At the livery stable Victoria handed her horse over to the bent old man.
“Oh, Claude. I forgot to bring that pie, and I had baked a berry cobbler, too!”
“Hee, hee, hee…” The toothless mouth opened when he laughed. “That’s all right. Never thought ya’d be a comin’ back ta town so soon, Miss Victory. Ya was jist here a while back.”
“I never thought I would either, Claude, but here I am.” She took her leather bag from him. “Take care of Rosie. I don’t know when I’ll be back to get her.”
“I’ll do hit, Miss Victory.” Claude looked up at Mason. “Ya wantin’ ta leave yore horse?” Wasn’t this the same feller trailin’ after Miss Victory the other day? If’n he was he’d been banged up some since.
“Yes, I do. Miss McKenna and I will be back sometime this afternoon.”
The puzzled Claude took the reins. Miss Victory had started walking off down the street as if she’d not ever seen this feller. The man was a hurryin’ to catch up with her. Somethin’ wasn’t right.
Victoria walked purposefully along the street, her boot heels beating a hollow tattoo on the boardwalk. She nodded a greeting to two cowboys who lifted their wide-brimmed hats. Ignoring the pressure of Mason’s hand beneath her elbow she went down the plank steps to cross the street. When they reached the other side Victoria shrugged Mason’s hand from her arm, turned and started up the wooden stairway attached to the side of the bank building. Mason ducked under the swinging sign that said LAWYER and followed. Victoria was relieved to see the shade wasn’t pulled and that the door opened when she turned the knob.
Mr. Schoeller was seated behind his desk in a worn, leather-lined chair. He looked up when the door opened. He was a tall, spare man with a flowing mane of hair that had now begun to thin. His features could only be described as predatory and gaunt, but his eyes were kind and they held a fondness for the girl they rested upon. He got to his feet and held out his hand.
“Miss Victoria, I’m glad to see you.”
“Hello, Mr. Schoeller.” Victoria gave him her hand then removed her hat. The lawyer looked at Mason and then back to Victoria. “I want to talk with you alone, Mr. Schoeller.”
Mason stepped forward and held out his hand. “Mason Mahaffey.”
The lawyer took his hand. Clearly puzzled, he murmured, “Mason Mahaffey.”
“Do I speak to you alone or not, Mr. Schoeller?”
“Why certainly, Miss Victoria. Have a seat.” He lifted a couple of dusty books from a straight-backed chair and moved it close to the desk.
Mason waited until Victoria was seated, then he moved over beside her. He looked down at her and then at the uneasy man behind the desk.
“Miss McKenna is angry because I’m here, but I have a vested interest in what you have to say to her, so I’m staying.” He spread his feet and rocked back on his heels. “I know that this is unorthodox; you can send for the law and have me thrown out, but I promise you a good scene if you do, one that will keep the townspeople talking for a good long while.”
“It’s up to Miss Victoria. If she wants me to send for the sheriff, I will.” Mr. Schoeller leaned forward and tapped his bony fingers together.
Victoria gritted her teeth and refused to look at either man. Mason reached inside his shirt and brought out a packet of papers. He sorted through them and picked out two documents and placed them on the desk in front of the lawyer.
“This is my bill of sale and deed for the Double M. I bought the property from Robert McKenna in England.”
“I know who you are and I know about the sale, Mr. Mahaffey. I’m looking into the legality of the sale. Did you know Marcus McKenna made out a second will before he died leaving everything to his daughter?”
“It was my understanding that Robert McKenna’s maternal grandparents lent Marcus McKenna the money to start the ranch,” Mason said, ignoring the question about the will.
“Money my father repaid,” Victoria spoke up.
“There is no record of payment in England,” Mason said.
Victoria gasped. “I came to town with my father when he made the last payment and we went to the Overland Hotel dining room for a celebration!”
“I’m just telling you what was told to me, Victoria.”
Mr. Schoeller was looking intently at the papers Mason had placed on his desk. He squinted thoughtfully. A cold, hard knot formed in Victoria’s stomach.
“From the looks of these papers it would seem you have a valid claim, Mr. Mahaffey. There is, however, the matter of the second will. I will, of course, write to England.”
“When do you suppose you’ll know about the second will, Mr. Schoeller?” Victoria leaned forward eagerly.
“When the circuit court starts its winter session. Another month, at least.”
“And if they find the will is valid?”
“Then, Victoria, there will be the matter of the money Marcus owed Robert’s grandparents. It seems Mr. Mahaffey bought not only the ranch property but the mortgage note as well.”
Victoria felt sick. The room began to sway and she brought herself back with great effort. The hand clutching her leather bag trembled so visibly she brought her other hand up to steady it.
“So one way or the other I’ve lost?” she asked softly, hopelessly, her eyes dry and bleak.
“No. We still have recourse. I’ll send off letters to verify these papers and I’ll look into the matter of the loan. It all takes time, Victoria.”
She stood up. “I see.” She stepped around Mason and went to the door.
Mr. Schoeller got to his feet. “Stay at the ranch, Victoria, until things are settled. It will probably take most of the winter.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Schoeller.” There was a wild, desperate look in her eyes for a moment before they went blank. Then she smiled faintly and put on her hat.
Mason muttered a few curses, grabbed his papers from the desk and shoved them into his shirt. By the time he got down the steps he saw Victoria going into the bank.
Victoria was careful to organize her face before she stepped up to the window. She smiled at Mr. Hartman, the teller.
“Hello, Mr. Hartman.”
“Well, hello there, Miss McKenna. How ya be?”
“Fine, Mr. Hartman. We’ll be making our drive soon and I came in to make sure you’ll have the gold on hand so I can pay off my drovers. The usual amount will do.”
“I’ll make a special note of it, Miss McKenna.” My, he thought, she gets prettier every day. Aloud, he said, “Shipments have been regular as clockwork lately. There shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Thank you very much, Mr. Hartman. Good day.” Victoria forced herself to give him a small parting smile.
“’Bye, Miss McKenna. You stayin’ over in town?”
“I haven’t decided yet. ’Bye, Mr. Hartman.”
Victoria walked out of the bank and into the sunlight. She pulled her hat down over her eyes and walked rapidly down the walk. Mason followed, but did not approach her. He knew she’d need some time to digest the bad news she’d heard in the lawyer’s office.
When she came to the high double doors that opened into the lobby of the Overland Hotel, Victoria had to pause and let an elderly lady with a cane cross in front of her.
At that moment a man standing in the hotel lobby saw her and almost dropped the long cigarette he held between his lips. He hurried to the doorway and out onto the walk to watch her more closely and was elbowed out of the way by a tall, dark westerner who didn’t even stop and apologize for his rudeness.
Unaware and uncaring that one man was staring at her and another trailing behind her, Victoria walked sedately past several stores, turned the corner and saw something that caught her eye—a new eating establishment. It looked like a quiet place where she could think, and although she wasn’t hungry she knew she needed food in her stomach.
It was a little after noon, but only one other person was in the small restaurant. Victoria sat down at a table next to the
wall, her back to the door. She put her leather bag and her hat on the chair next to her. The door opened and closed behind her, but Victoria did not turn around. Surveying the room she could see that someone had done a lot of work to fix up the place; it had been occupied by a bakery until business got so good the baker had moved to a larger building across the street.
There were six tables in the small room, each covered with a checkered cloth. A curtain of the same material, strung on a string, stretched across the lower half of the window. The floor was clean and a large penciled sign tacked to the wall said: POSITIVELY NO SPITTING ON THE FLOOR.
The woman who came from the back room had a pretty, flushed face and beautiful auburn hair piled high on her head. She was tall, with a well-rounded figure and large capable hands.
“Hello. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you when you came in. I’m Sally Kenny. This is my first week in business and I’m afraid I’m not as well organized as I will be. I have beef stew and cornbread today.”
“That will be fine,” Victoria murmured.
“And you, sir?” The woman moved on past Victoria to the table behind her. “I’ve got custard pie.”
“I’ll have both and coffee to wash it down.”
Mason’s voice! If she hadn’t been so trembly Victoria would have got up and walked out. Couldn’t he leave her alone? She tried not to think about him and concentrated on getting her stomach settled to receive the food.
The other man in the room scraped his chair back from the table and went to the door of the kitchen to pay his bill. The woman smiled and put the money in her apron pocket.
“Ya’ll come back, now,” she called as he went out the door.
For a moment Victoria imagined herself in the auburn-haired woman’s place. It occurred to her that she could do something like this—she liked to cook and she was good at it. It would take money to get started, though. Mentally she counted the money in the strong box at the ranch. Drat! She had given the key to Mason last night so he could pay off Kelso! Why had she been so foolish? Ever since she’d met that man he had provoked her into doing things she shouldn’t have done. Going to the cookhouse and confronting Kelso, for one.
Victoria could feel his eyes on her back and she moved uncomfortably. Another dumb, stupid thing had been to sit with her back to the door so she hadn’t seen him come in! She smoothed the sides of her hair back and turned the collar of her shirt up a little higher, unconsciously trying to hide her flesh from his gaze.
When the woman returned with the plate of food, a small girl was clutching her skirt. When Victoria looked at the child she hid behind her mother, large dark eyes peeking at her shyly. It was rare that Victoria saw a child except when she came to town.
“Hello,” she said softly to the little girl.
“Say hello to the lady, Melissa,” the mother urged, but the child only burrowed her face in her mother’s skirts. “She’s real bashful, ma’am,” she said as she set a plate of stew in front of Victoria. At any other time it would have looked delicious, but now…
“I’ll get you a glass of cold buttermilk, if you like,” Mrs. Kenny said. Victoria nodded and she hurried away, the child hanging on to her skirts.
The little girl didn’t come back with her mother when she brought Mason’s food. Victoria heard him tell her what a nice place she had. She wondered what the woman thought of his battered face. Even with the bruises he was handsome. She wished, now, that she hadn’t stitched his cheek! But if she hadn’t, she thought bitterly, Ruby would have. Mrs. Kenny was lingering to talk to Mason. She’d probably be flirting by now if he’d come in before his features were rearranged!
Victoria was so intent on her angry thoughts she had eaten her stew before she realized it. When Mrs. Kenny took away her empty bowl and returned with a piece of custard pie, an idea struck.
“You seem to have a lot to do here, Mrs. Kenny. Have you thought of hiring extra help?”
The woman smiled and wiped her hands on her apron. “I suspect I’ll have to when business gets better. Right now I can’t afford to hire anyone.”
“What if someone offered to work for their keep? Would you consider it?”
“Well…I have a small place upstairs. Yes, I would consider it. You’re not, by any chance, applying for the job?”
“Victoria, it isn’t fair to let this woman think you’re going to work for her when you’re not!” Mason stood beside the table, his dark face even darker with anger.
The woman stepped back a pace or two, her large eyes going from Mason to Victoria and back again.
Victoria felt a consuming anger rise up inside her. She pushed back her chair and stood, amber eyes flashing resentment and hatred for Mason. He had disrupted her life so completely and now was humiliating her in front of this woman. Why was he doing this to her? Would she never be rid of him?
“You—you—bastard!” Her anger bubbled over. “You interfering polecat! I wish Kelso had beaten you to death!”
“You don’t wish any such thing, Victoria.” The side of his mouth that would allow it was grinning.
“Like hell I don’t!” She grabbed up her hat and the leather case.
Mason threw some money down on the table. “My wife and I are having a little set-to, ma’am. I’d better get her out of here and get her cooled off.”
“Your what?” Victoria almost shouted the words.
Mason lifted his shoulders and grinned at the woman. “You see how it is,” he said with a laugh and took hold of Victoria’s elbow. “We’ll try to stop by the next time we’re in town. Let’s hope she’s having one of her good spells.” He moved her forcibly to the door.
Mrs. Kenny stood as if dazed by the scene she had witnessed. “’Bye,” she said softly as the screen door slammed behind them.
In the street Mason shoved, guided, and propelled Victoria toward the livery. When she had caught her breath she dug in her heels and tried to yank her arm from his grasp.
“Let go of me,” she hissed. “Let go of me or I’ll scream! Do you know what would happen to you if I screamed for help? There’d be men on you like flies on a rotten carcass! And if I screamed ‘rape’ there’d be so many bullet holes in you, you’d look like a sieve!”
“You won’t do either of those things,” he said calmly. “Come on, now. We’re going home.”
“Home? Of all the unmitigated gall!”
“Victoria, there isn’t a law that says a man can’t spank his wife and there isn’t a man on this street who would do anything but laugh if I said my wife needed a spanking and turned you over my knee and let you have it. Straighten up, or that’s what you’ll get.”
“People here know me! They know we’re not married!” she gasped.
“I’d make them believe we had been married in Denver and before they found out any different we’d be gone.”
“I can’t understand why you’re doing this. You’ve got everything now. Aren’t you satisfied? Can’t you leave me something?” The angry note had left her voice; only hopelessness remained.
“If your stubborn brain would think straight you’d see that’s exactly what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to see that you’re left with something.” He spoke to her as he would to Dora. Victoria gritted her teeth in frustration.
Forever, Victoria Page 11
