he gambled away your future, the baby’s future, I want to hit something.”
“I know,” she murmured. “But when I think about it all, I start to wonder why. Maybe he was pining for Alabama. Then why not sell the ranch and go home? Did he feel trapped in Little Horn for some reason, or was I such a terrible burden he could only escape through drink and gambling?”
He stared at her. “Hogwash!”
When she blinked at him, eyes swelling with tears, he seized her shoulders. “Now, you listen to me, Nancy Snowden. I was there when you arrived at the Windy Diamond. I saw what you did for your husband. You cooked, cleaned, sewed, decorated real nice, made his life more comfortable in every way. If a man can’t appreciate that, it’s not the lady who’s lacking.”
She choked back a sob and buried her head on his chest. “Oh, I want to believe that!”
People passing were looking at them oddly. Men shook their heads and hurried around. Ladies walked more slowly, scowling at Hank, and he realized the picture they must present—him a trail-dirty cowhand, her
a pregnant lady sobbing in his arms.
Well, he didn’t much care what they thought. He gathered Nancy close, shielded her from their judgmental looks.
“Easy, now,” he murmured, rubbing her back with one hand. “You just think on what I said. If you don’t believe me, ask Upkins or Jenks or Lula May. They’ll all tell you the fault of the matter lay with Lucas, never you.”
She pulled back, drew an embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes. “Thank you. Maybe someday I’ll believe it myself.”
“No time like the present,” he said, starting forward once more. She swept along beside him, head bowed and handkerchief still patting at her cheeks. She blew her nose with a genteel puff.
“Careful,” he teased. “You’ll rub off your freckles.”
Her handkerchief fell even as she widened her eyes to stare at him. “I have freckles?”
He laughed. “Just one or two, right on the tip of your nose where it must have peeped out from under your hat.”
She shook her head, steps quickening and hand falling to ball the hanky at her side. “No, no, no. I’ll have to use milk of almonds. I think I still have some of Mother’s.”
Hank hastened his steps to keep up with her. “Why the fuss over a couple of freckles?”
“Ladies,” she informed him, “do not have freckles.”
That was news to him. He tried to remember whether his mother or sister had ever fretted over freckles. Judith and Almira sure had been determined to protect their skin from the sun, using parasols or hats whenever they went out. And he seemed to remember that creamy skin was counted a blessing.
“Well, yours are only the raisins dotting the cream of your face,” he said, rather pleased with his turn of phrase.
Her face puckered. “They’re as big as raisins? Why didn’t I notice?” She stopped before a window where her reflection showed like a shadow and turned her head one way and the other.
Hank crossed his arms over his chest. “You aren’t going to find any flaws. Not on that face.”
She straightened. “This after telling me I have spots the size of raisins.”
He took her arm and drew her down the walk to the hotel. “I tell you, you don’t have to worry. You’re pretty as a picture, freckles and all.”
She cast him a look as he held the door open for her. “And how do you define pretty?” she demanded.
“By what I’ve been taught,” he replied. “It’s not what’s outside that makes a woman beautiful. It’s what’s in her heart. That’s why you’ll always be beautiful, Nancy, freckles or no.”
She stopped in the hotel parlor, bit her lip, and he could see tears brimming in her eyes again.
Hank sagged. “Now, don’t go looking at me like that. I meant it as a compliment.”
“And it was a compliment, a lovely one,” she assured him. “A reminder too. It’s easy to focus on the outside, on what you can see of your circumstances. But it’s important to look past all that. Thank you for helping me remember that, Hank.”
Once more, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. He ought to stand there, accept the gesture, thank her kindly for it. But suddenly he wanted more than polite conversation. He turned his head and met those peach-colored lips with his own.
And the world started bucking like a wild bronco.
Emotions he’d buried for five years shot to the surface; yearning, hope, a tenderness that threatened to knock him off his feet. He cradled her close, drank her in like cool water, all while his heart beat a tattoo in his chest.
“Pardon me, sir.”
The clerk’s prim voice made Hank raise his head. Nancy swayed beside him, peaches ripe in her cheeks, lips dark from his kiss. He kept his arms around her.
“I do not know who let you in the door,” the clerk informed Hank, hands on his aproned hips. “But this is a proper establishment. We cannot have such displays in public view.”
Hank glanced around at the empty lobby, then back at the clerk standing so firmly in his fancy black-striped trousers. “You have rules against a man kissing his wife?” he demanded. “What sort of place is this?”
The clerk reddened as he stepped back, arms falling. “Terribly sorry, sir. I didn’t realize, that is, I...” He straightened and snapped a nod. “We at the Palace Hotel are a staunch supporter of marriage.”
“Quite right,” Hank said. Nancy was biting her lip again, but this time he thought it was to keep from laughing. Taking her arm, he led her upstairs to her room.
She paused at the door. “There’s plenty of space in here. You could sleep on the settee instead of at the livery stable.”
He’d seen the settee when he’d brought in her bag. After an hour on the hard-backed little seat, he’d be bent tighter than a branding iron. Besides, after that kiss, he needed to walk a pace.
“I’ll be fine,” he told her. “You’re not scared, are you?”
“No,” she allowed. “I’ll be fine too, thanks to you.” She ducked her head and slipped through the doorway.
He couldn’t help smiling as he descended the stairs. Maybe there was hope for them. Maybe he could regain the life he’d once dreamed of having—fine ranch, sweet wife, children to love and teach. All he had to do was open his heart.
And there lay the danger. He remembered the pain when his father had criticized his least move. He still felt the sting of Mary Ellen’s defection. He’d never been good enough, smart enough, strong enough for any of them. What made him think Nancy would find him good enough to love? The only reason she’d married him was because she’d been desperate.
And the main reason he’d offered to marry her was because he needed to atone. That need hadn’t gone away. But he wasn’t sure what to do next. He didn’t think Nancy would appreciate him finding that fancy hotel, taking up with determined gamblers, just to see if any might remember Lucas Bennett. And likely the gambling den had little to do with buying the stolen cattle. Gambling had merely been the goad that had driven Lucas Bennett to steal. Someone else had abetted those thefts, made it possible for him to gain money from them.
That someone might reside in this very town, but Hank had no way of finding him.
What else can I do, Lord? I just want to see justice done.
He stepped out of the hotel into twilight. The streets were emptying of wagons, and a few horses were carrying their riders away, as well. Best he head for bed.
He started for the livery stable, and a man fell in beside him. Something about him seemed familiar, but Hank was certain they’d never worked together.
“Heard you rode for the Windy Diamond up near Little Horn,” the stranger drawled.
Who had been telling tales? He glanced at the man, taking note of the trail-darkened skin, the narrowed green eyes, the pearl-handled pistol sticking out of his holster.
A pistol that looked a lot like the one Lucas Bennett had lost gambling.
Hank stopped, washing cold. “I’m not looking for trouble.”
“But you are looking for something,” the man insisted, pausing beside him.
Hank nodded, careful to keep his hand not too close but not too far from his own six-gun. “The owner of the Windy Diamond was caught moving cattle. You happen to know where he sold them?”
“Heard tell there’s quite a few head of cattle up that way looking for a new home,” the stranger countered. He cocked his head, putting his face into shadow, but something about the way he moved pricked a memory.
Was this the fellow who had been watching their herd?
“Cattle have been known to go astray,” Hank said, keeping his tone neutral.
“And men like us have the job of rounding them up,” the man agreed. “I might know someone interested in buying, no questions asked. You interested in selling?”
“Maybe,
” Hank said. “If I knew the buyer could keep his mouth shut. Any chance of meeting?”
“A little eager, cowboy.” The stranger widened his stance, and Hank’s heart jerked into a faster clip. “First you have to prove yourself. I hear Edmund McKay’s herd is too big. Think you could thin it out?”
“McKay’s not the fellow to cross,” Hank said, mind whirling. How could he get the fellow to tell him the whole story? “But I might know some others in the area with mavericks to pick off. Where would I take the cattle to get paid? It’s not easy moving a herd this time of year with roundup close. Too many men on the ground.”
“Which is why one more won’t be noticed.” He leaned closer, gaze drilling into Hank’s. “And why do you care what McKay thinks? I heard before you worked for Bennett you used to ride from spread to spread, didn’t make ties.”
How did they know that? “I’m married now,” Hank said.
He laughed, an ugly sound. “The widow Bennett? She’s none too picky who she weds from what I can see. She’ll find another fellow to fill your place. Those kind always do.”
“You’re wrong.” His hand was shaking, and he forced it to still. “About Nancy and about me. I aim to find the man who was waiting to pay Lucas Bennett for the cattle. You either tell me his name now, or I reckon things are going to get unfriendly.”
Things got unfriendly.
Chapter Thirteen
It was a long while before Nancy could sleep that night. She kept reliving the moment Hank’s lips had met hers. She’d been kissed before, by a young man at a church picnic back in Missouri, by Lucas any number of times. She wasn’t the type of woman to deny she’d enjoyed being kissed. But Hank’s kiss had been different: richer, fuller, like fresh milk after water. It satisfied something deep inside her, made her feel beautiful, loved.
