by Reece Butler
He’d learned a few things since leaving Texas. The first was that his fists couldn’t always get him what he wanted. The second, that it was not a good idea for a stranger to show anger by using those fists. The two-bit sheriff of that one-horse town kept him in jail for a week. Most of his gold went to fixing the saloon’s furniture and window. He did a lot of thinking while cooling his heels in jail.
Once he married Jessie, Pa would treat him like a man. No more ordering him around like he was one of the hired hands. With Jessie’s money in his hand, he could change a few things around the Bar MD. First, he’d change her attitude. She’d soon learn to treat him with respect. If necessary he’d chain her ankle to the stove for a while to stop her running.
But first he had to find her and haul her back to Texas. Pa was already planning the wedding to ensure the right people could make it. Fin carefully set his bulk on the parlor chair again and smiled through his newly trimmed moustache.
“Milk or lemon?”
“Dinna suppose ye have any whiskey?”
Miss Bonham raised an eyebrow and dared him to make trouble.
“Lemon,” he growled, though he didn’t give a damn. She waited, her mouth pursed like the back end of a plucked chicken. He sighed. “Please.”
She took about an hour to pour the damn tea, stir in lemon juice, add a dry biscuit to the saucer and pass it over. He took it carefully, his huge hands making the delicate cup seem like his sister Louisa’s toys. He forced himself to drink the stuff. After downing gallons of cheap whiskey all the way from Texas to Virginia, he could stomach one cup of weak tea.
“My niece took the Bride Train to MontanaTerritory. She left a fortnight ago.”
“What—” He set the teacup on a scalloped-edge table with a rattle. “What’d she do that fer?” The old bat sniffed. He held back a snort. Jessie shared the uppity attitude of the old biddy, as well as a name.
“Jessamine has been taught marriage is a holy sacrament, one every woman strives to obtain.” She placed her hand over her bosom. “My dear Edward was taken from me before we could wed. I did not have the heart to find another.”
Finan waited while she dabbed her eyes. He figured she’d found a patsy and, when he died, didn’t want to marry someone who would be a real husband.
“I did my best to find her a good Virginia boy. Unfortunately, she didn’t suit.”
She looked down and stirred her tea. Two round spots of hot pink appeared in her cheeks. Fin choked back another snort. He couldn’t see Jessie with one of those pasty-faced weak Eastern dudes. She needed a strong hand, one he was ready to apply.
“Miss Elliott insisted her brothers would find her a good husband.” She flicked her eyes over him, from trimmed hair to polished boots. She curled her lip. “Men of the West need the calming effect of a genteel woman’s hand.”
Dammit, how dare she look down her bony nose at him! He bought new clothes for this visit, including a neck cloth that damn near choked him to death. The tight clothes made it hard to breath, to move, and to think.
“She were supposed te marry me!”
This time she hit him with the lip curl and sniff at the same time. Her eyes glittered like the jet beads around her scrawny neck.
“My niece has proven she is a lady. I find it difficult to believe she would discuss marriage with you.”
Fin bit his tongue so he wouldn’t roar at her. He had a hard enough time being in the same room with this woman, much less listening to her drivel. Real men didn’t “discuss” things with women. They told them the way it was to be. If they didn’t like it, a beating or two would cure them.
Pa never had to beat Sunbird because she behaved properly. He figured he’d have a few go-rounds with Jessie, but she’d learn. By damn, he wasn’t going home alone. He needed an heir for the Clan. But first, he had to find the damn brat. He curled his hands into fists, remembering those days in jail. After that, he could put up with one old woman. He attempted another smile, though it made his teeth ache.
“Afore her pa died, he begged mine to care for the lass. ’Tis a deathbed promise.”
“That may be, young man, but Jessamine is already on her way West. If you wish to speak with her, you’ll have to do the same.”
He nodded. Considering the sparks Jessie threw out, it wouldn’t be hard to track her. In fact, chasing her down would give him a reason to have more fun. Pa told him to draw what he needed out of the bank. He’d have a good time on the train. The antique chair creaked as he settled back.
“Would ye be knowing what color dress she wore when she left?”
Miss Bonham pursed her mouth. “Yellow. Not suitable for travelling, but the girl is headstrong.” She shuddered delicately.
“Why did ye let her to wear it, then?” He wasn’t going to miss the chance to poke the old witch. She looked down her nose at him because he was a Highland Scot, and came from Texas. Double-damned in her mind. Double-gold in his.
The teacup rattled against the saucer as Miss Bonham put it back on the table. “I was mistaken as to the time the Bride Train departed. I barely arrived in time to see her off.”
“Did she bring a trunk?” That would slow her down.
“A trunk?” She raised that damn eyebrow again. “A lady requires many dresses if she wishes to entertain properly. My niece would have at least three trunks.”
He nodded, thinking it would be easy to find a loud, opinionated scrap of a woman in a bright yellow dress hauling a bunch of trunks.
“I’d best be after her, then. Thank ye for the help.” He stood up and, now that he had what he wanted, bowed his thanks. “I’ll let meself out.”
“I wish to receive an announcement of my niece’s wedding, Mr. MacDougal. No matter whom she chooses.”
He looked around the room. Expensive furniture covered in doo-dads with wallpaper behind. The house was in a rich area, one that hadn’t been destroyed when the army came through. Maybe Jessie would inherit this estate as well.
“I’ll make sure ye get one, Miss Bonham. Good day.”
By the time his foot hit the front step, he’d ripped off his neck cloth and undone a few buttons. He stood on the street for a minute, thinking. He’d change back into real clothes, take the next train, and track Jessie down. He would not take “no” for an answer. After he had his way with her, no man would want her. She’d belong to him, along with everything she owned.
Pa would smile when he dragged the little miss home. Sunbird would be happy as well. She was getting old and could use some help with the house chores. Although there was only him, Malcolm, and Pa at home, the ranch hands also expected a good supper each night. Sunbird’s cooking was one reason they could keep hands even though Pa worked them hard. Jessie would learn to cook as well as to serve his other needs.
Chapter Six
“We’ll rope and bring the calves to you,” said Ranger on the second morning. The Double Diamond men faced Ranger and Patrick Elliott. The three men they’d brought from Texas waited at the side. A pack of eager dogs sat at their feet. “Since you’ve got muscle, you’ll hold the calves and do the branding. Jessie’ll cut the bulls and handle the branding irons.”
Ace nodded his agreement. He intended to brand their first calf, followed by Sin and Henry.
“One RB for the Bitterroot Ranch, and one Double Diamond,” continued Ranger. “We’ll rope ’em and bring ’em over. When their mommas join them, push the Double D up the hill to the east and the others to the west. Any questions?”
Even though Ace had dozens, he didn’t say a thing. If he didn’t learn all the answers in the next few weeks, he might consider dropping by the Bitterroot Ranch with a bottle and some questions. Earlier, Jessie had put three branding irons with a backwards R attached to B on one side of the fire and their three, with a set of diamonds, center points touching, on the other.
None of the grown cattle would be branded, though they all wore the Bar MD brand. Some brands were upside down, to distinguish the Elliott
from the Texas MacDougal cattle, as Ranger and Patrick had taken their wages in cattle for the last few years. The existing brands didn’t matter now that the Double D had paid them in gold for their share. With the Rocking E and MD Connected ranches between the Bitterroot and Double Diamond, strays shouldn’t be a problem.
No one wanted to wrestle a beast with horns six-feet wide from tip to tip.
Everyone but the Double D mounted up. Ace watched Ranger and Patrick catch the first calf, Ranger around the forelegs and Patrick the back. As instructed, Sin wrestled it to the ground and lay over its shoulders while Henry took the hind end. Jessie handed Ace the branding iron, and he set it on the hide. The stink of burning hair was like the smell of gold. A moment more and they let it go. It ran back to momma and was driven up to the east to start their herd.
He did the next as well, using the Bitterroot iron. It had a backward-facing R attached to a B. The brand was designed by Rowena and Bertram Jones, and would do for Ranger and Benjamin Elliott. Patrick said he didn’t mind as a P was hidden in both letters.
“This one’s a bull,” warned Patrick.
Henry took the bull’s head while Ace took the rear. Jessie pulled a small knife out of his front pocket.
“We cut them first, then brand,” said Jessie. “Make damn sure you got a good hold.”
Ace didn’t like the eager way Jessie approached the bull. He held the knife in his teeth and knelt. The calf didn’t seem to notice the half-inch slice, though Ace winced. Jessie’s small fingers pulled out an oval testicle. He pushed back on the string that held it to the bull, at the same time stretching it from the belly. It came loose. The second one went as easily.
Jessie stood and Sin applied the brand. A moment later the new steer ran away as if nothing had happened.
“You’re good at that,” said Sin to Jessie.
Jessie tossed the testicles to the dogs. Two snapped them out of the air and raced away. “You just keep that in mind, Mr. Statham.” Ace didn’t miss the warning, though Sin smiled and touched his hat for some reason.
Ace didn’t remember much more of the day. They didn’t break for dinner, wanting to finish as soon as possible. Now and then they gulped water to cut the dust then went back to work. Hour after hour of dropping on struggling calves, carefully pressing the branding iron down and watching a grinning Jessie un-man the bulls, took a lot out of a man.
Ace looked up at the clang of metal. It was his turn to brand, but no one handed the metal rod to him. He turned in a circle, realizing he wasn’t choking on dust raised by hundreds of hooves. Though his head pounded, no bellows from angry mommas grated against his ears.
He must look as stunned as Sin and Henry. Jessie lay on the ground, spread-eagled as if shot. If the adults were so tired, the boy must be exhausted with the long day’s work. Ace thought about helping Jessie to stand but didn’t have the energy. Ranger leaned down and offered a hand, pulling the boy upright. Jessie staggered for a minute, leaning on Ranger, who put his arm around him.
Ace narrowed his eyes. How dare Ranger touch his—He shook his head and turned away. His what? Hired boy? Why should he care what happened to the brat? Though he could hardly think, his cock tried to rise.
Damn, he needed to get laid. When they sold the steers in BannackCity, he and his partners would spend a bit of their hard-earned gold on good whiskey and bad women. Miss Lily could tell him the place least likely to pass on disease. Until then, he’d have to put up with it.
He did as the men around him, stretching out sore muscles. Jokes were made as bruises, scrapes, and burns were pointed out. Ace rubbed his gut where a couple of head butts had got him. At least the calves didn’t have horns. Yet.
“Beth and Amelia sent dinner.”
Ranger’s announcement turned groans to cheers. He pointed to the wagon Ace hadn’t seen arriving. Three big, black pots rested on old horse blankets at the rear of the wagon. An elderly Indian woman pointed her chin to a pile of tin plates. The men turned to him, shuffling their feet.
“You’re the other boss, they have to wait for us before they can eat,” said Ranger. He nodded his thanks as the woman known by all as “Auntie” placed a dollop of something smelling wonderful on the plate.
Ace looked at his hands. Blood and spit, both human and animal, stuck dirt to him from fingernails to elbows. There wasn’t anywhere to wash up. He saw the challenge in the men’s eyes. He might have won the Double Diamond in May, but today he proved he deserved it. He must make an impression, but his way. He stood as straight as if he faced his grandfather. He raised an imperious eyebrow and looked around.
“I say, madam, would there be cornbread in that basket?” He spoke like the old man as well, nose in the air, before breaking out in a smile, something his grandfather never did. He then did his best to imitate the man who irritated him during the whole train journey west. “Dayam, Ah’m so hongry ma belly and backbone are saying howdy. Who’s next for grub?”
He grabbed a plate and held it up. When Ranger tossed him a piece of cornbread he caught it out of the air and chomped down. A few ragged cheers erupted before he was pushed along by hungry men.
If his grandfather could see him now, filthy from hat to boots, eating beef and beans from a tin plate with a wooden spoon, he’d have him horsewhipped and thrown off the estate. His father and brother, on the other hand, wouldn’t care what he did as long as his winnings kept them in the latest style.
But that was his old life. It already felt like a bad dream. In front of him was the future. Gold on the hoof. Ranger held up a tin cup of coffee, toasting him on the day’s activities. He nodded back. Life was damn good. Jessie crossed to get a second plateful. His eyes tracked the boy’s back end until he caught himself. He turned away in disgust, both at the boy and his body’s ridiculous reaction.
Though the brat was useful, once they got rid of him, life would be perfect.
* * * *
Sin stretched his aching back and sat tall as he rode into the Rocking E yard. He didn’t think he’d ever been so damn tired. Every muscle, including many he’d never even noticed, hurt. But every time a momma cow and her branded calf went into the Double Diamond herd, the pain went away for a few minutes. They were building their future, and nothing was going to stop him, especially a ferocious pixie cowgirl who knew far more about ranching than he did.
Trace came out of the barn as Sin brought Emperor to a halt. Eighteen hands tall, the Friesian stallion he brought from England was a magnificent horse. Emperor was far more suited to pleasure riding than ranching. One of the first things he’d had to do was trim the animal’s flowing mane and tail. It destroyed the look of the breed but was better than having it catch on everything.
Others scoffed at him bringing the horse west when he could have sold him for a huge profit. But the stallion was part of his breeding plan. Let him cover a few prize mares, and their offspring would be even better. Emperor was eager to do his best but hadn’t yet had a chance to cover a mare. In that, they were alike.
Bridie and Meggie came out of the barn carrying pails of milk. He smiled and tipped his hat pleasantly. He made Emperor bow, one leg out and head down. The girls laughed and giggled at the trick. Trace cleared his throat in warning. They hurried into the large two-story house, turning to wave at the last moment.
Other than a hat, Trace was naked above the waist. For the first time, Sin saw the white line of corded scars circling his neck. Other scars touched his arms and chest. He barely glanced at Sin but took a long look at Emperor.
“May I have a word with you, Mr. Elliott?”
“I’ve got a foal on the way.”
A horse whinnied and stomped in the barn. Trace jerked his head in welcome, turned his back, and strode into the barn. Sin watered Emperor and tied him loosely in the shade. Though the stallion was upwind of the corral, if he smelled a mare in heat nothing would keep him away.
Sin stepped inside the cool, dim barn and stopped. Trace leaned against a restless hor
se in a loose box. He massaged her swollen belly and scratched what must be her favorite spots.
“You coming in or not?”
“Wanted to make sure the lady was comfortable with strangers. She’s a beauty. Got a bit of Morgan in her?” Sin stepped forward, walking quietly but making sure the horse knew he approached. She lifted her head and looked him over.
“Yep, but the rest of her is pure cow pony. Sapphire can work all day and be ready to go the next morning. Can’t you, girl?”
The horse nodded her head as Sin approached. When Trace moved back, Sin leaned down, nose to nose. He rubbed her nose and told her what a wonderful momma she’d be and how he was there to help her. She shivered her flanks, blew out, and seemed to relax.
“You trying to take my best girl?”
Sin could tell he was only half joking. A cross between this horse and Emperor would be a fine animal.
“Yep, but not this one.” He ignored Trace’s frown, continuing to soothe and talk with Sapphire.
“Bridie and Meggie are children, and you’d have to kill half this valley to touch my Beth,” said Trace in a low, threatening growl. “What’s your game, Statham? Or should I call you ‘Sin’?”
“It’s short for St. John, which we pronounce ‘Sinjin.’ Nothing to do with what’s going through your mind.”
“You don’t know what’s on my mind.”
Sin lifted his hands and backed away from Sapphire at the threat.
“You can see I covet your horse, but I’m no thief. I’d never hurt your lovely wife or touch a child. I’ve got someone else in mind.”
“Who?”
Sin looked at the horse in the early stages of labor. “I think it best we go outside where a few loud words won’t put this lady into a lather.” He gestured outside.
They’d barely cleared the door before Trace grabbed his shirt and slammed him into the barn. Trace was two inches shorter, but his scars showed he knew his way around a barroom fight. Sin could likely take him, but he wanted the Elliotts on his side. He lifted his hands wide.
