The Rancher's Courtship & Lone Wolf's Lady

by Laurie Kingery

  A glimpse at something that went far beyond an earth-spinning kiss, a chuckle and a slap.

  * * *

  For once Tom’s lack of conversation hadn’t bothered Katie a bit. In fact, she considered it truly a blessing. She relished the time she had to sort through her reeling senses. If truth be told, her thoughts and feelings were all atumble.

  He’d pointed out her lie, and he’d been right. She had wanted him to kiss her. And she’d liked it—a lot. She just hadn’t been prepared to deal with the repercussions of it.

  She still wasn’t about to talk about the kiss, but after four hours on the trail with nary a word out of him, she’d grown tired of the silence.

  “It’s a lovely day,” she said.

  He merely gave a cursory scan of the horizon.

  So much for an attempt to draw him into a conversation.

  “Are we nearing Stillwater yet?” she asked.

  No response.

  Nevertheless, she asked, “How much farther do we have to go?”

  This time, when he didn’t reply, she lowered her voice and answered for him, deciding to carry on a conversation by herself. “Not much farther, Katie. It’s been a long trip, hasn’t it?”

  “It certainly has,” she said, returning to her own voice. “I’m just so grateful you were such a fine traveling companion. I don’t know when I’ve ever had a more pleasant journey.”

  “Well, Katie,” she answered, mocking him, “I must admit that I hate traveling alone. Thank you for joining me.”

  She cast a sideways glance, pleased to see the stubborn man had coked his head and caught her eye.

  “You’re not going loco on me, are you?” he asked.

  She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed his voice, especially with such a pleasant tone. “Loco?”

  “That’s Spanish for crazy.”

  She smiled. It wasn’t her idea of a conversation, but it was a start. “I don’t believe so, but how would one know for sure?”

  “You probably wouldn’t.”

  What did he mean by that? If she were crazy she wouldn’t be aware of it? Or there wouldn’t be any telltale difference in her behavior whether she was crazy or not?

  She could have made an issue of his comment, but didn’t. After six hours without any conversation at all, she was glad to have him talking again. And even happier to have that kiss behind them.

  “How much farther do we need to go?” she asked, hoping this time to receive an answer.

  “We’ve been on the outskirts of the Lazy G for the past hour, ever since we rode through that pass.”

  “The outskirts of the Lazy G?” Katie looked over her shoulder and scanned the sage-dotted landscape for a sign of habitation. “How large is the ranch?”

  “Fifty thousand acres, more or less. The Lazy G was once a Spanish Land Grant.”

  “That’s impressive. Mr. Graves must be very wealthy.”

  “He made most of his money growing fields of cotton and raising longhorn cattle for hides and tallow. Just before the war, he began crossbreeding his herd. The last few years he’s been running cattle drives and making a second fortune selling beef.”

  Katie could scarcely imagine the size of the ranch or the money it would take to control and run it. Her curiosity of Sarah Jane’s family mounted. “Tell me about the people we’ll meet.”

  She wondered if her question would anger him or if it would elicit more silence, but he responded as though they’d gone back to that truce they’d formed earlier.

  “There’s not much to tell. Harrison Graves is as rich as they come, at least around here. He has land, property, money and respect.”

  Katie had surmised that much. “But you said he was ill.”

  “Dying.”

  “What about his wife? What happened to her?”

  “She passed away from a fever after giving birth to his only child, a son named Robert. Harrison was too busy running cattle and building a fortune to remarry.”

  Katie could hardly believe her ears. Tom was not only talking to her, he was actually relaying information. She’d have to remember that all it took to have him finally open up was a kiss, a slap and six hours of guilt-laden silence.

  “You mentioned that Sarah Jane’s mother was his only heir. I assume she was Robert’s daughter, and that Robert passed away, too.”

  “He died in a stampede while on a cattle drive when Caroline was six.”

  “And Robert’s wife?”

  For a moment Tom seemed to withdraw from the conversation. About the time Katie wondered if he’d ever speak again, he said, “Robert’s wife, Juliana, was a blonde and frail woman from New England. I heard she couldn’t take the heat or the separation from society as she knew it, so she returned to the East, taking baby Caroline with her. She caught a fever and died about two years later.”

  Now it began to make sense. “So Juliana took Caroline back East, and that’s why Harrison was looking for her?”

  “No.” Tom stared straight ahead, his back ramrod straight. “Caroline was barely a year old when her mother left Texas, but Harrison went after the baby and brought her back.”

  “Juliana gave up her child?”

  Tom turned in the saddle, and his dark eyes locked on hers. “You’re the suffragist and the daughter of an attorney. You know how the law works. The child belonged to her father, and Juliana had no right to her. Harrison merely went after his granddaughter and brought her home to Texas.”

  “After Juliana died?”

  “No, before she got sick.”

  A knot formed in Katie’s stomach. Had Juliana really died of a fever? Or of a broken heart? And what about the baby? Had Harrison just taken her away from her mother?

  No wonder there had been a family rift. The cattleman must not have a loving, paternal heart.

  “I realize I’ve never met Harrison Graves,” Katie said, “but I can tell you right now, I don’t think I’m going to like him.”

  Tom shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the only person who doesn’t.”

  “So what happened to Caroline? When did she leave the ranch?”

  “When she was sixteen, she and her grandfather had a falling-out, and she ran off.”

  “What did they argue about?” When Tom didn’t answer, she prodded him. “You don’t know?”

  “For the most part, it’s speculation on my part.”

  Katie waited for him to explain. When he didn’t, she asked, “Where was she last seen?”

  “When she was sixteen, a friend of the family took her to Casa de Los Angelitos in Mexico.”

  “I’m not familiar with that place. Is it a town or village?”

  “It’s a home for women who get themselves into trouble. Their families take them there before their neighbors realize they’re pregnant. Then they leave the unwanted babies behind at a Mexican orphanage.”

  “Caroline was pregnant?”

  “Harrison had hoped she would return home with her reputation still intact. He sent Jeremiah Haney, his solicitor’s son, to pick her up when her confinement was up, but she was gone before he got there.”

  “And Sarah Jane? She was the baby?”

  “Yes. Caroline refused to give up her daughter and return to the ranch.”

  “I can’t blame her for that. So when Harrison Graves learned he was dying, he hired you to find Caroline?”

  “Yes, but he never mentioned a thing about finding the baby.”

  Katie thought about that for a moment, realizing that was good news for her. If the man wasn’t interested in an illegitimate heir, then maybe he’d be happy to sign over guardianship to her. If so, her plan to take Sarah Jane—and Erin, if she was willing to go with them—to Wyoming would come to pass.

  They continued to ride, with Katie still trying to sort through all Tom had told her
.

  “So how does Erin fit into all of this?” Katie asked.

  “She and Caroline met at Casa de Los Angelitos. And they both left together.”

  “Did Erin have a baby, too?”

  “The nuns told me that Erin’s child, a boy, was stillborn.”

  They rode in silence for a while, although Katie’s thoughts remained on Caroline and the baby she’d refused to give up.

  Had she remembered losing her mother at a young age? Is that what had compelled her to rebel against her grandfather and to face public scorn?

  Or had her child been conceived in love?

  “Do you know anything about Sarah Jane’s father?” Katie asked.

  “Just that he was one of Harrison’s ranch hands.”

  “What happened to him? Where is he?”

  “He quit working at the Lazy G before Harrison found out about the pregnancy, which was lucky for him. Otherwise, Harrison might have killed him. At first I thought Caroline had gone looking for him, but I learned that he died while working on another spread about fifty miles from here.”

  So Sarah Jane was all alone—other than for Katie. And Erin, of course.

  “Do you think Harrison Graves would sign over guardianship to me?” Katie asked.

  Instead of an answer, Tom lifted his arm and pointed. “Do you see that hacienda on the hill?”

  “You mean that large house? It looks like a small town.”

  “Wait until you see it up close.” Tom urged his mount on. “Come on. You’re going to have your chance to meet Harrison Graves face-to-face. That is, if he’s still alive.”

  * * *

  As Tom and Katie rode up the dusty drive to the Lazy G, an old man wearing a white shirt, faded black pants and leather sandals knelt near an ornate iron gate, pruning flowers in one of several terra-cotta pots.

  When he spotted riders, he shielded his eyes from the sun with a gnarly hand. It took a moment for recognition to dawn, but the old man got to his feet to greet Tom.

  “Abel,” Tom said. “Cómo está?”

  “Bien, Lone Wolf. And you?”

  Surprised that the groundskeeper had called him by his Indian name, Tom shook off the urge to glance at Katie so he could gauge her reaction.

  Not that it mattered, he supposed.

  “I’m fine, thank you. But Señor Graves. How’s he doing? Is he still...?”

  “Alive? Yes, but he’s getting worse—weaker, sicker each day. And he’s wearing a path in the floor, waiting for you to return.” Abel glanced at Katie and smiled.

  “This is Miss Katie O’Malley, Abel. She came along with me because she’d like to meet Mr. Graves.”

  Abel bowed graciously. “Mucho gusto, señorita.”

  “I see you’re no longer working with the cattle,” Tom said.

  “Last winter, when I became too crippled to ride, Señor Graves let me work in the yard.”

  Tom hadn’t expected the rigid cattleman, whose parents had been killed by renegades, to be so accommodating to an old employee, especially one who was of mixed blood—Comanche and Mexican.

  “I’ll go inside and tell Señor Graves that you’re here,” Abel said. “Then I’ll see to your horses.”

  “Thank you.” Tom dismounted, then went to help Katie down. He waited to see if her ankle would give out on her. It didn’t, and he noted only a slight limp.

  As Katie scanned the courtyard, Tom watched Abel shuffle away, his worn leather sandals sliding along as he walked. It must be difficult to get old, especially for a man who’d once been a legend. Tom had only been a little boy when his father had told him tales of Abel’s valor and skillful horsemanship.

  “It’s beautiful,” Katie said, breaking into Tom’s thoughts.

  He followed her gaze to the flower-adorned adobe walls, the tiled floor of the courtyard, the water fountain gracing the patio.

  “I’ve never seen the like,” she added. “It’s rustic, yet charming.”

  The double door to the hacienda swung open, and Randolph Haney strode onto the patio, his countenance displaying obvious displeasure as he raked his eyes over Katie.

  “She’s not Caroline Graves, McCain. You’re a fool to think you could pass her off as such.”

  Even if Tom and Haney hadn’t had a history that dated back to the time Tom was only a boy, he wouldn’t have liked the pompous solicitor. But before he could enlighten him, Katie moved forward as if she were wearing a ball gown instead of a flannel shirt and a pair of denim jeans. “My name is Kathryn O’Malley, and I’ve come to have a word with you, Mr. Graves.”

  The gray-haired lawyer, his stance as formal and overbearing as before, crossed his arms and frowned. “I’m not Mr. Graves.”

  “He’s Randolph Haney,” Tom said, “attorney-at-law.”

  Katie lifted her chin in that defiant way Tom found amusing at times and annoying at others. “How do you do, Mr. Haney. And as I said, I’d like a word with Mr. Graves, if that’s possible.”

  “I’m afraid he’s resting and not taking callers.”

  “I’ll wait,” she said. “I’ve come a great distance to speak to him, and since I heard that time was of the essence, I didn’t dare waste an extra day to rent a carriage and hire a driver.”

  Haney softened only slightly. “Perhaps I can be of service.”

  “Perhaps. But it’s ultimately Mr. Graves I must speak to.”

  He studied her a moment. “You do look a bit worn. Would you like a refreshment? Water perhaps?”

  “That would be most kind. Thank you.”

  Tom crossed his arms and watched propriety take charge. Of course, he still doubted that Haney was any happier to see Katie than he was to see him.

  “And you?” Haney turned to Tom. “Why are you here? Do you have any news?”

  “My business is with Harrison, not you.”

  “He’ll ask me to listen to anything you have to say.”

  Tom shrugged a single shoulder. “Maybe so, but that’ll be his decision.”

  A rap-rap-rap sounded at one of the windows at the side of the house. All eyes turned to see Harrison Graves tapping a cane against the glass. He nodded to Abel, who stood at his side, and the gardener opened the window.

  “Come inside,” Harrison said.

  Tom studied Haney out of the corner of his eye. The austere solicitor stepped back, hands to his side, lips tightening, and a muscle near his eye twitched as he allowed Tom and Katie to enter the house before him.

  * * *

  Katie’s heart tightened as she stepped onto the Spanish-tiled entry of the hacienda and waited for Harrison Graves. Moments later, aided by a gold-handled cane, the white-haired gentleman entered the room.

  She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting—someone sickly, of course, but powerful. And while both seemed to be true, the wealthy cattleman appeared to be broken, as well, although she couldn’t say how.

  Perhaps it was his rumpled appearance, and the fact that he’d hurried to meet them—or rather, Tom.

  His thinning white hair stood on end, and in spite of having guests, he hadn’t taken the time to comb it.

  “Come with me,” he said. Then he turned and headed down the hall, his pace slow and slightly unsteady. He led them into a sitting room, its walls white plaster, its ceiling open-beamed.

  “Have you found Caroline?” he asked, his voice unable to mask a grandfather’s hope.

  “I think so.” Tom nodded toward Mr. Haney. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you in private.”

  The gray-haired solicitor stepped forward. “That’s not necessary, Harrison. Caroline was like a daughter to me. I’d like to hear what the bounty hunter has to say.”

  Was like a daughter? Katie stiffened. Did he already know she was dead?

  “Mr. Graves,” Tom said, “I won’t dis
cuss anything unless we’re alone.”

  “Very well.”

  As Tom stepped behind the dying cattleman, Katie proceeded to follow, but Tom stopped abruptly and turned to her. “I said alone.”

  “But I—”

  “You can discuss anything you’d like with Mr. Graves at another time. This conversation is private.”

  Katie watched as the two men, one old and dying, the other young and vibrant, walked across the Spanish-tiled floor and into the hall.

  Moments later, they entered another room. When the door closed, she turned to the well-dressed lawyer, wondering if the exclusion bothered him more than it had her. A scowl on his face validated her suspicion.

  With his lips pressed tightly together, the elderly gentleman made a sweeping assessment of her clothing, his cool gray eyes clearly finding her lacking.

  “Why are you traveling with that breed?” he asked.

  The jab of his question surprised her, irritated her. “I have something to discuss with Mr. Graves and needed an escort.”

  His narrowed eyes indicated his disapproval of both her quest and her appearance.

  Undaunted in the least, Katie crossed her arms. “My father, God rest his soul, was an attorney in St. Louis before his passing, and I used to help him prepare for his trials. I’m well versed in the law, and while I might not appear to be much more than a backwards ragamuffin, I assure you that’s not the case, Mr. Haney.”

  “You must have traveled a great distance.”

  She decided she’d given him enough information.

  “So what do you think of Texas?” he asked, mellowing and offering her a bit of decorum.

  But as far as she was concerned, it had come too late. He’d made assumptions based upon her appearance and her traveling companion.

  “I’m afraid Texas—or rather Texans—aren’t quite what I’d expected,” she said.

  Randolph glanced at the nail beds of his long, tapered fingers. “What did you expect?”