“Feeling’s mutual.” He backed the horse out of the stall, and her Irish temper overflowed. She stretched out her arms and stood in front of the horse to keep him from leaving.
He released the reins and cornered her between two stalls. His expression held death and destruction. “Don’t test me, woman.”
She lifted her chin. “Take me to town.”
“No.”
No one treated her with so much disrespect. She grabbed the straps to try to remove the saddle.
He grabbed her around the waist and flung her over his shoulder.
“What are you doing? Unhand me.” She kicked and punched his back, wild with temper, but he didn’t respond. He only strode out of the barn, around the side of the house, down the hill, and dropped her on her backside into the creek.
As she spluttered to the surface, she could hear him yell, “Cool off before you get more than you can handle.”
He marched the way he’d come, and she tried to scramble after him, not willing to back down, but by the time she reached the barn, he was already on horseback and headed toward town.
“No man has ever treated me this way,” she shouted.
He stopped the horse a few feet away and smiled. At that moment, she realized the man at least had teeth. “I’ll do worse if you don’t get inside, woman.”
He dug his heels into the horse and raced away, leaving her soaked, hurt, and angry. Angrier than she’d ever been in her life. That man would pay for this. One way or another, Dinah McKinnie would get her revenge.
Chapter Five
Colt rode up to the edge of town and waited. He knew he should’ve been out with his men hunting and trapping instead of dealing with that Southern belle. The distractions had to stop.
His best trapper, Samuel, strode up and tipped his hat. The man was thin but strong, and a mustache that jiggled when he spoke and eyebrows that tended to wag with extra exaggeration, yet he was a calm fellow. Too calm at times. “This way, sir.”
They rode hard across the plains until they reached the place where one of his workers, Gabe, lay face down in the dirt. An arrow stuck out from his back and his scalp was on the ground next to his hip. “Not Indians.” Colt dismounted into a pool of blood and gritted his teeth. He’d fought enough Indians to know this was white man’s work. “Scalp’s been left.”
“Maybe I rode up and scared them off,” Samuel said.
“No. This isn’t the work of Indians. This has to be someone who sees us as competition.” Colt knelt next to the body. The acrid scent of blood brought back memories, the kind he never wanted to face. “Give him a company-paid burial.”
“Yes, sir.” Samuel wrapped burlap around the body. With rope, he secured what remained of Gabe over the back of his horse.
Colt studied the area, and as he did, he was even more sure this was bad business, not Indian hostility. Indians weren’t even around this area any longer. He mounted his horse and bolted back to town and to his partner’s home. He pounded until Andrew’s wife, Helen, a pretty but docile woman, came to the door.
“Where’s Andrew?”
“He’s still at the office,” Mrs. Sanbourn said.
Colt spun on his heel and marched off to the brothel, Andrew’s office away from his office. Sure enough, he found the man slipping out the back door. “Don’t think you’re fooling any one, do you?”
Andrew jolted, spilling dark liquid over the rim of the glass. He settled back in his chair and shrugged. “A man needs some attention when he’s got a wife that thinks sex is a sin unless it’s to produce children.”
For a moment, Colt almost felt sorry for his partner, but the man he’d served with didn’t deserve his pity. Andrew cared more about money and prestige than anything else. “Been a death. Murder.”
“Who?” Andrew pulled a cigar out of his coat pocket and lit it.
“Gabe. Don’t know who did it, yet.” Colt watched Andrew. His once friend, now turned monster, was shrouded in a cloak of half-truths and lies with political ambitions. Colt had needed Andrew’s political nature to sell furs, so the man was a necessity for business. And by the same token, there was no reason Andrew would want to sabotage a business he relied on for income. He cared about money, and their business was booming.
“Made to look like Indians,” Colt added, “but no Indians are around anymore.”
After two puffs of his cigar, Andrew blew out a long chain of smoke. “What do you make of it?”
“Hedges is the most logical person. He has the biggest fur trade business in town second to ours.”
Andrew coughed on his next drag. “Don’t even think about making trouble. I aim to be in office in a few years, and that man’s my ticket. Turn this over to Sheriff Lambert.”
Colt closed the distance between them and looked down at Andrew. The man had once carried him across the battlefield to save his life. Too bad Andrew had turned into a broken, disturbed man after that. War did that to people, though. “Sheriff Lambert left town yesterday with a posse and hasn’t returned, and since when did politics trump murder? Have you sunk that low?”
Andrew scoffed. “You think you’re so above me, but we’re not at war anymore. You walk around here like you’re still fighting. You said it yourself. Indians aren’t around here anymore. Let it go. Most likely Gabe gambled too much and couldn’t pay. It was probably a justified killing.”
“Killing’s never justified.” Colt backed away, knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere else with Andrew. He had a point. Gabe did like to gamble, and he liked to risk everything.
Andrew placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come on friend, you could use a drink.”
Colt shrugged his shoulder away from Andrew’s touch, but there was no denying he needed a drink. It had been a rough day or two. “You buy.”
“Sure.” Once they entered the saloon, Colt couldn’t help but gauge every man and woman in the place, trying to catch a clue to who could’ve murdered his man and tried to make it look like the work of Indians.
His initial instinct to blame Andrew had been clouded by resentment and hatred. Colt watched his partner shake hands and laugh with other men at the bar. Why didn’t Andrew ever seem to feel the same shame and dishonor for what they both had done in the name of war? That one horrific night still haunted Colt’s dreams and waking hours, but Andrew appeared unharmed by the memories.
A glass with a shot of whisky smacked against the tabletop in front of him. “Here you go, friend. Let’s drown our sorrows like the good ol’ days.”
Colt flung back his head and downed Satin’s elixir. That’s what Margaret had called liquor when she’d caught him drinking with his friends behind the outhouse. The whiskey barely stung going down his throat anymore. If he was truthful with himself, what she’d called the brew was probably true, because only Satin’s elixir could banish the evils he’d committed. Whisky was the only medicine for a damaged soul, and good for clouding unwanted memories.
The bartender, Henry, poured another shot for the two men. Colt downed another and another until the numbness kicked in and he could forget his former life as a murderer.
Chapter Six
A noise sounded outside, so Dinah rose from bed and looked through the window. A nearly full moon provided enough light to illuminate Mr. Hardin, slumped over his horse, on the trail headed toward the house. Had he been shot? Only a few feet away, he rolled off the horse and fell onto the ground with a thud loud enough she could hear it from inside.
Her pulse revved. She looked around for other men, but when she didn’t see any, she ran to the hearth and grabbed the shotgun.
“What’s going on?” Anna, in her nightgown, stood outside the children’s bedroom door.
“Bolt the door after I go outside.”
Anna’s eyes opened wide. She raced to the door and lifted the wood slat out of the way. “Be careful. You’re all we have.”
Her words made Dinah feel like she’d been shot in the gut herself, but she ignored the disc
omfort and flew outside before she realized she wore only her nightgown. She heard the wood slat slam down over the door and knew it was too late to change her mind, so she tiptoed around the house and pointed the gun into the darkness. “Mr. Hardin, are you alright?”
No answer. She kept her gaze darting around, trying to see into the distance, but moved to his side. With one hand still holding the shotgun, she tried to shove him onto his back to check for wounds. The man was too heavy. She set the shotgun by her side and used all her strength to roll him over.
He opened his eyes and burped. The smell of spirits overpowered his stench.
“You’re drunk?” she asked, shocked.
“Yep, but not too drunk to put a smile on that pretty little face of yours.” Colt sat up and grabbed her neck to kiss her, but she smacked his arm away.
“You scoundrel. How dare you.” She stood to leave, but found James standing at the corner of the house.
“James, go back inside, it’s okay.”
“We thought you might need help. Guess not.” Anna ushered her brother back around the corner. “Our uncle’s only drunk again. Go back inside.”
“Again? How often do you do this to those poor children?” Dinah was aghast.
Colt pushed up from the ground and stood. He stumbled toward her. She picked up the shotgun and used the horse to keep distance between them. “I’m an excellent shot. Took off heads of more than one soldier who tried something like this on me during the war. I hate you all. You’re all a bunch of murderers.”
“Good, ’bout time I died. Go ahead.” His speech was slurred from the drink, but there was sorrow in his tone. He rounded the horse and patted his chest, as if he were a standing target.
“Don’t be stupid. Those kids need you.” She backed away, headed downhill, since he blocked the route to the door.
“I’m no good for those kids. They’re better off without me. You’re right, I’m more beast than man. I deserve to die.” He shuffled closer to her, still.
“I said stop.” She raised the gun, but she couldn’t fire. Not when he sounded so wounded and lost.
“You hate soldiers? Well, I was a soldier. Murderer? Sure. I murdered plenty of Indians.” He stopped following her to stumble over to a rock, where he released most of what he’d consumed that evening.
With Colt incapacitated, Dinah set the shotgun down by the tree and came to stand over him. “Sleep it off in the barn.”
She offered her hand to help him up, but he swiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, then grabbed her around the waist. She pressed her palms to his chest and shoved as hard as she could. He fell back and rolled down the hill, landing in the creek with a splash. “Maybe that’ll cool off your drunken haze.”
She strode down the hill in the moonlight and found him sprawled out, unconscious, half in, half out of the creek. The glint of the moon shining from the gun at his side caught her attention. She knelt and grabbed the pistol from its holster and headed back up the hill, where she grabbed the shotgun from by the tree. She marched inside, bolting the door behind her. James and Anna stood in the middle of the room, still in their own nightclothes.
“You alright?” Anna asked.
Dinah unloaded the shotgun and pistol. “I’m fine. Now, go to bed, kids. Your uncle’s going to go sleep in the barn, if he can find his way out of the creek. You’ll be safe inside.”
Anna lead James to their room and shut the door. The rest of the night, Dinah sat at the kitchen table, just in case there was more trouble.
At the sound of the rooster crowing in the morning, she lifted her head off the table and decided it was time to start the day. She retired to her room, where she dressed and brushed her hair. To her relief, Anna was cooking breakfast when she returned to the kitchen. “I’m glad you’re such a good cook. I never learned.”
“You didn’t?”
“No, we had servants growing up. Also, my sisters were better at domestic things than I was.” Dinah scooped some eggs onto a plate along with some sausage and poured a cup of milk. “I never thought I’d need to learn such things. You wouldn’t know by looking at me now, but I had suitors from all around, begging to court me. Men adored me. I’d always planned on marrying a man in my hometown, and have a large plantation and servants. Of course, that was before the war.”
“What happened?” Anna asked.
Dinah shrugged. “Most of the men died in the war. That’s why women like me are traveling out west for husbands.” She didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so she raised the breakfast plate she’d filled. “Do you mind if I take this to your uncle? He and I need to have a little chat.”
Anna smiled. “May I get you a bucket of water?”
Dinah realized she hadn’t set the best example as a young lady, and it was time she started behaving. It was just that Colt Hardin brought the worst out in her. “No need. I’ll be civil.”
“Good luck with that.” Anna plated food for James and Emma.
“You and the others get ready for school. I’ll make sure you get into town on time, even if I have to hitch the wagon myself.” She’d never hitched a wagon before, although she’d driven a few, and knew how to handle a horse in traces.
“We don’t go to school. I teach Emma and James.”
Dinah sighed. She shouldn’t get involved with these children. She needed to walk away from this. “I see.” She opened the door and peeked out at the creek. No Colt Hardin there. She went to the barn, where she found the man asleep in the hay. She kicked his boot, but he only moaned.
“It’s morning. It’s time we spoke like adults.” Dinah kicked his boot twice more.
He finally lifted his head, only to let it fall back in the hay. “Leave me, woman.”
“I will not. I’ve brought you some breakfast. Maybe it’ll soak up some of that drink you decided to indulge in last night, when you abandoned those children.”
“Didn’t. You’re here.” He pulled the hay over his face. “I said leave.”
Her temper reared faster than a spooked horse, but she reined it in. She cleared her throat and kept her tone civil. “Sir, you have children to look after, and you and I both know that this arrangement of having me live here as your wife will not work. You do not wish for a wife; you want a slave. I am not going to ever agree to this. So, if you please, take me to town and put me in the hotel so that I may figure out another option. I cannot work out a plan for my future from this farm.”
“Not happening. I take you to town, you leave.” He pushed up on an elbow and peered through lazy eyelids. “I’m not fit to care for those kids. You know that.”
“Are you telling me that you’ll keep me here and not assist me in making other arrangements?”
“Not paying another dime for a woman who lied.”
“Lied?” Dinah’s voice kicked up an octave, but she tapped it back down. “You are the liar, sir.”
“How did I lie?” On the third try, he finally managed to sit up and lean against the wall without falling over.
“You spoke of being a businessman with means.”
“I am.”
She stomped her foot. “You are not. You’re nothing more than a drunk and a scoundrel. And you live on a destitute farm.”
“I’m a drunken scoundrel who runs a successful business.” He had the nerve to smile. He was baiting her to lose her temper, and it was working.
She dug deep to reason instead of yelling. “Those children need to attend school. Hitch the wagon so that we may take them to town and enroll them properly. I’ll get supplies, and then we can return here.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no? You can’t keep us all prisoners here.”
He curled back into the hay and held up one hand. “Give me food and bring coffee.”
“You want food? Fine. Here’s your food.” She threw it on the ground and then dumped the milk over it. “If you want to behave like an animal, you can eat like an animal.”
She clutched
the rough fabric of her skirt to keep herself from punching him in that hairy face of his. “I’ll find a way to take the children into town for school. There is no reason why Anna should be teaching James and Emma. A proper education is important. Besides, Anna needs to be with children her own age. She has too much responsibility for a young girl. Although, I’m sure you wouldn’t have thought of that. I have a feeling you haven’t thought of anyone besides yourself for a long time.” With a gulp of air, she unleashed all the temper she’d been holding tight. “Your sister would be ashamed of you. Look at you. The hogs would be better suited to care for her children.”
“You’re right.” He rolled over and faced the barn wall.
A bird flew into the barn, circled twice, and landed on a nearby post. It sang as if to tell her to let Colt have it, but then it escaped the same way it had entered. If only she could escape.
“You think you’ve had it so rough? Poor soldier. You had to fight. Well, you’re not the only one around here who has suffered war and pain and death.” Her voice hitched but she refused to cry, refused to allow him to see any weakness. A man like him wouldn’t respect the emotion, and she wasn’t going to waste another moment on winning his admiration or attention. He wasn’t worth her efforts. “You stay here, feeling sorry for yourself, while I take those kids into town and register them for school. I’m sure one of the children will help me hitch up the wagon. And once there, I will find someone who will care for them, since you are unwilling to accept your responsibilities.”
She stood there for a moment, waiting for a response, some sort of defense, but he had none, so she spun around and marched into the house. Enough. She’d wasted enough time on a drunkard. Even with these drab clothes she wore, surely, she’d manage to catch the eye of some man in Sioux City. It was a bustling, growing town, full of eligible bachelors—bankers, lawyers, doctors, and businessmen. Handsome men who bathed and threw parties and knew how to treat a woman with kindness.
James stood outside the barn, with Emma holding his hand.
Love on the Plains Page 4
